The Hunters, 6

Although Zeek felt friendship for her, as he knocked on her door his hindbrain clearly registered she was an aggressive predator, much higher on the food chain than he.  When she opened the door, he hopped back carefully trying not to run like prey.  Her brown eyes were lion golden, not human at all though the rest of her looked human. Her tawny colored hair flowed down her back well below her shoulders, her skin glowed with a healthy sun tanned cast as she stood in the doorway in rumpled blue jeans and deep blue cable knit sweater. Her feet were bare but then Zeek remembered she had heated bamboo floors in her loft. Despite the fact that she was five foot eight, she slouched rather like she was getting ready to pounce.  Zeek squeeked, “Annie.”  Stepping slowly backwards, she reached her hand out grabbing him by the front of his green flannel shirt and pulled him inside.

“What on earth is the matter with you?”  Zeek grimaced closing his eyes as his hand pointed to her fist on his crumpled shirt. ”Are you all right?”  Zeek opened his eyes to look at her.  “Your eyes are kind of lion like.”  He hunched over anticipating claws forming and coming at him.

“Oh,” Annie let go of his shirt.  “Sorry, haven’t been eating right.”  She backed away.  “C’mon in.  I’m making breakfast.”

Zeek swallowed.  Annie had never invited him in before.  Did she not want witnesses to him being breakfast?  He hazarded a glance around her place which was small, probably 850 square feet and furnished in a small couch and  two chairs of ivory-hued natural leather, a shaggy sandy brown carpet, oiled teak accent pieces and sage green wall paint.  The natural stone granite kitchen counter held a carton of farm fresh eggs, a slab of freshly smoked bacon, and a loaf of multi-grain bread.  She’d just been making coffee.

The Hunters, 5

Annie padded over to the entryway of her loft as she heard the staccato rap of Zeek’s knock.  Inhaling in several shallow breaths, she tried to lessen the delicious smell of prey, though she had to admit Zeek had a rather disenchanting unwashed odor to him.  In the moments that it took for Annie to  reach out for the doorknob, she drifted into her memories of moving through the shifter forest.  Wonderful memories: the sound of the ocean pounding against the erratic shore line, the cold damp winds of early spring, the forest of shifters all swaying with spring pregnancies.  She guarded well the secret that not all shifters were animal or even quite sentient.  She pictured the redwood tree, all shaggy bark, grounded in strength and great age.  Only rarely did the redwood shift, but when it did,  it displayed such wisdom and patience.  She steadied herself knowing that it was against Pack Law to eat another shifter and opened the door.

The Hunters, 4

Annie closed her eyes as she remembered the moment when Zeek rose up in front of her, risking his own life to save the deer and to save her from breaking Pack Law. She was new to the city having just moved from the Midwest where Pack Laws were far more feral.”Brave for a rat,” she whispered. As it turned out, she had developed a tenuous friendship with Zeek.  Time to time he sniffed her out, told her how it was on the streets, even offered her information which helped her do her job.  He was too small to be of culinary interest to her, well unless she was really hungry.  Kind of like she felt right now–that gnawing feeling in her stomach.  The only thing she had caught last week was a bug that had her throwing up unable to even look at food without gagging.  Between bouts of fever, Annie had been wondering all week what kind of bug would affect a shifter.  Now, Annie sipped her tea and tried to shake off the feeling that an appetizer to dinner was about to knock on her door.

The Hunters, 3

Zeek trembled as he stood up to the mountain lion.  Urine dripped down his leg as he stared into the brutal open mouth. With one swipe of its giant paw, it could slice him in pieces. He was only a small rat, but he was capable of much: slipping into corners, listening to conversations, seeing things many could not. But at the moment, he cowered, bending his head in as submissive a posture as he could and closing his eyes as the mountain lion lunged toward him.  He yelped, “stop, stop, please stop,”  He peed again.

By the time he quit shaking enough to pry open his eyes, he faced a lion with a closed mouth and a curious expression.  Taking a deep breath, Zeek spread his arms wide taking in the deer that was still held in a frozen posture behind him.  ”Eek,” Zeek swallowed and cleared his throat.  ”I mean, O Great Mountain Lion,” he stepped back gingerly. The mountain lion extended its head and sniffed the air around Zeek.  Clearing his throat again, Zeek mumbled, “The deer is a shifter.” He bobbled his head up and down in a nervous bowing motion, “and Pack Law prohibits wild killings of other shifters in the city limits.”  The mountain lion padded closer to Zeek cocking its head to one side.

The Hunters, 2

Annie drifted in and out of sleep curled up on the window seat of her third floor loft.  The sun occasionally peaked through the gray clouds as water drizzled down her window sill. It would be another day of endless wet gray rain.  Winter in the Pacific Northwest.  Lazily she opened her eyes scanning the city block below. Her gaze settled on Zeek who was streaking down the street in his erratic hyperactive gait.  Annie noticed the intent in his eyes as they roamed the face of her building and she could see his hands crumpled around a dirty piece of paper. She recalled the night their paths had crossed.  It was a blue moon, the second full moon of the month and it was shining clear and bright.  The evening was cool and dry, early fall. The scarlet leaves on the maple trees tingled with color. Even at full dark, Annie could discern their vibrant color.  She headed into the city park, which encompassed eighty acres on the side of a foothill overlooking the city. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the heavy pine smell of the forest along with the damp, musty odor of the forest floor.

Crouching low, she invited the shift.  Her mountain lion roared as its spirit slammed into her.  In a violent moment, Annie’s nature expanded, becoming more mountain lion than human. She would hunt tonight feeling the joy of the chase, teeth and claws crunching into warm flesh, ripping the throat of prey and lapping the warm juice spurting from a still pumping heart. Staring into the dark with new eyes, Annie saw it in stark relief just beyond a stand of hundred foot Douglas fir–a deer, silent, frozen in caution.  Annie crouched lower taking one silent step, stopping, assessing, then another step as she glided toward the deer.  She was six feet away when she bunched her strength into the back of her legs.  As she launched herself at the deer, the largest rat she had ever encountered zipped in front of her standing up on its hind legs glaring at her.

The Hunters, 1

Zeek twitched his whiskers in irritation.  Trying to sleep in late was hard enough without the crumpled edge of a newspaper fluttering at one’s whiskers. Zeek pried open one eye.  ”I’m not getting up,” he mumbled as he reached up a hand and tossed the newspaper aside.  If the hazy sun was any indication, it was well past eleven in the morning.  Gray low hanging clouds scudded across the sky threatening a drizzle.  ”I hate mornings.”  Zeek talked to no one as he tried rolling over pulling his knees up to his chest to keep in the warmth.  Living on the streets had its advantages but sleeping in wasn’t one of them.  A car sped by splashing him with dirty road run off.  ”O.K. O.K. I’m up.”  Zeek rubbed both eyes as he sat up.  The morning still looked blurry to him.  What was it he was doing last night? ”Oh, yah, reading.” Reading all of the bits and pieces of paper that blew in his direction in the evening.  Sometimes, like  last night, he read a juicy bit that  someone else did not mean to throw away, that shouldn’t have been lost.  Zeek had boxes of these buried in hidey-holes throughout the city. He’d have to see Annie about this one he read.  Stretching himself up to his full six feet, he rolled his shoulders back to get rid of the kinks.

Now then, breakfast.  Scanning the city street, he checked on the weather situation.  He could smell the air heavy with moisture.  ”Maybe a downpour today.” he said out loud.  Best to get underneath something.  But first, he would share his find with Annie and maybe score a hot breakfast.  Zeek smiled revealing an unnerving array of sharp teeth. His nose was a long, sleek almost ratlike structure that dominated his wrinkled face. Greasy brown hair liberally salted with gray fell down below his shoulders in stringy layers.  He tucked his green flannel shirt into his worn dark brown corduroy pants and pulled his old navy wool pea jacket around his shoulders.  Maybe he could even afford a hotel room tonight with a bath.  He hadn’t had one of those in a long time.  Zeek sniffed.  ”And I know who did it.  I have the proof right here.”  Crumpling up the paper in his pocket to reassure himself that he still had the evidence, Zeek limped off in the general direction of Stark Street where Annie lived.

Dragon Justice, 18

Dragon was vexed–happy to be flying and capturing his own meals, puzzled why this fairy would sneak after him.  Hiding in the treetop branches, the little dragon watched as the fey tracked closer to him.  The intruder was tall for a fey with wind-blown black hair and light gray eyes that scanned the forest below him. His wings were charcoal in color spanning the full length of his body. His skin glowed a lighter gray resembling polished marble, with traces of silver running throughout.  He arced his wings behind him in graceful waving motions that the dragon envied. His feet were tucked underneath him as he flew providing less wind resistance.  Why hadn’t Dragon thought of that, so much energy saved when struggling to fly through uncertain spring up drafts.  As the fey drew closer, Dragon reached out a claw catching the fey on the leg as he passed overhead.  The fey stumbled in the air, pulling his wings behind him while shooting his feet and arms out to forestall a crash into the trees.  Dragon winced as branches slipped through the fey’s fingers for several feet until the creature could grip one large branch which not only broke his fall but also seemed to pull the muscles in his shoulder.

Looking up, he spied the dragon who appeared to be laughing in a feral, uncomfortable sort of way.  Grey stared at the dragon frowning and clenching his fists.

Uncurling his claws from the branch, Dragon glided toward the fey.

Cowboy, 7

Grey settled into his seat at the end of the bar nursing his third honeyed beer.  Although it was a spring day, the wind whipped chill air down from the mountains as night settled on the village. The pink haze of the  evening light suffused the room with a friendly glow.  Grey surveyed the others in the room. Whiskers, the owner, wiped the bar with a well-used towel while absentmindedly twirling his red whiskers with his free hand.  He was known as a temperate man which made his running of the bar a curiosity.  Sitting on the end stool was the blacksmith having his usual end of the day one-hop beer.   His massive arms visibly relaxed as he drank.  As Grey observed, he felt a prickling in the air.  Something disturbed him–some feeling that was suddenly in the air around him–something other, foreign.  No one else seemed to notice.  Alerted, Grey scanned the barn wood walls and the tin ceiling.  The four tables were empty save for Whiskers and the blacksmith but something had come through the door.  He was sure of it.  He swore he noticed a shadow pass by him: it was a large shadow melting into the dark green patina of the wooden walls.

Cowboy, 6

Sighing, Adem rolled his shoulders back releasing a tingling he felt.  He turned his head slightly to the right before he clicked his tongue signaling his horse to trot forward. He hadn’t yet explored the upper end of the lake shore and there was still daylight remaining.

Mel’ne held her breath as the man’s head turned.  Her hand was inches from his scapula.  As he cantered away, she sank back down into the grasses of the meadow alert to the sounds of the hoof beats and the soughing of the wind through the trees.  She watched him for moments before she stood upright and looped off toward the mountains.  Her breathing slowed as she shifted from gluts to quads in order to set her pace.  Switching her eyesight from scanning the horizon to telescopic, Mel’ne found the nearest settlement and aimed for it.

Nestled in the mountains, the town looked large enough for her purposes.  It would afford the anonymity she would need to gather data and reconfigure her systems to blend in with the life forms here. But which one?  She could also begin scanning the environment for raw ingredients and, with any luck, technology to help her damaged ship.  Picking up her pace, she settled in for the run.  Maybe four hours would bring her to the town in full darkness.  She smiled.

Dragon Justice, 17

Gray studied the dragon as it soared through a series of strong uncertain gusts of spring wind with the ease of a practiced flyer. “Could this dragon be trained as a fighter, would it carry a rider?” Gray wondered.  Dragons who did were rare.  Rarer still was a dragon bonding with a fey since neither species could be trusted. Still, it had followed Darius home.  It had eaten from her hand without biting it off.  What does this portend, a wingless fairy befriending a newly born dragon–no less a dragon abandoned by its parent while still in the egg?

Unaware of the Gray,  Dragon shifted his right wing tipping the feathery scales into a lazy downward spiral.  Scampering below him was a fine fat squirrel. Dragon licked his lips, reached out his talons and dived scooping up the squirrel and chomping down in one swift movement.  With two powerful strokes of his wings, he soared back into the sky and headed toward the forest village and Darius.  He wanted nothing more than to curl by the fairy’s fireplace and sleep in safety,until he noticed the fey flying in the distance.  He adjusted his height so he was low over the trees as he entered the forest.  Silently, he dipped into the tree line, sinking his claws into a branch to  balance himself as he hid while waiting for the fey to come near.