Blood Moon

by Blood Moon (Lit)

  Holding her breath, she stabbed at the open water again and found that it was not nearly as deep as she’d feared it might be. When she tried to get up, she broke through. The freezing water snatched her breath from her lungs. She struggled--to get up, to catch her breath, floundering in the knee deep water until she was soaked to the skin without a dry thread to her name.

  Finally, she managed to get her feet under her and, using the branch, levered herself up until she was standing. Finally, she managed to draw in short, panting breaths.

  Her boots had filled with water when she’d fallen. With her first step, water gushed up and out of them.

  She found she could not cross. Each time she stepped up on the ice, it broke beneath her weight. The baying of the wolves was far more distinguishable than it had been before she tumbled down the ravine into the stream. She wasn’t certain of how long she had struggled in the icy slush, but she knew it was far too long.

  Turning, she began to make her way downstream, trying to put some distance between her and the wolf pack. When she had rounded a bend and was out of sight, she tried once more to cross, still with no luck.

  She could not feel her feet. It felt as if she was walking on stumps, except that pain shot up her legs each time she stepped down and her knees threatened to buckle. She was panting so loudly by now, she had to hold her breath to listen for sounds of pursuit, but she knew they were closing in on her.

  Frantically, she searched the edge of the stream for a place to hide, a tree to climb.

  The banks were slick with snow and ice. Here and there a small tree, perhaps as big around as her thigh, grew, but she could not climb anything so flimsy and it would do her no good if she could. If her own weight did not bend it double, it would take no more than a push to bring her down, or shake her from the precarious perch. Further up the bank, she saw that there were larger trees, but she doubted she could reach them in time, or climb them if she could, for she saw none with branches low enough she could hope to grab a handhold and pull herself up.

  As she rounded yet another bend in the stream, however, her situation went from very bad, to catastrophic. A small, mostly frozen, waterfall blocked the mouth of the stream. Aslyn stared at it in dismay, realizing she had trapped herself.

  She could hear the wolves behind her, knew they’d reached the stream and were searching for her scent. Any moment, they would discover that she had not crossed and they would be on her. Casting around frantically, she saw that the banks were steeper here even than those she’d already passed.

  Trying to be quiet no longer seemed an issue. She began to struggle toward the nearest bank, breaking ice as she went, slipping, falling. She heard them behind her before she ever managed to reach the bank and turned, staring in frozen horror as they rounded the bend in the stream and came into view.

  It was like a vision from hell. They were mounted upon horses as men, but it was the eyes of wolves that looked out at her from wolf faces and claws that held the reins. She thought for several moments that it was a trick of shadow, or that, perhaps, they had donned the hides of wolves. As the leader lifted his head and bayed, however, she realized that they had shifted into part man, part wolf.

  The sound made the hair at the base of her skull prickle and sent a shaft of panic through her. She screamed as they leapt from the horses. Whirling, she struggled to climb the bank. When she saw she was making no progress, she leapt to her feet and raced mindlessly toward the waterfall. She discovered when she reached it that the half formed intention of climbing it was an impossibility. The water had frozen over in flow, forming a slick curtain of ice from the top to the base, where it had mushroomed into frozen curls. It could not be more than eight to ten feet high, but it might just as well have been fifty. She could find no handhold to climb.

  Slowly, she turned to face the men/beasts. They shifted as she watched, becoming men. At a signal from their leader, they spread out across the stream. Lord Algar grinned at her. “I’ve always enjoyed a good chase. We’ll have to do this again sometime, just for the sport of it. But right now, we must be on our way.”

  Aslyn could only stare at him in horror and revulsion, so frozen with fear and cold from the icy water her jaw was locked in spasms of chills. As she stared at him, however, too panicked to even think of how she might escape him, something large and dark leapt from above her, landing in the stream between her and Algar.

  Dark as it was, she knew him instantly, and hope surged through her as his men, following his lead, landed on either side of them, spreading out across the stream as Algar’s men had, facing the wolf men.

  “Renegades, we have been charged by High Chief, Renoir, to bring you to justice for your crimes against the people,” Kale said coldly.

  Algar’s face contorted into a mask of rage. He spat at Kale’s feet. “We do not recognize Renoir as our High Chief any longer! We’re of no mind to obey his laws.”

  “Our laws,” Kale corrected. “It is not your choice to decide which laws you will obey and which you will not. You have endangered the entire clan by your actions. You will be tried by the people for your crimes against them.”

  Algar roared. “We will face trial by combat … now!” He dropped to the ice on all fours. Around him, his men did like wise. As Aslyn watched, they shifted, their bodies changing form and contour, splitting the man clothing they wore so that she could see the fur that sprang from their skin.

  Kale, too, dropped to all fours. Aslyn stared at him a moment, then, stunned, turned to look at the men with him. They, too, had dropped. As she watched, they shifted to beasts all around her—wolves, bears, cats. When she turned to look at Kale again, a large snow fox stood where he had knelt only moments before. Almost as one, they roared a challenge at the werewolves they faced.

  Aslyn staggered back in shock as they launched themselves into battle, roaring, swinging great paws studded with wicked claws, their sharp teeth bared and gleaming in the meager light the stars in the heavens offered.

  Two wolves leapt upon the bear nearest her. With a roar, the bear swatted the wolf that leapt at his throat, sending it flying. The wolf’s head struck her shoulder in flight, knocking her to her knees in the icy stream. The blow didn’t hurt that badly, but it broke through her shocked paralysis enough that she began scrambling toward safety as the battle waged around her, wolves, bears and cats locked in a fight to the death.

  A wolf landed, snarling, in front of her. Even as he leapt for her throat, however, his wickedly sharp teeth bared, a white blur collided with him. The fox’s jaws locked on the wolf’s throat, ripping away a chunk of flesh and fur. Blood spurted from the wound, spraying Aslyn across the face and chest. She screamed, nearly gagging, wiping frantically at the blood.

  Whirling away, she struggled in the opposite direction, dodging the beasts that fought all around her, swaying, skidding on the ice as they leapt with bared teeth to rend flesh and shatter bone. A cat crashed to the ice just to her left, rolling with the wolf that was snapping and tearing at it. The two combatants collided with her, knocking her down. She gasped as the icy water splashed over her. Before she could get to her feet, the whirling fighters caught her again.

  As she scrambled to crawl away from them a shadow fell over her. When she whirled to see the newest threat, she discovered one of the great bears was standing over her. Reaching down, he scooped her up with one arm, holding her against his furry chest. She fought and clawed at the beast, struggling to break free even as he lumbered across the ice with her.

  He dropped her onto a mound of snow as they reached the stream bank and Aslyn whirled to flee, expecting any moment to feel the crushing weight of his jaws, or a blow from one of his great paws. When neither came, she spared a glance backward and discovered the bear had turned away. He stood just below her, as if guarding her from the battle still being waged on the ice below her.

  Aslyn hesitated, wondering if it was safe to stay, but as she glanced out over the carnage of the battle, fear and revu
lsion spawned renewed panic and she turned away, climbing. She had no destination in mind when she reached the top of the bank at last. She only knew she could not stay. She had to get as far away as she could.

  She had not even gained the edge of the forest that surrounded the stream when something huge slammed into her back. Blackness clouded her mind and sight as the impact of the blow propelled her forward and her head cracked against something hard and unyielding.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aslyn roused slightly as she felt the warmth of hands, turning her over, wrapping something around her. With an effort she lifted her eyelids fractionally. Kale’s worried face swam before her vision. Satisfied that she was safe, she closed her eyes again, enjoying the warmth that was slowly seeping into her frozen bones.

  Dimly, she heard voices around her; men’s voices, talking, groaning in pain; and the soft wicker of horses, and the shuffle of hooves against packed snow. She moaned when she was lifted abruptly, feeling pain shoot through her skull and claw its way through her body.

  When she became aware again, she realized that she was on a horse and the warmth against her cheek was Kale’s chest. The steady beat of his heart comforted her and she was tempted to simply drift off again, but something nagged at her, something that she needed to tell him. “Can’t go back. Burned the cottage,” she mumbled with an effort.

  His arms tightened around her. “I know. I’m taking you home.”

  She smiled at the word, realizing there had never been a sweeter one, or one more cherished.

  * * * *

  Aslyn woke to find herself in a strange bed. As groggy and sluggish as her mind was, she was in no doubt of that. Blinking, she looked around the dim room in confusion, wondering where she was, how she’d come to be there.

  She discovered that Kale was propped in the bed beside her, watching her.

  She stared at him a long moment. “Where am I?”

  “Home.”

  She frowned, more confused than ever. “The cabin? This doesn’t….”

  He shook his head. “Our home.”

  Aslyn sat up abruptly, discovering in the process that she was naked. Grasping the cover, she clutched it over her breasts. Her head swam at the sudden movement and she lifted one hand to press it against the throbbing pain. “How? What happened?”

  Gripping her shoulders, he pushed her gently back until she was lying with her head on the pillows behind her. “My men and I captured the renegades and brought them home to stand trial.”

  Aslyn rubbed her head. “There was a battle….” Her eyes flew open and she stared at Kale. “I didn’t imagine it, did I?”

  Kale frowned a look of uncertainty crossing his features. “No.”

  “You’re….”

  “A werebeast.” He lay back, staring up at the ceiling. “I can not undo what I’ve done, Aslyn. In truth, I confess I feel no remorse for it, though I am sorrier than I can say that it has been the cause of so much pain and hardship for you.”

  Aslyn turned her head to stare at him uncomprehendingly. “I don’t understand.”

  Kale rolled onto his side again. Reaching over her, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. She remembered then. It was the hand the snow fox.… Kale had bitten her. She tried to snatch her hand back, but he held it. Rubbing the fresh marks with one finger, he then traced the pale, white scars beneath them.

  He looked into her eyes. “I was only a youth myself when I saw you the first time. In my eyes, I saw a tiny princess and in that moment decided to claim you for my own. I marked you. It was not Algar, but it was my mark that led him to you.”

  Aslyn frowned, trying to make sense of what he was saying and drawing a blank. It dawned upon her finally that the dream she’d dreamt for many years had been no dream at all. She had always thought the scars were from some long forgotten mishap as a child. She had never considered that the bite she remembered from her ‘dream’ had been real and the scar had been the result.

  “In truth, it was a child’s game I played then. I imagined you growing up to be a princess and myself as the knight who would come to steal you away, but even then I knew when I marked you that you could not escape the fate I’d given you. When you attained womanhood, your beast would take you.

  “My father punished me, of course, sent me to Renoir as squire, here in the valley of the clan. I thought that I had outgrown that childish infatuation. Perhaps, I had. But when I saw you on the road to Krackensled, I saw my mark upon your hand and knew your beast had led you to me.”

  “You made me a werebeast?” Aslyn said, trying to grasp the thought. She was a werefox, not a werewolf, not vicious, not one who preyed upon humans. Was it less revolting because she found she was not the same as Algar? Or was it less revolting because of her love for Kale?

  “Yes. I gave you the mark of the beast, my mark. The second mark was to warn Algar of my claim upon you … lest he think the beast who’d claimed you had released his claim. The third sealed your fate, binding you to me.”

  “Third?”

  “The night we made love, we mated for life.”

  Aslyn thought about that for several moments, searching in vain for indignation. “You did not give me a choice.”

  “No. I was … afraid you would choose another.”

  Aslyn frowned. “This is a very strange way to tell me you love me,” she said irritably.

  He turned to look at her, studied her a long moment and finally smiled. Reaching for her, he pulled her across his chest. “It is far more than loving. It is a mating of two souls.”

  Aslyn’s brows rose. “Just the same.”

  “You didn’t tell me you loved me,” he pointed out.

  Aslyn sniffed. “Mayhap I do … mayhap not. I was not wooed as I fully deserved.”

  Kale looked deeply into her eyes, then growled, rolling until she was beneath him. “Do not play your games with me, woman! Say it!”

  Aslyn chuckled. “I might, but only if I hear the words I want to hear.”

  “You’re a stubborn wench!”

  “That is not the three little words I want to hear!”

  “I ... love … you,” he growled.

  Aslyn thought about it. “That was not very prettily said, growling at me as if I was plucking the hair on your chest!”

  Kale cut her off by kissing her. She looked up at him dreamily when he released her at last. “You could always show me how much you adore me,” she said a little breathlessly.

  His golden eyes gleamed. “With all my heart,” he said.

  The End