Wolves Running: The Shapeshifter Symphonium, #1

By Deborah Jarvis

The secret is out about the shapeshifters of the world, and as they face the wildly disparate reactions from all parts of the globe, the local groups of shapeshifters are trying to adapt to being in the public eye. For some, like Sasha Wellington, the revelation of her status as a wolf shapeshifter is not something she can reveal just yet in her role as a biology teacher at a Boulder, Colorado high school. As a matter of fact, that is probably the last thing she should consider.

Things begin to change when one of her friends from student-teaching days suddenly discovers he is a shapeshifter, and she has to find a way to get him trained so that he will be able to keep her secret. Bringing the younger wolf home to her family's house for New Year's, Sasha discovers that there is more to her young protégé than she originally thought and finds herself at a crossroads between the world she has built for herself in Boulder and the life that has always been hers amid the snow-capped mountains of Wyoming. In order to make these two parts of her life work, she will have to risk not only her livelihood as a teacher, but possibly the safety of her family and her friends in order to help achieve the lasting peace all of the shapeshifters desire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Jarvis
• Release date: Nov 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986041261

Book preview

1

THE CRY OF THE WOLF

The secret was out. Three months ago, Sam Winston and a group of shapeshifters had gone public, then disappeared into some government protection program. The suddenness of the move left all of us speechless. Many of my people felt betrayed by this action; some were frightened, some excited, and all who lived within the city environs worried about what would happen next. There was no going back. The world now knew about shapeshifters. People knew about us.

When I heard the news, I groaned in disbelief and stared out of my apartment window. The city of Boulder and its buildings sprawled across the landscape, but beyond, the mountains called – home to my family, my pack. Oh, there were quite a few of us who lived here in Boulder; it was easy to exist in compared with other cities. I had chosen to live there because I wanted to be around people. I was one of the more gregarious wolves and, early in my twentieth year, had found my calling teaching biology. Now, ten years later, I was the proud owner of a master’s degree diploma with my name — Sasha Wellington — emblazoned upon it, a group of wonderful current students in my classes, and quite a few former students who kept in touch long after their high school days had ended.

One of those students had become a good friend. I had met John Arndt while doing my practicum where I would eventually be hired. I was in charge of his last class of the day, AP Bio. John was a senior and somewhat of a loner. During the five months I worked with my cooperating teacher, John and I talked after the bell about anime, movies, and comics we were both passionate about, but I maintained a professional remove. When my time as a student teacher ended and John graduated, though, we evolved into close friends and started hanging out whenever we had time.

My boyfriend, a human named Rich, tolerated John coming over to watch movies at our apartment with good grace. Rich was pretty nice as humans went. He was courteous and made sure to include me in his group of friends when he found out I didn’t really know many people in the city. I had spent several holidays with his family, and they all seemed like decent people. He also knew that John’s friendship was important to me, and when I had reassured his male ego that John was not a threat in any way to our relationship, Rich even tried to engage him in conversations about football. These mostly fell flat because John had as little interest in sports as I did.

As for John, he never indicated any romantic inclination towards me. Oh, we talked about his interest in girls and the minimal success he’d had in dating; his quirkiness and intelligence were an off-putting combination for most women his age. With me, though, he was content discussing our joint fascination with the latest Marvel movie or Miyazaki film. I commiserated with him on his dating travails but focused more on our common interests. I think he appreciated it.

Not many outside of my family knew that I was a shapeshifter; after listening to Rich’s comments about the revelation of the tribes, I knew I would never be able to tell him the truth. The fact that he had to work through my family’s upcoming New Year’s party was something of a relief to my whole clan. Rich’s negative opinion was also held by a number of my co-workers, and many parents were suspicious that shapeshifters existed among the teaching staff. For a while, PTA meetings revolved around saving the children from the monsters and that sort of garbage. District administrators were adamant that none of their staff were shapeshifters; they didn’t know about me or the corbie who taught English, and we both intended to keep it that way. As for John, I knew his thoughts were much kinder in that regard, but I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I almost told him a number of times. Almost. In the end, I always chickened out.

Not long after Sam’s reveal, I went to visit my family. They were of the opinion that being discovered was an inevitable consequence of society being so interconnected. My mother reiterated her desire for me to move home, but I just shrugged and stated that as long as no one knew, I was safe. I reminded her that there was a secluded place for me to run in the woods outside of the city. Most people couldn’t tell a husky from a wolf at a distance, and I had a bright red collar that I wore when I ran just in case. It was rather large if human-me wore it, but when I became a wolf, it fit snugly enough. No problems for me that way, other than the occasional reported sightings of a large dog of unusual size running loose in the woods.

One afternoon during my Christmas break, John and I sat watching a new anime that both of us were into. It was the third episode of the Gun Gale Online series, and we were comparing it to the original Sword Art Online, loudly bickering about the differences in style and theme. I was a huge fan of the first season of SAO, but John was totally into the Gun Gale series.

How much of that sushi are you going to eat? I asked, watching him stuff another piece of an exotic maki roll into his mouth.

We had ordered a fairly substantial amount of maki rolls and sashimi to devour during his visit; at twenty-seven, he was still pretty gangly, and although he hadn’t outgrown his appetite for copious amounts of food, he never seemed to gain a pound. As for myself, my metabolism ran fast, which tended to keep my weight down, but I had cut myself back a bit and was eating more fish and lean meats.

What about you? he countered after swallowing the rice-wrapped roll. "How much do you plan to eat? By my count, it’s been, like what, an entire fish since we started?"

And you’re counting why? I asked, menacing him with my chopsticks.

No reason, he said. Remember, fish are friends…not food!

Ha ha, I said, turning back to watch the episode. Eat your seaweed salad and let me enjoy the show, will ya?

He made a non-committal noise, and we went back to watching the cute little girl blow everything up with her giant gun. It was hilarious.

At about four o’clock that afternoon, though, John suddenly made an odd noise, and I looked over at him. He had turned very pale; his skin appeared clammy, and his eyes had taken on a glazed cast.

John? You okay? I asked.

I’m not feeling at all well, he said, his voice shaky. Mind if we finish this another day?

Of course, I said, rising as he moved unsteadily towards the hall closet to get his coat.

I’ll call you, he said, and almost ran out of the apartment into the darkening stairwell.

Rich poked his head out of the office after the door slammed.

Sasha? What’s up with him?

I’m not sure, I replied. He said he didn’t feel well. I’m going to go check on him. Be back in a little bit.

I grabbed my purse, jammed my feet into my boots, and left the apartment pulling my coat on as I went. Although my nose was not as sensitive as it was in my wolf form, I could tell that there was something off about John’s scent. He didn’t smell sick, not in an illness type of way, but he didn’t smell like himself. The hallway of the apartment building held the odor long enough for me to dissect it. I blinked repeatedly when I registered what it was, then bolted out the door.

Now normally, when one of the wolf clan is born, at least one of our parents is well-aware that we have shapeshifter blood. More often, both parents are shifters or the human partner knows about it. Clan is super important to the wolves; family is everything. When we come to our time to change – and not all do – we have guides and plenty of instruction as to what is happening. Some come to it early, like at puberty. Some, though, don’t come to it until very late, and it can be an unnerving surprise for the person who has come to accept they would never change.

On very rare occasions, however, a lone wolf will have a relationship with a human, which can result in a single human mother raising the child alone or, in the case of a female wolf, a child often left at an orphanage. I knew John was adopted at an early age with no claim to who his parents were, but he’d always smelled human. That was pretty typical for the late bloomers, too. I had to find John now. Fast. He had not been raised in a pack. He’d been raised by humans who were never quite sure of how to manage his startling intelligence. I knew from listening to him that he was not likely to get a lot of sympathy from his parents as he’d told me several times about their negative comments regarding shapeshifters.

Even though the outside air was very cold and bore the scent of the pending snowstorm, I could still catch his scent when I reached the street. There was also a tinge of fear to his smell, the beginnings of panic. I followed my nose as the first flakes began to fall, noticing that John had not taken his car, which was wise of him. If my own experience was any indication, he would most likely be feeling dizzy and nauseous right now. The world would seem like it was swimming, and he would be confused by the sudden assault to his senses. He would probably seek some dark, quiet place to hide. I know I did. I was ten when I first changed, and I hadn’t wanted to come out of my closet for days.

His scent trail led to a dark alley between two of the festively-bedecked buildings a little way down the block. Full dark had come, and the alley was cloaked in shadows. My eyes adjusted quickly – another perk even in human form – and I saw that a large cardboard refrigerator box lay on its side next to the Dumpster behind the Convenient Mart. A dark shadow shuddered within, a low cry echoing out of the box.

I crouched down at the open end of the carton and peered in to see John curled in a fetal position at the back. His eyes had a feral gleam in the dim light, and he stared at me with something akin to terror.

Get away! he growled through clenched teeth. Go! While you can. Go!

I shook my head and crawled into the box on all fours.

It’s all right, John, I said. Stop fighting it. It’s going to be okay.

No, he grated. I’m not alright. I feel like I’m on fire!

I made my way where he lay huddled against the back of the box and sat down next to him. I touched his forehead. He was right; he was burning hot. He reached up and grabbed my hand, clutching it in both of his own. He was shaking so hard I could hear his teeth rattle.

I read…somewhere…that this was what it felt like before one became…a monster, he said, shuddering as if freezing the whole time. You need to run, Sash. I don’t want…to hurt you.

Great, I thought. Some moron shifter had given an interview to a journalist, and the media had blown the whole thing out of proportion. Typical.

John, I said. You have to trust me. You are not a monster. What is happening to you is normal. You have to stop fighting it, though, or it will just get worse.

Normal? he gasped out. This is…normal?

For a shapeshifter, yes, I said, hesitating only a moment before saying, I’ve been through it myself.

He glanced up at me with eyes like new crescent moons. A dawning realization grew within them, and I nodded to his unspoken question.

Yes, I said. So, you have to trust me now. You know me. You know who I am. Let the change take you. You will still be you. You, um, might have some problems with your clothes feeling confining, though, so try not to struggle when you change. I’ll be right here.

He shuddered and, keeping his eyes on mine, stopped resisting. The change was so sudden it was almost explosive. One second there had been a frightened man huddled on the ground, the next a gangly black wolf dressed in baggy clothing, utterly spent, lay panting next to where I knelt. He continued to watch me, whining as he breathed, but he did not struggle and stayed still, head resting on the cardboard floor of the box.

It’s going to be a few before you can become human, I said. You need to rest a little while. I first changed when I was ten, so it’s been a decade or two, but I remember how exhausting it was. I also resisted my first change. My parents knew what I was, though, and had prepared me for it. I’m guessing one of your parents was also a shapeshifter, but you had no one to tell you about it except jerks on the internet who don’t know anything.

He heaved a huge sigh and glanced up at me again, the question in his eyes plain.

Well, of course, I am going to help you, idiot, I said, smiling. What, you think I’m just going to let you go it alone? No way!

He closed his eyes and let himself relax a bit more. I gently touched his forehead, and his eyes snapped open, unsure.

Everything feels different with fur, I said. Your whole body is going to be sensitive to just about anything. A light breeze, a dandelion seed…everything. Your nose tells you a hundred times more than it used to. This box isn’t all that dark after all, is it? There’s a rat behind the trash bags that you can hear much better than I can. But, you know, I joked, with great power comes great responsibility.

John lifted his head to look at me and gave a sudden snort that visibly startled him and made me laugh.

See? I said. You are still you, and I am still me. The essential you doesn’t change. Just the external packaging, which occasionally likes to get all furry and go for a run in the forest.

John lowered his head back down, snorting through his nose.

When you feel up to it, visualize yourself back in your own body. The change might be a little sluggish this soon, but you should be able to manage it. Take your time. This isn’t a race.

A few minutes later, John managed to get back into human form. He seemed exhausted and without warning, broke into huge sobs. He sat up, and I gathered him into my arms, holding him and comforting him as much as I could. We sat like that inside the box for a long time as the snow swirled down, hissing as it landed on the cardboard above our heads. John finally calmed himself enough to sit back a bit and dry his eyes. I handed him a clean tissue from my pocket as he tried to pull himself back together.

So what do I do now? he asked sniffing. I feel like my life is over.

It absolutely isn’t. We are going to go see someone, I said, as I pulled out my phone. She’ll help put you to rights.

I called a number I kept on my favorites list, grinning as the line was picked up.

Nevermore? Put on the tea kettle. I need a safe place for me and a new pup to talk.

Student? she asked.

Prior, I said, grinning. You’ll never guess who.

I’ll put the kettle on, she said and hung up.

Nevermore? said John, raising an eyebrow.

Well, yes, I said. What else do you call a literary corbie?

2

THE REVELATION OF NEVERMORE

Idialed Rich and told him that I was taking John to his parents’ house and not to wait on me for dinner. Then we walked back to my car and drove through the snow across the city to where Katherine Corbeau lived. I hadn’t told John who he was going to be meeting, and when Kathy opened the door, his face lit up. I knew that Kathy had been his favorite English teacher, and he trusted her more than any of the other full-time staff members. She had that effect on people.

Come in, come in! So good to see you, John. Paul? she called. We’re going to have company for dinner. Put on two extra potatoes when you start cooking.

Right-o! came a cheerful cry from the other room, and Paul Corbeau walked into the kitchen, looking over the rim of his round glasses and appearing every inch the stately raven from ancient times of yore. Paul was an IT expert and spent his days happily poking through bits of computer software. Most urban corbies were into the information field somewhere, and many of them loved computers, foreign languages, or composition and research. No few of the corbies I knew were teachers, too.

So, who is this? he asked, tilting one bright eye to examine John.

One of our former students, said Kathy calmly. He just discovered what he is, dear.

Oh? said Paul, eyebrows raising as he noticed the full tea tray on the kitchen table. Well, then I’ll leave you to your conversation and start dinner.

Thank you, love, she said. John, you can hang your coat up in the hall.

Kathy winked at me and carried the tea tray through the living room where a small Christmas tree was crammed next to an older television set announcing the dismal weather, through a short hall, then into the study towards the back of the house. John took off his jacket, hung it on one of several hooks in the little front hall, then followed me into the study. Kathy set the tray down on the table, motioning us to the huge, overstuffed chairs that crowded into the center of the tiny room. Once we were all seated, she poured us each a cup of tea, and turned to John.

I would imagine you have questions, said Kathy.

Mrs. Corbeau…

Kathy, dear. Call me Kathy.

Kathy, said John, trying the name on his tongue. How long have you been…?

A raven, John? I’ve been a raven all my life. I first changed at fourteen and met Paul when I was twenty. We’ve been together ever since. Raised three fine corbies of our own. They live a few hours away. The boys teach STEM, and my daughter is somewhat of a mad scientist. No grandchildren yet, but maybe someday.

John seemed to take a moment to digest this information, and then turned to me.

And you? Is Rich a…?

Wolf? No. Rich is pretty human, I guess. No sudden surprises with him. I have four brothers, though. Three of them are like me, but one, Mark, never manifested the power to shapeshift. He has three kids though, and his oldest has already changed. She’s twelve. The power comes when and if it will. You’re kind of late to the game but not the latest I’ve heard of.

John’s eyes grew moist like he was going to tear up, and Kathy saw him, taking his hands in hers.

Shhh, she said. Shh, it’s okay. You have every right to feel bewildered and lost given what you’ve just been through. Everything has changed, but nothing has really. You’ll never go through it that badly again. As long as you change a few times a month and go let yourself run it off, you’ll never change when you don’t want to.

"But I don’t want to be a shapeshifter! said John to Kathy. I didn’t ask for this! I mean, I always thought it must be neat to be able to be an animal, but I didn’t actually wish for this. I just want my old life back."

John, I said. Your old life is still right where you left it. If you don’t tell them, your parents will likely never know. I’ve met bears who lived with their human partners for decades without them ever finding out. That sometimes ends badly, though, so I don’t recommend it; honesty is always best. The only thing that is different is that you are part of a whole new group of people. My pack will welcome you in without question.

Your pack? asked John. You have a pack?

Well, yes, I said. My family is a pack, and part of the larger wolf clan. Brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, their mates, all their children. There’s about twenty-five or thirty of us, I think.

Thirty? he asked.

Or more, I shrugged. I lose count with all the babies.

Corbies are just as bad, chuckled Kathy, sipping her tea. We have huge extended family groups. Huge gossips, all of us.

I know, I laughed. Remember that staff party?

Oh, how could I forget? Tad Collins will never live that down.

John sat, glancing back and forth between us, bewildered.

So what do I do? he asked, picking up his tea cup.

For starters, I said, You can come home with me tomorrow. Remember how I told you I am heading to my family for a few days?

Tomorrow is Thursday. I have work at the college, said John, and then his voice trailed off. I guess I should call out, huh?

Yes, I said. Tell your folks that you are doing something for the college, and you’ll be back on Sunday night. Rich can’t go with me this year. There’s a huge end of the year report he has to file, so your timing couldn’t have been better. Pack warm clothing.

You can meet here and leave your car with us, said Kathy. There’s plenty of room in the driveway. That way, there are no questions from your parents.

Look, began John, and then stopped, putting down his tea cup. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. I don’t think I can go home right now and pretend that everything is normal. Can I stay with one of you tonight? I’ll sleep on a couch or something. I just need to not be home.

Of course, said Kathy. You can stay here; we have a spare room. While dinner is finishing up, why don’t you and Sasha get your car. You can go pack your things after we eat.

I’ll even ride over with you, if you want, I said. I get not wanting to be alone.

Thanks, said John, sounding relieved. That would be great.

Everything will be fine, John, I said as calmly as I could. I promise.

He nodded hesitantly, and we left to go get his car.

3

HOME TO THE HOUSE

Early the next morning, I got up, pulled myself together, and kissed Rich goodbye. He had been up late working on his report, so when he rolled over, all I got was a sleepy farewell. The snowstorm had not amounted to much – maybe an inch – and the roads were already clear. I threw my bag into my car and drove over to Kathy’s house.

Kathy was already up and made a full breakfast for us. Corbies are not light eaters either, and between the blueberry scones, scrambled eggs, rasher of bacon, oranges, yogurt, and sausages, the kitchen table was decked out like a feast. John had not yet woken, Kathy told me; when she had checked on him a short time ago, he was still sleeping solidly. From a conversation she had had with him the previous night, Kathy got the sense that he never rested comfortably at home.

He doesn’t fully trust them, she said. They aren’t cruel to him; they just don’t understand him.

This certainly doesn’t make his problems any easier, I said. I’ll go wake him up.

Go up as a wolf, laughed Kathy. That might convince him that he’s not alone.

Tempting, I snickered. He’ll get enough of that this weekend. I think I’ll stay human for the time being.

Kathy’s laughter followed me out of the kitchen as I climbed the polished staircase to the second story of the old house. Reaching the top, I turned left to the room at the end of the short hall. The door was ajar, and I tapped before opening it enough to stick my head through. John blinked at me, bleary-eyed, his sleep-tousled hair sticking up at random angles, then peered at the clock on the bedside table.

Shit, he said, rubbing his eyes. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to leave early. I’ll get right up.

It’s okay. Take a couple of minutes. Kathy just set out a ginormous breakfast, so come on down when you’re dressed. There is hot coffee, too. I’ll see you downstairs.

I left the room, shutting the door behind me, and returned to the kitchen. By the time John joined us, Paul had been in, grabbed two scones and some coffee, and left for the office. Kathy and I sat and nursed our coffees, needing more time to warm up to the day.

John said nothing as I handed him a cup and pointed to the fixings. He heaped four or five teaspoons of sugar into it, topped it off with a dollop of cream, and then began to load a plate. Kathy and I exchanged knowing glances. Newly-changed shapeshifters seemed to eat their weight in food the first year or so as they gained control of their powers. Us old fogey stogies didn’t need to do that anymore. Kathy was nearing sixty, though she didn’t look it, and my almost thirty-four years were enough that I could keep my mental balance most of the time.

It occurred to me then that the happiness I had heard in my mother’s voice this morning when I told her I was bringing a newly-changed friend along with me this weekend was almost the same I had heard when I first told her about Rich. That enthusiasm faded after the first year. With Rich there, the clan had to be more reserved since we weren’t out to him. Rich recognized their hesitant politeness, and I felt that part of the reason he wasn’t going this year was due to the feeling that he wasn’t really welcome anymore. To say that the clan was happy to not have him coming would be an understatement. My mother’s reaction about my guest being someone she had heard of before was odd, however. There was almost an air of calculation to it that made me nervous.

I refocused my attention just in time to witness John realize, part way through his third plate, that he’d eaten half of the food on the table. He seemed mortified, but Kathy just laughed.

Newly changed wolves and corbies are equally as ravenous, she said, passing him the orange juice. My children ate everything in sight after they changed, so I am used to this. In a few years, you won’t want to eat the world, I promise.

He rolled his eyes at me, and I nodded.

It’s like being seventeen again, I said, but without acne.

His face lit with a grin, and he made a focused attempt to slow down a little bit. He still finished the whole plate of food, though.

I took a hand helping Kathy rinse the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher, and John belatedly came over to ask if he could help. We had pretty much finished by then, and I sent him to get his belongings so we could depart.

Thank you for letting him stay here last night, I said to Kathy, giving her a hug. I’ll keep him safe.

I am sure you will, said my friend. Just remember how new all this is to him. Maybe some prep work before he meets the clan, hmm?

Oh, you know it, I laughed, as John reappeared carrying his backpack and coat. I donned my own coat and prepared to go.

Thank you, John said to Kathy.

She smiled at him and pinched his cheek.

Anytime, Kiddo. And I mean that.

I led the way out to my car, and John put his pack into the back seat. My duffle bag was already there, loaded with Christmas presents and gag gift squeaky toys for my brothers. I got in and glanced over at John. He was in the middle of fastening his seat belt and paused to give me an apprehensive glance.

What? he said.

Nothing! I said cheerfully. Just thinking about what you have in store for you this weekend.

Oh? he said, his brow furrowing. Should I be worried?

No, no, I said, and then grinned. Okay, I know I shouldn’t be so happy given that it is your second day as a wolf and it’s weirding you out, but seriously, it is going to be so much fun to have you there.

Why? he asked as I began to back down the driveway.

Because the last few years when Rich has been there, we haven’t exactly been able to be ourselves. He really has no idea and, given his comments about the news reports about shapeshifters, I don’t think I can ever tell him. Our family gatherings tend to be pretty loud normally, but with him there, they’ve been kind of subdued. No racing through the backyard as wolves and that sort of thing.

Oh, John said. I hadn’t thought of that.

We drove for a few minutes while he digested this information.

What is it normally like? he finally asked. Other than loud.

Let’s see. Races, hunting expeditions, midnight howls…I mean, let’s face it, we’re not human all the time. I also am going to warn you that nudity is not viewed as taboo there. It won’t be flaunted, but someone streaking across the lawn to the hot tub is not unheard of.

Ah, said John, uncomfortably. I see.

He glanced at me and then away, his ears turning red. That said volumes.

Relax, I said. They’ll likely be on good behavior because you weren’t brought up within the culture of the clan.

Oh, he said and lapsed into silence

I turned onto the interstate, and we began the long drive north. The lack of conversation was slowly becoming unbearable. I turned to him where he sat seemingly folding in on himself.

Okay, I said. Yes, this is going to be different. They will accept you, though.

"Sasha, this past day or so I thought I was going crazy, then I thought I might kill you by becoming a slavering beast. Instead, you admit to me that you are a shapeshifter and calmly talk me through transforming into a wolf, then back like it was no big thing to you. Which it apparently isn’t. Then I bawl on your shoulder like a baby, get taken to my favorite English teacher’s house,