Page 4 of Shifter's Dream

Troy whipped the cloth off his head and stared at it. Timber’s shirt. He looked around. He was in the backseat of Canyon’s truck, Canyon and Timber and Blake were standing outside and all were shirtless.

What the fuck?Troy snarled, kicking Timber’s door with the heel of his boot one time, then Troy pitched all their shirts out the open window.

“Calm your mustache, asshole,” Timber growled at him quietly, scooping up the clothing and parceling it out. “You were starting to shift in your sleep. That’s what the fuck. We had to wrap you in our shirts so no one saw your Teen Wolf impression.” Timber lifted his shoulders and pulled his arms in close to his body, twisting them towards each other, tilting his head up like a tortured soul and snarling in a pathetic way, then he snarled in a real way at Troy and pulled his shirt over his head with a flourish. Troy tried not to laugh at the stupid fucker, but as he thought about what Timber had said, the urge to laugh fell away.

“Impossible,” he muttered, ready to change the subject, aware that his forehead no longer felt flappy, but not willing to admit it, especially not to Timber. Only Trent would understand.

Troy’s body tensed, his mind went silent, and his wolf leaned in, whispering what was coming.Hold on to something, Troy growled inside all their minds.We’re about to go for a ride.

The ground rolled underneath him, tossing him around a bit in the back seat. Timber grabbed at the side of the truck, then backed away, crouching, eyeing the too-tall trees on the side of the parking lot.

Canyon set his feet. “Earthquake,” he said.

Blake’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground like he’d been dropped.

“Blake,” Troy growled, scrambling out of the truck over the rolling ground to get to him. He looked unconscious. The earth beneath their feet went calm, and the second it did, Blake’s eyes opened. He groaned and held his head. Troy, Canyon and Timber helped him to his feet.

“I haven’t felt an earthquake in…” Timber stopped for a second. “In never,” he continued. “Do we have earthquakes in Northern Illinois?”

“No,” Troy said. “Only when Khain pulls some bullshit.” They all looked around, but the night was still, except for the drunken yells and shouts from the bar. No one’s phone rang. Trevor didn’t call anyone inruhi. Neither did Wade. Maybe it had been a non-demon related earthquake.

“You ok, Blake?” Troy asked quietly, slowly. The night felt off, suddenly, but the feeling was fading.

“Yeah, good,” Blake muttered, but he looked like he’d been run over by a truck.

“You got a seizure disorder?” Timber said peering at him.

Blake held his head and stared at the ground. “I just fell down,” he said. “I’m going inside. Find my ride.” He disappeared into the night.

“Good,” Troy said, heading across the parking lot in the other direction. He switched toruhi.

I’m off to Mugshots, he said.Tell Trevor you couldn’t control me, he won’t hold you responsible for whatever I do tonight.

Timber groaned. “Troy, it’s almost two in the morning. Mugshots is closing any minute. You might be thirty years old going on sixteen, but the rest of us are thirty going on AARP, so cut us some slack.”

Troy didn’t care what Timber was whining about. He picked up speed, jogging a little, remembering his dream, remembering what his brother had looked like as a man.

Troy ran down the sidewalk in the cool and quiet night air, enjoying the breeze on his face. A lone car went by, full of women who wolf-whistled him. Troy nodded to them. A vehicle approached from behind him on the street next to the sidewalk, moving slow. Troy turned around and jogged backwards. It was Canyon and Timber in the truck. Timber flipped him off and they paced him. Troy grinned and turned forward again. Mugshots was only a mile away, he wouldn’t even break a sweat.

But a few minutes later when he got close, Canyon and Timber still trailing him, he saw people standing around on the sidewalk outside of Mugshots, and realized they had already closed. Troy stopped running.

“See, you stupid mutt,” Timber called to him from the window of Canyon’s truck. “Get in here and we’ll take you home.”

Troy ignored him, glad when he heard Timber tell Canyon, “Look, there’s Conri, getting into his truck. Drive over there.”

Troy didn’t spare them a look. Something was pulling him toward Mugshots. It was a cop bar, but one the KSRT normally did not go to. Troy had never been inside as a wolf or a man.

Troy loped through the group of people on the sidewalk, feeling like he was looking for something. For someone. A scent stopped him in his tracks. Peppermint. Cool. Fresh and sweet, like Junior Mints in his mouth. He wanted to suck on them. Troy’s mouth watered as his brain confused what he was smelling, making him think of sex, not food. He drifted back and forth on the sidewalk a few times, turning and pacing, trying to catch that scent again.

Until something hit him from the side. Timber in a flying tackle. Troy tumbled onto the ground, ready to kick Timber’s ass, no handicap needed, when Conri dropped onto him from the top, in the manner of a bear, driving all the air out of his lungs and all the fight out of his spirit.

“Conri… traitor…” Troy wheezed, as Conri helped Canyon and Timber scrape him off the sidewalk and carry him to Canyon’s truck for the second time that night.

3 – Family

Canyon jerked the wheel around and sped up, throwing Troy into the door a few times while he still had the chance. They were heading down Trevor’s Illinois hobby farm and forest driveway.

Canyon hit the brakes at the end of the driveway too hard, cranking the wheel and swinging the ass end of the truck around so the vehicle jerked to a stop parallel with the large house.

---