Run with the Moon

by Bailey Bradford

  Valen trotted off, aware of hunger pangs cramping his belly and his dry, raspy throat. He knew where water was, and within an hour, he was standing at a clear, cool stream.

  The moon reflected off the water, appearing as a bright ball of light trailed by a silver tail. Valen pawed at the stream, sending ripples out to make the moonlight dance on its surface.

  He did it a few more times, mesmerized by the moving display, then bent and let the bag slide off and onto the bank before lapping at the liquid. The taste of fresh water filled him with a strange melancholy. He knew it was the same stream that became a river on his father’s lands. Valen had played in it many times with his siblings and other pack members. He closed his eyes and thought he could taste home.

  There was no room in his life for such emotional shit. Valen forced himself to concentrate on nothing other than easing his thirst. Once he was sated, he sniffed around and caught the scent of his soon to be dinner. The small rabbit would hold him over until morning.

  Valen tracked it down and killed it quickly. He ate then returned to the stream, intending to get the blood off his fur.

  The sound of hooves striking the ground startled him. Horses were very rare, so rare that he’d only ever seen one, which was how he recognized what he was hearing.

  Valen’s ears twitched as he tried to sneak up on the creature. He didn’t want to hurt it, just to look at the big beast. He inhaled the strong scent of the horse, and something else registered—a smell he couldn’t place. Valen’s instincts seemed to be in conflict—he wanted to growl out a threat and shiver in delight at the same time.

  He didn’t know what in the hells was going on, except that he wanted to see the animal he’d always thought so majestic. Since he was a predator, he tried to stay upwind so as not to alarm the horse. Whatever the other unfamiliar scent came from, he couldn’t worry about it just then. He’d deal with that later if he needed to.

  Valen had to get onto his belly and creep through a dense layer of thorny brush before he even spotted the horse. It was every bit as beautiful and…and regal as he remembered it being. Tall, and almost as black as the night, the beast had a white diamond shape on its chest and head, between its eyes.

  A thick black mane flowed in the wind.

  Then Valen noted the weird thing on the horse’s head. And after that, the other weird thing on the animal’s back.

  A human? Here?

  Valen froze as he looked at the man. He was clad in leather pants made from some kind of animal skin. His shoes were covered in the same material. Hair so blond it was almost white stood out as if highlighted by the moonlight. The strands were long, perhaps down to the middle of the human’s back. It was hard to judge with the wind whipping them about.

  He was thin, much more so than Valen, who was muscular as all his kind were. The stranger’s golden skin seemed to carry part of the sun’s rays in it.

  And the bastard had his bag! Valen quit ogling and came out from the brushes, growling and snarling.

  The man jerked his head around to gawk at Valen.

  Valen had the impression of blue eyes and fine features, a nose that was on the cute side of pert, and cheekbones so sharp they could have been used to cut with.

  Then the horse took off, making a fearful sound as it kicked its back feet.

  “Heeyah!” the human shouted.

  It must have been the magic command that sent the horse into a faster speed. Valen tried to keep up. He was cautious of those big hooves and the horse was a gifted runner.

  “I just want my bag!”

  Valen realized his barking that out wasn’t going to do him any good. He sped up as much as he could, but it was all for naught. He had to pull back and hide when he saw the others.

  The man wasn’t alone. Three more of them were there, on two horses.

  Valen had never heard of humans being this close to his father’s pack lands. He was torn over what to do—stalk his prey, or run back as close to the border of his father’s property as he could and howl out a warning.

  He saw the moonlight glint off metal, and feared the humans were armed with weapons. Valen had enough sense to know he couldn’t take them all on. He might be able to kill them. The question was, at what harm to himself? And out on his own, he had no shaman to help heal him if he were injured.

  He would do his best to warn his father and former pack, then pick up the trail. Now that Valen knew what humans smelled like—much like shifters, just less strong and animalistic—he could track them even if they got off the horses and left the big creatures elsewhere.

  His mind made up, Valen left the thief and his friends for now. He’d come back, and take what was his.

  Chapter Two

  Rivvie met him at the border of Varex’s pack lands. “Do you just want Father to kick your ass?”

  Valen made certain to keep off the property as he glared at his brother. “No, Rivvie, I just want him to know that there are humans nearby.”

  Rivvie’s eyes widened so much that Valen was surprised they didn’t pop right on out of the sockets. “Nuh-uh,” Rivvie protested, rising up on his toes and peering past Valen, as if the humans were close behind him. “Humans don’t come near us. You’re just lying to keep from having to leave.”

  “I’ve already left, moron,” Valen growled. “I’m not coming back and have no hopes of doing such a thing.” Unwarranted fantasies, maybe, but Valen knew that was all they were. “There’s no reason for me to make this up. And guess what else?”

  “What?” Rivvie asked sharply, bringing his gaze back to Valen’s.

  Valen grinned, knowing how the next bit of information would hit Rivvie. “They’re on horses.”

  “No way!” Rivvie bounced on his toes then darted past Valen. “Where? Where are they?”

  Valen grabbed a handful of Rivvie’s hair and tugged.

  “Hey!” Rivvie yelped.

  “Uh-uh-uh. You aren’t to leave pack property without permission and you know that.” Valen only took a smidgen of glee in saying that. “I brought you this as proof.” He held out the leaf he’d snatched off the bush one of the humans had urinated on. It carried a strong scent that would not be mistaken for anything else other than what it was.

  Rivvie sniffed. “Oh. My. Gods! You aren’t lying!”

  “No, I am not. Now that I’ve warned you, I can follow them. One of the assholes stole my bag.” Valen fingered the pouch he still wore on the leather string around his neck. At least the talismans Lanaka had put in there hadn’t been stolen from him.

  “They’re thieves?” Rivvie’s whispered question carried the proper amount of shock. Stealing was not tolerated in the shifter society. “They’re really as bad as everyone says humans are!”

  It seemed that was the case. Valen certainly hadn’t given them his bag. It’d been left at the side of the stream. Even so, that hadn’t meant it didn’t belong to someone, and when the man had seen Valen, surely he’d realized—

  Maybe not. He could be a fool for all I know. Valen ignored the warmth that sizzled under his skin when he pictured the human again. “Go tell Father.” Valen shifted, ignoring his brother’s rapid talking. Anything Rivvie had to say didn’t affect Valen now. He was severed from his former pack, and he’d done what he felt was his duty.

  The ground was cool beneath his paws. A breeze ruffled his fur and caused the trees and shrubs to sing in their own way. An occasional bat would dip down now and then, chasing insects, and smaller animals scurried around Valen. Something lightened inside him, some burden he couldn’t quite name.

  Valen sniffed out the familiar scent of his own tracks first, the musky aroma of it mingling with the earthy odors that made his pulse race. He loved being outside in his wolf form, stalking prey, feeling all the elements in so many ways he didn’t while in his other shape.

  The moonlight caressed him like a physical touch. There was a special bond between shifters and the moon goddess, one that grew strong the fuller the moon became. Whe
n it reached the pinnacle of power, there was no refusing the instinctual call to shift. Not for most of the pack members. Only a shaman had the strength to resist, though why they’d ever want to was beyond Valen’s comprehension.

  As he ran along the path he’d taken originally, Valen had a moment of clarity. He understood what that internal lightening had been. His fear had left him, and his innate beast was truly coming into its own.

  He reveled in the freedom he suddenly felt. Maybe Rivvie had been right—not that Valen would ever tell him so—and things wouldn’t be so bad.

  Then again, had he not been forced out, he wouldn’t have had someone steal his few personal belongings.

  I wouldn’t have seen the horses, either, or the humans. One particular man appeared in his mind’s eye. Heat curled low in Valen’s groin.

  Valen stumbled over his own feet. The bottom of his muzzle smacked against the ground and he bit his tongue. Sprawled in the most undignified way possible, legs askew, belly in the dirt, Valen didn’t even care about his appearance. He was too busy being stunned by the realization that he lusted after the blond human. It was crazy to do so, but his body was tingling all over with arousal. The urge to mate forced his shaft from its sheaf. Valen grunted in discomfort and flopped onto his back, panting as he stared sightlessly toward the sky.

  Shifters mated with shifters, exclusively. Humans were violent and dangerous, and they weren’t open-minded. That was why shifters used to stay hidden from them. Still did, as far as Valen knew, although rumor had it that humans had known of their existence for decades. At some point after the End Times, when there were more of Valen’s kind, shifters hadn’t felt the need to hide so thoroughly.

  Just because shifters outnumbered them even now didn’t mean that humans weren’t dangerous. For that matter, the numbers could have changed. Shifters could once again be in the minority. How would they know if they weren’t?

  How did we ever know anything about the society outside our own? The question taunted him and Valen had no answer to it. Record keeping and history weren’t what they should have been for his people—perhaps not surprising, considering that their beasts weren’t concerned with such things.

  Instincts ruled, and probably only the shamans knew much about the past.

  Valen’s wonderings had given him time to cool his ardor. He hopped to his feet and shook hard enough to set his fur on end. It was stupid to waste time lolling about and letting his thoughts drift. Almost as stupid as it was to lust after a human.

  Telling himself he wasn’t going to be so weak again, Valen trotted after the thieves who’d stolen his belongings. He resolutely refused to acknowledge the burgeoning arousal trying to thrum through his veins.

  When he reached the spot where he’d last seen the men and animals, they were gone. Valen wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t thought they’d sit there and wait for him. After sniffing around to make sure he had a fresh impression of the scents, he started to lope after them.

  “Yip-arooooo!”

  Valen groaned and skidded to a stop again. He spun around and tried to process what he was seeing and hearing. It had to be a hallucination. Gods, please tell me it’s just me being delusional, that I hit my head when I fell and I’m still lying on the ground—

  But of course he couldn’t get that lucky. Valen shifted and waited for Rivvie to reach him. Once he did, Rivvie morphed into his human form and gave him a saucy wink.

  “Hiya, bro. Glad to see me?”

  Valen might have been, somewhere way down in his heart, if he’d bothered to dig that deep. “What the hells, Rivvie? You aren’t supposed to leave pack property or—”

  “Or I can be cast out.” Rivvie huffed and flapped a hand at Valen. “I am aware. I delivered your message to our father, and after a short chat with him…” Rivvie smiled merrily. “Well, guess what? We decided you had your first pack member. Congratulations!”

  “What?” Valen took a step back. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a— You aren’t—”

  Rivvie came forward to take up the space Valen had put between them. He didn’t quite move with the enthusiasm he normally displayed. “Yes I am. I know an alpha picks his own pack members, supposedly. Don’t you think they really just grab any and all available wolves they can find? Beggars can’t be choosers, Mom always says. Besides, I already had to disavow my loyalty to Father, so you’re stuck with me.” Rivvie waggled his eyebrows. “And who has your back like family? No one. Plus I can tell future pack members embarrassing stories about you to keep you from getting a big ego.”

  “Rivvie,” Valen growled, grinding his back teeth together so hard that his jaw popped. Close observance of his brother had Valen biting back any more words of protest. Rivvie was smiling and chattering as he often did, yet it seemed forced to Valen, though he couldn’t pinpoint just what it was that was so off.

  Rivvie winked at him and patted Valen’s shoulder. “I know, I’m awesome. You’re welcome. Now, why aren’t we stalking the prey? I love hunting and stalking! I’m almost better at it than you, and it’s fun. It’s just that Father always takes the lead and makes me drop back behind him and you and Elias.” He widened his eyes. “Uh. We aren’t eating the humans or horses, not for real, right?”

  It was tempting to lie and say that munching on the others was exactly what Valen had in mind, just to see Rivvie flip out. Though, if he did, then he’d have to deal with Rivvie’s excessive and melodramatic reaction, so Valen didn’t bother teasing.

  “No, I just want my bag back.” And to maybe see the blond man again, sniff him and lick him once. Valen was shocked by the twisted longings for someone he didn’t know and who was a thief as well as not of his kind.

  But we are both men, his libido reasoned. We have the same parts when I’m not in furry form, the same needs. Humans aren’t wild or feral. They just…aren’t us.

  “Valen?” Rivvie queried without his usual exuberance. He was as loud as usual, but a worried expression sat oddly on his features.

  “I’m fine. Just trying to take it all in. My first pack member, huh?” He shook his head while Rivvie bobbed his, the happiness shining right back on his face as it almost always did. “You know I didn’t even have time to miss you yet?”

  Rivvie blew him a raspberry. “You missed me before you even left and you know it. Can I be your beta? Huh? Please?”

  “Not if you’re going to be telling all those embarrassing stories you said you would—” Valen’s attention was snagged by a bare wisp of sound zipping through the air.

  “Down!” He dove onto Rivvie, knocking him to the ground. Valen shoved Rivvie into the shrubs first, the instinct to protect undeniable.

  “Thorns,” Rivvie hissed at the same moment that Valen felt the sharp little prongs tearing into his skin.

  Rivvie shifted. Valen didn’t.

  He avoided a second projectile, and when it landed beside him, saw that it was a rock that had been lobbed at him. From the sound of it as it was airborne, he’d have to guess a slingshot or something similar was being used.

  Even such a rudimentary tool was nothing to laugh about. One good hit to the head and he was done.

  Valen sprang to his feet and made a mad dash in the direction from which he was being fired at. He zigged and zagged, making himself a difficult target. As he inhaled, the rich, musky scent of the blond man filled him, and Valen’s arousal slammed into him full-force.

  It was almost as deadly as a blow to the head as far as he was concerned.

  * * * *

  Staying behind had probably been foolish. Aaron Olsen knew that the others would follow them. He’d screwed up in taking the leather bag, though he could claim he’d believed it to be abandoned, not temporarily set aside. Bad things could and did happen in the wild. It was why people didn’t leave their villages if they could help it.

  Werewolves. Gods! I didn’t believe… The old stories were just that, he’d thought up until the second he found himself staring at a large, snar
ling wolf. It had been too big to be a natural one, and a deep intelligence in its glowing yellow eyes. Any doubts Aaron had had about the truth of the old stories had vanished in an instant. He’d been frozen with fear and fascination, unable to immediately flee.

  It was just his curiosity about the beasts that had caused a weird tingle in his gut. Aaron had volunteered to stay behind and stall, if not kill, the shifters to keep his people safe. In retrospect, he should have simply left the bag and the contents of it behind. If the shifters were reasonable beings, surely that would have ended this issue.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the shifters that lacked reasoning. Aaron couldn’t deny the damage humans had done to their world. They were lucky to have survived after the wars and diseases had finally stopped ravaging humanity.

  And here he was, crouched on a tree limb, using a slingshot to try to stun the two men he knew were shifters. He’d seen them appear in their animal forms, then change into men.

  Both were powerfully built. One was bordering on being too pretty, even with his tall height and masculine build.

  The other one was darker, broodier, and appealing on levels Aaron didn’t want to acknowledge. He had a duty to his species. There was no place in the world for the kind of thoughts that kept him awake late into the night.

  Aaron loaded another rock from his pouch. He aimed carefully as the dark wolf zigged and zagged his way forward. “Valen,” Aaron murmured, having heard the werewolf’s name when the other guy had practically shouted it. He realized his mistake instantly. Thinking of the beast as anything less than a deadly predator wasn’t very smart of him. His hand trembled as he pulled back the sling. It was much harder to try to harm someone when he knew their name and when he’d been the one to cause this trouble.

  All Aaron had had to do was ride away, but he’d seen the leather satchel. As scarce as weapons and food could be, he’d had to take it and check for anything usable for his people.

  No, he could have left it. It would have been the honorable thing to do. Barring that, observing the area to see if the owner returned for the bag would have been an acceptable alternative.