are less likely to confront or attack you while humans are present.
5) Be vigilant.
6) Don't do anything stupid.
So far those rules had served him well. When searching a territory, he always kept as low a profile as possible. He tried to be in and out within no more than three days. Most packs were tolerant of a lone wolf passing through their territory, but if it began to look as though he was setting up residence, that would sound the alarm bells.
He wasn't always able to stay in a motel. If he had no money or was unable to find somewhere suitable and affordable that was close enough to the border, he'd sleep rough—sometimes in the city, but more often in the countryside.
When he'd begun his quest, he'd been full of optimism, but as the months had turned into years, and the years had rolled by, he'd found it increasingly difficult to sustain that hope. That didn't mean he planned to give up. While there was still a breath in his body, he'd continue to search until he found her or he knew for sure she was dead. On good days, he could convince himself that every day brought him closer to her. On bad days, and there were more and more of those, he found himself wondering if she was still alive. He'd found not a single trace of Louise since he left Terroun all those years ago. It was as though she'd disappeared off the face of the planet.
In the car park, directly outside of his window, a huge fluorescent sign flickered on and off. The 'Retreat Motel' was only two miles inside that particular territory. Craven knew nothing about the packs that lived in that region of the country. He'd known all of those within a hundred mile radius of his own territory, but he was now much further afield.
His plan was the same as always. He set his alarm for eleven AM. That would give him seven hours sleep. By then the city streets would be busy with humans. He'd sniff around and make some enquiries even though he was conscious that every question asked meant another shifter was alerted to his presence. He selected carefully those he approached. Older, female shifters were often more sympathetic to the story of a lone wolf seeking his fated mate. He always steered well clear of young, male shifters who saw his very presence as a challenge to their honour.
The Retreat Motel was run down and in dire need of renovation. His room contained the absolute bare essentials: a bed, a bedside cabinet with one of the three drawers missing, and a clothes rail. The shared shower and toilet were at the end of the corridor. Craven had glanced at the shower on his way to the room, and decided he'd give it a miss.
He was starving, but there wasn’t a restaurant in the motel. The only vending machine was empty except for a half dozen bars of chocolate. If he grew any weaker, he'd not be able to resist an attack if it came. Maybe if he could sleep, he'd forget the pangs of hunger. Who was he kidding? If he didn't eat, he probably wouldn't sleep at all.
His room was on the ground floor. He could easily sneak out of the window to avoid having to walk by reception. He'd find somewhere, around the rear of the motel, to hide his clothes. Then he'd shift into wolf-form, and go in search of food. There would be plenty of small wild animals—possibly even a farm nearby. It would mean he had less sleep, but it would be worth it. There was always the danger he might come across some local shifters, but this section of the border had appeared to be very quiet when he'd done his reconnaissance. Decision made—he opened the window and slipped out.
*********
It had been the right decision. One hour later, Craven's stomach was full, and he'd not encountered even a single local shifter. He could already feel his strength returning. He retrieved his clothes, dressed quickly, and made his way back to the front of the motel.
Craven slid open the window, and stepped inside the room.
5) Be vigilant.
6) Don't do anything stupid.
So far those rules had served him well. When searching a territory, he always kept as low a profile as possible. He tried to be in and out within no more than three days. Most packs were tolerant of a lone wolf passing through their territory, but if it began to look as though he was setting up residence, that would sound the alarm bells.
He wasn't always able to stay in a motel. If he had no money or was unable to find somewhere suitable and affordable that was close enough to the border, he'd sleep rough—sometimes in the city, but more often in the countryside.
When he'd begun his quest, he'd been full of optimism, but as the months had turned into years, and the years had rolled by, he'd found it increasingly difficult to sustain that hope. That didn't mean he planned to give up. While there was still a breath in his body, he'd continue to search until he found her or he knew for sure she was dead. On good days, he could convince himself that every day brought him closer to her. On bad days, and there were more and more of those, he found himself wondering if she was still alive. He'd found not a single trace of Louise since he left Terroun all those years ago. It was as though she'd disappeared off the face of the planet.
In the car park, directly outside of his window, a huge fluorescent sign flickered on and off. The 'Retreat Motel' was only two miles inside that particular territory. Craven knew nothing about the packs that lived in that region of the country. He'd known all of those within a hundred mile radius of his own territory, but he was now much further afield.
His plan was the same as always. He set his alarm for eleven AM. That would give him seven hours sleep. By then the city streets would be busy with humans. He'd sniff around and make some enquiries even though he was conscious that every question asked meant another shifter was alerted to his presence. He selected carefully those he approached. Older, female shifters were often more sympathetic to the story of a lone wolf seeking his fated mate. He always steered well clear of young, male shifters who saw his very presence as a challenge to their honour.
The Retreat Motel was run down and in dire need of renovation. His room contained the absolute bare essentials: a bed, a bedside cabinet with one of the three drawers missing, and a clothes rail. The shared shower and toilet were at the end of the corridor. Craven had glanced at the shower on his way to the room, and decided he'd give it a miss.
He was starving, but there wasn’t a restaurant in the motel. The only vending machine was empty except for a half dozen bars of chocolate. If he grew any weaker, he'd not be able to resist an attack if it came. Maybe if he could sleep, he'd forget the pangs of hunger. Who was he kidding? If he didn't eat, he probably wouldn't sleep at all.
His room was on the ground floor. He could easily sneak out of the window to avoid having to walk by reception. He'd find somewhere, around the rear of the motel, to hide his clothes. Then he'd shift into wolf-form, and go in search of food. There would be plenty of small wild animals—possibly even a farm nearby. It would mean he had less sleep, but it would be worth it. There was always the danger he might come across some local shifters, but this section of the border had appeared to be very quiet when he'd done his reconnaissance. Decision made—he opened the window and slipped out.
*********
It had been the right decision. One hour later, Craven's stomach was full, and he'd not encountered even a single local shifter. He could already feel his strength returning. He retrieved his clothes, dressed quickly, and made his way back to the front of the motel.
Craven slid open the window, and stepped inside the room.
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