Loping back toward home in the pre-dawn darkness, shoulder to shoulder with my dad, gave me such a feeling of comfort and completeness. We had connected up during the night, getting to know our new neighbors. Dad and I had left the new pack behind, the two of us hunting for small game and playing together.

Dad and I were so close physically that our shoulders or sides touched most of the time. We would part for the occasional leap over an obstacle then come back together again. We had the same pace, similar height now, although he was still huskier than I was and a bit taller in the shoulder. I could only hope that we would be closer emotionally as well. I know he loved me, but the last year, especially the last few months, had been hard and lonely with Mom gone.

Our home was on the outskirts of our community, right up against the woods. Dad led the way along the row of bushes to the opening in the crawl space under our trailer, ensuring privacy for wolffish excursions. Dad made the leap up through the opening he had made in the floor of the spare bedroom. He was shifting even as he made the awkward jump up. By the time I had scrambled up and finished shifting in the hall, he was already opening the fridge, shaking his head at its sparse offerings.

"How long was I out there?" he asked, his voice a bit rough from lack of use. He pulled out what was left of the lunch meat.

I finished sliding on the pair of shorts I nabbed and threw him his before answering.

"About a month," I answered as I pulled out the bread. "Don't forget the mayo and mustard while you're in there. People were beginning to talk, wondering if you'd be back for the start of classes in a few weeks."

He took the time to set everything on the pine table, started to close the fridge door, reopened it to grab the milk, before closing the fridge tight. He finally got around to putting on his shorts.

"That long? I'm truly sorry, son, I thought it was only a week, two at the most. You must have thought I'd abandoned you."

There was remorse and pain in his eyes as he turned to me. We had done nothing but continually snap at each other then act like nothing happened since Mom died. We'd both be apologetic, then before long we would be going off on each other again. The cycle had been continually repeating more often for the few months before his extended run. The thought that he had caused me pain while lost in his own sorrow tortured him. I was quick to reassure him.

"Nah, I know you needed some time, and a bit of space. I think we both did," I added softly.

I had looked down in a bit of shame over our behavior without even thinking. Looking back up I couldn't help but grin, trying to keep my tone a bit cheerful without overdoing it.

"Uncle Two Feathers had me over often enough for dinner, and even Grandfather invited me over a few times."

Making it sound like I had been invited by my uncle was stretching the truth a little. Running Elk had literally and forcefully dragged me out of my house again and again to join him on his summertime excursions. He hadn't given either me nor his parents any choice but for me to join his family for dinner for most of the last month.

Grandfather on the other hand was a different story. I knew Grandfather was a touchy subject. The old chief still had mixed feelings about his only daughter's choice of a spouse, even after all this time.

Grandfather saw my father as a stranger, not of the people, and only tolerated because my mother loved him. That my father was bound to the wolf, as my grandfather saw it, caused a bit of awe mixed with concern. As much as I knew my grandfather loved me, I think the old man also resented my very existence. He never liked the changes my mother desired in order to be able to give birth to me.

I figured maybe it would be easier if I got everything out at once. I tried to be nonchalant about things as I put my sandwich together across from him.

"I was kinda surprised Grandfather approved of the job offer I got while you were out."

A quick look of surprise coupled with the pain and guilt of abandoning me during his own grief washed over my father's face. I flashed him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Glasses," he said, pointing with his chin while his hands worked on the sandwiches.

I could tell by the glance he gave at the empty sink that he was pretty sure I hadn't bothered using a glass while drinking down the carton. I could almost hear what mom would say every time she thought I was sneaking a drink without bothering with a glass. He was silent as he gave the milk a quick sniffed to make sure it hadn't spoiled before emptying the last of it into the two glasses I had set on the counter.

"I'll go shopping once the stores open," dad said.

There was a pause with closed eyes on his part, as if he was pulling himself together still. When he opened them, he picked up the milk glass, raising it as if making a toast.

"Congratulations on getting a response from those many applications you filled out," he said.

A slight smile like old times touched his lips for a moment, before hiding what I knew was disappointment that I would be leaving him soon. I think he was just beginning to realize he needed me as much as I needed him.

"I know you've worked hard. Which company are you going to go with?" he asked.

"Ranger station over in Yellowstone. I figure should be a good fit, plenty of opportunities to put my schooling to practical use, good for a future resumé should I decide on a change."

"Yellowstone is some pretty territory, plenty to keep you busy considering its size. Your grandfather approved? Good, I'm glad."

Again, so much unspoken. I know my dad would fight for me, whatever choices I made for myself. I'd been debating what to do with my life for the past year. Before Mom died I didn't want to stay. After she died, I couldn't bear to go. Knowing dad wouldn't have to have any confrontation with Grandfather made things a bit easier.

"What say I come with you to do the shopping?" I suggested. "We could use some laundry stuff too."

Dad just looked at me with raised eyebrows. I answered with a surrendering shrug. I usually fought and argued with my dad about almost everything. There was absolutely no fight in me today. And for me to actually volunteer was above and beyond the usual.

He came around the kitchen table and pulled me into a hug, breathing deep to take in my scent, as if he had been gone so long he forgot what I smelled like. His breath caught in his throat. Damn, I didn't expect him to start actually crying. I hugged him back, another rare event, and his grip tightened briefly before he let go.

"Think I'll shower up, I could probably use a good scrub," he said, lifting his arm and giving himself a whiff. "Do I have any clean jeans around or did you wear them all?"

I grinned sheepishly. How well he knew me! He just sighed and headed toward his bedroom. I cringed, thinking of the pile of dirty clothes I had left about the place. I waited for an outburst from him that never came. He must be out of the strength to fight as well.

A minute later I heard the water running in the bathroom. I took the opportunity to clean up some, so the place looked more respectable. I felt guilty over the mess, knowing mom would never have tolerated it, and knowing I wouldn't have made such a mess in the first place had she still been around. Maybe my not picking things up was my small way of rebelling against her death, I mused.

What I did know is that dad would feel guilty over my lack of self discipline. I could see him thinking it was his fault because of how he'd been neglecting his fatherly duties during his prolonged absence. A quick spray of air freshener finished the job just as the water turned off.

I could feel dad hesitate before joining me in the living room. He wore the brown jeans my mother had gotten for him, one of the few pair I would never dream of "borrowing" from his closet like I would most of his other clothes. Ever since a sudden growth spurt had me outgrowing most of mine, mom started raiding dad's stuff so I'd look decently acceptable at school my junior year. It was a trend I had continued, much to his annoyance, even after my closet had been updated. That growth spurt had in its way triggered the start to our many fights.

Dad had shaved and was towel drying his hair as he came over and sat down in his chair across from my position on the couch. While dad had dark hair, it wasn't quite the same raven black that my mother and I shared. I had inherited an odd combination from my parents; the more squarish face of my mother's people slightly tempered with dad's more European looks. My skin tone was only a few shades lighter than my mother's had been, and darker than dad's even with his tan. I had my dad's bright green eyes. He always said my eyes were filled with my mom's eternal curiosity and her desire to learn. I had always thought it was his excuse to throw more lessons at me.

"I'm gonna have to get a haircut while we're in town," he said.

The look he gave me didn't match his simple comment. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He raked one hand through his hair, then carefully folded the towel a bit and set it off to the side. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers. He brought up his fingers to his chin before pointing them at me.

"We need to talk, which means I need you to really listen, like the man you're becoming and not the boy you were."