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[center]His Wolf Part 4 - by A. A. Samuel[/center]

Sam opened his eyes. Had he been asleep? He smelled Jake's basement around him, along with sex—so much sex. Sam's vision wandered sleepily into focus on piles of cushions, Jake's cut, furred chest, and finally, Jake's already-open eyes. He looked thoughtful, maybe even worried.

"How you feeling?" he asked.

Sam couldn't quite tell if human or wolf was speaking, but with the worry element he supposed it was probably the human. Sam wasn't sure the two Jakes bothered to distinguish between each other, though, unless they disagreed.

"I feel ok," Sam said. "Hungry."

"It's morning," Jake said, oddly tentative. "Do you still . . ." His ears fell with what might be embarrassment. ". . . um . . . stand by your decision? Last night?"

Uncomfortably pleasant memories danced through Sam's consciousness. His clit twitched happily. Sam brought his hand up into his line of vision. Creamy, fluffy fur and sharp claws. Still a female werewolf. Not surprising.

"Honestly?" Sam began.

Jake appeared to brace himself.

"I'm not ok that [i]anyone[/i] saw me like that—or even like I am right now." Sam sighed. "I'm not ok with my situation. At all. But . . ." Much as it hurt to admit it, Sam couldn't bear to mess with Jake's head any more than the circumstances had already required. "Yeah, I liked it. If I was in that state again . . . I'd make the same choice."

Jake didn't look precisely [i]happy[/i] with Sam's answer, but it didn't seem as bad as he'd feared either. His ears perked back to a near-upright position, and he nodded soberly.

"Even with the stuff after you two switched out?" Jake asked.

. . . [i]switched out?[/i] Sam didn't remember switching places last night. He didn't remember [i]any[/i] more sex after . . .

An image presented itself to Sam's brain, of his wolf, tired and splattered with . . . wasn't some of that blood?

[i]"I've been fucking Alpha,"[/i] she'd said.

Sam felt sick. "You . . . you did fine, Jake, but . . ." He was out of the cushion-pile and pacing the floor, without remembering getting up. "I have to tell you what I found last night, when I went looking for her."

The car ride, out into the forest, was awkward, and the awkwardness started before they ever left Jake's house.

Sam couldn't ride in werewolf form in a car, in broad daylight, but his wolf, despite being [i]asleep[/i], nevertheless refused to let him turn human. Growling—and annoyed that he [i]could[/i] growl—Sam returned to the outside world to notify Jake of his failure.

Jake nodded. "That's cool," he said. "Just go back in and try . . ."

"She won't let me change, I'm telling you!" Sam snarled.

"I know, man, I know," Jake replied, tone soothing, "But . . . you don't have to be human, eh? Besides, it's a bear and a half to get into the hidden forest in human form."

"The hidden forest?" Sam asked. What the hell?

Jake chuckled. "Didn't I tell you? There's a barrier to protect random people from wandering into the 'magic' parts of where we're headed. They'd all die in there, especially at night, so . . ." He shrugged. "Humans can't even see the pathways, much less cross the borders."

Sam frowned. "But we can cross in werewolf form?" he asked.

Jake glanced sidelong at him. "Sure we can," he said, "You know who can cross with even less fuss though? Animals. They come and go as they please, protected by the powers of the local nature spirits. Barrier's not designed to even [i]notice[/i] animals."

Sam stared. Wolf form. Jake was suggesting wolf form. "So, to ride in the car, you're saying you want me to . . ."

Jake grinned so wide and so cheesily he might as well have said the words out loud.

Be my bitch.

Sam growled. Jake meant it as a joke, a stupid pun, [i]and[/i] he hadn't even said it, but Sam [i]knew[/i] he was thinking it, the bastard.

". . . to pretend to be a dog?" Sam finished firmly.

Jake kept on smiling and shrugged. "It means I'll have to carry all the camping equipment myself, so it's really win-win for you."

"She'll still need to let me change," Sam reminded, though he knew, somehow, that becoming a wolf would be totally different in her mind from letting him turn human (and male). If he asked, she'd either agree without a thought or take over and play doggie without shame.

The idea made Sam squirm. He'd already been emasculated and rendered inhuman. How much further could he let this sort of thing go?

"There's nothing in the world like having four paws, Sam," Jake assured him. "You're missing out. And we really do need to hurry. We can't talk to Tree at night."

Tree? Whatever. "Fine," Sam muttered. "I'll ask her."

She'd agreed without qualm. Sam lay in the back of Jake's Subaru, panting to stay cool and feeling awkward. He still wasn't sure he'd convinced Jake that Alpha was after him, but Sam's friend, benefactor, and—[i]shudder[/i]—lover did seem to at least be worried. The two werewolves had breakfasted as quickly as possible and hurried to get on the road, to see this "expert" Jake had contacted.

Once in the car, though, neither friend had seemed to know what to say, so the whole ride had been nothing but Jake's .mp3s. Sam had come to the conclusion that Jake had the most hideous taste in music of any human being—or werewolf—on planet Earth. No matter the genre, Jake's collection seemed to unerringly blare out the bands and artists Sam hated most, not to mention at least an hour's worth of obscure garbage with irritating vocals and lyrics that made Sam want to stab his own brain, just to erase the recollection of their inanity.

[i]I'm just upset. My life has me upset[/i], Sam thought to himself. [i]It's impossible to hate music this much—no matter how bad. It doesn't matter. Don't be rude. He's the driver. He's helping me out.[/i]

A little later, though, while Jake sang happily along to Sam's least favorite pop song in history, [i]This had better be fucking worth it.[/i]

At long last, they arrived at a parking lot with a trailhead sign. Jake turned off the car, and—blessedly—the stereo.

Jake stepped out of the vehicle and came around to open the door for Sam. "There's some hikers having a picnic over here," he warned softly, "so be careful to act like a dog while we walk past . . ."

He only grinned at Sam's answering growl.

Once they got past the humans, and into the woods, Sam realized the truth:

There was nothing in the world like having four paws.

Everything was different. Everything.

Sam couldn't see that clearly, but he didn't care. He knew everything that mattered. He could hear everything, forever, in all directions, detect every movement with ears and also eyes, despite the blur. His paws on the ground told him everything he needed to stay balanced and unharmed. Sight just wasn't that important.

He wouldn't have had room in his brain to pay attention to it anyway.

He was far too busy with the smells.

He'd thought the werewolf form had a good sense of smell. He'd had no idea.

Such smells!

Sam had no idea what most of them were, but he loved them. All of them. Take dirt, for example. Sam had always believed he knew what dirt smelled like. Dirt smelled like dirt, right? Except that it wasn't. Not even close. Dirt was [i]full[/i] of complex subtleties. Sam could smell whether it was made mostly of wood and leaves or of old dung. With practice, he thought he could pinpoint what kind! He could tell how moist soil was without touching it, and whether or not the water that wet it would be good to drink. He was pretty sure he could learn to figure out whether a given patch of dirt had been moistened by rain or by groundwater. All of this through smell alone.

And that was just the dirt. Everything, [i]everything[/i] was as detailed. Plants, rocks, air . . . air was amazing. Within ten minutes Sam started learning to read the past on the air. He couldn't tell which animals were which yet, but a few hours ago there were two, sort of largeish, and a few minutes ago there was a bird, quite small. Sam hadn't even realized he knew what feathers smelled like, but he did. Given time, he'd be able to smell the difference between [i]types[/i] of bird.

Jake laughed the whole way beside him, even while carrying the tent, the backpack of their clothes and gear, and hefting the cooler full of food all by himself. He seemed to feel nothing but delight watching Sam run around in all directions, sniffing everything.

"I bet you don't care so much about your balls in that form either, am I right?" Jake asked him.

Sam came to himself to realize he had his nose up close to, drinking in the subtleties of . . . a pile of deer turds. How . . . how did they smell so amazing?

He froze, embarrassed, and trotted nonchalantly to Jake's side.

His balls, huh? He thought about that.

Sam had been a bit annoyed when the hikers had gushed over what a pretty, white, fluffy doggie he was. [i]What breed is she? Is she friendly?[/i] He'd even growled when they'd tried to pet him, but . . . now that Jake was the only even vaguely human person around . . .

Yeah, Sam did feel more comfortable being female in this form. He didn't think his sex would make much difference at all, unless he was in heat.

Something about Sam's wolf felt like she hovered on the verge of heat all the time, like Sam might slide back into that sex-desperate fugue at any moment, but . . . right now he was ok, and gender was irrelevant.

Sam sniffed Jake, experimentally.

Jake smelled like bliss. Like happiness and fun, and deeper things that Sam didn't even want to [i]think[/i] about thinking. He smelled male in all the best ways. More importantly, he smelled—under the soap and water of this morning's shower—like he'd been fucking Sam for days.

Jake smelled like [i]Sam's[/i]. Like belonging, and home.

Sam really, really wished he hadn't sniffed Jake. [i]Now[/i], he cared about his missing balls again. Fuck.

They reached a campsite with plenty of trees for privacy and no other nearby tents.

"It's a bit early in spring for campers anyway," Jake remarked. "The weather's unpredictable still, so we should have the place to ourselves."

He thumped Sam cheerfully on the ribcage. It felt oddly nice. Sam's tail wagged unbidden in response, and that felt nice too. He knew, somehow, that it was the sort of wag one used to communicate with humans, and that subtly different wags would be used with fellow wolves. Sam didn't know any of those wags, but he [i]knew[/i] he didn't know, and that was odd too.

"I'll just put a charm up for now," Jake said, rummaging in the backpack. "It'll make this camp look vaguely unappealing to most people, and claim it as belonging to a werewolf for those with magical sight." He pulled out an unmarked brown bag, the size of an apricot, and hung it from a bush. "That'll keep our stuff untouched while we're gone."

Sam noticed that Jake still hid everything under a bush and stacked a few heavy rocks on top of the cooler. Sam barked once, and Jake seemed to understand that he intended a question.

"Well, you know," he said. "No need to strain the spell. Plus . . ." He laughed. "Raccoons can smell this is a werewolf's camp, but they won't care. They're raccoons." He placed the last rock and wiped his hands clean in a patch of long grass. "And that's that. We'll pitch the tent later. I'll just get changed and we can head for Tree's place."

Sam heard himself make a grunting noise somewhere between a whine and a growl.

Jake laughed. "Magical folk don't make real free with their names. Everybody has nicknames, and some have lots of them. This person . . ." He shrugged. "I call her Tree. She doesn't seem to mind. That's all I know."

Sam snuffed dubiously. Well, they'd come all this way. He hoped she knew something.

Then Jake began to undress. With each article of clothing he removed, the scent of him filled the air—all the clean sweat he'd worked up, hauling their gear. Sam resisted the urge to lick him. Instead, he trotted several yards away to perform a detailed inspection of the corpse of a baby bird. It was full of worms. It smelled yummy. This was less disturbing.

But then Jake was beside him again, furred and four-pawed too, tongue lolling and tail out straight. He smelled better than ever.

As Jake trotted on ahead, Sam saw his ball sac just hanging there between his legs, right under the naked asshole exposed by Jake's lifted, canine tail. It seemed crude and immodest to Sam for a moment . . . until he realized he was just as exposed, and had been all day. His tail tucked itself awkwardly down, against his body.

It had always looked so [i]innocent[/i] when every dog Sam saw was naked, but now that he was canine himself . . . the scents were . . . distracting. Here they were, naked together, out in the woods . . .

[i]Don't go back into heat, stupid bitch,[/i] he scolded, wondering, [i]What kind of nonsense cycle does this body follow anyway?[/i]

But the truth was, it wasn't lust that upset Sam now. He'd feel better about blind, crazed lust than about . . . these other emotions Jake's scent now provoked. Goddamn primal instincts.

Whatever was happening, Jake didn't seem inclined to fight it. He turned back to lick Sam's nose affectionately, and padded off between the trees. He blatantly expected Sam to follow.

Sam huffed and did as requested. At least they hadn't started sniffing each-other's butts.

Sometime later, with the sun a bit past noon overhead, Jake trotted to a halt and caught Sam's glance. With ears, eyes, and gestures, he said quite clearly, "Do you smell that?"

Sam sniffed. It was faint, and he wouldn't have noticed it without Jake's direction, but he did smell something like lightning, pepper, and snakeskin, all rolled together and turned sort of sideways. He cocked his head. Jake gave a doggish grin.

With similar gesture-expression language, he said, "Come on!" and trotted off again.

Nervous, Sam followed.

If nothing else, running through the woods was way easier with extra legs for balance and tough paw-pads instead of shoes. Sam could really feel the ground beneath each step, and without injury. Best way to hike.

The hot, crackling, slithery smell got closer, until Jake paused again, with a look that said, playfully, "Brace yourself."

He waited for Sam to be ready, and they leaped together. Sensation sparkled and shivered over Sam's fur and skin. He couldn't describe it. Then it was gone. On the other side, the world felt . . . bigger. Older. More awake.

"You wouldn't even have noticed, if I hadn't said anything," Jake told him, with words.

Startled by the sound, Sam glanced over to see Jake in werewolf form. He remained nude, and his scent remained uncomfortably good. Sam sniffed at a nearby plant, just to fill his nose with something else. It was bitter and acrid. Sam didn't care.

He did wonder, however, if Jake had changed forms just so he could talk with words. Sam didn't feel like he [i]couldn't[/i] use words in this form, but he also didn't find himself inclined to try. Sam's wolf had used words in wolf form inside Sam's head, but . . . that was inside his head.

Ah well, he'd ask about it later.

"Now that we're here," Jake said, "a few important safety tips. Always be on the normal side, where the trees are asleep, before the sun sets. At night, this forest will eat you. That might be literal."

Sam felt his hackles raise. He shook his fur all over, then wondered why he knew how to do that.

"Even during the day," Jake said, "be courteous to [i]everything.[/i] One-on-one, you can take most of the daylight things in this forest, but do not expect fights to be one-on-one, especially not if you're an asshole. The spirits here look out for their own. If you catch a bird, and it talks to you, don't eat it. Actually . . ." Jake frowned. "You're probably better off not hunting until we get back out for the night—not until you know the ropes better. I'll hunt for both of us, if we get hungry."

The very idea made Sam hungry, though if some of the food might talk, he wasn't inclined to ignore Jake's advice. He looked hopefully at Jake, who chuckled.

"Let's meet Tree first," he said. "Then I'll go hunting, ok? It's not much farther."

And then Sam was transforming, without having decided to do so. He felt himself growing larger, his spine re-shaping along with every bone in his forelegs and forepaws. There were other, subtler shifts, but the changing of his bones was what overwhelmed Sam's senses.

As the change flowed to completion, Sam heard and felt from his own throat, "I don't want to meet any stupid tree. This place is nice. Get us some meat, and then let's fuck."

Jake blinked. "Uh, hi Sammie," he said. "We're, um, in a hurry though. We can fuck in camp tonight, ok?"

She snuffed. "[i]I'm[/i] not in a hurry," she said. "I'm just waiting for . . ." She trailed off, but Sam was sure he knew what the idiot bitch had been about to say.

[i]I'm just waiting for Alpha to find me and claim me.[/i]

". . . more sex," she finished instead.

Sam felt his cunt responding to her lust, swelling and moistening already. It was almost as if she grew aroused as easily and often as a human female—a sex-obsessed one, anyway—but with the distracting strength of a wolf female's heat. Sam hoped it wasn't this bad for all female werewolves. They'd never get anything done.

Jake rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, and Sam saw the first hints of an erection when his wolf looked unabashedly at their companion's genitals.

[i]Damn it, Jake![/i]

"This is important, Sweets," he cajoled. "Tree can teach you good stuff. She'll help you get stronger."

Sam's wolf made a face. "There is no tree anywhere that can beat a werewolf in a fight."

Jake laughed. "She's not what you're thinking," he said, "but I'll take that bet. If you beat her in a fight, you and I will spend the day hunting and fucking. If [i]she[/i] beats [i]you,[/i] you have to let her teach you. Deal?"

Sam's stomach clenched. Jake had better know what he was saying. Sam wondered, too, where Jake's earlier warnings about courtesy to the forest creatures had gone. He'd just roped their "expert" into a brawl with a werewolf without consulting her first.

Fuck, Sam hated this bitch inside him. Why the hell had this happened to him?

But his wolf wagged and bounced. "Yay, sex all day! Where's the tree I need to shred?"

"To what have you agreed in my name, Jacob Grey, son of Hannah and Nathaniel?" came a voice from behind them. It sounded like wind through leaves, but lower, richer, more sultry, as if roots in the earth or the flow of sap could be a woman.

Sam's wolf spun warily toward the sound, but Jake kept smiling, totally relaxed. Sam saw nothing. Just trees.

"My apologies, Lady Tree," Jake called to the forest around them. "This is the divided werewolf I mentioned on the phone."

Sam could not imagine how you reached a being like whatever this was [i]on the phone[/i], but he figured someone would explain it later if he needed to know.

"The human has asked me to request your aid and guidance on his behalf, but the wolf here . . ." Jake shrugged. "She respects only strength in battle and has yet to grasp much courtesy. She'll accept the human's wishes in this matter [i]only[/i] if you defeat her in combat."

"Ah," came the same voice, from a different angle this time.

The wolf-woman spun to track it, but still Sam saw and smelled nothing.

"She sounds like someone who would have to be put down, if she can't learn better," the voice went on.

. . . put down? Put [i]down?![/i] Sam felt sick.

"She's my lover," Jake admitted, very seriously. "I'd be grateful, if you could help her to learn what she needs."

"I see," said a slightly different voice—almost the same, but more . . . physical, as if the speaker hadn't quite coalesced before.

When Sam's wolf spun toward the sound this time, Sam saw a woman, nude and gorgeous, stepping out of a blossom-covered California lilac. She looked nothing like she'd been hiding between the leaves and flowers, and . . . only slightly more like her strange coloring might have camouflaged her.

The tree was an explosion of purple blossom-puffs, however, and the woman had purple only in her eyes, which themselves looked like blossoms, green toward the centers. Her skin was a variegated grey and white, like the bush's bark behind her, and her long, wild hair a vibrant emerald, like its leaves. No, instead of looking like she'd [i]hidden[/i] in the little tree, she seemed more as if she'd been part of it, and now chose to be separate.

Sam's wolf leapt backward, growling softly. The woman watched her, expression mild, curious. Despite the tiny delicacy of the tree she'd just left, her unabashedly nude body was earthy and opulent, a stunning hourglass of implausible, natural curves.

[i]All[/i] her hair was green, Sam noticed. Here and there, he saw leaves, and he couldn't tell if they were decorative, or if they grew as part of her. She didn't look human, even apart from the coloring and leaves. Her eyes were just a touch too large, her fingers just a hair too long, and other subtleties Sam couldn't quite place. She had little scent to distinguish her from the tree she'd left, but what there was reminded Sam more of a squirrel than a human. And a tree-frog, and maybe some kind of bird.

"I am always in favor of incurring your gratitude, Jake," she murmured. She glanced toward him, and he met her eyes with a look that said they'd been lovers too.

Sam was annoyed to feel a surge of jealousy, as if he had any business caring who Jake had fucked. Hell, he'd have trouble saying no to a woman like this himself. He wondered how her skin would taste if he licked it.

Sam's wolf growled. As if defending territory, she moved herself between the tree-woman and Jake. Sam heard Jake chuckle nervously, but the tree-woman only looked amused.

[i]What do you care?[/i] Sam thought at his wolf, annoyed. [i]You're just using him anyway.[/i]

If she heard him, she didn't respond. All her attention was on the green-haired woman.

Lady Tree, as Jake had called her, simply turned and walked away, as if Sam weren't even there. Her bearing was one of supreme, calm confidence, a graceful and grounded aura of personal power. Her green hair hung down just long enough to make a tantalizing curtain for her hips to sway behind. She had, perhaps, the most enticing bottom Sam had ever seen.

Sam's Wolf stopped growling and lunged.

Tree sidestepped neatly, and Sam barreled past her, into a massive blackberry bramble. As the wolf flailed to right herself, cutting her finger pads on blackberry thorns and risking similar injuries in much more sensitive locations, Sam noted that the vines were moving on their own, winding and tightening to grip Sam like spiked ropes.

[i]Shitshitshit![/i] Sam yelled inside his head. Had Tree told the terrifying berries to do this? If she could control [i]blackberries[/i] this fight was already over.

[i]Shut up![/i] snapped the wolf inside Sam's head. With a massive, brute-force lunge, she hauled on the vines binding both her arms, dragging so hard that some of the thorns bit deep, beneath Sam's fur. She did manage to snap herself free, to Sam's amazement, even from the vines around her waist. Sam's legs remained entwined, but with her arms free she soon found a grip on a nearby baby tree. Pulling herself loose pulled the little tree up completely, but the vines did break, and the wolf-woman was able to turn back toward her foe.

Tree watched Sam serenely, expression more curious than competitive. Sam's wolf ran at her again. Again, Tree side-stepped at the last moment, but not as far this time. Instead of letting Sam run past her, she threw up her hand to strike her attacker in the throat.

Sam felt something rupture. He was sure it was important. Pain exploded, and he gagged, struggling to breathe. He fell to his knees, choking, and something hard came down on the top of his head. An elbow perhaps? He only knew it made the world spin and ring.

"You have might," Tree said thoughtfully, "but little skill. You're far too direct. Shall we continue, or have I passed your test, wolf-pup?"

Sam coughed and sputtered as whatever had happened to his throat began to heal. It took him nearly a minute to notice, but he seemed to have control of the body.

[i]Stupid bet,[/i] Sam heard from the forest in his mind, a whining grumble with a hint of startled admiration. [i]Do what she says.[/i]

"She's convinced," Sam relayed aloud. "I'm sorry about all that."

Tree cocked her head to one side. "You two [i]are[/i] different," she said. "Introduce yourself, divided wolf. Tell me why you've come to me."

"Um. Well. I'm Sam Eriksen," Sam said awkwardly, wishing for clothes, wishing for his own body instead of the wolf's. "I'm a, um, network admin, and . . . I have no idea what's happening to me."

Tree lived in a tree-house, but not like anything Sam had ever seen. The "door" was a mat made of woven grasses, which covered an irregularly-shaped hole in the floor. To get to it, Sam had to climb a ladder that appeared to be part of the natural shape of the tree trunk on just one side. Tree climbed it above him, though Sam assumed she was just being polite. He was sure she could phase into the tree at will and reappear at whatever point within its branches that she liked.

Her courtesy, though, had the added effect that—since she was naked, and Sam climbed below her—if he looked up . . .

Sam felt himself blushing beneath his pale fur for the whole rest of the trip up the ladder. For a woman who'd emerged from inside a plant, Tree had a remarkably mammalian shape, in all respects. Quite humanoid, in fact. Sam's clit twitched just thinking about the one glimpse he'd caught before studiously turning his gaze to his hands for the remainder of the ascent. Everything about that view had been gorgeous.

They reached the top, and Tree pushed the mat aside, disappearing into a chamber above.

When Sam joined her, he noticed first the surprisingly mischievous look on Tree's face. He wondered if it wasn't [i]just[/i] courtesy that had led her to climb with him instead of phasing through the tree.

But then he noticed his surroundings.

Tree's house wasn't "built". It appeared to be [i]grown[/i] within the lower branches of the huge tree. In fact, not just the walls, floor, and roof but [i]every[/i] piece of wood furnishing in the place seemed to be still alive, still connected to the tree itself. Other items, like the mat over the hole in the floor, were made from the sorts of plants that tended to have die-offs every year, so that even if they weren't currently alive, it was easy to imagine that nothing had been killed to make them.

No such care had been taken with the fur and leather Sam saw among the rugs and blankets, or the bone-looking tools neatly-sorted in one corner . . . or had it? Animals did die on their own, eventually, and Sam supposed that sometimes their hides and bones were still useful, even if they'd died of old age. He wanted to ask her about it, but somehow didn't dare.

He also observed a handful of modern possessions, including what looked very much like a smartphone. He didn't ask how she paid her bill or what sort of reception she got out here. He wasn't sure he wanted her world to impinge upon his own. Werewolves were strange enough, but ancient forest spirits surfing the internet from their trees . . . Sam just wasn't ready to deal.

And, of course, the "curtains" over Tree's windows were living vines, just starting to flower. As Sam stared at them, Tree asked them to shut, which they wrigglingly did.

"Please, sit," Tree said to Sam. She indicated a large, chair-like protrusion that jutted up from the living floor, lined with padding from variously-crafted plant and animal sources.

Sam sat. It was remarkably comfortable. Tree pulled up a cylindrical, woven-fiber cushion-chair-thing and sat across from him, near enough to lay a cool, gentle hand on Sam's knee. He felt once again awkward about all the nudity, and uncomfortably aroused, but at least they were both in female bodies. Sam couldn't logically explain to himself why that should make a difference, but then, he couldn't logically explain to himself why he wanted clothes so badly either. He tried hard to relax.

"The first thing I need to do is diagnose the problem," Tree said. Her voice still reminded Sam of rustling leaves, despite its warmth and clarity. "For that, I need to put you in a kind of trance. Are you ready?"

"I . . ." Sam wasn't sure. "What are you?" he blurted.

Her soft, friendly laughter in reply was like the dancing of blossoms in a breeze, though Sam could not for the life of him have explained how. At least he hadn't offended her.

"I'm a dryad," she said, smiling.

Sam felt silly for asking. What else would she have been?

"Do . . . all dryads . . . have trance powers?" he asked. Powers. Stupid word. She wasn't one of the X-Men. Sam braced himself for more laughter.

Tree continued to smile, but she only shook her head. "My connection to plants is inherent to my being," she explained. "Everything else I can do, I have acquired through long years of patient dedication."

Something about the way she said "years" reframed itself in Sam's mind as decades, perhaps centuries. He wanted to ask how old she was, but one look into the deep, leafy green around the centers of Tree's eyes told him he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know.

Her feminine curves looked as firm and perfect as if she were sweet sixteen, but in truth she might be older than Sam's mind could grasp. The thought made him feel small, and very young.

"I'm ready," he said. Jake trusted her, and she seemed to know what she was doing. He wanted to hear her diagnosis.

Tree lay both her hands on Sam's knees, palms upward. Without even thinking about it, Sam placed his comparatively-huge, cream-fluffy, clawed hands in hers. She smiled her approval and gently closed her long, slim fingers around his wrists.

"Breathe," she instructed, "deep into your belly. Keep your eyes on my eyes, and let your mind go still."

Sam didn't know how long later he and Tree emerged from the spirit trance into which she'd taken them. He knew it had been a while, because all the shadows had moved, grown longer, but he couldn't guess if an hour had passed or several. He was too used to relying on his phone to tell the time.

He felt rested though, refreshed, at peace, and . . .

. . . at the same time, a bit frightened. Sam could sense no end to Tree's confidence, and the feeling unsettled him. Even though, in a teacher, serene self-possession did have a comforting aspect, inspiring trust in her wisdom, Tree seemed alien to Sam, a spirit of another world.

Sam remembered the way Jake had spoken to her, with a quietly lustful reverence. In retrospect, it seemed to Sam that Jake saw her as a goddess whose pleasure he would happily serve upon command.

Jake had left Sam alone with her, so he could go hunt, just after introducing them. Sam didn't know how long ago now that might be, but he already began to understand Jake's view of her.

Sam blinked around him at the living, near-solid lattice of the "walls", breathed deeply of the rich, forest air, and looked over at this "expert" Jake had brought him to see. Everything seemed different now—clearer, larger—though Sam couldn't place how.

What had Tree learned from his mind? He remembered almost nothing of the meditation they'd shared, but he found himself with the sudden, strong impression she'd seen inside his mind-forest. He wasn't sure what that meant.

Tree opened her large, purple eyes and smiled at him. She, too, seemed bigger than she had before, but Sam didn't guess why . . . until she said, "So this is your human shape. You're handsome."

Startled, Sam looked down to see his familiar, human form. He wasn't sure how long he'd been stuck as a female werewolf at that point, and relief flooded him nearly to tears at the sight of his own flaccid penis. Then he realized he was still naked, with a woman he'd just barely met.

He shoved his hands in his lap and felt his pale skin turn red all over.

Tree smiled brightly, her eyes roaming Sam's body without shame. "Few grasp the purpose of clothing in the deep wood, Sam Eriksen. Please be at ease. No part of your body is shameful."

Right. Sam took another meditative breath. He'd already sort-of gotten that when they were both in female bodies, but . . . He stole a glance at Tree's implausibly dramatic figure, and his penis twitched in response. He didn't move his hands.

Tree only grinned wider. "Well, we'll see what we can do about your modesty in a moment," she said, "but for now, I'll tell you what I have learned."

Sam nodded, blushing deeper, glancing awkwardly out the window.

"Your assessment is essentially correct," she said. "Though a werewolf's wolf-self is always formed from the basic stuff of the human-self, yours has not formed naturally." She frowned. "To all appearances, I would say that a mage of some sort has tampered with your wolf's formation, drawing on parts of you so minor as to be unknown to your consciousness, artificially inflating them and tailoring them to the mage's own ends."

Sam tried to take this in. "So . . . I'm not crazy. That guy is really after me, and the wolf-woman . . . she's [i]his[/i] creation—made out of me, maybe, but not [i]me[/i] at all." Once again, Sam struggled against tears of relief. He'd been right. "Thank you," he breathed. "How do I get rid of her?"

The dryad watched him for a moment, her face unreadable. Then, "You don't," she said.

Sam stared.

"This crime was done to you," Tree said gravely, as kindly as anyone could have, "but much like a maimed warrior must live with the scars, and an abused child can never un-remember the abuse suffered, all you and your wolf can do is move forward together."

Sam shut his eyes against sudden vertigo. He felt himself shaking his head, though he didn't really know what he meant by the gesture.

"There has never been a cure for lycanthropy," Tree informed him gently. "You and your wolf are both capable of change as people, but . . . only insofar as you wish to change. You're stuck with one another, a dual soul where once no such duality existed."

Stuck with her?

Sam felt nauseous. He couldn't tell if [i]she[/i] was listening to this, somewhere inside him. He wanted to kill her. Rage spiked within him, and he found himself on the verge of diving into the forest in his mind.

"Understand," Tree said, stopping him short. "She too is a victim. I have seen much of her crafting, the way she was intended to serve the master who made her. I can only imagine how difficult you must find this sharing of your body—with an entity fashioned to enslave you, no less—but she has nowhere else to go, and no-one else who can help her to recover from the defilement that marked her birth."

Sam's heart seemed to stop for a moment. The wolf as victim? The idea buzzed like a short circuit through his whole brain. It almost [i]hurt[/i].

"I'm going to kill him," Sam heard himself mutter.

"The mage?" Tree asked. She nodded. "I would guess that he deserves to die, though you may not find that easy. This case rings a bell with me, but I need to re-read an email from a few years ago. I will do that tonight, after you leave."

Sam forced himself to nod, to be patient—no matter how strange it was to think of Tree having an email address.

"In the mean time," she said, "let's see what we can do to bring you and your wolf into closer alignment. First, I need you to . . ."

"I'm not ready for that," Sam heard himself say. He hadn't meant to, but he knew it was true. "Even if it's not possible, I still want her gone. I can't . . ." Though he left one hand modestly in his lap, Sam punched with the other at the living-wood seat beside him. His knuckles hurt, but the pain helped him control his cracking voice and stinging eyes. "I need to kill him. Then I can deal with her. Do you have anything to help me do that? Does this crazy magic-world have enchanted swords and shit?"

Again, Tree watched him for a moment before replying.

"My magics are ill-suited for destruction," she said finally. "I can only offer what I can offer."

Helpless rage boiled over within Sam's heart, and he found himself standing, striding for the living ladder back down to the ground below.

"Thanks then," he said. He didn't mean to sound ungrateful or annoyed, but he knew that he did. "I'd better go find Ja- . . ."

Tree stood in his way, though he hadn't seen her move to intercept him. Her opulent, nude body nearly touched his own exposed skin. She raised one hand to his cheek. Her purple eyes, with their deep-green halo around the pupil, seemed to hold Sam fixed in place, though he didn't think it was by magic. Her skin contacted his, and he found himself surprised that her hand was warm and soft. He felt another twitch from his genitals.

"You're right," Tree said to him. "You need more healing before . . ." She shook her head. "I am angry on your wolf's behalf, though she would not yet understand why. It made me impatient, but impatience will not do. I have other healing I can offer."

Disarmed and self-conscious, Sam scrambled for words to ask her about this other healing. Before he could find them, Tree stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

She tasted like flower petals, and her lips and tongue were as soft. Her arms slid around his neck, and her large, soft breasts pressed against his chest. As if helpless to do otherwise, Sam's hands seemed to find themselves on her rounded hips, tickled by the curtain of her emerald green hair.

Stirring further to life, Sam's cock found itself sandwiched between his own body and hers. It felt good, and right, and . . .

Sam was in the mind forest. His wolf snarled at him. Tree put a gentle hand on her arm. Sam and the wolf-woman turned to stare at her.

"How are you here?!" asked Sam's wolf. She sounded alarmed.

"Your body stands in my home, and we have already delved into the spirit together," Tree replied, as if no further explanation could possibly be relevant.

"Well, I don't want you here, and it's [i]my[/i] mind!" Sam's wolf snapped.

"Have you forgotten your bet?" Tree reminded her, before Sam could snap back.

The wolf snarled again. "What great [i]strength[/i] can I learn by letting this moron fuck you?" she cried. "I have no interest in females. If he wants sex, he can have Jake."

Again, Sam would have retorted angrily, but again Tree spoke before he could.

"Did you not [i]force[/i] Jake upon him as a lover?" she asked lightly. "And did I not best you in combat? Need I prove my dominance of this territory once more?"

The wolf woman's jaw clicked shut on whatever she'd been about to say.

"According to your sexual ethics," Tree went on, speaking to the wolf while Sam, too, shut his mouth and watched in confused fascination, "who decides who does and doesn't rut, or with whom?"

The wolf stared at the ground. "The alpha," she muttered.

"And [i]here[/i], I am always alpha," Tree said. "So?"

"Do as you like with him," the wolf muttered. She dropped to all fours, and when Sam blinked she'd become her wolf self instead of werewolf. She turned to go, with her tail out proudly straight.

Sam was back in the treehouse, in his body, with Tree pressed close to him. The wolf had let him go.

And he did want Tree. He wanted her like water in a desert. Something still held him back, however.

"Jake . . ." he began.

". . . wishes he were here to join in," Tree finished for him, smiling. "We have both enjoyed Jake's skills and will again, I imagine. It would be silly of him to object if we enjoy one another as well."

"I . . ." Sam wanted to agree with her, with all his soul, but . . .

"I will take full responsibility if I have misunderstood his wishes," Tree said, "but I think he would be more angry with you for delaying my pleasure than otherwise."

Sam blinked. Right! Her territory, after all. He found himself grinning stupidly. She took his hand and drew him to a trampoline-like bed, stretched taut between two parallel, living branches above her living floor.

Slipping lightly onto the fine and fur-lined net of her bed, Tree spread herself before him, posing provocatively. Her full, heavy breasts seemed to call to him, but less so than her huge, purple eyes. Sam's cock reared erect, and her bark-colored, green-fringed cunt glistened invitingly between her spread legs. Sam pulled himself onto the netting and bent toward her body.

The dryad stopped him with a crooked finger.

"I'm ready," she said. "Lick me later."

Sam found himself almost disappointed, so curious was he about her flavor, but it was hard to complain at such a request. He moved further up her bed, pressed his engorged head to her moist, hot slit and pushed himself inside. Pleasure enveloped him like a benediction.

Inch by inch, Sam's cock slid into the dryad's lush, tree-colored body. However plantlike she might appear on the outside, she felt human enough inside, tight and slick, engulfing him. She arched beneath him, gasping her enjoyment and bucking her hips to swallow him ever more deeply.

He knew, now, from his experiences as a female, what all this felt like for her too—or close enough. The thought shot through him like a bolt of pure bliss. Sam fell to Tree's body, twisting to suckle her bark-grey nipple as he thrust his cock into her, again and again.

Damn it felt good. It felt like coming home.

Every little noise Tree made, every arch of her slim waist and wide hips, every bounce and roll of her improbable breasts felt like a healing salve on Sam's soul.

"Is this magic?" he asked her.

Her laugh turned into a gasp of pleasure at a deep, hard thrust. "Yes," she moaned, "but not that kind. It's just pleasure."

"How does it feel so good?" he pressed, bending to lick the other nipple.

"It's what you need," was all she said. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him toward her, thrusting up to meet him.

Was it really so simple? It did feel like what he needed. His body was his own again, his sexuality his to command. And Tree . . .

Fuck. He'd never had a woman [i]anything[/i] like her in his life. He'd loved his girlfriends, and all of them had been beautiful, but Tree . . . she was like something from a dream, a fantasy made manifest, and not just in her hips and breasts and slender waist. Her moans and bucks, her sheer abandon, her eagerness for him were all unreal, and exactly what he'd needed.

"I'm close," he gasped. He wanted to last longer, drag this pleasure out for a thousand years, but he couldn't control it, couldn't hold back.

"Come into me," she cried, soft and full of ardor.

Pleasure shocked through him. His cock spurted deep into her body. Tree continued to grind against him, hard and deep as orgasm pulsed through him. When he was done, she ran a finger down the light sweat on his chest.

"Now you can lick me," she said, "until you grow hard again."

Sam laughed, panting, but he thought he was up for it. Yes, this was what he needed.

Pulling out of her was the most agonizing ecstasy imaginable, but when Sam bent to her cunt, it was so worth it.

His own musk cling to her, the scent of the rich cum he'd already spilled, but beyond that she smelled like flowers and honey. Sam licked, and she tasted fresh and alive, inherently rejuvenating. He gripped her thighs and buried his face in her moist slit, lapping up her juices like brandy. He held her tight until she writhed against him, bucking wildly and crying out in bliss.

Her body was even more beautiful as he made it dance against him with the skill of his lips and tongue. He sucked her clit until she screamed in orgasm, and then he kept on sucking, pleasuring her with his mouth until the beauty of her pleasure drove him back to iron hardness.

Never in his life had Sam fucked a girl twice in a row. As he slid into Tree's slick heat the second time, he felt . . . powerful.

It was probably silly, some throwback to the monkey brain, and yet . . .

Sam wasn't sure he'd ever felt quite so much . . . a man.

And Tree was woman distilled, her huge breasts bouncing with each and every deep thrust Sam hammered into her. She clung to him with her legs once more, her body heaving to pull him ever harder, ever deeper inside.

They climaxed together, the second time, her scream of ecstasy exciting him to spill into her again. His cum pulsed out of him, and he collapsed beside her, exhausted and spent.

They panted together for a while, legs entangled. Tree brushed a few stray hairs from Sam's exertion-slicked forehead.

"Feel better?" she asked, once their hearts had slowed again.

"So much," Sam whispered. The relief went so deep it seemed to shine healing light on places he hadn't even realized were hurt.

"Can we see how she is?" Tree asked.

Reality rushed painfully back to scald him, but he somehow kept from whining. "Ok," he said.

He willed himself into the forest. Tree appeared beside him. Sam shut his eyes and wished to see the wolf. He walked a few paces to the left, since left felt "right" somehow, and he opened his eyes. There she was, looking thoughtful and just a bit disheveled. She didn't glance up at him.

"Um. Thanks," he managed. "I needed that."

She sniffed. "Did he please you?" she asked. She didn't look at Tree either, but that had to be who she was asking.

"He's quite good," the dryad said. "I will want to borrow him again while you're here to learn."

Sam couldn't argue with that. He wished he wanted to go again right then.

Sam's wolf nodded. "It's your territory," she said dully. "I hope I can learn quickly, enough to satisfy Jake's stupid bet, and then leave."

"Does it have to be like that?" Sam found himself asking her. He hated the hesitation in his voice. "What if we share? I let you have the men I can stand, and you let me have the women you find . . . worthy or whatever."

"We're not equals," she growled. "Don't pretend I have to do [i]anything[/i] for you."

"Until he can defeat you in combat?" Tree asked.

The wolf-woman laughed. "He can't do that," she said, "but yes, of course. The strongest leads those weaker. I'm stronger than him, so I decide who can fuck this body and in what form. Just like you decide who to fuck in your territory."

Sam hated that she felt this way, but he thought he understood why Tree had wanted him to hear it. His wolf made a callous and unfair leader, but as a follower . . . if Sam could learn to lead . . .

"Would you be happy to serve him if he beat you?" Tree asked.

Sam's wolf sniffed again. "Pointless question. Alpha says . . ." She trailed off, as if she'd revealed too much.

Sam tensed, anger rising again.

"He says what?" Tree pressed. "That your human doesn't matter? That your human will learn to serve him too?"

The wolf-woman didn't answer. Sam folded his arms and waited.

"Your human tells me that your alpha hurt you last night," Tree said gently. "Is that true?"

And with that Sam's anger drained away. It [i]was[/i] true. That bastard had beaten her bloody and left her half-crazed in the aftermath. She really had looked the victim in that moment—until she'd knocked Sam out and taken his body for a ride with Jake until morning. And yet . . . It [i]was[/i] evidence for the things Tree had said about her. Her very creation had been abusive. She hurt Sam because of the ways she herself had been hurt.

Sam's wolf shrugged uncomfortably, still refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Her expression seemed faraway and sad. "Pain will make me stronger," she said.

"Do you think you'll be happy, serving your alpha?" Tree asked, with her gentlest tone yet.

But apparently she'd pushed the matter too far. "Fuck off!" the wolf-woman snapped. "You don't know me, or him! Go away!" She rounded on Tree and Sam, fangs bared, but Sam saw the tears in her eyes.

As much as she'd enjoyed last night, she'd hated it too. Whatever that bastard had done to force Sam's wolf into the mold that pleased him, he had further still to break her, and she didn't [i]exactly[/i] want to be broken.

Sam willed himself back into his body, still nude, still lounging in post-coital contentment with Tree in her trampoline-hammock-net bed. He remained human and male, to his own deep gratitude.

"So," Tree said. "Do you think I can help you?"

Sam laughed sadly. "I think I can't beat him as long as she's against me on this," he admitted. "You're right. I need to learn to work with her, somehow."

Jake brought back meat—a whole elk, in fact—but by then it crept near enough to sunset that Tree advised they dine back at their camp.

"My powers are diminished after dark," she said, "and the dark things in the forest grow stronger. They and I have an understanding, and should they threaten to break it I can always take shelter inside a tree, but you have no such understanding, nor can you follow me to safety if my forest's nighttime denizens give chase."

"No worries," Jake said with a fangy grin, "I already told him the short version. We'll be back in the morning, soon as we've hunted again." He hefted his massive kill and looked over to Sam. "Oh, hey! You're a guy again! Did you two have fun?" He waggled the fur where his eyebrows would be.

Sam felt himself blush bright red. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you about that . . ."

"He was worried about cheating on you," Tree called, her smile amused. "I had to promise to take responsibility."

Jake blinked at her, and then down at Sam. He looked positively moved. "Shit, Sam, I'd have told you it was ok, I just didn't . . . well, with your male form being straight, I just . . ."

Tree's grin widened. "Can you really call yourself 'straight' anymore, Sam?" she asked. "Her influence is always there inside you now. You should experiment. Jake is quite flexible with these things. Ask him, some time, what I can do with vines."

Sam glanced at Jake, but he was already moving, headed off away from Tree's treehouse. "Better get going! Sunset won't wait!" he called. His tone sounded playfully forced.

Sam laughed. Vines, eh?

Tree teased them both, Sam knew, and with great difficulty he resisted the urge to run and hide, but he also knew she made some of her points in seriousness.

Sam swallowed hard and dragged his eyes away from Jake's retreating, muscular form. "We'll, uh, see you tomorrow!" he called to Tree. "Good night!"

He jogged off after Jake and the elk carcass, catching up quickly.

"Thanks for thinking of me," said the big, hairy, anthropoid canine, once they walked side by side. "I really . . ." He sounded serious, and perhaps emotional.

Sam didn't want to have that sort of conversation. "I'm bad news, Jake," he said. "You've done so much for me, and I can't tell you to stay away because I'd end up that asshole's slave or something, but . . . man, you've never seemed the romantic type. Why . . . ?"

Jake laughed sadly. "That's just it," he said. "I'm [i]totally[/i] the romantic type. But there's this secret I have to guard with my life, you know? Limits my options." He sighed. "I mean, don't get me wrong. There's other werewolves in the world, and I don't want either of us to settle, or rush, or whatever." He laughed again, but it was nervous this time, almost shy, not the way Sam thought of Jake at all. "I'm just saying," he went on, "that within reason, yeah, I guess you're seeing my romantic side. You're hot, and I always liked you, and you're a werewolf. If we get through this crisis, we can see what comes next. But . . ." He grinned. "You can always fuck hot dryads. Blanket permission, as long as I have the same."

Sam wished with all his heart that he had some fucking [i]pants[/i] to put on. He also wished that his cock wasn't deciding to get harder as they spoke.

[i]Can you really call yourself straight anymore, Sam?[/i]

That wasn't an issue he desperately wanted to address. At all.

He laced his fingers behind his head and strolled along grassy patches to protect his human feet.

"Yeah, ok," he said. "Hot dryads. We'll decide the rest later."

"Sounds great," Jake replied, still grinning. "Now hurry up and change forms so you can take a turn carrying this thing. It's fucking heavy."

That night, Sam ate raw meat, straight off the carcass. Well, he mostly watched while his wolf did all the actual gnawing and tearing, but he tasted it. He felt it sliding down his throat in chunks too big for a human to swallow. Deep in the center of the elk's body, the meat was still hot when they ate it.

Sam enjoyed the experience a great deal more than he thought he might ever want to admit to himself.

The notion of uncomfortable enjoyment made Sam think about gay sex. Would he ever want to admit to himself that he lusted after Jake now, all the time? Sam still desired women, obviously, and he wondered to what extend his preferences transferred to his wolf's responses, despite her claims that she wasn't into women.

If nothing else, thoughts of sex were a welcome distraction from thoughts of Alpha.

When the elk was picked remarkably clean—two werewolves being able to put away a great deal of food between them, especially since neither had eaten much since breakfast—Jake suggested sparring practice.

It was night, but werewolf eyes weren't as hampered by darkness as humans' were, and of course their scent and hearing worked just fine. Sam's wolf agreed to let Sam have the body for a while, provided Jake promise to fuck her before bed.

Sam didn't even feel particularly grudging when he agreed to her terms. A weight lifted from him as he admitted to himself that [i]she,[/i] at least, harmed nothing by wanting Jake. She could have him as often as she liked, and Sam was ok with all of it.

He was still himself, even after sex with a man. Tree had shown him that today, and he was grateful.

Sam's wolf gave Sam the body, in werewolf form, and Sam and Jake squared off for combat training.

"You're better at this tonight," Jake snarled, grinning when Sam almost landed a bite for once. "Is Tree that much hotter than me?"

Sam leapt and rolled to avoid Jake's charge. "She does have nicer tits," Sam replied, grinning back.

Jake laughed and called time-out, motioning Sam closer. "Ok, I think you're ready to hear this," he said. His tone turned serious. "We don't know how well this asshole fights, but if he's been around the block, as a werewolf, he's better than you. You can't catch up in a month or two, especially if he's as big as I am. You get that, right?"

Sam hadn't thought it through that far, but . . . it did make sense, unfortunately. His chest and stomach clenched, but he nodded.

"So here's the strategy," Jake said. "We quit trying to teach you how to win. You've got the basics, other than needing more experience. From now on we concentrate on dragging out a fight. Don't look to win. Look for how to [i]not lose[/i], as long as possible."

Sam blinked at him. Those were different?

"The longer you can last," Jake clarified, "the more chance I'll get there to help you, or use you as a distraction while I cheat, or whatever it takes. You say Sweetfangs is convinced this guy's stronger than me." He sighed. "And . . . I'm not so sure she isn't spouting bullshit, but . . . the truth is, I'm a little too lazy to be a 'great warrior' among werewolves." He shrugged, unashamed. "If this guy's a scrapper [i]and[/i] a mage, then guerrilla tactics are our best bet. So here's how to run away like a giant, fanged bunnyrabbit."

Sam proved to have an affinity for what he and Jake went on to call "bunnyrunning". It was a lot like playing tag, really. Extreme, desperate, highly-agile tag. From that point on, the werewolves' combat training ranged quite far all over the hiking area, possibly even contributing to a sasquatch rumor or two, though on a weeknight in spring, they saw few campers, and were [i]pretty[/i] sure no-one saw them.

Sam chased Jake at first, to observe freerunning tactics for werewolves—like how big of a tree branch can take a werewolf's weight, and how high a werewolf can reasonably jump at a run—and then they switched roles to let Jake be "it".

After the third time Jake caught him, both werewolves were getting a bit tired and silly, and Sam was forced to face the reality that his wolf's "designer" heat issue seemed to be flaring back up. Getting caught began to sound more fun than the chase, and all in ways Sam didn't want to think about.

"Last game?" he asked Jake.

The bigger werewolf nodded. "Gotta save some strength for Sweetfangs afterward," he said.

His words made Sam's clit twitch. "Well, first you've got to catch me," he called and took off at a run. He hated to admit it, but his tone, whether he liked it or not, sounded no less than flirtatious.

Sam heard Jake chuckle as he sprang to follow.

Perhaps he overcompensated for feelings he was still getting used to, but Sam ran all-out away from Jake—up, down, and around, splashing through streams to confuse his scent, zigging and zagging wildly. Adjusting to his own quick healing as a werewolf, Sam grew increasingly inattentive to his own fear of injury, attempting wilder and wilder leaps, until . . .

On the edge of a wooded cliff, Jake, due to a lucky shift in the wind, turned suddenly to catch sight of Sam. Sam was basically cornered where he stood, right in the curve of the cliff face. He'd been counting on the fact that Jake had lost his scent-trail a quarter mile back, and he'd intended to sneak past in the shadows, but now that was impossible.

Jake grinned. Sam grinned back, wishing his damn cunt would stop telling him to give up and get caught. He glanced around himself and saw—just off the edge of the cliff—a tree, growing further down the mountain.

It looked a bit slim for taking a werewolf's weight, but it might manage to hold Sam, and from there the slope got more gradual. Sam might be able to [i]run[/i] the rest of the way down.

He winked at Jake and made the leap.

Jake, apparently, was feeling as crazy as Sam was. He charged the cliff edge, and, without looking, leapt after Sam.

Well, the poor tree was never going to hold [i]two[/i] werewolves, and Sam didn't want to kill it for no reason. It might mean he'd bust something in the fall, but hell, he and Jake played this rough for a lot of reasons, and getting Sam tough enough to take advantage of his werewolf healing was one of them. He'd be fine.

Sam dodged the tree and braced for impact. Two seconds later, he was rolling painfully down the cliff with a possibly-broken shoulder. He heard Jake shout, probably from the safety of the tree-perch Sam had foregone. He didn't understand whatever it was Jake said.

With his good arm and both legs, Sam tried to find purchase in the crumbling dirt and rock around him. He was just getting himself righted, might have been able to lurch to his feet and start running at any moment, and then . . .

A shiver over his skin, much stronger in werewolf form, the scent all around him of lightning, pepper, snakeskin, and in the darkness Sam smelled old blood in the mix as well. The world . . .

It wasn't just more awake this time.

It was hostile.

Sam's hackles raised. He shivered all over. His legs found another tree, and Sam used its base to stop his fall. Pulling himself to his feet by one arm while the other began to heal, Sam braced his back against this new tree and tried to catch his breath.

Not far above him on the cliff, Jake hung in the young pine Sam had bypassed. It bent and swayed irritably under his weight, but didn't give.

"Hang on," Jake called. "I'll come down. Looks like there's a way back up over . . ."

"No, no, no!" Sam shouted, but it was already too late.

Jake let go his branch and leapt to start his run down the shallower slope. He kept his feet, but then he saw the look on Sam's face. Sam watched as Jake's playful-chase grin faded to confusion and then, as he tried too late to slow his own downhill momentum . . . and crossed the barrier . . .

To Sam's alarm, Jake looked far more frightened than he'd expected.

That probably meant he knew something Sam didn't.

Sam caught him on his way down, bringing them both to a stop against the same tree.

"Hopefully it hasn't felt us yet," Jake whispered.

Sam nodded, chilled to his core. The werewolves exchanged a long glance, then sprang for the pathway Jake had seen.

On the way up, Sam asked softly, "What [i]is[/i] this feeling?"

"Shh," Jake answered. "He's . . . I'll tell you back at camp."

He?

Sam shivered harder, hopping from rock to rock back up from the little ravine. And then . . .

"Shit," Jake breathed.

Sam felt it. Attention. Sick, corrupting, chuckling attention.

[i]"Run!"[/i] Jake shouted.

They fled as fast as they could for the barrier to the humans' realm. Black, rippling tendrils shot up from the ground all around them, snaking out to catch them as they fled.

Jake pulled ahead of Sam—not by far, but he did have longer legs. One more leap, two, and then, "I'm across!" He turned back to offer Sam a final boost. The tendrils did not cross the border to grab for him. Relieved, Sam reached for his friend's hand.

A tendril closed around Sam's ankle, hauling him backward. Jake's face turned panicked. Another tendril grabbed Sam's thigh, and a third reached up to snake slickly across Sam's heat-swelled vulva. He whimpered.

Jake caught his hand and hauled, hard.

Sam's still-injured arm dislocated as he was yanked, but he felt his body cross the barrier. The tendrils didn't follow. The one on his ankle made a solid attempt to pull him back—or take his leg off—but Sam and Jake together wrenched him just far enough to force the last tendril's retreat.

The two werewolves scrambled backward and stared down into the little ravine. From this side of the barrier, no tendrils were visible. Nothing looked at all out of the ordinary.

They caught their breath and helped each other to stand.

"You ok?" Jake asked. "You jerked backward when I reached for you, but I couldn't see anything but forest on this side."

Shaking like a leaf, Sam hawked and spat. "Some kind of fucking hentai anime shit," he growled. "Tried to . . ." He shuddered. "Nevermind. What was that fucking thing?"

Jake's eyes got big. "Oh shit! Are you ok?! What can I do? Do you need . . . ?"

Sam waved him off, annoyed. "I'm not your damn girlfriend," he muttered. "Act like you would if you remembered that [i]I'm a guy!"[/i]

Jake raised his clawed hands, ears back and tail apologetically low. "Hey, guys get fucked up over rape too, I'm just . . ."

Fair enough. "It didn't get that far," Sam grumbled. "Hell, the way my body feels, I could probably have let the wolf just go enjoy her damn self with that thing. What [i]was[/i] it?"

Jake appeared to take a moment to absorb this information. Then, "ah . . . he's sort of like the god of this place, or was centuries ago, before he went psycho."

A psychotic god? [i]Greeeeat![/i] Sam stared.

Jake chuckled nervously. "Now I guess he's a demon? Or something? Anyway, he sleeps all day, but at night you have to have his permission to be here."

"And Tree has his permission?" Sam asked. Seemed like a strange place for someone as wise as Tree to want to live.

Jake laughed again. "Yeah, well . . . Tree knows about his bad side, but I doubt he's ever let her see it. She's . . . got a way with nature spirits, I guess you'd say. She probably likes living somewhere that humans can't get to to mess up." He shook his head. "Plus, she's the one who keeps the border so strong and fresh, so he can't get a hold of lost hikers. Maybe she stays here to keep him in line."

"The way you make it sound . . ." Sam started to ask.

Jake interrupted him. "You don't want to know," he warned cheerfully. "I know I don't. Tree can have me whenever she wants, but I will never ask what else she takes to bed or why."

Sam remembered the slick, hot tendril, caressing . . .

"Too bad we can't just lure Mr. Asshole here and feed him to this thing," Sam muttered.

Jake grinned. "Tree wouldn't appreciate the screams," he said. "That thing'd make it last for weeks, if he got a werewolf."

Weeks!

To Sam's intense discomfort, his clit twitched at the thought.

"Hey Jake?" he said.

"Yeah."

"We never bothered to set up the tent, and our stuff is hidden and protected by that charm, and we already cleaned up the elk's remains," Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"So . . . we don't actually have to make it back to camp tonight, right?"

Jake cocked his head. "Nah, if we take wolf shape we can sleep pretty much anywhere and not worry about a thing. Just takes a minute to dig a rough nest to cut down on bugs, and . . ."

"Can we have sex now?" Sam asked, "I'm getting tired of waiti- . . ."

Jake stopped Sam's mouth with a kiss.

"You're later than I expected," Tree murmured.

Sam turned to see her step out of a tall spruce. Her hair seemed less emerald-brilliant than yesterday, more silver-sheened, but with bright spring green at the tips, and little tufts of needles here and there instead of leaves. Her eyes were unchanged at the center, but radiating out today to the golden brown of the young cones in the tree behind her. Tree's nude skin was darker as well, with a variegation pattern more closely resembling spruce bark than California lilac. She also seemed . . .

"Are you taller today?" Sam asked.

She smiled, but didn't answer him.

"We overslept and took a while catching breakfast," Jake told her, apologizing with a grin.

She grinned back, perhaps guessing at least the fun parts of what had made them late. Sam squirmed shyly.

"It's just as well," she said. "It gave me time to look something up. Does the name Enoch Hurst mean anything to you?"

Both werewolves shook their heads.

She frowned. "Well, it's probably not his real name. Some years back, a werewolf going by that name was driven from the Creede, Colorado area by the resident pack, on a charge of irresponsible lycanthropy-propagation. The woman bitten disappeared soon afterward, and was believed to have followed Hurst out of town. She was described as mentally disturbed."

Tree folded her arms distractingly under her breasts. Sam had to look away to keep his brain working.

"Four years ago," she went on, "that same woman was found dead by a witchhunter investigating a mystical disturbance in Montana. She'd been badly malnourished for years and ultimately tortured to death. My informant didn't say how." She shuddered. "When diviners looked into her death, they uncovered not only this Hurst character, but also an older incident in northern Florida, where a demented werewolf was abandoned, chained and half-dead in a swamp, and very nearly discovered by humans. She'd somehow lost her human self and forgotten how to speak."

"Lost her human self?" Sam cried. "That can happen?!"

Jake looked sick. "Only in legends," he said. "That has to be a mistake."

Tree shook her head. "Baffling as it sounds, it was verified by mystical experts," she insisted. "A mundane missing persons report from British Columbia was also implicated, though no one could figure out how these three were related. The Florida werewolf committed suicide before she could be consulted about Hurst or the other victim. Around that time, one of the clairvoyants on the case sent out an e-mail to other seers and spiritualists she trusted, to be on the lookout for pieces to this puzzle." Tree looked to Sam, her gaze searching. "I'd forgotten about it, until my examination of your wolf made me wonder what sort of person would create someone like her."

Sam felt dizzy. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound seemed to want to come out. He braced himself against a tree to keep his legs from folding up under him.

"So," Jake said slowly, "this Hurst bastard, hypothetically, has some means of [i]creating[/i] the wolves inside the people he bites? He uses them to enslave new werewolves, and ultimately tortures them to death or madness before going off to make a new one?"

"Why me?" Sam croaked out before Tree could answer Jake.

He felt himself starting to fall, but Jake caught him and held him up.

"I asked a friend to look into the missing persons report that so obsessed and confused the diviners," Tree said. "She's a technology spirit, so she's probably already on the case. If we can learn what happened to that young man, perhaps it will shed some light."

Sam somehow found the strength to nod, though what he really wanted was to hide somewhere until the world went away.

"Any way I can be useful today?" Jake asked gently, "Or should I just leave you to it and get back to hunting?"

"I'd like to try something different today," Tree said. "Jake, may we all invade your mind?"

Sam and Jake camped near Tree's home for several days. Both Sam and his wolf spent their daylight hours learning from the dryad on whatever matters she chose to teach, from meditation, to modern psychology, to contemporary supernatural etiquette, to deliberate manipulation of the spirit world inside one's mind. Sam and Tree also enjoyed a lot of sex. At night, it was the wolf's turn to screw Jake silly, always after Sam and Jake trained in combat—though never again as carelessly as they had that first night.

Jake's days were mostly busy hunting to feed two werewolves, but sometimes Tree brought him in for the lessons, to demonstrate, for example, his facility with terrain alteration inside his own head, or to get his input on a point of werewolf culture and law. Both Tree and Jake hinted to Sam at the possibility of a hot threesome, but for wildly different reasons both Sam and his wolf agreed to pass on the idea. Tree simply praised them for agreeing on something.

The training went on long enough that Sam began to wonder about [i]Jake's[/i] time off work, but Jake was a contract engineer, working from home.

"I'm just procrastinating on a project," he explained. "I'll be fine. They've worked with me before. I always disappear for days at a time, and I always turn in a good project by the deadline."

Perfect work for a werewolf. Sam wondered if he could find jobs like that with a net admin's resume. Sounded unlikely.

On their fifth day in the woods, with the dryad's coloring changing daily to match whatever tree she chose to step out of, Tree asked both werewolves into her treehouse.

"Today, I want us to go into [i]Sam's[/i] mind," she explained. "I think it's time for Sam and his wolf to have a serious talk about an elephant in the room. We'll be there to mediate."

"I guess so," Sam said doubtfully, though he didn't really think they were ready for something like that. Before he could voice such a concern, however, his wolf shoved him out of her way and took control.

"No!" she cried. "No stupid talks with that stupid human!" She rounded on Jake. "Why are we here? I'm not learning [i]anything[/i] useful, and I have places I need to be!"

It wasn't the first time she'd complained since their arrival, but something felt different today.

Jake's brow furrowed. "Where could you possibly have to be?" he asked.

The wolf-woman refused to answer. Everyone knew she'd stopped talking about "Alpha" days ago. She never liked the directions the conversations took when she did.

[i]I won't let you go to him[/i], Sam flung at her through his thoughts. [i]I won't let you kill us both![/i]

And they were in the mind-forest.

Several yards away, Sam's wolf crouched in a fighting stance, growling.

Since they weren't in Tree's enchanted safe space, the dryad was not present. Sam suspected that she could get in anyway, if she chose to, but . . . he also suddenly suspected she'd set them up for this too. [i]This[/i] was what Tree had intended to provoke.

She thought Sam could win.

Sam narrowed his eyes. Yeah, ok. He'd give it a try.

"You seriously want to devote yourself . . ." Sam flung out a finger to point behind the wolf-woman's shoulder. ". . . to that asshole?" he yelled.

She totally took the bait. "Alpha?" she asked, turning to look where Sam had pointed.

Sam took off running.

[i]Master my mind. Remember Tree's training[/i], he thought. He shut his eyes. "I need body armor. Good against claws."

He felt the difference immediately, but was amused when he opened his eyes to see himself in a black ninja suit of indeterminate, tough, synthetic fabric. He wasn't sure this was a real substance, but that didn't matter here. He'd summoned it to block claws. It would block claws—as long as he believed it did.

There were limits to that trick, of course, but body armor was one he'd practiced with Tree. His brain loved ninja suits, though he had summoned chainmail twice.

Other little details had come naturally along with the armor, like good running shoes, a protective ski-mask, probably underwear—not that Sam intended to check.

Now he needed a place to hide before his wolf caught him. He veered off into the deepest patch of mind-forest he could see.

She couldn't be far behind him. She'd fallen for his trick, yes, but she wasn't stupid, no matter how simple. He couldn't afford to underestimate her. Since looking back would slow him down, Sam didn't look back. Instead, he listened for her footfalls, her breathing.

No, she was too close and gaining. Hiding wouldn't work. He'd have to try something else. A low hanging branch. There.

Sam swung himself into the tree with an acrobatic skill learned quite recently, running from Jake. Launching himself from branch to branch, Sam climbed higher up the tree.

Wolves had few instincts for climbing, and the wolf-woman hadn't paid attention for most of Sam's lessons—even those with Jake in the evenings. She leapt into the lower branches easily enough, but finding footing with paws on a tree-limb, or climbing monkey-style with her hands, were both more natural to the human self. The wolf-woman managed it readily enough, but Sam was faster. Being smaller, he also had more route options as he worked his way upward.

Sam squeezed deliberately through a few tight spaces between branches. Cursing, the wolf tried to follow him, only to find the way blocked for her larger body. While she backtracked to take a different path, Sam paused to shut his eyes again.

A weapon.

He wanted something ranged, a way to shoot her before she ever reached him, but this fight was more symbolic than anything else. He had to defeat her in a way she'd respect. Well, he'd practiced with wooden swords in martial arts class a couple of times. How about a sword?

He opened his eyes. A katana hung in a sheath from one of the branches. Well, he [i]had[/i] been thinking about martial arts class. That might explain the ninja-looking armor too. Sam grabbed the weapon, drawing the sword in his right hand but holding the sheath in his left. He'd seen someone use it as a shield in some movie. He had no idea how to do that, but he figured he could always drop it later if it got in his way.

Then he chose a position above her, on a branch wide enough for him to balance without using hands.

"Stopped running finally? Coward?" the wolf-woman snarled, still climbing. "When'd you get so damn fast?"

She eyed the sword and gear, but didn't ask about it. She'd probably observed enough about their mind-forest to take a guess as to his source for them. Seeing how she [i]wasn't[/i] stupid, Sam didn't feel he could afford to give her any more clues. Her bared fangs and comparably huge size did not exactly fail to get Sam's heart racing with primal terror.

[i]This is my mind[/i], he reminded himself. [i]I'm whatever I need to be. I have anything I can imagine.[/i]

"You're just slow," he called down to her.

She snarled and lunged up at him between the branches. Sam forced himself not to flinch back from her claws. He flailed toward her hands with the sheath, which accomplished little beyond distraction, but the body armor behind it did its job, and her claw-swipe only bruised him.

He still winced and yelped of course, and went precariously down on one knee on his branch—they were bad bruises!—but while her eyes flicked over the clumsy sheath-swipe, Sam thrust downward with the sword.

She got a hand up in time to deflect the strike, but it was the hand she'd been using to stay in the tree. With a startled shout, she fell backward, crashing through branch after branch toward the bottom.

Desperate, and with a wild cry, Sam forced himself to leap after her.

If he'd been half a heartbeat slower, she'd have rolled away, and he'd have hurt himself.

He wasn't.

She landed flat on her back, and before she could even recover her breath from the fall—much less move—Sam landed on his knees on her chest. He felt bones crack. He ignored them. She was a werewolf. He thrust the sword through her throat. Then he pulled it out and did it again.

She brought a trembling hand toward him, and he smacked it away with his sheath. He yanked loose the sword and held it to her eye.

"This is [i]my[/i] mind," he said coldly. "Do I make myself clear?"

She stared up at the sword in his hand. Slowly, carefully, she nodded. Tears leaked from her eyes to match the blood gushing from her throat.

"Tree wants us to have a talk," Sam said. "I'll be taking us into her treehouse now, and then she and Jake will join us. Be nice to them. Will you behave if I let you up?"

The wolf-woman seemed to try and fail to speak. Another dribble of blood spat from her wound, bubbling slightly. She nodded instead.

Sam stepped back and sheathed his sword. As soon as he did so, he remembered that he'd forgotten to clean the blood off it. Then he remembered it was a mind sword, with mind blood on it, and he felt ridiculous.

"Look, I get what that bastard's done to you," he said.

A trickle of tense guilt at her pain crept into his chest and shoulders, but everything he could think to say to her sounded either submissive or insincere, or both. He couldn't figure out where compassion fit into this dominance game, especially since it was all in their minds, and she'd just heal the damage either way. He hated her a little for making him hurt her, and hated himself for thinking such a classic "abuser" thought.

With a deep breath and a rough swallow, Sam barreled on, suppressing the lame apologies he kept wanting to babble. "I get that you don't deserve any of this, but . . . I don't know what else to do." He met her eyes and begged her to understand. "I'm going to save us both, whether you like it or not."

She didn't say anything, just gingerly picked herself up from the ground, one hand to her bleeding throat. Between tears and blood, her fluffy-cream fur was a mess. Sam felt worse.

"I'm . . . going back to my body now," he said. "Will you please help me turn into a man?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes, just ducked her head in a subdued, almost frightened additional nod. Sam wondered how Hurst would end a dominance fight and regretted the thought immediately. He couldn't imagine it was ever pretty.

Sam found himself back in his body then, fur melting away, bones shrinking and shifting, various parts flowing and reshaping themselves. He pointedly refrained from looking down to watch his penis grow back. When his shape felt settled, he glanced toward Tree and flashed her a shy smile.

"That took a while," Jake murmured. "How'd it go?"

Sam glanced sidelong at his friend. "I wouldn't bring it up to her," he said, just as softly. "But let's head for the treehouse, shall we?"

Tree nodded in what looked like approval and turned to lead the way.

Sam looked forward to once again climbing the treehouse ladder behind the gorgeous, nude dryad.

Back in Sam's mind-forest, Tree used either magic or a psychological trick to heal the wolf-woman's wounds very quickly. Human-Jake—still as naked as the wolves and dryad—and the four-pawed wolf-Jake looked back and forth between Sam and his inner companion as if they weren't quite sure whether to be proud of Sam or angry at him.

Sam felt similarly.

[i]She's bigger and stronger than me,[/i] he reminded himself for the 10th time. [i]Faster too, except for the tricks Tree taught me.[/i] His jaw flexed in irritation. [i]I was the[/i] underdog [i]in that fight, and besides, she's fine now. I didn't do anything wrong.[/i]

[i]It's kind of sexist for me to be worrying about this. Jake too.[/i]

Sam forced himself to take slow, deep breaths for calm. He sat against a tree and waited to see what Tree had in mind.

Though his expression remained conflicted, Jake did the same, wolf trotting happily at his feet. As soon as he sat, the wolf—same wolf Sam remembered from around campus, back in college—flopped beside him. Jake reached absently over to rub his belly, and his wolf wagged and licked Jake's knee in response.

Sam envied them.

Tree finished with the wolf-woman and motioned for her to sit as well, so the five of them were in a circle of sorts. The fluffy, cream-pale werewolf moved with subdued hesitation, as if still in shock. She still had blood in her fur, where Sam had stabbed her.

"Now then, Sam," Tree said, "whose mind is this?"

At the same time, albeit in quite different tones, Sam and his wolf both answered, "Mine."

The wolf woman's voice was sad and quiet, very much unlike herself. When she heard Sam answer with her, she ducked her head and stared hard at the ground.

"What is your full name, Sam?" Tree asked next.

"Samuel Jeremiah Eriksen," Sam said.

"That," said the wolf-woman, with a sulky nod in Sam's direction.

"Are the two of you the same person?" came Tree's next query.

"No." Both answered with quick finality.

Jake stared back and forth between them, shaking his head, though his wolf ignored the whole conversation and licked his paws contentedly.

"She's made from me, I get that," Sam clarified, "but she's not me, not a natural product of my consciousness."

"Made from you by whom?" Tree asked.

"Probably that Hurst guy," Sam said.

"Alpha," said the wolf-woman, her voice thick with complex emotion.

"Whether either or both of you is correct," began Tree's next question, "why did he do that, do you think?"

Silence.

After a moment, Sam ventured, "Some kind of power trip. He's a sadist, and not the safe, sane, consensual kind." Sick bastard. "He needs someone who'll worship him even while he kills her. It's probably more fun to break a strong person, so the suffering lasts longer."

"That's not true!" the wolf-woman cried. She did not, however, offer an opposing theory.

"Sam," Tree asked, "do you want to die?"

"No." Both of them whispered the word.

"You're stuck in this body together. Will you work as a team, to stay alive?" the dryad posed.

Sam started to nod, but his wolf punched the dirt.

"You said that other wolf's human was eradicated," she muttered. "Alpha will do that for me too, and I'll be stronger than she was. I won't go mad. He won't leave me behind."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, I'd kill you too, if I knew how." He visualized his sword again, and when he opened his eyes it was there in the grass, within easy reach. He hefted it. In doing so, he also noticed he wore jeans and a t-shirt—the only person there in a stitch of clothing. Sam chuckled.

His wolf glanced at him sidelong, eying his sword with both doubt and hatred in her eyes. She turned her head away again, back to staring at the ground.

Tree sighed and looked to Jake. "What do you think?" she asked.

Jake blew out a long sigh. "I think . . . they need a sense of identity," he said after a while. "They're so separate, and I think . . . more of the fight than they realize is over which one of them is Sam."

"I'm Sam!" said Sam and his wolf both at once, both angrily.

The wolf-woman winced and looked away, eyes moist and shimmering, claws digging into the earth.

Sam realized he still held his sword and felt stupid. He put it away and nodded to Jake. "Fair point," he said.

Tree nodded. "What do you think?" she asked again, this time addressing the wolf-woman. "He's been called Sam for decades, and you're just weeks old. Would you be willing to be called something else?"

"Why do [i]I[/i] have to change?" she cried, pain naked in her tone. "Why can't [i]he[/i] stop being Sam?"

"I [i]showed[/i] you why earlier," Sam growled. "[i]My[/i] mind!"

She winced and growled back, teeth bared but posture otherwise frightened, all but beaten. She looked like she wanted to run from the conversation.

"You will both always be Samuel Jeremiah Eriksen," Tree said. "Nothing can change that unless you choose it yourselves. But," she stood and walked over to pet the wolf-woman's furred shoulder. "Do you really need three names? I bet [i]that[/i] Sam only uses the first and last one. You could have the middle name all to yourself." Tree glanced to Sam. "Is that right?"

He blinked. "Jeremiah?" he asked. "Um . . . yeah, ok. I'll be Samuel and she'll be Jeremiah?"

"I knew a Jeremiah who went by just 'Miah' once," Jake supplied helpfully. "Miah's a pretty name for a girl."

"Makes us sound more like siblings," Sam pondered aloud. "Sam and Miah Eriksen."

"What do you think of 'Miah'?" Tree asked Sam's wolf.

She sat quiet for a long moment, as if tasting it in her mind. "I can be Miah," she said softly, "at least until I can dominate this mind again. For now, since he beat me, he can be Sam."

Sam felt worlds lighter. It was his turn to fight tears. "Thank you," he breathed.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Sam, how do you feel about this person here, Miah Eriksen?" Tree asked him, gesturing.

Jake was right. The name changed everything.

"She's . . ." He couldn't even find words. Her situation was terrifying and tragic. "We . . . [i]I[/i] have to help her." He hadn't realized it was true until he said it, but it felt undeniable. She did seem sort-of like his sister now—an unsettlingly hot and sex-obsessed sister, but still. She'd been created by a monster, designed specifically to be her own worst enemy. "Miah, please, he'll kill us." His tone begged her to understand. "Don't you see that? Didn't he torture you as soon as he had the chance? Just like he did to those other wolves!"

"Alpha and Hurst aren't the same person," she muttered. "You'll see . . . Sam. He's not like that. He's strong and wonderful." Her voice broke on the last word.

Tree pulled her close and held her, and Miah allowed herself to be held.

Jake got up and went to her too. At his touch, she began to sob. Jake and Tree just squeezed her close while she cried.

Jake's wolf, however, approached Sam instead, and licked his face. Chuckling wryly, Sam sat back and scratched him behind the ears.

"Thanks man," he said. "I'm ok."

"Yeah right," said the wolf, grinning.

Sam jumped. He'd forgotten how readily the wolf form could talk in the mind-world. He shot a sheepish grin back at wolf-Jake, who licked him again.

Miah didn't cry long. Sam just petted wolf-Jake and waited for her to finish. When she was quiet, he spoke up over Tree's and Jake's soothing murmurs.

"I propose a compromise, Miah," Sam said. "Until you're convinced he's our enemy, I won't seek Hurst's death—only my own freedom." The words hurt to say, but . . . it wouldn't be a compromise if he couldn't give her [i]something.[/i] "In return, as long as I still want to be free of your 'alpha's' command, you'll stay out of any conflict between him and me. Make him beat me fair and square if he wants to control me."

Jake's wolf licked Sam's cheek again and offered an encouraging wag.

Miah gasped a few more times before her breathing steadied completely, but then she asked, "And if I convince you he's our rightful Alpha?"

"Then I'll help you follow him," Sam choked out, knowing it would never come up, "but if I convince [i]you[/i] he's a psychopath, you'll help me [i]fight[/i] him, right?"

Sad, tired, and distressingly licking her own nose, Miah nodded. Jake kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear. She smiled slightly.

Sam didn't know what to think. They . . .

They had a deal. She wasn't his enemy anymore. He took another long, slow breath and looked to Tree.

The dryad watched him thoughtfully. He watched her back until both of them started chuckling.

"What?" he asked, smiling.

"Why in the world do you have [i]clothes[/i] on?" was her reply.

That afternoon, as Jake and Sam prepared to go, Tree kissed both men deeply on the mouth, one after the other.

"I think you can handle the rest of this on your own," she said. "I've loved having you here, but it's time to take my solitude back."

Sam had the sense there were about twelve things she wasn't saying, but before he could even consider stabbing guesses that direction, his gut clenched with a kind of raw terror.

He wasn't ready to leave this place.

He felt himself watching numbly, as if from far away, as if Miah had control of his body. Jake protested a bit on Sam's behalf, but without any force behind the words. Sam agreed with him that arguing with Tree here in her home was not just a waste of time, but a disrespectful one at that.

To leave though?

Sam begged with his eyes for Tree to reconsider. She only smiled at him.

[i]Keep being so weak[/i], came Miah's voice in his mind, her tone darkly playful despite the sharpness of her words. [i]Give me an opening, human.[/i]

Sam swallowed and pulled himself together, and then he and Jake were walking away, out toward the mundane forest.

"She's wrong, Jake," Sam choked out. "I'm not ready."

"She could kill us where we stand, my friend," Jake said, "and there's something she's not saying. If she says it's time to go, for all I know the request comes from [i]him.[/i]"

[i]Him.[/i] Sam had almost forgotten about him. The psychotic god of this land. Jake might have a point. Still, Sam felt more and more numb with every step.

"She'll call when she's got more info on how to find Hurst," Jake assured him. "Come on. It's not that ba- . . ."

They crossed the border. Against his will, Sam shot into the other forest, the one in his mind.

Inside it, a storm raged. Darkness seemed to curl around every tree, and Sam struggled to orient himself. He turned around, and Miah was there. She'd already fallen to her knees at the feet of a tall, black werewolf. She was bleeding again, from gashes on her arm and neck. The werewolf's claws flung droplets of blood to either side of him as the momentum of his dual—and apparently unprovoked—strike pulled his arms out to both sides. Accepting this abuse without complaint, Miah leaned close to lick worshipfully at his erect cock.

The black werewolf ignored her. He looked to Sam.

"You're really a pain in the ass," the bastard growled, a dark, fangy smile on his face. "But I won't lose you again, bitch. The chase is over."