I struggled to keep Shane in the saddle as Milly clambered up rocks and down gullies with the speed of a mule half her age. The end of the lead rope flapped against her neck as she trotted along the mountain slope.

Against all odds, we hadn't crossed paths with any soldiers, but it wouldn't be long before they caught up – not with Milly's hooves leaving a clear path. Shane pulled at my arm around his waist.

"Sun's 'bout to rise," he rasped.

"Milly, woah. Stop."

Panting heavily, Milly slowed down, then stopped. I slid down, and Shane tried to lift his leg over the saddle, only to lose his balance. My feet had barely touched the ground, and I struggled to catch him and slow his fall. Milly skittered to the side, but was tired enough she didn't take off again.

Shane lay on his back, arms splayed out, with the crossbolt still protruding from his chest. The front of his shirt was stained with blood and dried trails of it lingered on his chin. He took a deep breath and grabbed the arrow, yanking it out.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed, dropping to my knees beside him. "You could bleed to death!"

"Day shift will heal it," he sputtered, coughing up fresh flecks of blood.

I pinned my hand against the heavily bleeding wound. "Maybe, but you have to stay alive that long!"

He tugged at his necklace, but the pendant had slid behind his back and was pinned under him. He made the slightest attempt to sit up, before falling back with an agonized gasp. I was about to help lift him up enough to get the necklace off so he could shift into his werewolf form, but a beam of sunlight hitting the corner of my eye informed me there wasn't time to worry about it.

"Back up," he said, his words faint and garbled as bloody bubbles appeared at the side of his mouth.

Tears of worry and frustration blurred my vision. It killed me to see him in such pain, but even though I knew the coming shift would remove his pain, I needed him. The war parties would be closing in, and my chances of evading them without his help were slim.

The sunlight touched him, and he jerked in my arms as the orange lightning began to crackle across his skin. I slid backward and closed my eyes tightly, unable to watch him go through the painful-looking shift. Even the necklace around my neck was heavy and warmer than usual, as if mourning the loss of my guide.

An unexpected green glow made me open my eyes. Green lightning now danced alongside the dark orange. Shane's convulsions deepened as fur replaced his clothing. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I forced myself to watch, promising myself I'd tell Shane about it if he wanted to know.

The seizures forced him to curl up more tightly, but something seemed different compared to the first time. He wasn't shrinking as much, and instead of his fur thinning and skin pulling back, his bones shifted under the thick pelt. After fifteen grueling seconds – just as long as the first day shift I'd seen – the lightning faded, and his convulsions stilled. His curled-up werewolf form flopped lengthwise and spread out, panting heavily.

No. Not werewolf.

Wolf.

I stared at the dire-wolf-sized canine, suddenly wary. If Shane's mind was absent like it normally was during the day, I had a whole new set of problems on my hands.

"Uh, Shane?"

An ear flicked back at me.

Well, he could hear. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. My biggest question was if Shane was actually aware and in control, like in his werewolf form, or if I was dealing with a possibly aggressive or injured animal.

The wolf slowly blinked, staring in befuddlement at the sun shining on the brown fur on his paws. The way his eyebrows furrowed in human-like confusion gave me hope.

Still on my knees in the leaf litter, I tentatively asked, "Shane? Are you alright?"

This time, his head lifted to look at me, swaying slightly. His eyes were as they always were. His large jaws opened to produce a strange series of sounds that weren't quite growls, but nothing close to words. He snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, just as taken aback by the sounds as I was. He tried again, with the same result.

Seeing that his frustration was building with his inability to speak, I quickly said, "Can you nod if your mind is present?"

His brown eyes focused on me, and he gave a sharp definite nod.

I sighed in relief. "Good. Did your wound heal?" I leaned to the side, but couldn't see if new blood was marring the brown fur on his chest.

Still laying on his side, he tried looking between his front legs – definitely wolf legs and not werewolf arms – and snuffled at the fur. Taking a chance, I came forward on my knees and gently rumpled the fur where I thought the arrow wound should have been. He tensed up but didn't warn me off with a growl.

"I don't see any wounds. If nothing else, there's no fresh blood. Just some dried stuff in this spot."

With a grumble, Shane rolled onto his stomach and rose to his feet, promptly staggering to the side and standing with all four legs braced like a new colt. He gazed at his legs and over his body with growing disbelief, only now noticing he was not a werewolf. He took a couple of tentative steps with rather shaky balance.

"I take it this has never happened before?"

Not looking away from his feet, he shook his head side to side. His next few steps were far steadier, but walking like this was definitely a learning curve for him. Milly was eyeing up the large wolf in disfavor, so I got to my feet and tied her short lead rope around a tree.

Shane's head – which was almost chest-high – turned to watch me, then went back to the important work of watching where he was putting his feet and observing how his legs moved.

"You're not in any pain, are you?" I quietly asked.

He shook his head again, still focused on mastering this new form. Over the next few minutes, his movements became smoother and more practiced as he walked around Milly and me.

Taking a deep breath, he tried trotting. He immediately stumbled and almost fell before catching himself. Gone was the werewolf form and bounding gait. Now he had to learn to move like a true wolf. Several tries later, he looked much steadier on his feet.

A distant horn had me looking over my shoulder with a frown. Without thinking and still somewhat in shock, I said, "Well, there's no way I can stick you in my backpack this time, so I'm afraid you're going to have to walk."

He snorted and shot me a look. With a shake of his head, he scanned the area and huffed at me, pointedly jerking his muzzle toward a trail. He took the lead with a careful trot, leaving me to quickly attach Milly's reins and catch up.

The mule wasn't sure she wanted to follow the big wolf, but after a few reassuring pats on the neck, she reluctantly gave in and ambled forward.