I said, “I don’t know what else to do. You and Joe, you’ve got….”
“Mates,” he said. “We do. But we’ve never forgotten you. We would have never left you behind. That’s the funny thing about love, I think. Just because I’ve got Robbie and Joe’s got Ox doesn’t mean we love you any less. How could we?”
“I’m slipping,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I left you.”
“You did,” he agreed. “And I’ll probably be mad for a long time.”
“Will you yell at me?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
“I think so.”
“What a weird thing to want.”
“It means you still love me,” I said as a tear trickled down my cheek. “If you’re angry, you still give a shit.”
“Ah. Then I’ll probably yell at you forever.”
“Say it, please. Say my name again.”
He didn’t.
The seat next to me was empty.
I drove on.
THE FULL MOON came in the middle of the week.
It was my tenth since leaving Green Creek.
And I did what I’d promised him, as I’d done nine times before.
I howled.
I sang.
In the middle of nowhere, far from human eyes, I cried at the moon as loud as I could, a song of brothers that I chose to believe could be heard across the distance. The stars were bright, the moon fat, and I sang for him.
It echoed throughout the valley, and I waited, my wolf brain thinking he’ll hear he’ll hear and come and sing and we’ll run run run.
He didn’t.
I FOUND THE SECOND NOTE IN JUNE, nailed to the door of an abandoned cabin.
I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU.
“Yeah, buddy,” I muttered. “Should have said that before you started growling at anyone who got within ten feet of me.”
I pushed inside the cabin. That scent was there, wild woods, though it was faded. A cot sat up against one wall, a blanket hanging off onto the floor. The remains of what had once been a rabbit lay near the old fireplace. I grimaced at the stench of it. It looked as if it’d been weeks since anyone had been here.
I was about to turn and leave when something caught my eye in the shadows on the far wall.
I walked toward it slowly, the floor creaking beneath my feet.