The Ruined Luna

Ten

I was left alone over the next week, with the exception of my shadows. I spent most of my time outdoors as my wolf, padding across as much of the pack lands as I could. At first, it was just a way to burn off as much energy as possible. Couldn't be furious if you didn't have the energy to stay mad. My guards probably wished they'd been assigned to some other job by the time we got back to my cabin.

Rita, it turns out, wasn't much of a hiker. She glared at me for all she was worth as we jogged down trail after trail, not returning to cabin until late in the evening hot and sweaty. Tripp didn't seem to mind as much, silently following along a few steps back and unobtrusively. I got the feeling he was mostly curious if nothing else. I disliked that I was out of shape and struggled to keep a steady pace or not get winded. For lack of anything better to do, I threw myself into training again.

The second morning, after dressing in more appropriate clothes for being out in the woods all day, I was surprised to find a hiking bag waiting for me beside the front door. Britta's scent clung to it as I brought it inside and inspected the contents. There was a large water bottle already filled, some protein bars and little snacks, a second set of sturdy hiking clothes, and a field notebook with an all-weather pen. I glanced at the cell phone still plugged in and on the coffee table, debating whether or not to text her a thank you, then decided against it.

Tripp was waiting for me when I opened the door again, his own hiking pack on his back. Rita was nowhere to be seen. Probably taking the night shift to avoid my little outings.

I chuckled softly at the thought, then began to stretch and work out any lingering tenderness from the day before, before turning towards the path that looped around the lake and starting down it.

Mornings were my favorite time of day. Fog still floated above the surface of the lake, reflecting the nearby mountains in a postcard worthy view. I loved the smell of the woods, full of cedar and pine. We walked down a new path, a spoke off the main trail that headed down into a gully with a clear running stream through the middle. I dropped down into the shade around what I expected was lunch time, content to munch on a protein bar and soak in the area.

Tripp settled down a short distance away, wiping the sweat from his face before rummaging around in his bag for his own water and snack. I watched him thoughtfully. He was a good-looking man. Fit, with pretty brown eyes and dark brown hair. Probably around twenty-five or so in appearance. I waited until he'd repacked his empty wrapper before speaking to him.

"Rita not like the hiking?"

He looked up, surprised. "Ah, no. Not really."

I nodded; suspicion confirmed. "Decided to take the night shift?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Probably more peaceful." I replied conversationally.

"I guess. She likes the woods, but not enough to go trapsing through them day after day."

I considered that. "And you don't mind following me out here?"

His eyes shuddered. "It's my job."

'Right. He's working now. Probably doesn't want me talking to him too much.'

I grunted in acknowledgement and returned my attention to the ridgeline a few miles up ahead. Movement up on the rocks caught my eye, and I stared harder. A small herd of deer were picking their way down the rocks headed towards the gully. My wolf whined loudly in my head, begging to hunt.

I cast a quick glance at Tripp, who was back digging in his bag, then back up at the deer. Why not? It's not like I'd been forbidden from becoming the wolf.

I rose, leaving my pack where it was on the ground before ducking into the nearby bushes and quickly stripping before letting her take over. The change was fast, and we padded back out before he'd even gotten to his feet, eyes round as saucers.

"What are you doing?" Tripp demanded.

We kept our eyes on the descending herd, whining softly in need. He glanced the way we were looking, then back and forth until he saw them. He stiffened. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

We whined again, tilting our muzzle into the wind that blew into our faces, bringing the scent down with it. Our mouth watered. We didn't wait for his answer, instead beginning our silent stalk. It was nothing to slip into the river and wade across, then into the trees on the opposite bank. Our paws were soundless against the rocks and sand. A small huff had us turning to look over our shoulder.

Tripp as his wolf was pulling himself out of the water. Not quite as tall as myself, but thicker through the chest and neck, and a classic grey and white. He let out a quiet whine of acceptance. He'd follow me.

Together we prowled through the sparce underbrush, silently making our way down the game trail that ran along the river before beginning our accent. Once we got to the bottom of the bolder field the deer were descending through, we tucked ourselves into the brush and hunkered down to wait.

Thirty minutes rolled by in silence before the first sounds of hooves on stone filtered down to us. We rose and crouched as the first came into view. The buck was thick, a twelve pointer with a wide spread. My wolf wanted to take him, but I held her back. The herd would need a healthy male with good genes to continue propagating for hunts to come. Then the doe's and fawns came. One, near the very back was limping. Its back leg bulged oddly at the knee, broken and poorly healed. 'Her', I told my wolf.

She trembled, excitement and blood lust making her wriggle and dance a little on her paws. I held on to her as tightly as I could, waiting until it got closer, until we had the best shot. A branch snapped behind us and we turned to glare at Tripp, whose ears were pinned against his skull and a broken branch beneath his paw. The herd froze, ears straining, muscles quivering. They were about to bolt.

With a snarl we threw ourselves forward, claws digging deep into the ground to propel us as fast as we could go. The herd scattered, the limping doe struggling to keep up. She avoided going back up into the boulder field like the others, instead bounding down the game path, looking for an out.

Tripp was at my flank, then my shoulder, before he passed me, lunging for the doe's bad leg as we closed the distance, flying down the trail like arrows fired from a bow. She leapt to avoid the snap of his teeth and stumbled.

We were on her in the next second, our jaws closing around her throat like a vice. Warm blood rushed into our maw and flowed from between our teeth. She bleated, then again as Tripp latched onto her haunches, pinning her body to the ground with his sheer weight. We held her as she struggled in vain to fight us off, her flailing and calls growing weaker as the thud of her heart slowed, stuttered, then stopped.

We shook her, head limp to be sure, before dropping it down onto the rocks. Tripp panted at my side; his hot breath coated in the coppery blood. My wolf rejoiced, shivering with delight as she bent down to the shoulder and ripped a steaming slab from the carcass. Together we gorged ourselves on the doe, Tripp finishing his meal long before we had our fill.

Only once our belly distended by the amount of meat we'd consumed did my wolf feel satisfied. We left that was left of the kill, which wasn't much, to the scavengers who already circled overhead, cawing out their triumph at an easy meal.

At the river we washed as much of the blood from our paws and muzzle, wiping them on the grass when the water had done all it could before swimming back across to our makeshift little camp. There, we took up our earlier places, content to lay in the shade and doze while we digested our meal. My wolf hummed happily.