Shifter's Destiny

by Anna Leonard

“The tree, over there,” Maggie said suddenly. “We need to climb the tree.”

  Mustang snorted again, this time in approval, his own gaze never leaving the strangers. The two more human-moving forms had dropped back, while the other three moved forward. The oddness of their forms was more obvious now, and one of them dropped into a crouch in order to move forward more swiftly, not even bothering to mock human movement any longer.

  “Libby, come on!” Maggie cried, pulling at her arm.

  Her feet felt as though they were glued to the dirt, her legs stiff as boards. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave the Mustang, not to face these things alone.

  “We’ll only get in the way,” Maggie said, reading her thoughts. “Run!”

  Giving in, Elizabeth turned and ran.

  The tree Maggie had pointed to was an old apple tree, tall and burly, with low enough branches that Elizabeth was able to boost Maggie up into one, and then reach up and swing herself onto another. Maggie was already scrambling higher, up into the leafier region, where she was less visible from the ground. Elizabeth, less certain that the boughs would hold her weight, stayed lower. From there, she would be able to see what happened, when monsters and unicorn met.

  The thought made her heart race even faster than the sprint up into the tree had caused. They had left him there, alone, against three...whatever they were. Part of her wanted to look away, to cover her eyes and hide and pretend that none of it was real, none of it was happening, that she would close her eyes and wake up in her own bed, and the world would be right side up and normal again, her parents alive and Maggie just a normal girl nobody would look twice at.

  Part of her couldn’t look away.

  They had left him there. Why had they left him there? Why didn’t he run?

  From her vantage point, she could see the creatures more clearly, and almost wished she couldn’t. The foremost creature had a body that was long and lean and covered in a short black pelt, its face flattened like a cat’s, but with human eyes and nose, and clawed hands instead of paws, like someone had twisted a leopard into a parody of human form. The two on either side were heavier, more grossly covered in thick, shaggy gray hair, and they had a more ponderous walk—but again, their faces were human. That was the part that made Elizabeth feel ill—not the animal part, but the impossible yet unmistakable humanity of them.

  They were not bad animals. They were monsters. Even from here she could sense the wrongness, the anger and bitter viciousness of them.

  And, with a sudden wash of nausea, she identified them as the creatures from her dreams. This was what it had been warning her about.

  Above her, Maggie whimpered. “Those things...they’re pawing at me, in my head. They want to touch me....”

  The monsters had stopped and were sniffing at the air, heads raised, and clearly looking for something. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Elizabeth knew exactly what they were searching for, what they had wanted all along. She forced herself not to look up into the branches, not to do anything that might give her sister’s location away. “Don’t think about them,” she whispered. “Just shut down and don’t think at all, Maggie.”

  Hoping that her sister could do that, she forced herself to look away from the beasts, their hypnotic hideousness, and back to the Mustang, standing between the monsters and them. His legs were sturdy and square on the ground, his head still lowered, the horn glinting as though from within, a not-so-subtle threat. His white hide and straw-gold mane and tail sparkled in the sun, and the black of his hooves seemed even darker as he pawed once against the grass and snorted in challenge. Other than that sound, the day was utterly silent. The three creatures, now paused a few yards away, did not make a noise, and even the birds and insects had ceased, the wind carrying not a hint of noise from the now-distant road. The entire world might have gone still for this battle.

  The weight of it overwhelmed her, until she wanted to scream, to shakes the braches around her, just to make something happen.

  And then something did. Without warning, the cat-creature leaped forward, directly at Mustang, clearly planning to bypass the lowered head and land on his back. The speed and ferocity of the attack shook a noise from Elizabeth, although it was a muted scream, stifled by one hand clamped over her mouth even as the other kept a firm grip on her branch.

  The monster’s hands might be human but the claws that flashed down on his neck were pure feline: sharp and vicious. Mustang swerved, but couldn’t quite avoid the swipe. Three lines of red showed clearly against that white flesh, and Elizabeth shoved the heel of her hand into her mouth to keep from making another sound in response. He had to keep all his attention on the battle, and not be worrying about them.

  She risked a look upward, to check on Maggie. Her sister had reached the next-higher branches, and was huddled against the trunk, her face hidden from the scene below. There was a flicker of gray; a squirrel, come down to sit on her shoulder, its little paws clinging to her shirt as though to give comfort, and the thought, somehow, settled Elizabeth’s fears enough to let her look down again at the battle below them.

  The cat-thing spun, and the two of them engaged in a terrible, silent dance, back and forth, the monster ducking under Mustang’s hooves, while he kept his body outside the reach of those claws, dashing and swerving on the grass. He kept trying to get at the beast with his horn, but it clearly knew the danger, and curved its body each time to avoid impact.

  Meanwhile, the two more brutish beasts had taken up position on either side, and were closing in, moving with slow, heavy steps. Their arms lifted, showing claws that were even longer and thicker than the cat-thing’s; weapons that were meant to rend flesh apart, not merely scratch. Even as Elizabeth worked her mouth to yell a warning, Mustang reacted, ducking backward with a short burst of elegant speed, slipping out of their trap with bare seconds to miss, and then charging forward again as they turned to face him. He reared up, exposing his undefended stomach for a heartbeat too long, while Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat, and then he slashed down with his tar-black hooves.

  There was a cracking noise that Elizabeth could hear even in the tree, and the left-side beast howled in pain, grabbing at its arm and swinging its body madly, like a child having a temper tantrum. Mustang didn’t pause, but lowered his head and rammed forward, not at the downed monster, but the cat-beast now behind it.

  The remaining bear-beast attacked again, scoring another swipe on Mustang’s hindquarters as he went past, but the unicorn was too swift for it. The bear-beast lifted its blocky head and bellowed, a terrible noise like a broken church bell. In response, the first monster got to its feet, one arm still wrapped around its injuries, and tried to grab at Mustang’s tail as he went past.

  In the noise and confusion, Mustang still managed to get at the cat-beast with the tip of his horn, and the thing sprang back with a scream that made all the hair on Elizabeth’s arms shiver, and her teeth clench in reaction. It was the cry of something in mortal agony, unbearable pain, as though someone had thrown acid into its eyes. Even hating and fearing the thing as much as she did, Elizabeth felt an instant pang of sympathy. Nothing should ever be in that much pain.

  Mustang drove forward again, nicking the cat-beast again, and it dropped to all fours in an attempt to make a smaller target, crouching and snarling at him in defiance.

  “The horn’s an antidote to poison.” Maggie’s voice floated down, a soft, scared whisper. “All the stories say that. A unicorn’s horn can cure anything.”

  So, against something this twisted—could it drive the monsters away? Elizabeth barely dared hope. The injured bear-beast was up on its feet again, moving forward at a steady, if shuffling, pace. Mustang, his head still down to hold the cat-beast at bay, somehow kicked backward with his hind legs, his entire body straightening out in the kick. He made contact, his hooves knocking the bear-beast in the
face and sending it staggering back with another howl of pain. There was no time to celebrate, though, as Elizabeth saw the uninjured bear-creature rush into the fray again, coming at Mustang from his blind side. It had picked up a stick somewhere, and swung it, landing a heavy blow against the Mustang’s neck. The branch shattered, but the impact made Mustang stagger slightly. When that happened, the horn lost its contact on the cat-beast, allowing it to scramble away. It moved much more slowly, though, indicating that the horn had caused a great deal of damage.

  The bear-creature tried to rush him again, this time without the stick. His attention seemingly on the injured cat-beast, Mustang did a move that Elizabeth could barely follow, much less explain. He seemed to almost lift himself into the air, a graceful leap straight up, rising out of reach for half an impossible second, at the same time he was executing a double-leg kick that sent the bear-beast flying back, out of striking range. And then, without visible effort, the Mustang twisted in the air, his body almost folding on itself, so that he came down facing the opposite direction, ready to continue battle.

  Elizabeth’s heart wrenched at the beauty of the move, even as her gut clenched at the blood splattered over his hooves and legs, staining the white.

  The cat tried to escape, and was dealt a sideways kick that left its ribs crushed in, even as Mustang’s head lowered and he went after the uninjured bear-beast. Trying to grab at the Mustang’s head left the bear’s upper body exposed, and too close; the horn stabbed directly through its chest. The beast staggered and then fell back, sliding off the horn.

  An almost puzzled hesitation crossed its ursine face, as though it was trying to figure out what had just happened, and it fell over backward, sitting down hard on the ground and then slumping over to its side. It didn’t move again.

  The other bear-thing took one look at its companions and, howling in fear or pain, turned to run back to the two humans who were still watching. It had barely made it halfway back when there was a loud crack, and it, too, fell over, groping at its side.

  Meanwhile, Mustang staggered, his hind leg giving slightly. The cat-thing snarled once at him, defiantly aggressive even in its own pain, until the Mustang stabbed at it again with his horn. The beast tried to lash out, but faltered, and then lay still, blood flowing from its wounds down into the muddy ground.

  “They shot their own creature?” Maggie asked from her perch above, horrified. “But...”

  “No buts, come on,” Elizabeth cried, and started to scramble down the tree. She didn’t care that the beasts were still there, or that the humans apparently had guns. Mustang was hurt, and needed help.

  Mustang must have heard them, because his head turned, and the glare he sent said as clearly as words: stay put. Then he turned and, ignoring his own wounds, leaped over the still body of the cat-beast, and raced forward, heading straight for the humans.

  “They’ll shoot him!” Maggie cried, her voice cracking in fear.

  “Maggie!” Elizabeth was struck by a sudden inspiration. “He’s scaring them. They’re going to be scared!”

  Her sister gaped at her for a moment, unable to comprehend what Elizabeth was telling her. “But...”

  Elizabeth stared up at her sister still hidden in the tree, at the squirrel sitting on her shoulder, willing her to understand. She didn’t have time to be gentle, or kind, or consider the ramifications of what she was about to tell her sister to do. “He needs you to distract them, Maggie! You have to do it! Do it!”

  Years of training, of reassurances and lessons, undone by those two words. Elizabeth felt ill, but she’d had no other choice.

  Maggie set her jaw, and her eyes took the faraway glaze that meant that she was reaching out. But not to animals this time. Not to anything so innocent. The squirrel let out an odd noise, and leaped from her shoulder, disappearing into the branches far above. Maggie didn’t even notice. She shuddered once, as though feeling those unnatural minds reaching for her again, and then let out a tiny gasp of air.

  “Scared,” she said softly, barely loud of enough for Elizabeth to catch. “So scared. You should be scared. He’s so much better than you are, stronger and faster and smarter and better and... You. Should. Run.”

  It was against everything they had told her was good, and right. Her parents, good, kind, gentle people, would have been horrified.

  Her parents had not seen what their daughters had seen. Elizabeth discovered that she felt only a minor pang of guilt at telling Maggie to turn her skills on people deliberately. Especially when the two figures dropped their weapons and bolted for the safety of their vehicle, Mustang still bearing down hard on them. He swerved just before they started the engine, disappearing into a half-grown cornfield, even though the stalks were barely shoulder-high and he should have been plainly visible.

  “Like magic,” Elizabeth said, even though she was sure he had probably just knelt down or something, to go out of sight.

  Or changed. Something in her bones told her that Mustang had shifted back to Josh, and every instinct she had was to go to him, hurt and bleeding and all their fault, but she couldn’t go not yet. Not until...

  The driver decided against driving into the cornfield, or getting out himself to investigate, and instead put the vehicle into Drive, coming closer to where the two girls were hiding. Elizabeth scrambled back up into the tree, scraping the skin in her hands and arms as she did so, thankful for Josh’s choice of dark colors for them, which would not stand out from within the leafy confines of the tree. So long as they stayed still, and quiet, and did not move, they should be safe.

  Should be.

  The sound of the car came closer, far too close, and they huddled against the tree trunk, trying to be as invisible as possible, not daring to climb back higher or deeper into the branches for fear of that movement being spotted.

  The vehicle stopped, nowhere near their tree, and two figures got out. This close, Elizabeth could see that the car was actually one of the miniature trucks Elizabeth would see out in the fields sometimes, near the Community. An agro-truck, her father had called them.

  A man and a woman got out, the same two figures who had let loose the monsters, and Elizabeth stifled a gasp. The woman she didn’t know, but the man was the same one who had been at Meg’s house earlier, who had tried to take Maggie. Who had tried to hurt Maggie.

  One thought swept away all others on a wave of dark red rage: she should have let Mustang kill them, then.

  “Hurry,” the woman said, her voice harsh and worried-sounding. “I’ll be damned if I wait around here, with that thing still unaccounted for.” She turned to look back toward the cornfield, as though expecting the Mustang to come back out, three times as high and breathing flame. Elizabeth noticed the glint of metal in the woman’s hand, and sent a silent message to Josh, the same one he had sent to them: stay put. Don’t move.

  Resting her face against the rough bark of the tree trunk, feeling it dig into her flesh as a way to concentrate on anything other than what might be happening in that cornfield, Elizabeth waited while the two figures loaded the bodies of the dead beasts into the back of the truck without ceremony. They threw a tarp over the evidence, and then drove off across the field, heading for the road. Only then did Elizabeth let the inevitable conclusion sink in to her conscious mind. The truck, those people, the sense of those monsters that had first made her uneasy, back in the bakery? All meant one thing.

  The “bad animals” had come from the Community.

  * * *

  Surrounded by tall stalks of corn, Josh lay on his side, panting with the effort of trying to control the pain. The ground was hard and surprisingly cold, and there were dry sticks digging into his side. His clothing was damp with sweat and blood, not all of it his, but enough to worry him.

  If the beasts followed him, they would be able to track him by scent alone. Had he left any alive to
follow? He couldn’t remember. Normally his memory was sharp no matter what form he was in; his mind remained much the same as Josh or Mustang. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The cat’s snarls, the sting of claws, the hairy arm coming down on him from behind, the overwhelming feeling of fear not for himself but for others....

  Elizabeth. And Maggie. Were they safe? They had gone up a tree. But they had come down again. He remembered that, remembered seeing Elizabeth starting toward him, concern written on her lovely face, those expressive eyes, and he had warned her to stay put...hadn’t he? He thought he had shouted, but of course he couldn’t, not in Mustang form.

  Were they safe? It was the dominant question in his mind now, shutting out even the pain in his ribs and the queasy sensation in his stomach, and the worry that someone might be searching for him, ready to bring down a club or claw and snuff out the last bit of daylight. If the girls were safe, he could accept that. If only he knew they were safe....

  There was a rustling in the plants, somewhere behind him, and Josh’s fingers closed in the dirt, trying to find something, anything that could be used as a weapon. But there was only loam and weeds, and the effort used up the last of his strength.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I tried...”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Elizabeth’s voice, filled with soft horror. At him?

  “Maggie,” he managed to say. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Elizabeth knelt next to him, her newly shortened hair falling in her face. He wanted to see that sweet mouth, to touch it one last time.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” she said, and he realized he had vocalized that last bit. He was confused again...he could speak? He was in human form. He had shifted back. In Mustang form he could think whatever he wanted and it couldn’t be spoken, but he rarely spoke in human form when he was away from his people, preferring to watch and listen rather than participate. He had told stories to Maggie, sitting there in the train car, so he wouldn’t blurt what was in his head to Elizabeth.