“The White Wolf was the greatest alpha ever to live. Not just up here in the mountains. In the mountains, on the plains, in the desert, and near the sea. He was the greatest alpha of any place and any time. His coat was pure white. Snow white. Whiter than white. His wolf was bigger than any wolf before him or ever since. He cared for his pack as if they were his children. Because of him, they flourished and grew strong. He protected them all the days of his life.” She paused dramatically. I knew that at this juncture, I could ask a question to prompt her, but I didn’t have to. She was committed. At that point in the story, she’d continue no matter what I said. “He was so powerful, he could reach into a man’s chest and pull his heart out, without dropping a claw.” Now that I didn’t believe. It impressed and terrified me as a child, but when I really thought about it, it didn’t seem remotely plausible. I must not have looked overly impressed, because she added something new to the story. A new little nugget. Something I’d never heard before. “He was so powerful he could force other wolves to shift. He could shift an entire pack with little more than a growl.”

“Is that true? How could that be true? How would that even work?”

“It’s magick, Sully. That’s how it works.”

“But, but . . . don’t we shift using the power of the moon and our own free will? Isn’t that how we do it?”

She smiled, winked, and tapped her finger to the side of her nose twice.

I knew I wouldn’t get another word out of her, and I was annoyed with myself. I’d fallen for her tall tales again. I was seventeen goddamned years old, and I was still falling hook, line, and sinker for her bullshit.

3. Three

3