Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

18. On the Scent

July 2018, Prielbrusye National Park, the Caucasian Mountains

***

Volya rolled down Niva's window and stuck his feet out. Sure, every pot-hole on the road bounced his calves against the frame, but it was worth it for the onrush of the wind billowing his jeans.

Damir only chuckled in the driver's seat. "See that a big bad wolf doesn't bite your legs off."

"The only big bad wolf here is me," Volya replied. It was the honest truth. Nadezhda made her way with Kramola and others, promising to catch up with Damir and Volya in the town of Baksan, the gateway to Elbrus and the National Park surrounding it. From Baksan, they would hike as one happy pack.

For now, Volya slipped even lower in his shotgun seat, ignoring the seatbelt to be able to see the mountains crowding the horizon. "That's something else..."

"Uh-huh," Damir replied and winced, stretching his shoulders.

"I can take over the driving." This was the seventh time he had suggested it.

"Later," came curt reply.

Fine, he'd mull things over in silence if Damir was not in a social mood. He shut his eyes and focused.

Elbrus, Elbrus, Elbrus...

Elbrus and its environs, Volya discovered to his dismay, was far, far more touristy than he would have expected from a forbidding fortress of rock and ice. They had climbing competitions there, for God's sake, with the best guys gaining the summit in like 4 hours. A bunch of crazies even dragged a Jeep all the way to the top. There was a ski lift too.

With this kind of traffic, it was a miracle that nobody stumbled upon Yasuwa yet, providing the tomb was there. Maybe Damir was right after all, and he was risking Liam's love for a ghost.

He shifted in his seat and the print out with the names of the abandoned boys crinkled in his back pocket.

Ivan Sirota, aged 45, Saransk Prison. Sila Wolkov, aged 5, orphanage, Rostov. Neljub Dikoy, aged 19, location unknown. Bronya Wolkov...

No, he didn't part from his soulmate for nothing. These men needed someone to give a damn about them. Their lives were worth scaling any mountain...

He slipped even lower in his seat and opened his eyes. The peaks loomed over the horizon. Not the tallest mountain in the world, but it sure felt like this.

Niva took another bend of the road, with Damir accelerating into the curve, jolting Volya's feet to the sky. "Ouch!"

Damir's beard muffled his chuckle.

From Volya's adjusted viewpoint, he caught the sight of Elbrus again, and his heart, never too steady, lurched. Forget the microscopic human troubles. Forget the trivial love upsets. Go right there, up the crystalline slope, go to the very top! Straighten to your full height, fill your chest to bursting, through your arms open and scream in triumph. That's the only victory worth having!

The mist-wolf huffed. Not our place.

I know, Volya snapped, but the corner of his lips tugged into a half-smile. He'd finally lure the bugger out. Now he at least had someone to talk to. A werewolf would find no satisfaction in gaining the summit soaring in the emptiness of the sky. But a man in him yearned to beat the climb and experience a rapture of an insane achievement. O, to be that free if only for one minute!

Pfft, the mist-wolf replied, some achievement.

Once we get to Baksan I can let go of the human form and run free.