Revolting
Chapter 103 -

It would have been easier and faster if they could have shifted into their wolf forms to flee the scene, but they had too much loot to carry, along with their scant personal belongings. They were about a mile down the road when Frankie caught up with them, grinning like a kid on Christmas. His grin slid off his face though, when he saw Hannah in Michael's arms. "Damn, boss, what happened?" He had to jog to keep up with Michael's massive strides.

"Human hunters," Michael growled. He wasn't in the mood to rehash the whole sordid fuck-up. His arms were going numb, but he had no intention of stopping until nightfall. He pushed the little pack as hard and as fast as they could tolerate. He steadfastly ignored Lonnie's loud complaints of headache and fatigue. That fool was just lucky that Michael was in too much of a hurry to discipline his incompetent ass.

Dusk was already falling when they stumbled into a good camping spot. The cellar hole of an abandoned house, with the fireplace and chimney still partially attached. Just up the hill from the house was a spring box, with cold, clean water to drink and to bathe with. Michael arranged Hannah gently on the ground. "Hey sweetheart," He spoke softly, as though he were speaking to a child. "We are in a safe place now. Can you shift back?"

The pale wolf only whined slightly, flapped her tail a couple times against the ground, and lowered her head to rest in the dirt. Michael sighed in resignation. "Okay, we'll see what we can do to treat you like this. Sarah? Do you still have that first aid kit?"

Sarah dug around in her pack until she came out with the small plastic box with the red cross emblem inscribed on the front of it. Michael popped open the top of the box and dug through the contests with his finger. He pulled out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some gauze bandages, and a tube of antibacterial ointment. It wasn't much to treat a wound as serious a bullet hole, but coupled together with her wolf-metabolism, she should heal up just fine. He stretched out his arms, which were still cramping in protest, and then sat, spreading his legs so that he could pull her small, warm body into his lap. She whimpered slightly, but didn't resist.

He began to work at the knot that held his tattered shirt over the wound. Frankie came and watched over his shoulder, whistling under his breath when he saw the ragged and oozy hole. "Lucky for her they were only hunting rabbit," he said casually. "If they'd been hunting deer, it would have taken her whole leg off."

Hannah must have comprehended the meaning behind his words, because she shuddered, and her ears flattened against her head. Michael uncapped the peroxide. "Sorry babe, but this is going to burn like hell." He held her leg secure in one hand, and slowly poured the medicine into the wound. It bubbled and foamed, and Hannah made a pained noise that went straight to Michael's heart. "I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over, "I'm so sorry."

The peroxide seemed to have done the job of not only cleaning the wound, but stopping the bleeding. Michael then smeared the whole tube of antibiotic goop in and around the hole. The little wolf whimpered and squirmed, but he had to finish the task. Finally, he wrapped it tightly with the gauze. When he was finished, she was panting, and his own body was covered with a fine film of sweat. He was loathe to move her, so they just sat like that, a small wolf draped across his legs like a feral lap dog.

Boyd had built a fire at the base of the old fireplace, and the group began emptying out the loot they had collected during the raid on the town. Sarah, who seemed to have a special knack for shop-lifting, presented the group with a fresh tin of instant coffee, a sack of sugar, a box of powered donuts, and a bag of chocolate candies. Caroline dropped a hammer, two pocket knives and a file into the pile, along with a wad of cash she had picked from one of the customer's pockets. Between the two of them, Frankie and Boyd had broken into seven cars. "Most of them wasn't even locked," Frankie said, pouting slightly as though the heist hadn't been challenging enough for him. They dumped all kinds of random items into the pile. Stainless steel travel mugs, sunglasses, a woman's purse, a nice jacket, handfuls of loose change, a diaper bag, a throw blanket that was covered in dog hair, and finally, a gym bag packed full of women's clothes. On the last car, the owner had spotted Frankie, and called the police. That lone state trooper that Michael had seen headed for the town center had been responding to the complaint. Frankie had lead the bumbling cop on a chase through the woods, which finally ended with the cop knee deep in a swamp calling for back up.

Caroline dumped out the gym bag and picked through the clothes. "Those will come in handy," Caroline said dryly with a glance at Hannah, "Since she ripped out of those scrubs."

Michael grunted in agreement, and Boyd brought Michael's sack to dump out on the pile. "The razor and the shampoo are mine," he growled, before anyone could claim those items. He was going to give himself a decent shave in the morning, and the peppermint shampoo was for his mate.

Boyd and Frankie went out for a hunt, and returned with three rabbits to cook over the fire. The more wild game they could catch and eat, the longer they could stretch their food rations. They divided up the rabbit meat between them, and retreated to their own corners to eat their meals. Michael leaned back against the old, crumbling foundation, and slowly hand-fed his mate. She took the chunks of meat delicately between her teeth, and didn't snap or bite. When the meat was gone, she chewed idly on the bones.

"Forgive me for this babe," he said, as he slipped a rope around her neck and tied it securely. "I don't want you running away on me in the night." She gave only a half-hearted growl as he secured the other end of the rope to his own waist. She didn't have the energy or the will to fight him at that moment. Instead, she circled a few times, limping around on three legs, before she laid down and curled herself into a tight ball of whitish-grey fur. Michael came and lay beside her, pressing his naked chest against the softness of her fur, and draping his heavy arm across her body. Exhaustion soon over came both of them, and they slept. Michael wasn't even aware when she uncurled during the night and shifted back into her human form. She sat up and slipped the rope off her neck. She sat for a long time, staring down at him in the firelight, her brows knit together in confusion. Her small hand reached out tentatively, to touch that rough, square jaw. She could have run away. All the other wolves were sleeping, they hadn't even left one to keep guard over the camp. But she didn't run. This was a perfect opportunity to kill the man, while he was relaxed in sleep and vulnerable. Instead, she laid back down, pressing her naked body against Michael's warm, solid mass. Something inside her sighed with contentment as she rested her head on his bicep and let her injured leg drape over his thigh. Maybe she would kill him tomorrow. Tonight, she just wanted to stay close to him.