The Not So Sad Rejection

Chapter Sixteen

Past Enemies

I couldn't breathe inside the cab of the truck, it felt like two hands just curled around my lungs forcing the air out. I threw open the truck door and ran drunkenly in to the forest. The trees wobbled back and forth and the edges of my vision blurred.

I noted dimly that I was having a panic attack and it was best that I stopped running. I stopped and rolled into a ball on the forest floor. I placed my head between my knees and tried to even my breath. In for three seconds. Out for three seconds. Rinse and repeat.

It wasn't working very well. It didn't help that I could feel the mental nudge of someone trying to get through my mental barrier. I did my best to ignore the person. My chest felt heavy. Despite my words to Jason I don't think I could really leave my old family again, let alone my new one.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Focus Kate," I gasped to myself. "Breathe. In and out. In and out."

I tried rocking back and forth, which actually helped a little. Once I could breathe regularly again my head cleared. My words to Jason were mostly empty. I was just hurt and betrayed. I erected myself and let out a deep breath. I needed a few days away from Jason and everyone else here. I'll go the West Sun pack and handle the situation there. I'd use the time to clear my head and reevaluate everything before I saw Jason again.

I looked around. I was in the forest, that much I knew, but where was a mystery. I must have ran much farther than I thought because I could no longer even hear the cars on the road. I was fairly certain that I hadn't yet left Silver Moon territory though. That's-

The wind shifted blowing locks of hair into my face. It carried on it very distinctive smell, or rather the absence of a smell. Every pack wolf has a slight scent about them that marks them as a member of their pack. Every pack's smell is varied from that of other packs.

I've talked to pack wolves who'd never met a Rogue in their life. They always think that a Rogue is marked by the scent of decay. That a Rogue's scent is so vile, so repulsive that it actually burns when it hits your nose.

None of that is anything more than pack prejudice against Rogues. The thing that marks them isn't a scent, it's the lack of a scent, the lack of a pack marker on their scent. It was the smell of a wolf that wasn't complete.

I instinctively reach back for my bow and arrows, or even my swords but I'd left them in the truck after I tore them off to try to get rid of anything restricted the air in my chest. "Shit," I hissed under my breath. I patted my hip. And I don't have my holster because I left it on the bed next to the second suitcase. I was going to put it on when I brought that down.

Double shit.

I let out a deep breath and straightened my posture. Don't appear weak. "I know you're there," I called out.

"You're good," a man said walking out from behind a tree about a dozen yards of what was downwind just a few seconds earlier. "Most don't know a Rogue's scent so readily."

"It's my job," I replied. "Just as I know there are more wolves here. Shame I didn't notice earlier."

He tipped his head. "You seemed upset. Give yourself a break."

"You're right," I told him. "I am upset, but I'll give you a piece of solid advice. You do not want to be the wolf that crosses me when I'm upset."

He smiled. I just know this is going to be one of those crazy Rogues. "You see I'd like to listen to that advice. I'd sure enjoy leaving you be. You ain't done anything to my people that wasn't provoke. But unfortunately for you I have a job to job."