Free Binding: Book Two of the Moon Wolf Saga by Carol Wolf Page B

a hand. “I’ll get that in a minute. Come,” he gestured. “I’ll walk you down.”
    As he started down, he changed to his gray fox form. The fox kind, like the wolf kind, take no time at all to change. He set a foot down as a human, and the next foot down as a fox, sliding from one form to the next like water from one vessel to another, almost too quickly to follow. Then he turned and looked at me. Strange. I’d never noticed before how small he was, as a gray fox. He was above average height as a human. I wondered if he took pains to make himself look larger than he was.
    He stood looking at me expectantly, his bright eyes challenging. He wanted me to change as well. I pretended I didn’t see the look, and continued down the slope after him, picking my way along the rocky path, and trying not to limp. Aside from not wanting him to see the shape I was in, if I changed, I was sure I’d lose those damn stupid shoes.
    In any case, when we got to the creek, my decision seemed prescient instead of defiant, because at that moment a crowd of hikers came laughing and chattering up the trail. A few of them waved. I waved back and smiled. When they had passed, I turned to look for the Gray Fox, but he was gone.
    It was a long walk back down the trail. Hikers passed me every few minutes, going either way. My ankle hurt, but I couldn’t limp too much to spare it. Gray Fox was out there somewhere. He would be watching me.
    It was a good thing I’d lost my I.D. He’d have gotten my address from it, and my new name. I tried to feel grateful that he promised to hold off before telling my family where I was, but I didn’t. It was a while before I realized he’d promised no such thing. He’d given the impression that's what he would do, but he hadn’t said so. Then I realized what he had done. He had offered to deal with me, separately from my stepfather, but most of all, separately from my mother. He was playing me, as though I were a piece on a board that belonged to him. And that was just wrong.
    When I thought it through like that, then our whole meeting made a lot more sense. I must be growing up. I could see what he had done. Like a good hunter, he had separated me from any allies I might still have at home. He had blocked me from my covert. He’d gotten me into the open, and now he would watch me and see where I ran. He was hunting for himself, and I was his prey. When he was ready, he would drive me to his chosen ground, and then he would come in for the kill.

CHAPTER SIX
    I got to the parking lot without seeing Gray Fox again, but that didn’t mean he didn’t follow me every step of the way. I was very glad to sit down in my car and get my weight off my ankle, but the wound in my hip had begun to hurt. I’d probably torn all the newly-healed tissue in the three miles of hiking that rocky trail. Clenching my hand on the stick shift made my wrist ache again. I was one sorry pup as I headed off that mountain, with no place to lay my head.
    I drove out to Redlands, about an hour to the east on the 210. I didn’t know if Gray Fox was shadowing me, or if one of his many tribe was tracking me, or if he could scry me, but I did not want him following me home to my place in Whittier. Since he was so sure my den was in Redlands, that's where I went, and hopped off a couple of the exits, circled the neighborhoods, and hopped back on again, then got on the 10 and drove back toward L.A. Then I caught the 215 and headed south.
    It's difficult to scry someone on the freeway, because freeways all look alike. I hoped to obscure the trail enough so that when I eventually went to ground, I would be pretty hard to find. I had one last place where I thought I could ask for help. If she was in town, if she was at her shop, Madam Tamara might help me.
    I pulled around back into the parking lot for the World Music: Ethnic and Tribal Instruments store in Costa Mesa. Parking lots look pretty much the same to scryers as well. I sat in the