That really feels like a lucky break. One of the hardest things about traveling in wolf form is carrying anything—I’ve already been worrying a little bit about how I’ll negotiate the issue of bringing my clothes with me wherever I go. This solves that problem. It’s so convenient that I almost feel like my mom is helping me out somehow, nudging the things I’m going to need into my path.
“Thanks, Mom,” I murmur, even though I kind of know I’m being silly and superstitious.
Now that I have a backpack that’s going to be so easy to carry, I can get a few more things to wear. I go back to the pile of clothes and sift through it again, picking out a few shirts and pants. I roll them carefully so they’ll take up the least amount of space they possibly can and tuck them into the bag.
Now—food.
Food is a long shot, and I know it. Anything that was fresh in this store when the Lunar Reversal took place will be long gone, of course, rotted away or consumed by animals decades ago. And preserved food will probably have been taken in the early days, by people trying to survive. But maybe something was overlooked.
I’m lucky again. In the very back of the store, set deep on a low shelf, I find some tin cans claiming to contain alphabet soup. I don’t know what that is, exactly—there’s no picture on the label—butsoupis easy enough to understand, at least. I take all six of the cans and load them into my bag.
I don’t really know what else I might need, and I’m about to leave the store when it occurs to me to get one of the scented candles that concealed me last night when the pack came through. If that trick worked once, it can work again. I hurry back to that part of the store and pick out a lavender scented one. That’s a smell that’s found often enough in nature that it won’t seem suspicious or draw anyone to investigate it, and it ought to be powerful enough to cover me if I need it to.
I turn and head for the exit.
On my way to the door, I see something else—a plastic water bottle as tall as my forearm. It’s lying on the floor by itself, and I imagine it was part of a collection at some point, but all its brothers must have been taken. I pick it up and examine it. It doesn’t look cracked, but there will be no way to know for sure until I test it by filling it with water.
There’s a little mesh pocket on the side of my backpack that’s just the right size for a bottle like this. I tuck it in.
Then I head to the broken window at the front of the store, the place where I made my swift entrance last night. I brace my foot on the windowsill and jump out.
All around me, the world is quiet.
I know how deceptive that is, though. Just because I can’t see or hear any threats, that doesn't mean there aren’t any.
There are other wolf packs scattered throughout the city. Ours is far from the only one to have survived the Lunar Reversal. And because I’m a woman of mating age, I’m a commodity. Anyone who sees me is going to want me.
There are the Ravagers, of course. I’ve never met any Ravagers, but I’ve certainly heard enough legends to have a healthy fear of them.
There are covens of Moon Casters, using their magic to do unspeakable things. I want to find a coven, but I can’t let them find me first.
And, of course, there’s my own wolf pack. Still pursuing me. Still hunting me.
I’ve really got my work cut out for me.
I tighten the straps of my backpack and set off down the road.
Chapter 8
EMLYN
Acrackofthundersounds overhead.
I look up at the darkening sky. I’ve been traveling through the city for two days, looking for signs of any Moon Caster covens, and so far, I’ve found nothing. I shouldn’t be letting that get to me, of course—two days is a pretty short amount of time for a search like this—but I’m starting to feel a bit frustrated by the whole thing.
And now this storm.
It’s only mid-afternoon, but I’m going to have to stop my search for the day and get inside to wait it out, or else risk all my things getting wet. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, I suppose, but I’m probably not going to find any Moon Casters during a storm anyway. Might as well wait this out.
I’m in a residential neighborhood, so I choose a house at random and hurry up the porch stairs and inside. Just as I close the door behind me, the sky breaks open. I see a flash of lightning and hear the sound of rain beating down on the roof.
Great.
I can’t even make a fire to eat one of my alphabet soups—not indoors. Which is a damn shame. I opened my first can the night before last, and it was delicious.
Out of habit, I check all the cupboards in the house’s little kitchen. There’s nothing there, of course. There almost never is. I love hunting for my food—I’m good at it, and it makes me feel powerful. But sometimes it blows my mind that there was a time when people could just go to stores and get all the food they wanted. Whoever lived here, back before the Lunar Reversal, I’m sure that had cupboards full of food. It’s just that someone has picked them bare in the intervening years.
Below my feet, I hear the sound of something moving around. Claws on wood floor.