2. Ethan

2

ETHAN

I release a mighty grunt as I swing the hefty ax in a wide arc across my shoulders.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Parts of the trunk splinter away from the enormous oak. Normally, I would use a chainsaw to perform this job, but today, my feral nature is fighting its way to the forefront. I'm not feeling particularly inclined to rein it in.

My earmuffs hang crookedly on my neck, my chainsaw piled on top of my heavy jacket a few feet away. The company has been more concerned about safety on the job lately. Felling trees isn't for the faint of heart. I can feel the men's stares almost penetrating the back of my neck. There are a few fellow shifters on my crew, and I know they're whispering about what I'm doing. Secrecy is the norm for our kind. Discovery is risky, and it can put everyone at risk.

Manually chopping trees down is almost never done nowadays. It takes too long and uses up too much strength. My shifter side has that aplenty. I could chop up this whole forest if I allowed myself.

But what I'm doing is risky. Chopping trees at this pace is almost unheard of for humans. The temptation to give in to my feral side is getting stronger every day. The instinct comes in waves – with some instances stronger than others.

Finally, after an hour, most of the tree lay in a pile of small logs by my feet. I'm releasing heavy huffs of breath from my exertions. Walking over to retrieve my belongings, I release a loud whistle to catch one of the collector's attention. I could use my radio, but he was already passing by, so why not?

He gives me a thumbs up, and I turn back to what I'm doing.

The jacket is a solid weight against my shoulder. Made of heavy-duty nylon, it traps the heat in my neck and makes me sweat even more. I clasp my now-blunt axe loosely along my side as I walk back toward the middle of the base.

As I'm filling my water bottle before tackling the next tree I'm assigned, I feel a firm hand clasp me on the shoulder.

Turning, I spy Hutch, a fellow woodcutter. Older than most of us by many years, Hutch lied about his age and started felling trees when he was a mere boy. Looking at us standing shoulder to shoulder, one would think we were related. We both have broad muscular shoulders, thick legs, and muscled torsos.

"Ethan, you probably don't want advice from an old cuss like me," he starts in his rumbly voice. "But take care not to call too much attention to yourself."

"Oh, you mean it's not my good looks that's drawing their stares?" I joke, swiping a sweaty arm across my forehead and pushing back my dark hair.

He lets out a chuckle. He's been on me to get married for the past year or so, ever since my feral side has started rearing its ugly head. His wife has tried setting me up with a few of her co-workers, to no avail.

"Just be careful. Perhaps, chop a tree farther away where no one can see… And get hurt," Hutch says before giving me one last squeeze on the shoulder.

Hutch's words linger in my mind as I walk back to the next tree I'm assigned to. His concern is valid, but it's hard to ignore the pull, the constant battle within me. ‘The Reckoning,' they call it. It's the age where shifters are forced to choose – give in to the feral side or find a balance.

I've always been a bit of a loner, and that's made the feral instincts come on much stronger for me.

I grip the axe tighter, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I've never fully embraced my shifter bloodline, but I don't outright deny it, either. It's just how I was born. The pack sees the potential in me, the makings of an Alpha, but I'm content being left alone rather than leading.

Family is important to me and to the pack, but I've never had much luck in that department. Many shifters who choose bachelorhood have strong social relationships to balance out their feral side. Me? Not so much. After my father died, I didn't really bond with anyone else.

I pause, trying to center myself. The forest around me is alive with the sounds of nature – birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze. It's calming, in a way, but the struggle within me is ever-present. I can feel the eyes of my fellow shifters on me, their whispers just out of earshot. They're concerned, and rightfully so. My behavior has been erratic lately, and it's putting everyone on edge.

I'm doing my best to exert control. Some days are harder than others. Doing some manual labor helps a lot.

I finish cutting down the tree, the trunk splintering away with each powerful swing. My muscles ache, but the exertion feels good, a physical release of the tension building within me. I call over one of the loggers to haul it away, my voice gruff from the effort.

"Take this one," I say, nodding towards the fallen tree. The logger, a young shifter named Kyle, gives me a wary look but nods, hurrying to comply.

I'm hoping that I can find some peace within myself, enough to maintain my position in the pack. Hutch means well, but marriage isn't in the cards. Not for me. I've always preferred solitude, and I've never met anyone who can answer my call.

Seeking solace, I make an excuse to wander deeper into the forest. The pack knows I need this time alone, even if they don't fully understand why. The further I go, the quieter it gets, the sounds of the lumber camp fading into the background. I can almost feel the balance tipping, the feral side gaining ground.

I find another tree and set to work, my swings are almost out of control now. Each thwack of the ax against the trunk is a battle cry, a desperate attempt to maintain my humanity. Sweat pours down my face, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest around me seems to close in, the shadows lengthening. Pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion helps somewhat. At least, it seems that way.

Just when I think I might lose control entirely, a woman's voice calls out, breaking through the haze. I turn, surprised, to see a beautiful young woman approaching me. Her wavy chestnut hair catches the sunlight, and her hazel eyes seem to pierce right through me. All my human and wolf senses heighten at her presence, a strange mix of attraction and wariness flooding my system.