Chapter 10

They spent a couple hours after supper, teaching me wolf language for danger, run, and a couple other common wolf phrases, like I’m hungry or I’m thirsty.

“No word for hide?” I asked.

“You can’t hide from a wolf,” Conor said. “We can smell where you are.”

“I’ve seen movies where you can throw off tracking dogs by putting pepper down. Can I do something similar with wolves?”

They looked at each other. “That might work,” Brigitte said, “if they’re tracking your scent on the ground. If you’re close enough to smell in the air, it probably wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I should put together a go bag for running out of here on short notice?” I suggested.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Conor said.

When it was time for bed, Conor showered first before shifting and padding down to the doggy bed at the foot of the stairs. Brigitte put an automatic pistol, a .45, under the bed. She watched me shower, then got in the shower herself, making me remain in the bathroom with the d