Shifting Again

by Shifting Again (ant

  "R-r-r-r-r-roman." His name just rumbled out, Cage nudging him, sliding their cheeks together.

  "Mmmmmrrrr." He grumbled right back, his hands kneading at Cage's skin. "Pup. Moon..."

  Cage nodded, head lolling, teeth gleaming in the light. "Mooooon."

  Sure enough. Suddenly there it was, just outside the window, almost, so close they could touch it. He'd completely lost time. Roman all but howled as his body began to make the change.

  The pup pulled away snarling and growling, tearing frantically at his clothes.

  Yes. Yes. The last of their clothes melted away and Roman ran to the door of the cabin before he lost the ability to open it, letting out his first howl of the full moon. His body twisted, changed, making him shudder and growl.

  He could hear snarls behind him, hear the sound of claws scrabbling on the dirt, the scared whines sharp on the air. Roman turned back, waiting for the young one, waiting to reassure and nuzzle, licking the young one's face when he got close enough.

  Those eyes rolled a little, a soft whimper sounding as paws stomped on the ground. Then Cage huffed, long tongue sliding on his muzzle.

  There. There. The pup always knew what was best once he stopped worrying. Once he accepted. Roman huffed a little, turning to lead the pup on a run, letting the joy of the moon sing in his veins.

  The young one was on his heels, nipping and playing. He could feel the pure joy, the need to run and hunt and smell.

  Everything felt so much more like this. His senses were so much sharper. Roman veered up a trail that a human would never see, the scents pulling him that way, the scent of food. Rabbit.

  The pup stopped, sniffed, entire body shivering. A single short bark sounded, alerting him.

  Roman turned back on his tail, looking into those glowing eyes in the growing darkness. Yes. Play. Hunt.

  Cage smiled at him, teeth gleaming and white, and then the muscles bunched and the cub was off, crashing through the leaves toward their prey.

  Barking, Roman followed, rushing through the underbrush that tore at his fur. He ran hard, stretching out flat to the ground, his tail up. His claws dug into the ground, driving him faster, bringing him closer and closer to the cub. Soon he was nose to tail, following the shape of that furry body like a shadow. The pup hunted by pure instinct, much like he had, once. It was a joy to behold.

  The cub pounced and the rabbit gave a scream, legs kicking violently as it tried to escape.

  Roman prowled around in a circle, letting Cage have the kill, letting him choose to share. Or not.

  Cage tore the rabbit apart, the scent of blood flooding his nose. His stomach growled, wanting so badly as Cage's muzzle dug in. Then the big head swung toward him, the bloodied teeth dropping the organ meats for him. Offering him the most tender bits.

  Oh. Carefully, giving it the attention it deserved, Roman took the pieces, snapping them down once he had them in his mouth. Such a good pup. Such a fine pack mate.

  Cage fed happily, snuffling and wagging and panting.

  He just watched, licking his own chops to clean his whiskers a bit. He just loved that pup, so much, already. In this form it was a fierce, hard thing, making him want to howl it to the world. Cage bounced over, all pup in his joy, his excitement, eyes shining bright and sure. All the little noises fell around them--chuffs and rumbles and little barks.

  He took a moment to nuzzle, to rub their muzzles together and praise Cage, love on him, making little sounds of his own. Then Roman took off again, knowing that meal wasn't nearly heavy enough to have him sleeping away a full moon.

  They chased up and down, covering acres of ground before stopping to lap at the pond, the moon bright and huge in the water.

  The minute Cage stopped drinking, Roman turned and pounced, teeth latching on to Cage's tail. He took the pup down, rolling over and over, playing rough. Cage barked and snapped, grabbing his ear and gnawing.

  They played tug of war with fur and skin and limbs, but those sharp teeth never closed too hard. This was calculated fun. Not war.

  Cage went up on his hind legs, landing on his shoulders, teeth on his ruff.

  Twisting, he shoved his weight into Cage, rolling them down, nuzzling the soft belly fur just once.

  Oh, pale. Sweet. Cage stretched, paws pushing at him. That long tongue was lolled out, Cage easy in his skin.

  Up again, and running, wanting the pup to follow him this time. He needed to see how well Cage could follow him, how well the pup understood him.

  Besides a few distractions--the light, an owl, a flock of bats--Cage did well, following and running, keeping up.

  He ran and ran, following his nose, tracing something...something elusive. Something he couldn't quite make out but it was familiar. All the while he listened for Cage behind him, proud as he could be of the pup.

  He heard Cage squeal to a halt, heard the low, hungry growl. He spun around, saw the old buck standing there, too big, too strong to take down, but so tempting. Snapping at Cage's tail, he growled the pup off. That rack could kill in no time. Not to mention the power to stomp. But where there was a buck...

  Cage whimpered and danced, entire body straining toward the buck, wanting to hunt so badly.

  No. No, that was his job as the head of the pack, to decide what acceptable risk was. All he had to do was let out a sharp bark and the buck bounded off, crashing through the undergrowth.

  Cage rumbled, muscles tense and vibrating, wanting so badly to chase, to run. He snapped again, putting the kid in line. They had time. They would feast. But not yet.

  Cage's bright eyes rolled, teeth snapping at the air in sheer frustration.

  Leading the way, Roman followed the buck's back trail, knowing if there were more they'd be trailing behind.

  The pup stayed on his heels, sniffing and following the trail, tail straight and still.

  So ready. So intent. The pup had to have wanted, had to have gone hungry. It had been a long time since Roman had experienced that, and he'd lost some of the urgency Cage still had. Moving up the side of the trail, Roman let Cage take the lead again. He needed to get it out of his system some.

  Oh. Look at his pup run. The moon lit the kid up, made Cage shine and glow, each muscle limned.

  Damn. Roman put on the speed, making sure he could keep the kid under his sights, make sure he didn't go after more prey too large for them.

  He smelled the doe at the same time Cage did, both of them lifting their noses to the wind.

  Time for Cage to learn concerted hunting. He sent the pup heading off to cut the doe off in front while Roman himself slipped up a bank of dirt and leaves to track around the back. He would heel her while Cage got her throat.

  She didn't hear them, not until it was too late, Cage popping up in front of the doe, all fur and teeth and hunger. Roman slid neatly in from the rear, his teeth closing hard on her delicate leg, snapping the bone like it was a tin twig. She fought, but it was too late. Cage crushed her throat before she could make a sound and she collapsed into the leaves with little more than a twitch and a grunt.

  This time they both tore in, but he let Cage have the heart and liver, as the pup needed his strength. The scent of blood rose hot and good around them, making them both snap and growl.

  Cage's muzzle lifted to the air, the howl satisfied and strong, ringing through the air and making his fur stand up on end.

  Once they had eaten their fill it was time to find a place to curl up. Someplace to sleep off the meal nose to tail. Roman knew just the place. Nipping at Cage's back legs, he let out a sharp bark and headed off at a run.

  Cage followed, stretched out and beautiful under the touch of the moon, claws digging into the cold dirt.

  Panting, Roman lunged up over the rocks, through a small gap in a ring of trees and right into the glen he'd missed like he'd a sore tooth while he'd been gone.

  It looked the same, the dappled light barely showing it off. Something was different, though, and Roman began sniffing, looking for what
ever it was that ringing the alarm in his head.

  Cage plopped down, lapping his paws, cleaning himself, tail wagging in slow motions.

  Obviously, it didn't bother Cage, so it was something only he could see, or smell or...Something shone brightly in a moment, bleached white, and Roman nosed over it, something familiar in the scent, a memory that had his tail standing up and his ears going forward.

  He heard Cage's curious sounds, heard the padding of Cage's feet behind him.

  He put his nose right to the weirdness and sniffed deeply, springing back and barking. Oh, God. It was Johnny. Or what was left of him.

  Cage pushed up, growling low, nostrils flaring. Dead. His packmate. Dead and the pup hadn't even admitted to it. There was no way the kid could have been fuzzy enough, even after a hard fight, to forget tearing someone up the way Johnny had been.

  Johnny had been a fuck up, sure, but he deserved better, deserved more than a hidden grave on a lonely hill. Roman turned, lunging at Cage. Goddamned pup could have fucking told him.

  The pup scrambled back, feet sliding on the fallen leaves.

  His teeth missed the pup's throat by scant inches, and Roman growled, stalking forward, filled with white hot rage.

  Cage shook his head, whining low as he backed away, teeth just bared. When the pup's hind end hit the trunk of a tree, Cage snapped, teeth clicking.

  That set him off, his brain shorting out; all he could see was red. Springing off his back legs, he went right for Cage, snapping low at the last minute and trying to go for the leg.

  Blood filled his mouth and Cage yelped, teeth sinking into his ear, fire pouring into his head as Cage tugged. He snarled, biting again, shaking his head violently. The sudden snap of bone satisfied something deep inside him.

  Cage's panicked scream filled the air, the bites against his head and face becoming more and more desperate.

  The pup didn't have the right to be fucking scared. He hadn't run Johnny off. He'd fucking killed him and left him for dead. Roman snapped, tearing flesh with is teeth, pulling until Cage tore.

  The cub yanked away, blood pouring from the drawn up foreleg as Cage scrambled away from him, heading for the opening of the trees. Roman chased, nipping at Cage's heels, but the taste of Cage's blood had sobered him, and his heart wasn't in the killing. He'd make sure the pup was well away, and let it go. Cage was too young, too green.

  He'd probably just been afraid to tell the truth. But it sure as hell meant Cage couldn't be his pack.

  Cage didn't look back at him, didn't head back toward the house, just went straight for the trees. By the time Roman stopped snarling and chasing, the pup had disappeared into the shadows.

  Roman stopped, panting, his tail drooping. God, he felt old. He tipped his nose up to the sky and howled for what he'd lost in less than a minute of time. His best friend Johnny and his lover.

  He had a feeling he knew which one he would miss more.

  ***

  Hurt.

  Hurt.

  Hurt.

  He ran until he collapsed, then Cage crawled, dragging himself along the fallen leaves.

  Hurt.

  What had he done? Where had he offended? He'd followed. He'd hunted. He'd run. So many rules. So many rules and he'd never been pack before and Roman had known that and said it didn't matter and that they were, but they weren't and…

  There had been hatred in those dark eyes, black fury at him.

  At him. Driving him away.

  The ground before him dropped and he fell, screaming as the bones in his leg crackled and ground together with a white hot pain. Bad. Bad. He fought to stand on three legs, holding his foreleg up, the blood matting on his fur, dripping onto the leaves. Leaving a scent where others might know he was injured.

  He stopped and emptied his stomach, covering the stench of his own blood, then he moved on, blinking up at the sun.

  The sun.

  He shivered, waiting to change, to lose the wolf, but it didn't happen. Someone would help him. Someone would. He'd find a road and before the next moon, he'd get some help and…

  The sun fell on him and he thought about being a man, but nothing happened. Nothing. He. It wouldn't.

  Couldn't.

  That was worse. He'd lost his home, his tools, his mate, his territory, all in a matter of seconds. Now he'd lost Cage.

  His howl echoed in the trees as he poured out his fear, his pain, his complete and utter confusion.

  He called and cried until he was too tired to be scared anymore, then he started limping along. Shelter. He needed somewhere to stop.

  ***

  Roman was missing Cage like a lost limb. Goddamn, he wondered for the nine hundred and ninety ninth time, why had he been so hasty?

  Sure, Johnny had been his friend, but that was the way of the pack. The weakest went the way of the dodo. Cage was no rogue hunter; he was just a fucking kid when it came to the ways of the wolf. He didn't know any better.

  Hell, maybe Cage didn't even remember killing Johnny, if he'd been hurt that bad. The rage that came in the wolf form faded with the human, and Roman knew now he should have waited until the kid could explain.

  Finding what was left of Johnny hadn't been easy, but Roman had buried the remains, high on Johnny's favorite hill. The first snow fell right after, and Roman was damned glad he didn't have to dig on frozen ground. He just marked the grave with a big stone and a lot of scent, and that was that.

  That had been…well, a while ago. Now he was just alone and wandering and waiting for the next full moon so he could try to catch Cage's scent. He was really thinking of finding the pup and dragging him home. Even if the cub had lied to him, Roman had gotten used to having him around. And damn, if he took Cage back in as pack, he could teach the cub to never lie to him again.

  ***

  He could hear the laughter of the others, feel the teeth on his heels, driving him away and away. Cage rolled and growled, snapped and bared his teeth as he went.

  He was not pack.

  He was no one's mate, no one's kin.

  Run. Run, Cage. They laughed at him, the yips and barks insults and mocks. Run, Pup. Run away. Not pack. Not. Outsider.

  Outsider.

  Outsider.

  He growled out his feverish sorrow, but kept running, scared to stop, scared to turn around and see Roman there among the others, hating him.

  Hunting him.

  Driving him.

  ***

  The moon was on him. Roman felt it like a hundred ants crawling up and down his spine. Run. Run, run, run, the moon told him. Find Cage.

  Roman growled, pacing in front if the window, really waiting for the moon to pop up above the horizon. His skin danced, like water droplets on a hot skillet. He needed to go.

  The moon finally broke the treeline, and his body went crazy, the heatpainfree sensation of changing overtaking him. Then he was on all fours and ready to go. He stopped just outside the back door of the cabin and howled, just in case Cage was nearby. The pup was so young he might answer instinctively, without thought.

  An answer came, but it wasn't Cage. No, it was a new voice, one Roman had never heard, and his hackles went up, his lips curling back in a snarl. It was one of his kind, not a normal wolf, and it had full blown aggression in its throaty howl.

  Roman took off and a run, his body flattening to the ground, ready to chase the interloper off his ground, his territory. No one came without his approval. No one but Cage, and Cage was his pack now, for all that Roman had said he wasn't, had driven him away. Yeah, okay, so he'd decided to take Cage back, so wh...

  The big intruder hit him low and fast from his right, bowling him over, sharp teeth snapping closed like a the jaws of a crocodile only inches from his back leg.

  Roman leaped away, twisting to snarl and grab for the big bastard's jaws. He couldn't help but notice two things. The wolf outweighed him by a good twenty pounds, and the son-of-a-bitch was missing an eye.

  "I took his eye." Wasn't that
what Cage had said?

  His distraction almost cost him his fucking life. The big gray wolf almost took his throat, the bottom canines scraping across his flesh, opening it so that blood splashed out on the crust of snow on the ground. Roman growled and turned on a dime, snapping, fury giving him strength and speed. Not fear. Just fucking raw rage.