Red Moon Rising

20. blood

Chapter Song: A Lot's Gonna Change - Weyes Blood

XX

I'm deep in forest service land now, and I haven't crossed a road in long enough that I'm comfortable folding up my clothes at the base of a tree and running as a wolf for a little while. The forest is quiet today, and I don't catch the scent of many rabbits or smaller prey. But forest critters have lost some of their charm. What I crave desperately now is a burger and French fries, or practically any food that has lost some resemblance to its original source. The next time I reach a town I'm definitely eating at an actual restaurant—I brought all of the money I have, and foregoing raw rabbit seems like just about the best use of it I can think of.

The forest here is mostly old-growth pines that tower high above the forest floor and cloak the ground in pine needles. The scent is crisp in my nose, but the canopy has shaded out the undergrowth, making it easy to see for a long distance from below. The creek that I wade through now has stained the soil and rocks around it red with tannins and iron, giving even the water a color like dry pine needles. I make a note to return here to fill my canteen when I retrieve my clothes and pack—maybe I'll follow the stream north for awhile until I meet a road.

I pause when another strange smell hits my nose, the scent of blood and something sweet and synthetic, maybe cologne. With the slight breeze, it's hard to know exactly where it's coming from, but I'm not far from where I've left my clothes. I could just run farther from the smell and stay as a wolf, but if someone finds my backpack what's to stop them from stealing it, including my money and my phone? But I know the only thing that could bring anyone this far into the woods, away from roads or trails, is a hunt. It isn't just my belongings that I'm worried about. What if I've already been spotted, and some camouflaged jackass has his sight leveled at me as I'm standing here considering my options?

I walk quickly and quietly toward where I left my clothes, relieved when the smell of the hunter dissipates the farther I travel. I just need to shift, put my clothes on, and keep walking, that's all. Panicking will draw attention. If I come across anyone, I'm just a hiker who likes to get off the beaten path. I try to control my gait as my backpack comes into view, but my heart is racing, and I feel like my skin is itching to be human again. When I shift, I'm already reaching for my bundle of clothes.

I shove my legs into my jeans and pick up my shirt when I smell what I can clearly recognize as cologne now. But it isn't coming from a nearby hunter—it's coming from my shirt. I carefully bring the fabric to my nose and inhale, and there's no mistaking the smell coming off of it. Someone picked up my shirt and held it long enough to get their scent all over it, and then they bothered to fold it back in exactly the way it was before, as if it had never been touched. My belongings didn't look disturbed, and so I assumed they hadn't been. I don't have much time to consider how terribly stupid, how incredibly reckless I've been.

"Little cool today isn't it?"

I turn slightly to look at the man standing behind me, gun held low as if it isn't loaded and ready to shoot me at any moment. His gaze scours over my bare ribs and unbuttoned jeans as I hold my shirt to my chest and offer an icy glare.

"There was a bug in my shirt," I say carefully but the breeze has already carried the scent of his cologne to me, and I can see the foxes clipped along his belt. That explains why he'd dare wear cologne—he's checking snares, not hunting. He nods, as if he wasn't the one who rifled through my clothes not so long ago. I turn away to slip the shirt over my head, but I don't get a chance to reach for my backpack before the man makes a disapproving noise.

"Turn around."

And I do, because I'm certain that he won't hesitate to shoot me if I move too slow. There's something in the easy way he says those words that lets me know he isn't playing, that he isn't making up his mind.