Brandon steps away from me. “Are you hungry?” he asks.
“I could eat,” I say, wondering what he has in mind.
“How long has it been since you’ve hunted? Properly hunted, I mean?”
I laugh. “I don’t hunt when I’m human.”
“Well, I don’t know. Some humans do that.”
I’ve imagined it plenty of times—hunting with weapons, the way humans do. Everything about it feels wrong to me. If I wanted to hunt, why would I leave my best, most effective weapons at home, exchange them for something man-made and less reliable? My wolf body was made for hunting. It’s evolved that way over centuries. There’s no better way to run down prey than as a wolf.
“It’s been a while,” I tell Brandon.
“Well, do you think you can keep up with me?”