Shift

Note: Shift will be posted in a series of short chapters as I write them. Also, please bear with me, as it has been years and years since I’ve really written anything.

The ground was cold and wet beneath his paws. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, filling the forest with a gray mist that hung heavy in the cold air and made it difficult to see. He didn't need to see, however; he could smell the fear, hot and sour against the musk of the forest. The wolf slinked forward as silently as a shadow, his muddy paws barely whispering against the wet leaves. He crouched low against the ground, every muscle taunt with anticipation.

Ahead of him, beneath the brush, an ear twitched. The movement was slight, nearly imperceptible, but it was all he needed. His powerful haunches sprang into action and before the rabbit could so much as turn to run it was snapped between his teeth.

His prize claimed, he bounded off through the forest whence he came, through brush and bog, leaping easily over fallen trees and streams alike. Brambles lashed at him, but his thick coat turned them harmlessly away. He knew every corner of these woods, every cave and tree, and he did not need his keen nose to guide him back to his home. Even still, he could smell the smoke of hearths and the musky stench of sheep above the rich earthy smells of the forest and the hot copper tang of blood. Soon the woods fell away to open fields, and once he had crested the big hill- and nearly startled the poor shepherd boy to death- he could see the little cluster of brick and timber houses that composed his nameless village. His was towards the outskirts, not far from the mill on the creek. He slowed his pace to a trot as he approached.

On the porch, a young woman was sharpening a skinning knife against a whetstone. Her eyes- pale and green, like his- were intent on the edge, and for a moment she did not see him approach. She was pretty, in a rugged sort of way. Her red hair was braided and pinned back behind her long pointed ears, her arms corded with muscle and her slender hands covered in small scars. She was older than him, stronger and braver as well. It seemed a shame that she hadn't gotten his gift- but then, perhaps she simply did not need it. The gods were wise like that, he had been told. But that had been before Ederin and Sorael had died, before the little one had come into the world blue and silent and unmoving.

"Fendril!" The girl beamed at him, shaking the knife at him in a manner that would have seemed threatening from anyone else. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd run off to."

He sat and dropped the rabbit at her feet in answer. The girl looked pleased.

"Rabbit stew it is, then." She set the whetstone down and picked up the rabbit. "Fat one, too. Well, go change and clean up while I fix dinner."

He stood and stretched, spreading the toes on his paws, feeling them begin to elongate, the blunt black claws shrinking back into small flat nails. His thick, shaggy coat thinned and began to disappear, as did his tail, and the brilliant chaos of smells and sounds all around him dimmed and faded.