All Hallow's Howl Read Online Free PDF Page A

mating. He thinks that they mentioned something about a family gathering the next morning, but he can’t be sure. He’s tuned so much out in his panic.
    Dylan's paws eat up the ground between the grass and the tree line, and he disappears into the woods quickly. He knows he needs to pace himself; he's seen the way certain alphas looked at him before the start of the run. It makes his skin crawl and his legs move instinctively faster, but then his reason kicks in and he slows down just enough .
    He cannot afford to tire himself too soon, and neither can he afford to be too slow. But it’s not as if they make tutorials for finding the right balance when you’re being hunted down like prey.
    The sound of the horn announcing the alphas’ entrance into the woods startles him. Foolish , he thinks to himself, and stops for just a moment, to regain his focus, expanding his senses to gather intelligence about what is going on around him.
    There are omegas almost directly to his right - two of them - and many others ahead and behind him, in all directions. One of them must have wanted to be caught, because just before he begins running again, he hears the triumphant howl of an alpha declaring his claiming, and the more sedate joining of the newly-mated omega’s voice as the other wolf begins to howl as well.
    But there are more alphas coming.
    Dylan tries to remember where the stream is, making a break for the low waters, both to orient himself and to disguise his scent. He finds it easily, but he's only ever been to the spot Hannah showed him once, and he's confused about the distance and the path to take in the dark.
    He stays in the stream for a while, and he must be concentrating too much on knowing where the right way to go, because the alpha is closing in on him before he realizes. He stumbles over a fallen branch and ends up with a muzzle full of muddy water before he has the presence of mind to leap onto the bank and claw his way up the steep hill bordering the water’s track. It gives him more solid footing, but the scramble itself costs him time, and the alpha barrels straight forward, intending to bring him down under tooth and claw and make him submit.
    It's luck. There's no skill to it or forethought; it's simple, sheer luck that he's positioned just the right way to swipe at the alpha when he lunges, hard enough that the older wolf is sent tumbling back down the bank.
    Dylan panics; if he doesn't have the stream to follow, he might not know where to go, but he can't stay with the stream and make himself an easier target. He darts off into the brush, his heart pounding in his chest as he runs faster and faster out of sheer terror. He hears the howls echoing around him of other pairings as an alpha takes and claims, but it's a dim, distant sound underneath the rushing of blood in his ears.
    His terror is just beginning to recede when the wind shifts, and brings fresh scents with it. The Atchisons. No, fuck, no...
    He races back to the stream. He wonders if this is how his prey feel when he runs them down on a hunt, or whether their lack of human intelligence makes it better or worse for them.
    Almost there - almost - there !
    He sees the tree with claw markings on it to signal that he needs to take the trail, and clambers up the opposite bank. He's got no time to quibble; it's a race against unseen contestants, and he's not going to lose it. He's not even sure that he's on the right course until he sees the brambles, thorny and hulking large in the blackness of the night, and he's able to stop himself just in time before he barrels straight into them.
    His fur is slick with sweat as he scrabbles against the ground, pushing underneath the bushes and ignoring how claustrophobic it is, briers prickling at his sides as he heaves great, frantic gulps of breath.
    With a last push of his hind legs, he slips free of the brambles.
    Ahead of him, the clearing is bright and placid with moon shine.
    He's human again within a few