Page 1 of Quest of the Wolf

1

Morning frost blanketedthe grass of Sylvan Serenity Housing when I walked out of my apartment carrying a sword and a backpack full of rope, tools, snacks, and other items that might be useful in staging a rescue. I felt like Frodo heading off to Mordor with the One Ring on a quest to save the world. Except I was off to a lavender field to save a werewolf.

“Almost the same.”

I strode toward my truck, glad the tenants who’d started staking out the parking lot in search of ghosts weren’t there with their paranormal-monitoring equipment. On the way, I passed Duncan’s Roadtrek van.

The night we’d confronted my cousins, he’d driven it to Lake Sammamish. It hadn’t been until a few days later, when I’d gone to seek sign of him, that I’d found it parked on a side street near a dock, with his jeans, phone, and keys inside. When he’d slipped into the water carrying his demolitions, he must have assumed he would end up changing forms. I’d driven the van back and parked it here, hoping he would return for it of his own accord. He hadn’t yet. That was why I had to rescue him.

When I reached my truck, an SUV rolled into the lot with my son Austin in the passenger seat. I was relieved to see him, even though I had determinedlynotworried about him when he hadn’t come home the night before, and I hadn’t called to check on him. Okay, I hadn’t called more thanonce. He was eighteen, in the Air Force, and visiting for the holidays. Tracking his every movement wasn’t my duty anymore.

Fortunately, Austin didn’t appear drunk or stoned when he hopped out of his friend’s SUV, waving a thanks for the ride. Given that he hadn’t likely slept, he looked quite alert, but he eyed me warily when our gazes met.

A year ago, I would have read him the riot act for staying out all night, but a year ago, he’d lived with me and had a curfew. Now… I didn’t want to be an overbearing mother lest he not visit anymore. Like his older brother, Cameron.

“There are eggs and bacon on a plate on the counter.” I pointed toward the apartment.

“Oh, good. I’m starving.” Austin started in that direction but paused. “Uhm, I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

He didn’t usually hesitate, but he did now. Was something wrong? Did he need money? A confidante? A kidney?

No, they wouldn’t have allowed him into the military if he had an organ deficiency. I was less certain about the rest.

“Did you like the chocolate-covered crickets?” Austin asked. “Do you want me to get more?”

I squinted at him, certain this wasn’t therealquestion he wanted answered. “The chocolate is waxy and is desperately in need of sea salt.”

“I saw the canister in your truck.” Austin arched his eyebrows. “If you’re taking them on the road, that means you’re eating them. They can’t be that bad.”

“I wouldn’t say they’regood.”

“I looked in the container yesterday. They’re half gone.”

“Because they came in a handy travel tin.”

“So their appeal is that they’re…”

“Convenient,” I said firmly, refusing to classify them as palatable. “Like bags of chips by the checkout counter.”

“Convenience crickets.”

“Exactly. What’s yourrealquestion, my son?”

Austin smiled ruefully. “I was wondering if I can spend a few days at Mount Baker.”

“What? Now?” I waved at the outdoor Christmas tree I’d put up near the leasing office. The holiday was quickly approaching.

“Yeah. For skiing. Snowboarding, actually. We wouldn’t technically be stayingatBaker, but Oakley won a week at an Airbnb on a lake in Maple Falls, so it’s really close. You can drive right up to the mountain in the mornings. He has the cabin over Christmas.”

Over… Christmas?

I wanted to blurtno, that Austin was only in town for a couple of weeks before returning to finish his Air Force training and being assigned to his first duty station who knew where. On the other side of the world, probably. More, he’d spent so much time with his friends since he’d come home that I’d barely gotten to talk to him.

“He’s never won anything,” Austin continued. “I haven’t either. A couple of my friends are home from school and going too. It’ll be really epic.”

Trying not to let my disappointment show, I groped for something to say. Something that was in line with my attempts to be a mature, and certainly not overbearing, mother who acknowledged that her sons had grown up and could now live their own lives.

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