Sneak Preview of Hunter’s Moon

Chapter 1

The Wolf

Tonight, the wolf’s appetite would finally be sated. A trickle of saliva ran down his tongue to slip between deadly teeth as he tilted his head to scent the air. He was wolfishly hungry and it was time for a feast. Four days had passed since he’d eaten more than a mouthful of mouse. That was far too many days for his kind to go without sustenance. It wouldn’t be long before he lost the battle with his hunger and went for bigger prey.

The only bigger prey around here walked on two legs.  

His meal was close, it’s wounded cries riding the breeze. Wolf hadn’t identified what it was yet but he knew it was injured. That throaty wailing indicated as much. It was that sound that drew him to his quarry. For many moons he roamed these trees—more moons than he was capable of counting, which only meant his mind was deteriorating further—and never saw prey that was as large as what he stalked now.

There was space for game in his woods but too much human activity discouraged it. Bustling roads surrounded him on all sides and wandering deer rarely made it across. Once he discovered a freshly killed fawn at the edge of the road but even with the draw of hunger he didn’t dare leave the shelter of his trees to fetch it. It was agony smelling that rich scent of flesh, still warm no doubt, and being too overcome with fear to approach.

That defeat only made tonight’s victory even sweeter. He found prey and he was given the opportunity to kill it too. As he moved swift and silent through the understory, his forepaws digging into the leafy ground, he whispered thanks to Earth Mother for providing for him in his time of need.

That mental utterance both soothed and distressed him. The ability to pray was the last scrap of man left within him. All other thoughts were ruled by the wolf. They came in rapid one and two word intervals.

Hunger. Hunt. Chase. Kill.

When they came in words at all, that was. Sometimes they were a strange mingling of physical sensation and emotion, swirling images that made sense to the wolf but bewildered the man. On rare occasions where the man within became lucid, those wolf thoughts unsettled him. They were too easy to get lost in. He couldn’t think straight when his brain spoke in instinct and experience.

One day soon the beast would finally consume him and all that would be left was wolf.

The innumerable smells left by people still masked the scent of his dinner but he couldn’t be far now. His growling stomach hoped it was deer, hit by a car and strong enough to run but too weak to survive. It didn’t sound like a deer though. It didn’t sound like any prey he had hunted before.

And it’s musical lamentation enchanted him unlike any other prey. The cries became a caress that drew him in like the pulsating threads of magic that tied his soul to the moon above. She was high in the sky now, curtained by thin clouds. Even the call of her silvery voice was not as strong as whatever creature was keening into the night.

The wolf hesitated as he neared the open field where he would find the wounded animal. In between whimpers, the prey was growling.

“… Jacob…stop. Get off me!” It snarled. She snarled. Wolf could see her now. It was the sound of people that drew him. Multiple people, not just the girl.

The other two were male. They reeked of chemical odors that mingled with spices and alcohol. It blended together into one headache inducing trail of fragrance. He quickly backpedaled into the shadow of the forest and crouched to take in the scene. The distant yellow glow of streetlights near the entrance to the park flashed in his peripherals, temporarily blinding him. Wolf blinked impatiently as his eyes readjusted to darkness.  

The three of them were on the ground. One male was seated and stooping awkwardly, the other hovering over the girl. The stooping man shaded her face but her flailing legs were clear beneath the one atop her. Her fear and distress was palpable. It danced teasingly across his lolling tongue and made the hunger for a chase, not a meal, grow stronger. Fear had become a tantalizing smell as of late.

Before he could catch himself he took two quicksteps forward. Then a voice rang out in his head—not his own, that one was never articulate as this one was—and he halted his advance. “We do not kill man.” The familiar voice commanded.  

Wolf no longer had a name or a face to put to that voice. It might as well have been a ghost hissing the words in his ear. Yet, somewhere deep in his gut both man and wolf knew it was a command that must be followed. It was the voice of law and even wolf hesitated to break it.

His proximity finally granted him a taste of the girl’s scent, barely detectable beneath the sharp odor of the males and her overpowering fear. He inhaled deeply, letting the perplexing fragrance blossom in his lungs. It truly did bloom like an ethereal flower into a marvelous scent that touched all of his senses, not just his keen nose.

She was made of honeysuckle, sweet and mouthwatering and filled with the vibrant delight of spring. She smelled of the earth too, rich soil teeming with life. And forest. The girl smelled of his forest. Not the one he stood in now but the one he ran through in his dreams. She was the forest from his dreams, only tangible. It didn’t make a lick of sense to man and yet it was so clear to wolf that he wanted to howl with joy.

The whimpering honeysuckle girl smelled like home.

He slunk closer to take in more of that familiar scent. Then he detected another odor that had him backpedaling and shaking his head madly. The urge to sneeze was nearly impossible to stifle and he had to hold his breath lest he give himself away. Neither man nor wolf could identify the astringent odor yet both were simultaneously terrified. It burned his lungs and sent blazing pain through his brain. He staggered up against a tree, panting frantically.

Witch. The voice of instinct said.

Even the word made him shudder and he was not entirely sure why. The pain in his head seared, blurring his vision. A sickening lurch that usually signaled the beginning of a change snapped his spine rigid. He froze, horrified and confused. There had been no change for many moons. He was only the beast now.

Somewhere deep inside of him, the man still lived, confined and half mad. It was not wolf’s fault, though man had often resented him for it. He was broken. What was once whole had been permanently splintered in two. Wolf and man, separated.

Witch. The wolf repeated, the word curling his lip in silent snarl.

There was pure hatred in that word. It wasn’t for the girl though. She carried that caustic magic taste on her skin but she was honeysuckle too. And she was his forest. There was a sudden rush of clarity and the agony from that awful aroma faded. The wolf quieted and the man rang out loud in his head.

She isn’t prey. He realized, enraged that he hadn’t seen what was happening before. Not my prey, but theirs. 

The girl was thrashing against the stooped man’s hold as the second man ran rough hands over her midriff. He muttered something to the stooped man with a chuckle. The law that forbade killing humans was forgotten. All was forgotten except the unbridled fury of wolf who is also man. He devoured that rage like flesh to fuel his strength. Then he launched himself at the one touching the honeysuckle girl…

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