When I first saw Jasper, I saw him with the pale gold eyes of one of our kind. He was running through the woods, as lithe as he always has been, barefoot, and with only a pair of pants rolled up to the knee.
He sprang at a moose, and as his teeth made contact, he snapped the animal’s neck.
In the vision, I cheered.
Jasper has the power to keep from attacking humans; he always has had it. I thought it was a matter of making a choice.
But that night in Calgary, it was a matter of too great a temptation.