The Shadows of Christmas Past

sides were heaving with fear and exertion, but she let herself be touched.
    She was worried, very, very worried; maybe even more worried than she was afraid.
    Marj rubbed the greyhound's head, caressed its soft ears, and concentrated on finding out what troubled the animal. "You want me to help, don't you?"
    She sent out a gentle mental probe, and was soon flooded with images and sensations.
    After a few seconds the dog bounded off. Marj surged to her feet, knowing that the dog knew exactly where to look.
    As she turned to follow the greyhound, she ran into Pat. He reached out to steady her, but Marj dodged around him and raced downhill after the dog, Taffy loping at her side.
    After a few seconds, she heard Pat working his way through the brush behind her. "Where are we going?" he called.
    She couldn't answer and still concentrate on following the greyhound's mental trail.
    Fortunately, she didn't have far to go down the hillside before she literally stumbled onto the wolf.
    She tripped and landed on a big body; hard muscle covered with thick, soft fur. She rolled off the prone animal as quickly as she could and knelt beside it. The dogs kept their distance.
    Taffy barked, not liking the smell of the wolf and unhappy at her being so close to it. The greyhound settled down on the ground to rest, exuding satisfaction in having performed its duty, along with continued nervousness.

    Marj sat back on her heels, took a deep breath, and closed the barriers of her mind to the dogs. Now she had to concentrate on the wolf.
    "Is it dead?" Pat asked, coming up behind her.
    "No." She knew that in her bones. She ran her hands expertly over the big, warm body, probing through the heavy fur for signs of injury. "Ah," she said, when she found what she was looking for.
    "It has been shot, hasn't it?"
    "Yep." She tugged one of a pair of darts out of the wolf's back. "Tranquilized. He's not dead, but he is sound asleep."
    "Good. That's one huge, dangerous animal."
    There was nothing wrong with being dangerous if it was part of your nature.
    She patted the sleeping wolf on the head. "He's not dangerous now. Isn't he beautiful?"
    "What are you going to do with him?"
    "Take him home." She was glad that it wasn't too far to her truck. "Fortunately, my biggest kennel cage is still in the back of the truck. Come on, Pat—help me carry this big boy up the hill."

chapter 2
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    Harry supposed he was dreaming. Either that, or the mattress truly was stuffed with cedar shavings. The aroma overwhelmed his sensitive nose, but wouldn't have been nauseating if not for the hangover of monumental proportions.
    He couldn't remember feeling like this since college. He'd been smart enough never to get drunk since then; it wasn't healthy for the rest of the world when his kind lost control.
    In fact, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten this way. Had he been drinking? He'd been feeling lonely, especially at having to be away from home so close to Christmas. He had gone into the only bar in the one-horse town to check out the locals, but… ?
    He groaned. This wasn't just a headache. He had aching, strained muscles, and he was cold.
    He was naked, yes, that was it, and the room wasn't heated. He was naked, facedown on a thin mattress that smelled of cedar.
    At least there wasn't a woman in the bed beside him, so whatever he'd done—

    But there had been a woman.
    An image of wide eyes in a heart-shaped face flashed across his memory. A small woman behind the steering wheel of a big truck.
    And he was naked because… ?
    He'd been in wolf form, he remembered now. He remembered being changed, and sensing the woman through his werewolf senses.
    And there'd been a dog, right? The poor thing had been in trouble.
    Okay, yeah, now he remembered. He'd been out for a four-legged roam after being in town.
    Intending to get to know the territory, he'd come across this dog being chased by a pair of guys who didn't smell right. The dog hadn't felt any connection to them but fear. So Rin Tin Tin had come to the rescue, getting between the dog and the men.
    Then he'd gotten shot? Harry remembered the impact, but felt no pain. Drugs, then. He'd gotten all woozy, and the last thing he'd done was think something at the dog like, Go get help, Lassie .
    And maybe that was just what the fool critter had done.
    Despite the drug hangover, Harry lifted his head and took a deep breath. Without the aroma of cedar masking other scents, he could make out animals,