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herself in a big bath towel. She wiped the condensation off the window and peered outside. She saw no bodies, no wolves, no sign of the struggle—only Michael, now dressed in the clothes she’d bought for him, his face clean of blood, driving the backhoe back and forth, filling a new hole in the field where the Coughlins had died. She knew that there would be no one in the neighborhood who would miss the two men, no one who would inquire where they had gone.
    Laura watched Michael park the backhoe and walk over to the other burial mound on the hill. He stood beside it, shoulders slumped, and Laura’s heart went out to him. The two wolves buried there had been his companions for years. She saw him lift his head and howl. She heard an answering howl. Then, he tore off his clothes and ran, limping a little, toward the woods. By the time he got there, he was a gray wolf.
    Laura stood at the window, stunned. He was gone. Just like that he’d vanished. Tears came to her eyes. Had he decided being human was too difficult? Was he gone for good? Would he come back tonight? In the morning? Sometime? Never? Had it been a silly fantasy to think that a man who was also a wolf could ever be tame enough to want to be around someone as ordinary as herself? Yet she’d been so sure, whenever their gaze had met, that he desired her. She’d hoped that there was even more feeling than that—she’d hoped that Michael loved her. Now…now she just felt stupid and terribly sad. And angry.
    “Damn it,” she said. “Let him go back to being an animal if he can’t hack it as a man. Let him go find a she-wolf, I can manage perfectly well on my own. I don’t need him.” Then she cried, overwhelmed with the powerful feelings of love and desire for Michael and the fear that he was gone forever. The wildness in her had connected with the wildness in him. They both yearned to run free, shy and fierce at the same time.
    Had she been too shy? Should she have revealed her tumultuous feelings for him even though she had been unsure of his feelings toward her?
    “I love him,” she said out loud. “I want him. I think we belong together. I am going to find him, damn it. I am going to tell him how I feel and he can like it or lump it.” She threw on her clothes, not bothering with underwear, and ran out the back door.
    Calling his name as loudly as she could, she ran up the hill toward the darkening woods. Behind her, the sun was setting in a blaze of reds and yellows. She heard a howl—not too far, she thought—and hurried toward the sound. Part of her was telling her to hurry, to catch up with him, that her whole future depended on her finding this wolf-man. Another part reminded her that there were other wolves in the woods. Wolves that were pure animal, wolves that might conceivably attack her. That was a risk she was willing to take. No animal could do anything to compare with the horror of what the Coughlins had had in store for her.
    It was becoming very dark as Laura hurried on, calling Michael’s name. She heard another howl and she called out again, rushing toward the sound. She stumbled over a rock and fell painfully to her hands and knees. She got to her feet and looked up through the naked branches of the trees. Clouds covered the sky and the moon was just a faint glow. She walked more carefully now, trying to feel her way with her hands and feet. She tripped again and, barely managing to stay upright, skinned her hand on the rough bark of the branch she was holding on to for support. She called out, but there was no answering wolf call.
    Go home , said the sensible part of her brain. No, I will find him , replied her unreasonable heart. The sensible brain said nothing. It was too late—there was no way she could find her way home in the dark. In fact, she doubted she would even be able to find her way in the morning.
    The branches above her rattled unpleasantly in the wind. She called for Michael and sensed an uneasy stirring in