“Well, if it isn’t Dogface and the rest of the litter.”

Dogface!

Noble felt the hair standing up on the back of his neck. He saw that MacKinnon’s words were having a similar effect on Tora and Argus. In fact, Argus had balled his hands into fists to hide his growing talons and the hair sprouting on his knuckles. He could hardly imagine what Harlan was feeling right now.

“Not today, MacKinnon,” Harlan said. “I’m not in the mood.”

MacKinnon and his friends laughed. “Not in the mood?” Jake said, his face all twisted as if he didn’t understand Harlan’s response. “I don’t want to kiss you…I just want to talk.”

More laughter and catcalls.

“Who’d want to kiss that?” someone said.

“And you don’t know where that mouth has been,” said another. “Probably, drinking out of the toilet.”

The laughter continued as more and more students gathered around.

Noble looked over at his brother. It was obvious from the way Harlan was filling out his clothing that he was allowing parts of his body to transform, making himself stronger in case there was a fight. While there was no doubt that Harlan could take MacKinnon in such a form, it was extremely dangerous to the rest of the pack. He could control his transformations under ideal conditions, but in a fight there was no way to be sure Harlan wouldn’t fully change himself into a werewolf. And if that happened, the pack’s life as they knew it would be over. Even escape into the forests wouldn’t be safe.

Harlan let the laughter die down, then said, “All you ever want to do is talk, MacKinnon.” He shook his head. “You know, I’ve never heard someone talk so much, yet say so little.”

A murmur coursed through the crowd.

MacKinnon took a step forward. “I usually let my fists do the talking, asshole! But you’re too yellow to fight. Ha! Maybe that’s what I should call you. Old Yeller!”

Another dog reference.

The laughter this time was more subdued. Snickers and giggles instead of wide-open guffaws.

Harlan looked as if his inner wolf was about to break through his shirt and tear Jake into wet little pieces. Argus too, was ready to pounce, half-crouched with his clawed hands curled, ready to separate MacKinnon’s head from his shoulders.

“I bet you like to suck eggs too!”

That was it, the final straw.

Harlan dropped his books and stepped forward, ready for a fight.

“Well, all right,” MacKinnon said, dropping his knapsack and taking a step toward Harlan.

The rest of the students automatically closed in around them, forming a ring that would set the boundaries of the fight.