Hunter's Moon

She could still smell him on her. That sweet, musky scent told her she was his. His to play with, his to mark, his to hunt but not tonight, tonight he was hers. She inhaled deeply, shivering at the thought of what he’d done to her—her skin tingling in anticipation even now—and what she would do to him when she caught him. It was still a few minutes away: sunset. It always set her teeth on edge these days.

It was like electricity racing through her. It started out small. Just a little jolt to remind her of its presence: that need, that hunger, that raging beast inside her ready to break out. But it always grew until it was ripping and tearing through her in sweet agony and wretched ecstasy. She could feel her teeth cutting into her lip as she held back a moan and stood barefoot on the rock outcropping. She cracked her neck then licked the blood from her lips—savoring the acidic, copper sting of it on her tongue.

The last embers of sunlight traced and danced over the horizon, spreading their golden glow over her tanned body. She’d been left here—alone and bared to the world. It was his way. It was their way.

The Hunter’s Moon would come, The Great Hunt would begin, and in the morning, she’d be part of the pack. She raised her hand to her nose and took his scent in once more. She’d have to find him before he found her—before the others found her—or…

A low growl escaped from deep inside her. That would never happen. They would never find her and tonight he was her prey.

As the last bits of warmth slowly faded and the cold chill of the autumn wind rushed through the trees, she closed her eyes and felt it all: the prickling gooseflesh spreading across her body, the rustling of the dying leaves, the babbling of the brook below, the uncertain footsteps of a family of deer nearby—she could smell their fear like the scent of ozone before a rain. She let herself stand like that for a few minutes, on the top of that cliff, right at the edge of the waterfall for all to see.

Her heart began to race with thunderous beats. It was coming and she could feel it clawing and ripping its way out of her with each passing second. She let her hands drift along her cooling skin and brought her skin to fiery, electric life.

It had been so long since she let it free for anything more than self-defense. But now, she could feel its hunger joining with her own. Her senses shifted and blurred together with the beast. She could hear the others, their heart beats, their quickened shallow breaths, the cracking and popping of their bones even as her own had begun a symphony of white-hot pain.

Distantly, she heard herself scream and bit down hard on her lip to keep it as quiet as she could. It came in waves the second the light of the Hunter’s Moon brushed her skin. That burning wave that sent shivers through her body before now sent tremors racing through every fiber of her being that came crashing down on her and setting her soul ablaze.

She collapsed and barely managed to catch herself before meeting the granite beneath with her chin. She fought hard against that scream, that roar that threatened to tear a hole through her to get out and focused on the feeling of the beast ripping through her. It spread out from that deep dark place inside her, slowly becoming her and turning her into it. It’s claws tore through her with searing ferocity, its teeth gnashing at her bones, its form reshaping her.

Another jolt, her body bent and twisted, and she found herself screaming once more. The world was a distant memory. The sounds of the brook long lost under the ripping and tearing inside her. Her bones played a horrid symphony of destruction. Her heart thundered in her ears, her breathing had become ragged and shallow like she was in heat. The last vestiges of her humanity clung desperately to what control it had. If she could have, she would have torn through the granite with just her fingernails but as she gripped the rocky ground beneath her, they gave way.

It was like tearing your own clothes off and discarding the wasted scraps in the bin. It was that easy when you were here, drunken and crazed. You just have to let go.

She heard its howl within her. A snarl escaped her. And then, she was falling into that dark place within.

She could hear the rips and the tears as she emerged from the dark and shook the scraps free from her silver black fur. Everything was alive around her, not like those other times, in the steel jungle of the city with those angry, pathetic things always screaming bloody murder. The trees shivered with her presence, the ground trembled beneath her, the brook whispered its secrets to her.

She cleaned up what was left of her old self and ambled into the brook. She had to find him but first, her own scent could not betray her to him or the others. She rolled around in the cold water and the grimy muck within then stood and felt the cool wind caress her.

When her eyes opened, she was already running. She’d leapt up the cliff face before her and scrambled onto the ground. Her claws ripped chunks out of the stone and trees with each bound. She could hear them all around her, searching, scenting, hunting her. Her blood boiled at the thought.

The cold night air filled and burned her lungs. With every step, the trees and bushes of the old growth reached out and lashed at her, but nothing would deter her. She tore through the underbrush from tree to tree determined to see him pinned beneath her—begging like he made her do in front of the bonfire.

She could smell him like he was right on top of her—like last night by the bonfire when he came to her and made her his. She could smell him on the trees, in the grass, in the leaves, he was everywhere. It was her time to take him. He would beg! He would bow! His deep, dark brown eyes would meet hers only in fear and awe!

She’d been lost in it when he crashed into her. She’d never even seen him and suddenly his ruddy-brown fur—unmistakable in the pale moon light—came crashing down on her. He pushed hard, his claws dug into her wrists, and the full weight of him became oppressive. She kicked and writhed beneath him, but he was just out of reach.

He leaned in closer, bearing his canines in a snarl with a low growl. He expected her to bow, to whimper, to beg. He hovered just above her, waiting, eyes locked on hers. But she wouldn’t bow—she couldn’t. She twisted and threw her weight into him. He was off balance before he could register it, and she slashed at his throat with her free hand. With him daze, she saw her chance and squirmed out from under him, thrashing and biting her way to freedom and for a moment there was a tense peace.

She locked on to his deep, chocolate eyes and waited for him to make a move. A low rumble filled the air, deep enough and strong enough to shake the earth. She caught his snarl a split second before he arched back, spread his arms out, and let out a blood curdling howl—challenging her to strike first.

Her claws dug deep into the ground and a single twitch she sent her muscles into motion. She darted right for him, teeth bared and aimed right for his throat. He swatted down at her, but—at the last second—she cut to the left and swept his strike aside before catching him with a swipe of her own.

He jumped back, then again, dodging her every grasping strike until his back met a big oak. This was her chance! She jumped again, but her claws met nothing but the hard wood trunk of the tree. And then, she felt the sting of his claws and the molten hot crimson spring seeped out from the wound. She recoiled and spun; he’d already leapt back and was prepared for another strike.

His eyes never wavered from her. His snarl told her all she needed to know. It was do or die.

A branch cracked nearby, one of the others had found them. She sniffed at the air, seeking the familiar scent of one of the pack but they must’ve masked it somehow because all she smelled was him and his oppressive scent. She gripped the tree and straightened up. If they were here, watching from the shadows and waiting for her to run then she would give them a show.

She gripped the tree so hard a chunk broke free and, in a flash, she was galloping straight for him. Within feet of him, she cut to the right just as he attacked. He was met with the chunk of the tree crashing hard into his face and suddenly he was on his backfoot.

She latched on to his leg and let her teeth dig in just enough to break the skin and dragged him to the ground. He thrashed and clawed at her, but she was on his back and out of reach before he could turn over. She crawled up the whole of him, eyes set on the back of his neck, and let her teeth sink in.

He struggled, trying to find purchase on her face, her scruff, anything but she batted his hands away and forced them down into the dirt with all her strength. She pulled back, lifted his head up by the scruff of his neck and kept his hands down in the dirt. He snarled. He refused to quit, but she bit harder and pulled back further until he began to whine and whimper.

The others stepped out from the shadows, their amber eyes falling on her with the weight of the world. She was at the center of the pack, standing tall over her lover and their leader. Was she the prey now? Or the predator?