Grayson was about to decline Luc’s offer of help when the gunshot rang out, distant but instantly recognizable.  He was out the door before Luc’s offer fully registered, but he managed a gruff sound of assent before he ran.  Luc could follow or not, he didn’t have the time to stop and talk.  Hunting was prohibited in his territory, no one was allowed to discharge a firearm, and that information was given to every human who rented a cabin, which was one of the pack’s major sources of income.  Which meant that one of his people were shooting in self-defense, or someone was about to get an unpleasant surprise.<br/><br/>He didn’t bother to shift, but ran in his human form, which was only slightly slower than he could manage if he let his wolf out.  If he had to confront a hunter, however, he wanted to do so on two legs instead of four.<br/><br/>He followed the river, finally catching a whiff of gunpowder and blood five minutes after he’d heard the shot.  Slowing, he crept through the thick undergrowth around the river until he came across a moonlit clearing.  It would have been beautiful had it not been for the buck that lay struggling on the ground, blood pumping from a wound in its flank.  A deep breath and he knew that it was a shifter, one of the herd who was asking to stay on his land if he had to guess.  It wasn’t the buck who brought a growl to his lips, or even the heavy and tempting scent of blood, but the man who was crossing the clearing with a bowie knife in his hand, obviously intending to finish off his kill.<br/><br/>“What are you doing on my land?” he said, his voice low and controlled as he stepped out of the shadows and into the clearing, carefully putting himself between the hunter and the hunted. “There’s no hunting here…”<br/><br/>“Fuck you, it’s a free country.  Mind your own business,” the man said with a sneer and a wave of the knife to indicate that Grayson should get out of the way.<br/>