by Robin Roseau
“Ah. No confusion that way.”
“Some of the kids forget and call her Michaela at school. Or they might say either Ms. Burns or Ms. Redfur away from school. She answers to any of them.”
“Right. I was just curious.”
“Do you have any trouble with our door handles?”
“No, but thanks. Could I ask you something else?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
“How much are you willing to tell me about how quickly you shift?”
“Ah. You know, we’re not unique. I know of at least one other wolf from another pack who shifts as fast as we do. Unfortunately, the details are a pack secret.”
“Say no more,” I said. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be in the great room.”
I wasn’t a slow shifter, although compared to the members of this pack, I was. My typical shift was six or seven minutes, longer if I was tired or in poor shape. I could hurry it, but it was more painful and tended to give me lasting headaches. The best I’d ever done was -- as best I could tell -- two minutes, and it had been an emergency. Two minutes is pretty darned fast, and I didn’t know anyone who shifted that fast on a regular basis. Except, of course, certain members of the Madison pack.
The advantages were clear, of course, and I could understand that Elisabeth wouldn’t talk about it.
I thought about all this as I removed my clothing and curled up on the floor. But then I concentrated on my jaguar and began to pull her forth. It took only a few minutes for the shift to trigger, and after that, unless I sought to fight it, the shift would complete itself. Jaguar wanted to come out, after all. She wanted to be free of this human body. I wanted to be free. I wanted to feel fur and fang and claw. I wanted to feel power. Oh, the power.
It could be intoxicating.
It took little before I was thinking more like my jaguar than my human. Gone were the thoughts of business and email and profit margins. Oh, I could think about those issues, if I wanted, but they stopped pressing at me in exchange of more immediate thoughts.
The feel of my body as it lengthened and changed shape. The feel of fur growing from my skin. My face changing shape. My ears growing.
The floor underneath me.
The smells. I’d claimed this room, and while I wasn’t driven by scent like Elisabeth was, I certainly was aware of the scents. Most immediate was Elisabeth herself, having recently left. She smelled wrong. She was wolf, after all.
But she smelled right, too, and that confused me.
She was a wolf. A dog. The enemy.
No. She wasn’t the enemy. That was letting the jaguar forget. The human needed friends, and the jaguar understood this, even liked it, sometimes.
For me -- and I presume for most weres -- shifting is a time of vulnerability. This was why I always chose to shift out of sight of anyone else, even my closest family. Oh, as a young girl, I’d lain with my mother for my shifts. But as I became a teenager, I had sought privacy for my shift, both directions, and I was always nervous.
Somehow, right now, I felt safe. That was a strange thought. I let that settle for a moment. And then I asked a simple question: why.
Elisabeth replaced that thought. Surely I didn’t feel safer with her than my own mother. Surely I didn’t feel safer with this strange pack of wolves than I did my family pride.
Those thoughts lingered as the shift completed, and I lay on the floor a few moments longer, taking in deep, deep breaths before climbing to four feet.
Oh, four feet, four powerful, powerful feet.
I stretched, careful of my claws. I stretched my back and my legs. My forward claws extended, but I kept them lifted from the floor.
Then I lifted my head and looked around, remembering where I was. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to vocalize. So I did.
Oh, not at full volume. That wasn’t necessary.
But I began with a series of throaty barks-roars. They may have sounded a little like coughing, but only a little.
Really, there was no mistaking the sounds from anything else. There was a large cat in the house.
So it was bark/roar (or cough, or whatever I should call it), bark/roar, bark/roar, then a drawn out roar. I repeated that two or three more times.
Ah, that felt good.
I took a single leap to reach the door, snagged the handle, and pulled it open just before Elisabeth was about to fling it open. We stood staring at each other for a moment. I stalked closer, practically pushing her from my room, then jumped up and set my paws on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes.
I really should thank Scarlett for the high ceilings, even in the hallway.
“Are you all right?”
I couldn’t purr, but I could do something else. I brushed my cheek along hers, a long, slow nudge. That felt good, so I did it again.
“Ah. Just needed to let it out.” She smiled. “I feel that way sometimes. But you’re heavy. Get down.”
Down was harder than up. I had to do it without raking my claws across her shoulders. But she helped, pushing off my forelimbs until my paws were no longer slung over her shoulders. I dropped to all four paws and nudged her hip as I turned for the front door.
Elisabeth reached past me, pulled my door closed, and followed after me.
Reaching the great room, everyone was turned, watching me, and they looked like they were on alert. Hmm. Maybe a roar hadn’t been a good idea, but it had felt so good. So it couldn’t have been a bad idea, could it? No harm and all that.
Elisabeth entered after me. “She was just announcing herself,” she explained. “I think everyone here can understand that.”
“Not me,” Zoe said.
“Yeah, right,” Elisabeth said. “That’s why I didn’t get a Green mailing last week.”
“That hardly counts,” Zoe said, but from the teasing she got, I thought perhaps the wolves disagreed with her.
But I was ready for a run. I walked to the front door then dropped to the floor, my muscles halfway between coiled and relaxed.
“Someone looks like she’s ready for a run, Elisabeth,” Zoe said. “Anna?”
I turned my head to offer a steely gaze.
“Kick her ass for me.”
“There will be no ass kicking,” Elisabeth said. I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was shedding clothing as she walked towards me. She stripped out of her clothes, walked to the door, and opened it. I released my muscles and sprang, right past her, through the door, and into the grass. Then I spun to watch her. Elisabeth stepped out the door, pulling it closed, dropped to hands and knees, and flowed into her wolf, as pretty as you please.
Neat trick, I thought. But could she do this? I sprang again, taking two jumps before jumping at the front of the lodge, just to the side of one of the large windows. I banked off the building and made a mighty leap towards a large tree near the corner. I banked off that back towards the house, not fifteen feet from the ground. Another bank, and I was in the tree, above the edge of the house. From there I leapt once more, landing on the roof. I spun around and carefully hung over the edge, looking down at the wolf.
Elisabeth sat down in the grass, looked up at me, and yawned.
Yeah, like she wasn’t impressed. I bet she couldn’t do it, and I didn’t see her trying.
I roared, still not remotely near full volume, but enough to get my point across. I was, well, queen of the house, and I just dared one of them to come up and try pushing me off.
The front door of the lodge opened quickly, and about half the occupants stepped outside. They immediately saw Elisabeth in the grass and followed her gaze. After a moment, Michaela stepped into the grass, her hands on her hips, and walked until she stood on the ground, well below me, looking up.
“Anna!” she said firmly. “If you’ve damaged those shingles, you’re going to be the one replacing them.”
I offered my own yawn. She could come up here and check them out if she didn’t believe me.
“Eric!” she ca
lled out. “Rory. Throw me into that tree.” She pointed to the tree I used, and then she took a little leap and disappeared, her clothing fluttering to the ground. A moment later, I saw a fox nose poke back out, and then she squirmed out of the clothing. Eric and Rory stepped down from the porch and walked to the fox. She stood up, balancing on her back feet for a moment, and they each crouched down, picking her up carefully.
“On three,” Eric said. “One.” They swung her. “Two. Three!” And they gave her a toss, a pretty big toss, too.”
Michaela flew, nearly straight up, and she shifted back to human in the air, her hands reaching for a branch. She grabbed it, climbed over to the trunk, shifted back into her fur, and then was scrambling up.
She wasn’t as fast as I was going up, but I had to admit it: she was a pretty good climber. Soon she was well above my head. She then ran along a branch, a branch far smaller than could have handled my weight. It began to dip. She clung to it for a moment and then jumped, lightly landing on the roof somewhere behind me. I turned my head to watch her.
The little fox turned around then carefully walked down to me. She sat and shifted to human again.
“Move it. I want to see what you did to the roof.”
I thought I should be offended. I hadn’t harmed her precious roof. I yawned at her again but stood, stretched, and then backed away from where I’d been perched.
As I watched, Michaela spent a minute or two examining the roof. Finally she turned to me. “Very clever. But don’t do it again.”
I bobbed my head, moved to the edge, then flowed off the roof, landing safely on the ground, then turned around to see what the fox would do.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one, as Lara moved out into the grass and looked up. “Michaela, you were quite handy getting up there, but how do you intend to come back down?”
“I wouldn’t suppose you could catch me.”
“Not without breaking several of your bones,” Lara replied.
Michaela eyed the distance to the tree we’d both used. “This is your fault, Anna. Would someone go get me a ladder?”
Hey! It wasn’t my fault. I turned to Elisabeth. She stood, turned her nose, and began sauntering away. I bounded after her.
* * * *
At first we ran, although we were built so differently we preferred different speeds. I could bound ahead then let her pass me, bound ahead and wait. I was fine with that. But finally she came to a stop in the middle of a small clearing. She shifted into human form, crouched on the ground. She stood as I bounded into the clearing and slowed. I saw her standing there and came to a stop. I looked her up and down.
The human Elisabeth was a fine looking woman, strong and powerful, with a sleek body. If I’d been in my own skin, I would have offered a smile.
Instead, I did the cat equivalent. I stalked her, slowly, but when I reached her, I nudged her with the side of my head, then walked passed her, sliding my fur along her side, circling around and coming back up the other side. I circled her once more before she crouched down, our eyes on a similar level. She reached for me, grabbing me by the head, and guided me into a space in front of her. I sat and stared into her eyes.
“Look. If you’re going to hang around with us, you need to learn to speak like a wolf.”
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
“We make two sounds. I’m sure you’ve heard them. We call this a huff.” Then she did something that was a little like a pant, twice, quickly. “Try it.”
She was kidding, right?
“I’m serious. Try it.”
Fine. I panted in her face.
“Not like that,” she complained. “If the fox can do it, you can do it.” She made the sound again. “Your turn.”
I panted again, a little breathier. The third time, I made a rasping sound with it, and I even spit a little. She wiped her face. “You did that on purpose. You little shit.”
I wasn’t a little shit. I was a big shit. So I launched myself at her, knocking her onto her back and landing on top of her. I didn’t knock the breath from her, but I surprised the hell out of her.
“Get off me!” she screamed, and she tried to throw me aside. Reflexively, I dug my claws into her shoulders, and if she’d actually managed to throw me, she’d have shredded her shoulders.
Elisabeth froze. I stared into her eyes and then huffed at her, over and over. It meant no. Or a simple expression of displeasure.
I might be a cat, but I’d hung around enough werewolves to know their sounds.
“You shit,” she said up at me. “Get off me, Anna.”
I withdrew my claws and then, carefully, slipped sideways. She burst to her feet then gave me a shove. I actually skidded back a foot or so; she put a lot into it. “Don’t do that again. I mean it.”
Wow, she was worked up. Fine, fine. I huffed at her a couple of times. But I was just having a little fun. I rather thought Elisabeth was the sort that could dish it out, but she didn’t take it very well.
I’d have to remember that.
Without another word she shifted back into fur and went bounding into the woods. Running quickly. I decided I didn’t feel like chasing after her, and I could find my own way back.
Youth
That first day defined the pattern for the next two weeks. We did some sort of fieldwork in the mornings. If the weather was appropriate, we spent the afternoons on the water, generally in the kayaks, but we also secured powerboats and taught the kids how to operate them. My experience for the swamp tours proved valuable, and for once, I wasn’t playing catch up.
Elisabeth and I lost our easy camaraderie. I felt bad about that, although I still made a point about retrieving her beer for her. And then we returned to Madison.
I didn’t see as much of her at that point. She had duties which tended to keep her away for long, long days. And so it appeared our interactions would be limited even further.
But it was Thursday morning a week and a half later that I descended the stairs to find Elisabeth in the kitchen. She was dressed for the day and was just drinking a cup of coffee. I decided to do something about our lagging friendship, or at least make the attempt.
“I haven’t seen you make a pot before.”
“I’m not shadowing Lara today. I promised Portia I’d help her with her house.”
“Ah.”
“We’re heading to Bayfield tomorrow.”
“Right. Michaela told me.”
She finished her cup and turned to the sink. “There’s more in the pot. Will you want it?”
“Maybe a cup,” I said. I moved past her to collect a mug. I poured a cup, and then Elisabeth said, “Unless you’re going to have more, I’ll wash the pot. It might be weeks before I touch that pot again.”
I laughed and set the pot down where she could reach it. Then I busied myself with the filter of the maker.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Sure.” I moved to the other side of the island and pulled up a stool. “Elisabeth, I want to say something.” She didn’t respond, so I waited a moment before going on. “Elisabeth, I probably know a lot more about wolves than you do about cats.”
“That’s fair,” she said, her back still towards me.
“I understand about pack dominance.” Again, no response. “What you probably don’t know is that I understand intellectually, but I don’t understand emotionally. Jaguars don’t do that. We call our structure a pride, but it’s not any closer than distant cousins.”
Elisabeth turned around, drying her hands on a towel. She looked at me for a moment but said nothing. Then she turned to the drying rack and began to dry the few dishes that were waiting.
“I don’t know about the other big cats, but were jaguars don’t engage in dominance games. We barely have a pride and we certainly don’t jockey for position within it. If a jaguar engages in behavior that a wolf might think is part of establishing dominance, to the jaguar, it’s just play. Nothing more.”
Her back was sti
ff, but she said nothing and continued drying the same dish, far longer than necessary.
In for a penny, right?
“When I like someone, I tend to find little ways to tease her. It’s probably juvenile, but it’s served me well in the past. I have fun. She has fun. Usually I can get her to laugh. Sometimes she teases back. Sometimes she acts offended, but I can see her struggling not to laugh. Sometimes when I get teased back, it’s a clear challenge.”
Elisabeth finished the dish and put it away, but she still hadn’t turned around. She was now working on the coffee pot.
“Sometimes she might make a derogatory remark. That comes across as a challenge to prove her wrong. She might, oh, I don’t know. Call me a little shit, perhaps.”
She stiffened again.
“And she might be right about the shit part. After all, I was just teasing her. But if she’s half my size, I might just feel the need to prove I’m not a little anything.”
She turned around and looked like she was going to say something, but I held my hand up. “I was just playing. I’d say it didn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant I find you intriguing. I thought maybe play might be welcome. I thought maybe play was being encouraged.” I lowered my hand. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
Elisabeth stared at me for a good half minute. I returned her gaze without further comment. Finally she spoke, and it was gently. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I literally couldn’t shove someone off me?”
“I don’t really understand the dynamics of a wolf pack, but Lara?”
“I submit to Lara, but she and I haven’t had a real tussle since we were teenagers, and I had 50 pounds on her.”
“Ah,” I said.
“You’re not as fast as the fox, but you’re bigger, stronger, and faster than I am. The difference between us...” She trailed off and shook her head. “I’m still getting my head around it.”
“Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“I think you make everyone uncomfortable,” she replied. “Well, Michaela seems fine.” She smiled. “And if Zoe learned about that little story, she’d be pretty pleased.”
“You and Zoe have history.”
