Strange Trails

Eight

The woodlands on the Black Lake Pack land are crammed full of new plants waiting to be discovered; from great hulking trees that provide constant shade to the wildlife living in its shadow to trickling streams where tiny fish glimmer in the sunlight.

Maisie spends hours in the woods, her nose pressed to the ground, mapping out the territory and making plans until she has every exit strategy down pat and a back-up plan for every single of her back-up plans. Sean's a little concerned at first as the only one to know what it is she's up to, but he knows she won't settle until it's complete. So other than pointing out obvious holes in each scheme and providing endless cups of tea on the sleepless nights, he lets her get on with it.

After a week has passed, she's done. After two weeks, she's moving through the woods without any reference to her mental maps. After a month, she's one with her surroundings, and her scent has already adapted to the plant life she's taken to snoozing under after her morning shift in the kitchens.

So when Patrick asks to accompany her on a rare day off a few weeks later, he's surprised at how difficult it is to keep up with her.

"Jesus," he curses, tripping over another tree root she seamlessly hopped over. "How the fuck are you doing this?"

She shrugs, "Instinct."

He mutters something rude under his breath and she gasps, whipping towards him. He's instantly alert, his back ramrod straight, "What? What is it?"

"Your language, good sir!" Maisie mock gasps. Patrick deflates with a groan, "How dare you curse so in front of a lady!"

"Don't do that, you almost gave me a bloody heart attack," he points an accusing finger at her while she smiles innocently. "And you're not a lady. You're a pest."

Maisie glances down at herself, "I think you'll find that I'm definitely female."

"Goddess give me strength," Patrick says. "If I'd known you were going to be as annoying as your brother, I would never have asked to come with you."

"Only annoying as," Maisie pouts, moving away from Patrick to continue her march forward. "I was rather hoping to be more annoying. It's a point of pride you see."

"Hm," Patrick grunts, manoeuvring his large frame under some low hanging branches. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Somewhere other Shifters can't eavesdrop," she glances slyly over her shoulder. "You are planning on asking about Lauren, right?"

This time it's his own two feet that trip him up, "W-what?"

"Come on, Patrick. I'm not dumb."

"I never said you were dumb."

"You're treating me like I'm dumb."

He groans, "Fine. Yes. I wanted to ask you about Lauren."

"What about her?" Maisie scrambles over a fallen leg, pulling herself up and over. She tries not to scowl at the large man as he vaults over it in one graceful move, what she'd give to be able to be as smooth as that.

"Well you know..."

"Please tell me you're not asking me if she talks about you, Patrick?" Maisie sighs, "You could be a little more inventive than that."

"Look, I'm clutching at straws. Every time I try to talk to her she turns tail and runs like I'm a hellhound on her heels."

"Do you reckon they're real?"

"What? Hellhounds?"

Maisie nods, "Yeah, I mean werewolves are real, why can't hellhounds also be real?"