Prologue

Waylan

The day started like any other Saturday. I woke up early and took advantage of the cool morning hours to make some headway on the land. Most of the pack probably didn't notice what I did, but to me, slowly transforming our desert outpost to an oasis was the best part of my week. I lived for the weekends, my time to dig out old yucca plants and cultivate sloping hills of soft grass and wildflowers. Little did I know that this particular Saturday was going to change the course of my life.

I was working near an old barn that didn't get much use. Mostly, I stored tools in there, and sometimes, the pups went out there to mess around. The summer before last, I double-checked the soundness of the building and then hung a tire swing inside so the little ones had a shady place to play. Since it was pretty much just me and the pups who ever went out here, I was surprised when Esteban, our pack alpha, pulled up in a van and headed into the barn with David.

For a second, I wondered what they were up to, then I decided it was none of my business and got back to laying rocks.

My business was to finish building the small pond I'd been working on out in the yard. Nothing fancy, just a place where the pups could get a drink of water while they were shifted. And, of course, other animals could too. As I got older, I found myself more and more isolated from the rest of the pack. Since finding out the pups liked to play out here, I'd been spending more time in that part of the compound, enjoying the excuse to be useful for a good cause.

It was just the right distance from the main buildings to feel like I was someplace else, but not so far that the pups were roaming away when they were out playing. At least, that was the plan. But instead of making it into a nice play area, I'd been slowly digging out the cacti and goatheads. A few trees were giving off some shade, but it would be a few more years before they offered a real canopy.

Until then, there was a digging area, some stumps and boulders they could jump on or play hide-and-seek around, and a little dirt mound for playing alpha-of-the-hill.

Working out there by myself was the closest I came to feeling like I belonged in the pack. I felt like I had purpose, like I was useful. Believe me, I saw the irony. Only by being alone could I feel like I belonged…

I heard a little yip and turned to see several pups running toward me. They stopped to inspect my work, sniffing and poking at the rocks I'd laid. One of them got excited and started digging under a stone, probably after a bug. I shooed them away and watched them race off into the barn.

A moment later, Esteban's stern voice boomed out from the walls and the pups came tearing back out, tails wagging and big paws tumbling over each other.

I remembered that thrill of getting into trouble as I leaned on my shovel and watched them play. I'd always wanted pups of my own, but it wasn't in the cards for me. Pups were the only ones who seemed to like me. Adults tended to keep their distance.

Apparently, I came off as unapproachable because I was quiet and didn't talk much. On the other hand, the pups just liked that I left them alone. And that I kept snacks and water around for them. It was surprising how far a bag of dried apricots and roasted pi?on nuts went with little ones.

Just as I went back to digging, I heard a yelp and then a whimper. When I ran over to check on them, Stella, the youngest of the crew, was lying on the ground with the other pups circling around her. I broke through the crowd and saw a piece of glass on the ground and a huge gash on her leg. I scooped her up and carried her toward the barn, where I kept some basic first-aid supplies.

"Go get the medic," I told the pups, and they raced off toward the compound.

The inside of the barn was cool and dark. I had forgotten about Esteban and David until I heard their voices coming from the back of the barn. I called out to Esteban, Stella's dad, and as soon as he was in her line of sight, she shifted back to her skin and reached for him.

While he held her, I cleaned and bandaged Stella's wound, and David cut pieces of gauze for me. Fat tears fell from her eyes, but when I was done, she planted a snotty kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, Waylan."

I packed up the first-aid kit and was getting ready to head back outside when Esteban stopped me. He and David had been whispering together while I packed up the kit, but like I said, not my business.

"Waylan, do you know anything about pawflower?"

I stopped and eyed them suspiciously. Pawflower was a restricted substance in most shifter communities. However, it grew wild in certain climates, and I'd spent a little time around it. Enough to know a few things.

I cleared my throat. "A bit. Why?"

Esteban motioned for me to follow him to the back of the barn while Stella went back to find her friends. Several large wooden crates stood about two feet high by three feet long along the far wall. They had not been here the weekend before. Our alpha walked over to one and lifted the lid.

The sweet aroma of pawflower hit my nose like a punch, so I walked over and stared into the crate.

Layers of pawflower seeds, carefully spread out on sheets of muslin with damp fertilizer, were stacked inside. I reached down and picked up several of the fat and shiny pods. When I looked up and caught David and Esteban exchanging a look, I put the seeds down and shrugged. "It, uh, doesn't affect me."

Esteban nodded. "I wondered that."

It was never directly talked about, but most of the pack assumed I had The Quiet. I didn't know for sure that I did until I found a wild pawflower plant in the desert and had no reaction to it. Pawflower was restricted because it was highly addictive to shifters, bringing about an opium-like high. For non-shifters, it was more like a mellow high you might get from smoking pot. Ironically, the only shifters who might particularly benefit from pawflower were those with The Quiet, which tended to go hand in hand with depression.

Esteban laid out his plan for me, and by the time the sun was setting in the sky, I was back in my quarters, packing up my stuff with an excitement building in me that I hadn't felt in years. The next morning, before anyone else was up, I set off in the pickup truck with everything I needed to get started, including a map to my new home. Only David and Esteban even knew where I was going, but if my pawflower farm was productive, the pack would have a sustained source of income for generations to come.

My parents were gone, and even though I consider the pack my family, I was always a loner. More than anyone else, I knew I'd miss the pups, but I needed to go.

To find my own place. A purpose.

It took all day to reach the land Esteban had bought, but I was excited to leave the dry, flat desert for the fertile valleys of Southern California. To a home where I would spend all day working the land, enjoying the silence, feeling at peace.

Alone.