Chapter 17

Bleeding badly, Smokey's grizzly bear began to lose its struggle to stay conscious, forcing him to retreat to his human form. Lying on the forest floor, he felt himself wanting to shift back, groaning as pain surged throughout his body. He tried to remember what happened to him, but his thoughts were too muddled to make any sense of them.

Unable to move a finger, all Smokey could do was struggle to breathe, but he knew his life depended on it. Forcing his eyes open, Smokey stared up at the trees and the sky, hoping they'd jog his memory, but all that did was exhaust him. Closing his eyes quickly, he tried to continue taking short, shallow, breaths.

Five minutes, or maybe it was ten—Smokey couldn't tell—he struggled to open his eyes again. This time, he was able to move one hand slightly, but not enough to feel for his wounds. Instead, concentrating on his memories, Smokey began to put the pieces together in his mind, growling when the picture of the man with the gun finally came into focus.

He shot me…why? Smokey had to find the answer to that question…and quickly. Quieting his breathing, Smokey listened for any sounds that would indicate the man was nearby. When he heard nothing but wind rustling the leaves, he gave a sigh of relief. For now, at least he was safe…but for how long?

Closing his eyes again, Smokey concentrated on the man, trying to remember if he knew him. His mind drew a blank… OK, so why would this fucker shoot me? Then on to the next piece of the puzzle. What was I doing here in the first place? And then, the final question. Was I hunting him or was it simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Suddenly, intense, roiling pain filled his chest, causing all other thoughts to dim as it grew steadily worse. Turning his focus to his body, he began to analyze what was wrong, starting with his chest. Using sheer determination, he moved his hand, bit by bit, moaning uncontrollably, but refusing to stop until he finally found a large, bloody hole into which he carefully inserted his finger. Smokey wondered briefly if he'd been shot with .45 caliber bullets, but didn't dwell on it. Grunting in pain, he continued to assess the extent of the damage, finding two other wounds. Considering the size of the bullet holes and the blood that was still oozing from them, he was surprised he was still alive.

Resting for a moment, Smokey knew something had to be done quickly or it would be too late. But what? Since no one knew where he was, help wasn't coming anytime soon. Then he thought about the words his grandfather had taught him. Moving his fingers to one of his wounds, he closed his eyes and began to whisper the words passed down through the ages from Manetu to Manetu. After repeating them several times, he felt the bleeding subside.

Encouraged by the results, Smokey repeated the words for the other two bullet holes, exhausted by the time he finished. But at least the danger of bleeding to death had receded—for a little while. He'd done the best he could for the moment, the rest would have to wait. The last thing Smokey remembered was his hand sliding off his chest and onto the ground; his body had demanded rest.

~/~/~/~/~

Slowly regaining consciousness, Willow was unable to muffle the moans caused by the intense pain of her wound. Afraid she'd alert Josiah, she forced her mouth closed to keep them in control. Eventually, the pain eased somewhat; she was sure that had to do with her remaining still and breathing through it. Just like childbirth, she thought.

With the memory of what happened fresh in her mind, Willow opened her eyes, turned her head slowly to the left, and then right, searching for Hope. When she failed to find her, she breathed a sigh of relief—at least her friend wasn't lying dead next to her. So that only left her with…Fucking Josiah took her!

Tears filled Willow's eyes. She'd never have pushed Hope to go on a walk if she had any inkling that danger was lurking on the Blackwood Pack land—just waiting for them. All she wanted was to help Hope forget, for the afternoon, her fear of Josiah coming back to finish killing her family. So after consulting Mac, she urged Hope to accompany her for a stroll through the forest.

Her plan had been working well. As they walked deeper into the forest, Willow could see the tension in Hope's shoulders ease and the light return to her eyes as their conversation centered on children and grandbabies.

Pleased with Hope's response to being outside, Willow pushed further into the forest until they reached a clearing with a mountain stream running through it where they decided to rest a while. She decided to have a drink of water and dropped to her knees to scoop some into her mouth but froze when she heard Hope gasp. Scrambling up the stream bank, Willow glared at the sight before her.

"Ahh…that was the other scent I picked up," Josiah growled, his hand holding a pistol. "Two for the price of one…fucking perfect."

Glancing sideways at her friend, Willow found Hope rigid with fear, staring at Josiah. Without hesitating, she stepped in front of her friend, blocking her from him before she snarled, "You have a lot of nerve being on this land. When Jackson finds out…"

Josiah chuckled. "You mean that pansy nephew of mine? He's too busy sucking dick." Gesturing with the gun, he continued, "Instead of threatening me, step aside…or I'll shoot you both."

If what Jackson said about Josiah being in love with Hope was true, Willow felt he wouldn't risk shooting her as long as Hope was behind her. Her tiger was the only hope she had of killing the demented alpha, but since he had a gun, she couldn't risk shifting. "Go ahead," Willow replied, calling his bluff.

Furious, Josiah moved his arm until the gun was pointed at her head. "Last chance…move or I shoot."

Before Willow could stop her, Hope quickly moved around her and was now in front of her.

Grabbing Hope's arm, Willow tried to tug her back, but her friend shook her off and took several steps away from her, out of Willow's reach.

Shaking, Hope stood there, her eyes locked with Josiah's. If anyone was going to die, it was going to be her. Willow had already paid a big price as a witness to the massacre and she wasn't ever going to put her friend through that again. "Run…" Hope murmured under her breath to Willow. "Go get Jackson."

Although Willow was reluctant to leave, Hope wasn't giving her a choice. Betting on Josiah's feelings for her friend to keep her safe, Willow turned around to run, but was only able to take a few steps forward before she heard a gunshot. The force of the bullet hitting her back flung her forward, and she screamed in pain before crumbling to the ground.

Horrified, Hope rushed to Willow, gently turning her over. "You'll be okay," she whispered, relieved to see the bullet had exited through Willow's chest. Unsure about what to do, Hope's hands fluttered over the blood seeping through Willow's shirt before deciding only pressure would help stop the bleeding—at least until Mac came. "Don't give up…you have to fight, Willow…you hear me…fight for Glenn and your grandcub." Suddenly another shot rang out and Hope screamed, as she'd expected to be Josiah's next target.

"Leave her!" Josiah yelled.

Realizing he wasn't planning to shoot her, at least not now, Hope shook her head. "I'm not leaving her to die."

And that was where Willow's memory of the shooting ended. She must have fallen unconscious and Josiah must have taken Hope, leaving her to die.

~/~/~/~/~

The sound of nearby moaning startled Smokey and his eyes opened, while his ears strained to locate it. But when the sound stopped, he figured it must have come from a gust of wind blowing through the trees surrounding him. Turning his mind back to his problem, he forced his hand back to his chest, gasping quietly from the pain; he needed to check his wounds. Though he was relieved to find the bleeding had stopped, it hadn't helped him much. He was still weak and getting weaker if the effort it took to move his hand was any indication.

Shifting might help but when Smokey tried to call his animal forward, his bear didn't respond. Not a good sign at all. He was pretty sure the bullets had done internal damage and without a doctor to repair it…I'm totally and truly fucked. That left him with only one option and, while his grandfather had taught him how to say it, he'd never actually done it to himself.

~/~/~/~/~

Entering the cave, Norm saw Jake and Jessica's wolves curled around a sleeping Galen and Eamon, while Danny's wolf stood guard over them. Smiling at the sight, he put the picnic basket down near Theo, before adding more wood to the fire. Digging out the blanket, Norm threw it around his mate's shoulders to help ward off the dampness that permeated the air, even with the fire burning.

"I heard more shots," murmured Theo.

"There were three more," Norm whispered. "I think…"

"You need…" Theo started but stopped. "What were you going to say?"

Norm paused, then said, "I think I should go help Smokey."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Theo murmured. "We don't know who's out there and why they're on the pack's land with guns. We need to get the kids home and then you can go back with Jackson, Steel, and a whole shitload of enforcers."

Remembering the arduous trek to the meadow and then to the cave, Norm shook his head. "You and the kids should stay here while I go get help. For now, you're safe and, besides, it'll be faster if I go alone."

Worrying his bottom lip, Theo didn't like it but, gazing at the sleeping kids, he had to agree with the logic of his mate's reasoning. They were exhausted, not only from the picnic outing but also from the fear they'd experienced from all that happened afterward. "Okay…go…and be careful…Smokey needs us."

Leaning over, Norm kissed Theo's forehead, then rubbed his mate's belly. "Be good, little one, for your daddy." Then rising, he walked over to Danny. "Keep everyone safe, Danny. I'll be back soon."

Smiling briefly at Danny's wolf growl, Norm headed to the cave entrance, looking back at Theo. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." Ducking through the hanging vines, he disappeared from sight.

~/~/~/~/~

From what his grandfather had explained to him, Smokey knew he could use his life force ability on himself but he had never needed to do so. If he was successful, his body would heal itself in a matter of seconds and, considering how weak it was, he was eager to get on with it.

Closing his eyes, Smokey purged his mind of all thoughts and worries. After making sure his mind was clear of distractions, he inhaled deeply. His lips barely moving, he recited the timeless words of the Great Spirit. A whisper of air began to caress his body, growing stronger until a tempestuous whirlwind encircled him at a dizzying pace. He forced himself to remain calm amidst the tumult, even though it felt as if his chest was being torn apart. Then, suddenly the wild wind was gone and, once again, he felt only the slightest breeze caress his body. Then, that, too, was gone.

What a fucking wild ride!Slowly opening his eyes, Smokey lifted his arm, which now moved easily. Dropping his hand down to his chest, he felt around, searching for bullet wounds, but there were none, nor was there any pain. And he could feel his bear inside him once again. Rolling over, he rose to his hands and knees, pausing a moment before finally rising to his feet. Looking down, he spied the three bullets that had nearly killed him and picked them up, planning to give them to Ghost.

Now able to make use of his animal senses, Smokey lifted his face, sniffing the air for the scent of the man who'd shot him. Instead, his nose filled with the scent of blood…Willow! His memories surged back. Willow's scream… the gunshots…my bear's race to find her…that's why my bear charged the man with the gun.

Sniffing for the source of the scent, he prayed to the Great Spirit that she was still alive. Tracking the scent, he came upon a small creek with Willow's body lying near it. Dropping to his knees, Smokey's hand shook as he felt for a pulse, relieved to find one, though it was very weak.

Removing the makeshift dressing on her chest, he winced at the size of the wound and quickly replaced the dressing when it began to bleed again. Turning Willow on her side, he confirmed what he thought—the bullet had gone through her. Gingerly turning Willow onto her back, he placed his hand lightly on her chest and closed his eyes. Repeating the words he'd said to resurrect himself, Smokey then placed his mouth over Willow's and exhaled, restoring her life force.

As the pain began to leave Willow's body, she wondered if it meant she was dying. But before she could completely process that thought, she became enveloped in an ethereal light, which quickly vanished, leaving her feeling better than she had in a long time.

"Willow?" Smokey called softly. "How are you feeling?"

Smokey? Smokey's here?Unsure, Willow opened her eyes, blinking several times as she fought to focus on the man leaning over her. "Smokey," she whispered in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you scream. Who shot you?" Smokey asked, keeping his voice low.

"Josiah…he has Hope…you have to tell Jackson."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…we were on a walk and he surprised us…he's not supposed to be here," Willow replied, her voice growing stronger. Seizing upon her new strength, she sat up, noticing her blood-soaked shirt. Removing the bandage Hope had placed there, she examined her healed chest before looking with surprise at Smokey, asking, "How?"

"Just something my grandfather taught me," Smokey muttered as he helped Willow to her feet.