[i]Author's note: This story takes place between "Old Wounds" and "Misbegotten."[/i]

"Arizona?" Sammy repeated. "Arizona's way too hot for werewolves, why would you want to spend your vacation there?"

"Well, besides some old cowboy towns and the Grand Canyon, there's the trails," Fenton answered. "Roxanne and I met hiking, and we used to pick a new trail every anniversary before the kids came along." He reached over and rubbed his wife's knee. He must have forgotten she was wolfside, because he glanced down at the dark fur pushing up between his fingers.

His wife rumbled in pleasure. "I've got a cousin out there, and he says early March is the perfect time of year to visit. Not too hot, not too cold, and all the desert flowers are in bloom. I've always wanted to smell that."

She tilted her head back and inhaled deeply as if imagining it now, though all she would smell in the pack's meeting room in late winter was the musty concentrated traces of almost a dozen werewolves and a handful of humans. It was a large room in the House's second story, but one of the most heavily used. Currently, it contained about half the pack, chattering away with various conversations. Outside, snow was falling for the second day in a row--building on top of the previous day's half-melted Montana mush. Several folks were wolfside, but no one wanted to go running around in that. Sammy was humanside, but only so he could enjoy the hot cocoa he and the alpha female, Night Sky, had made together.

"I don' wanna go!" Quint harrumphed from the corner, interrupting his mother's reverie. The seven-year-old was deep into a contrarian phase, and had been fuming all week about the upcoming family vacation.

Sammy--given the name Phoenix by pack tradition--sat catty-corner on one of the various couches lining the walls from Roxanne--whose pack name was Patience--and her human mate Fenton. Their two children sat in the far side of the room playing a Pokemon game on the big-screen TV.

"You know..." Sammy worked up the nerve to say, "If Quint really wants to stay home, I'd be happy to watch him while you're out. We all would. Except maybe Hatchet."

"Absolutely not," Patience said. "He needs to learn he can't get his way by sulking. Besides, this trip will be nothing but good for him."

"Besides, d'you really expect Mama Wolf here to leave one of her kids behind?" Fenton added.

Their daughter Jenny paused the game, to her little brother's frustration, and marched over. "Didja ask him yet?" she asked.

"We were just getting to that, dear," Patience answered.

"Ask me what?" Sammy said.

Fenton cleared his throat. "Well, you know we're talking the kids with us, because we want them to experience new things too. [i]Buuuuut[/i] this trip is also for our anniversary, and we were hoping to have..." He gave his daughter a side glance. "...alone time together."

"Daddy means sex," said Jenny, who was a precocious nine-year-old.

"Shoo, you," Patience said with a warning growl.

Once Jenny had scarpered, the conversation resumed. "But yes. I want some chances to get some on this trip," Patience said. She pushed her massive, paw-like hand under her husband to cop a feel. Sammy felt his face warm.

Fenton deliberately focused on Sammy and not on his wife. "We'd like to have you come with us to help watch the kids. We'll cover your expenses, of course."

Sammy opened his mouth, then closed it. Of course, he loved spending time with Jenny and Quint, the closest thing he had to a niece and nephew. But, still, a whole vacation on Fenton and Patience' dime was a [i]big[/i] deal.

"Gee, guys.That's really generous of you," he said at last. "But it's calving season, and I dunno if Odysseus and Night Sky would appreciate me skipping out right now, and-"

"TAKE THE VACATION, PHOENIX," called out Odysseus, the alpha, from across the room.

"-An' what kind of clothing should I pack?" Sammy finished.

***

Tucson sucked, though he might have been cranky from the plane ride. Werewolves did not do well on commercial airlines. Once they landed, they checked into a hotel so Sammy and Patience could sleep off the nasal inhibitor drugs that allowed them to spend hours contained with a bunch of sweaty, anxious humans without getting sick.

But Patience's cousin had been right. Occasionally the breeze would carry the florid traces of chinaberry. Once they were out of the city, the sweet and spicy perfume of desert flora had both werewolves substantially happier, though Sammy's mood had already improved from the lack of cold weather that made the scars in his spine ache.

They toured the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and, of course, made it a priority to visit the two Mexican gray wolves in the exhibit. "Are you gonna howl with 'em?" Jenny asked.

"That's probably not a good idea," Sammy answered. "We don't want humans hearin' us howl."

"Lame," said Quint.

Much to their surprise, however, once the wind carried their scents towards the two scrawny wolves in their habitat, the pair of canines growled at them before retreating into their den.

"Probably didn't know what to make of us," Patience said, sounding amused.

"That's the first time I ever saw real wolves," Sammy said, disappointment creeping into his voice. "I wonder if they all act like that around werewolves. It stinks bein' something in between, and not fittin' in with either."

"Hey." Patience, a fellow adoptee in the Argo pack, offered him a smile. "We got each other, at least."

They watched a show on venomous animals, which did not turn out to be a good idea--especially when the handler wheeled out a diamondback in a glass cage.

"Rattler venom is a hemotoxin," the handler said in a casual way that belied the nature of the discussion. "Basically it starts digesting the victim inside, killing the blood and breaking down tissue. This lady right here has the third most-potent venom in North America..."

The handler opened the cage and carefully drew the snake out with a very long pincher mechanism. The handler kept a firm grip on the snake, but Sammy white-knuckled his seat, every instinct sounding a claxon alert at the sight and smell of something so dangerous. 

"Look at these beautiful markings along its back. She's an old lady, used to being handled, but don't let your guard down!"

As if he could! Patience must have been likewise affected, because she quickly stood up and started herding her family out before the show was finished. Sammy simply nodded in relief and took Quint by the hand.

"But I wanna see more snakes!" he whined, twisting his head around to maintain his view of the deadly creature as long as he could. Sammy felt bad for the kid, who had finally found something of interest since the trip had started, but he couldn't tolerate the thought of that snake anywhere near the kids.

After that, they toured Old Tucson Studios--a former hub of Western films that had partially burned down in the 90s and was now little more than a plus-sized tourist trap, though Sammy recognized some of the remaining structures since several packmates were still fond of the genre. The kids, of course, went crazy over "Old Reno," a steam engine on display. Though left out in the elements, she had seen better days. Sammy snapped several pictures of the happy little family around the train.

"How funny would it be to get a picture of you wolfside in the cab?" Patience asked once there were no humans in earshot.

Sammy chuckled as he imagined what that would look like. Then he paled slightly at the thought of how furious his alphas would be for taking a chance like that. On the other hand, some of the pack would definitely be jealous. "It would definitely beat Reilly's photo in front of a TARDIS," he said.

With the touristy stuff out of the way, they spent the next day driving north, out past a small town called Ash Fork, to a mountainous area off Route 66 that was prime ground for camping and hiking, and even a little wolfside galavanting if they were careful. Patience' cousin had lent them an old military surplus tent large enough to fit them all.

After a decent amount of driving down a winding, bumpy dirt road, they finally settled near the foot of a mountain. The rocky ground, dotted with patches of desert grass, dipped and criss-crossed with dried river washes. Massive cedar and berry-laden juniper pines dominated their surroundings. Occasionally Sammy detected the faint wafts of elk and javelina in the air. They were truly out in the middle of nowhere, but as Sammy and Patience pitched the tent and Fenton chopped firewood, Sammy felt invigorated. These were not the thick, welcoming woods of Montana. The life of a desert climate was leaner and meaner--with no bounty of resources to spare. This environment offered them no succor beyond mere peace and quiet.

That night, out amongst an unadulterated view of the stars, the two werewolves pierced the quiet with their singing.

***

"Mommy, can I just stay in the tent today?" Quint asked, his chubby face beaming angelic plaintiveness that would have any casting agent immediately signing him on for the lead role in an Oliver Twist movie.

"Of course not, Honey," Patience said.

Quint's face immediately darkened. "Then I'm gonna go find a tree and pee," he said sourly.

Patience looked up at her son. She was helping Jenny pack up their lunches--and energy bars. Lots and lots of energy bars for the two werewolves. "Stay in sight," she ordered.
"Yeah, yeah." He trudged off. Sammy, currently in his enormous brown werewolf form, watched the little drama from a pine tree branch twenty feet above the ground. Quint did not, in fact, stay within her line of site, ducking behind a line of trees.

"I got eyes on Quint," he called down. Even if the kid thought he was getting away with something--he was safe, and no doubt his mother would chew his ear off once he was done. Quint probably knew it, too. He could be a master of procrastination some times, and he was certainly dragging his feet towards a cluster of saplings that he had used for a toilet the night before.

And then he froze. He didn't just stop walking--he stopped moving all together. Sammy tested the air for his scent, but the boy was downwind. Something was wrong. He felt it in his gut, and leaned in for a closer look. That's when he heard it. It wasn't a rattle, like in the movies. It sounded more like a buzzing, and it took Sammy a moment to realize what he was hearing.

"SNAKE!" he screamed, launching himself out of the tree. "QUINT DON'T MOVE!" Twenty feet was nothing to a werewolf, and he hit the ground on all fours and propelled himself towards the human cub. He heard Patience behind him, but she was farther away, and humanside--she could only run on two legs.

Quint and the snake were too close to one another. They must have taken each other by surprise. The snake was coiled and raising its top third into the air. Not a diamondback like the one they had seen in the museum, but gray, with black-and-white patterns along its backside.

Sammy didn't know anything about snakes, but every instinct in his body screamed. Something bad was going to happen and he couldn't allow it. Time slowed. His heart pounded. His muscles pumped, machine-like. Quint stunk of fear. He tensed. The snake's head drew back as if cocking. [i]Just a few more feet--![/i]

He body-slammed Quint, wrapping his arms around the child and carrying him away just as the snake struck out--and Sammy screamed as his leg burst into flames. Poison numbed his calf and he dropped Quint, but the child was safe. Now it was only his own life he had to worry about. The snake hadn't merely bit him and slithered off. Sammy's own momentum had yanked the snake with them, and its teeth had gotten caught in his flesh. He grasped a massive hand around its neck and tore it off. Maybe not the best idea, but he was panicking. Before the snake could harm anyone else, though, he grabbed hold of its other end and tore the creature into two. The buzzing rattle immediately stopped, but in his hand, the snake's jaw still opened and closed, trying to latch on again, not realizing it was already dead. Sammy twisted his torso and hurled the two pieces away, where they could harm no one.

"QUINT!" Patience said, scooping her child up and hugging him, then dropping him when she saw the huge swelling on the back of Sammy's calf.

"Patience!" he gasped. "Y-you got your knife?"

"Yeah." Her voice barely sounded human.

"Cut it off," Sammy groaned.

"What?"

"Cut off the part of my leg that's bit. Before the venom spreads any farther!" He tried not to scream.

Patience didn't hesitate. She was a seasoned trail hound, and more importantly, she was a werewolf. Neither were for the faint of heart. "Quint, baby, look away," she told her sobbing son, but Fenton had already got up and scooped the boy up, placing his hand over his eyes to shield him from what happened next.

Sammy roared as the knife dug into his flesh. His claws tore into the ground, but he managed to keep his bottom half from jerking as his leg was carved up like Thanksgiving turkey.

Sammy had been stabbed before. Plenty of times, both by enemies and in combat training. Those had never been a big deal, since werewolves could heal. He had endured surgical operations while conscious. But those had been at the expert hands of experienced doctors. Sadistic monsters they had been, but at least they had known what they were doing. Patience's knife sawed away muscle in slow, clumsy, unsure strokes. She worked as fast as she could to amputate the poisoned flesh, but she had never done anything like this before.

Sammy growled and snapped at the air, flinging foaming slaver everywhere. He was already keyed up for battle. But he closed his eyes and focused on Patience and Quint's scents. The familiar smell of a pack mate, though tainted by fear, assured him. As did the smell of the child whose life he had just saved. Quint was all right. Quint was all right. That made this worth it.

Finally, she hacked away the last bit of skin holding the huge chunk of calf muscle in place and pushed the dying flesh away. And Sammy passed out.

***

He woke up in the tent to the smell of beef jerky. Quint was sitting beside him, waving the meat in his nose. The smell of food was overwhelming and he ate it right out of the boy's fingers, barely chewing before he swallowed the nourishment down. And without the meat in his nose, he could smell the salt of Quint's tears.

"Why you cryin', kid?" Sammy asked. He sat up and twisted his leg. Dirt and blades of grass tumbled loose from his fur. Of course. As much as Sammy weighed, they must have dragged him back to the tent once the bleeding had stopped. Already, skin and fur had regrown over the disconcerting dent in his leg. The muscle would regrow by the afternoon. His leg still felt numb, though. Doubtless some of the venom had spread beyond the area Patience had amputated, but even the damage to his nerves would regrow in time--faster after a few transformations.

"I thought you were gonna die," Quint said in a small voice. "Mommy and Daddy said you were gonna be all right, but they lie sometimes."

His voice took on a bitter note as he added, "Like with Santa Claus."

"Aw, Quint. I'm sorry if I scared you back there," he said. "It hurt a lot, but I'm fine. See?" He pointed at his foot and willed his toes to wiggle, but all he managed was a twitch. Well, good enough.

"You didn't scare me!" Quint insisted, puffing up his chest. "I'm not scared of werewolves. Not you or Mama or Uncle Nick or even Hatchet. I just don't like bein' bossed around just b'cause I'm human."

"Hey!" Sammy turned himself around to look the boy clear in the eyes. Quint, despite his protests, instinctively cast his gaze downward, til Sammy lifted his face back up with a finger.

"Werewolves protect children. Any one of us would gladly lay down our life to protect yours. And if you ever decide to become one of us when you grow up, you'll feel the same way and on that day you'll understand. You don't belong to us because you're human."

He leaned in closer, til he was blasting Quint in the face with his hot breath. But the boy didn't flinch. "[i]We[/i] belong to [i]you[/i]."

Quint stood up and hugged Sammy, burying his face into Sammy's thick mane.

The next morning, Sammy joined the family on their hike, limbing only slightly. And Quint happily trotted beside him the whole way.