Shane took the rabbit to the side to gut it, remaining under the sheltered overhang. I sat on a rock and used a small knife to peel branches as he returned. Once he draped the folded blanket over his shoulders, he began cutting the rabbit meat into strips, rinsing them in a bucket of water, and skewering them on the sticks. Larger chunks were dropped into the pot.

Once we finished, we both sat in companionable silence and watched the flames flicker. After a while, Shane started scanning the forest edge more and more frequently.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he said, "My sense of smell and hearing are better as a werewolf. Do you mind if I shift?"

"Go for it. It doesn't bother me, and even Milly doesn't seem to care as long as you don't get too close and there isn't any growling."

He relaxed marginally and set the blanket to the side before reaching for his necklace. It took all my experience as a trader to not react when I realized he was going to shift just barely out of arm's reach. It was one thing when he was twenty paces away, but this was very unexpected since he almost always shifted out of sight, at least until today. Was it a test to see how I'd react? Or was he finally comfortable enough around me?

The moment he removed his necklace, the familiar lights shimmered like the northern lights over his skin, dark orange with small glimpses of emerald green. It was... pretty. Yet, at the same time, there was something about that shade of orange that seemed ominous.

Shane stood on all fours and stretched before sprawling sideways in front of the flames. Even though his body allowed him to walk on two legs or four as he chose, it wasn't a shape that allowed him to comfortably lie on his stomach like most dogs could.

His fur was still soaked. His human head had been mostly dry, so this confused me, but considering his clothes disappeared in wolf form, it kind of made sense his fur would carry water when he shifted back. It was probably also why he set the blanket down before shifting.

Wait. Where had the necklace gone? I'd seen him take it off, but it wasn't in his hands, nor was he wearing clothing or pockets. It seemed to have simply vanished into thin air, just like his clothing.

I flicked a piece of bark into the fire as I contemplated the tail tip a mere handspan away from my boot.

"You're the first person to not panic when I shifted that close to them," Shane commented in his slightly rough werewolf voice.

My gaze moved from his tail to his eyes. "It's... strange. But you're still Shane. Whether you're human or werewolf, you're still you."

We watched each other as the seconds ticked by, and, bizarrely, it felt like some sort of understanding settled between us. His gaze moved back to the fire, and I let mine follow, watching the flickering flames that danced above the wood, formless, yet moving, and very, very real.

His ears occasionally swiveled to the side, but he eventually rested his chin on the gravel. A faint shiver ran through him, and I turned my head to take a better look. His rich brown fur was clumping in spots from the moisture, pretty much completely soaked after spending several hours in the heavy rain and pushing through wet plants.

I got to my feet and went to grab my bedroll, coming back, I asked, "Mind moving for a second?"

He twisted his head to gaze at me questioningly, not so much as budging his considerable bulk.

"Let me set this down, and you can lay on it. It'll keep you off the cold ground." He continued to stare at me, so I kept talking, although I wasn't sure why. "The outer layers are oiled, so it'll stay dry. You can also drape the blanket over yourself until your fur dries and you warm up. We can always hang it near the fire to dry later. I rarely use it."

With an expression that resembled a combination of bemusement and perplexity, he stood up and moved to the side. I stepped forward and unrolled the bedroll where he'd been laying. I didn't open it since I preferred the inner fleece and wool to stay dry.

I stepped over it to add more wood to the fire. He would probably venture out into the rain to check for trouble before too long, but being cold was never fun. I sat down on the rock I'd been on before, and after another puzzled glance at me, Shane carefully walked across the bedroll and laid down on it.

This time, his head was close to me, although he was focused on the folded blanket beside him. I remained seated and didn't offer to help since I was certain his hands were more than dexterous enough to drape it over himself. Besides, even my father had too much pride to let someone pull a blanket over him, nevermind a full-grown male werewolf.

After staring at it for a while, he reached over and grabbed the blanket, twisting to the side to fling it across his body. I really hoped it wouldn't smell like wet dog after this, but even though I was close enough to easily reach out and run my hands through Shane's fur, I didn't smell anything like that. Perhaps werewolves didn't smell as strongly as their canine cousins. Even if the blanket ended up needing a wash, I'd have several hours of daytime boredom in which to do so.

Another small shiver made the blanket quiver as he settled down. I reached out and turned the skewers of meat so they cooked evenly. Lightning flashed across the sky, with thunder booming on its heels, followed by even more rain striking the ground just beyond the fire.

We were sheltered from the wind, but the trees swayed wildly under the assault. If the storms along the coast were as bad as this one, it was no wonder the captains refused to leave the harbor in storm season. Winds this strong would be worse on the open water and would have created waves twice as large as the ships.

We watched the fire flicker in companionable silence. Shane didn't shiver anymore, so I counted that as a win. He rested his chin on the thick leather while I stirred the stew and turned the skewers.

He suddenly lifted his head with both ears perked at the forest, listening intently. I seriously hoped it wasn't another dire wolf. I'd be very happy if I never saw another one of those things again, particularly in this mountain range.

The faintest echo of a horn reached my ears under the heavy patter of rain. I frowned at the forest and murmured, "Was that a horn?"

"Quite a few horn volleys. There are at least a dozen groups out there. I don't recognize their signals, but I think they're regrouping and making camp."

"It doesn't make much sense for them to keep searching in a rainstorm if they can't see past their horse's nose."

His lips pulled back to reveal a rather formidable set of teeth as he chuckled. It was an odd sound, but he clearly found my words amusing. "None of the horns were close by, so that is another piece of good news."

"I'll happily accept any good news, and it looks like the meat strips are cooked, although the stew will take a while longer." I pulled a skewer closer and cut into a piece to check. "They're done."

Shane reached out and grabbed a skewer, yanking the strip of meat off with his teeth and chewing in a far daintier fashion than I expected from someone whose jaws were large enough to fit around my head.

The smoky, unseasoned meat was chewy but filling. I ate two skewers and left the rest for Shane, who didn't even put up a token protest. Once the stew was done, I filled a bowl for myself and pushed the pot toward him. It wasn't much for someone his size, but it was warm.