Howl for It

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He spotted her as soon as she stepped out of the house and walked around her daddy’s porch to stare out into the forest surrounding the home. His brothers had called her “cute” and “kind of pretty” while simultaneously ordering him to stay away because her big sisters wouldn’t have any of it. But his brothers had been wrong. She wasn’t cute or kind of pretty.

She was astounding.

Leaning back against his 1971 Plymouth GTX, Egbert Ray Smith—Eggie to his Pack and those of the United States Marine Corps that knew of his existence—watched the She-wolf softly sighing and rolling her eyes. Occasionally she shook her head. He knew why, too. It was all the arguing going on inside the house behind her. All that damn arguing. If he’d known he would be coming home to this, he wouldn’t have come.

As it was, Eggie hated when he was forced on what the full-humans called “a vacation,” or what his military brethren called “leave.” He didn’t need a vacation. He didn’t want a vacation.

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