A dream shifted, led Jesse back to the waking world; he opened his eyes on moonlight.
The dream had been very vivid, his dreams often were in Haven, but the nature of it now escaped him, leaving only the memory of intense joy.
He uncoiled himself, regarded his own hand against the white sheet in the bright pale light. He'd never, he felt sure, truly looked at himself before. His body... what was it? Bone and skin, blood and muscle, but what made it his, made it obey his thoughts, made it exist in this form? Slowly, he closed his hand, relaxed it, entranced by the subtle shifting under the skin. He kicked off the blankets, sprawled on his back, stretched languorously; without conscious thought, his hands caressed his body, and somehow his own touch brought him pleasure that made him sigh to himself, eyes closing again. Yet it was easy to imagine he could feel the moonlight, cool fingers playing over his skin, calling to him.
Outside, there'd be no glass between him and the moon.
He got up, wrapped a black magesilk blanket around himself like a cloak, and opened his door quietly. As soundlessly as he could, he made his way downstairs. It was late April, the air was cool, but he didn't care; he spread the blanket near the fountain, and sat down on it. Curiously, he began to explore himself, as one might a new lover, every touch and every sight new and fascinating. The wind brought him tantalizing new scents he'd never imagined, couldn't identify, yet some stirred deep instincts. Earth and wind and moon were one, and he was one with them, everything around him and inside him had always been there yet he'd been blind to it.
He laid back, hands never still; the moon was his lover, the ultimate partner, this wasn't the quick sexual release he knew, this was loving the moon and in the doing loving himself, which was another matter entirely...
The sharper pleasure of climax, he heard himself cry out. Delicious peace wrapped around him, and he relaxed utterly into it, nothing in him prepared to resist.
The only disruption was the wind and his shivering because of it. The thought of going inside and getting dressed made him wrinkle his nose in distaste; he curled up, bare back to the wind, mind busy with the problem.
A simple thought made muscles tighten or loosen, changing shape. Surely, in the magic of the moon, thought could create greater changes? His instincts told him yes, that was the way, the best solution. All he had to do was close his eyes and reach deep down inside to the place where his instincts dwelled, and wish with all his being and feeling and needing.
Pain shuddered through him, but pleasure as well, he accepted both joyfully as his body warped itself into a different form, a form it had never taken yet which it knew right down to every cell, it was agony and it was bliss and it was for this he'd searched, for the incredible feeling of being finally truly whole...
He writhed around, got his feet under him, all four of them, and though he swayed a bit he stood up, shook himself. Much better, the wind could ruffle his heavy black fur without chilling him. The sounds and the scents were so dizzyingly strong, calling to him, how could he ever have not noticed them before?
Walking on four feet took practice, but he caught on, then tried lengthening his strides into a run, and discovered another joy: the easy strength of lupine muscles, tensing and releasing, four feet hitting the ground in a rhythm that carried him at a speed all out of proportion to the effort involved. He raced madly all over the yard, his body zigzagging to avoid obstacles before his mind consciously registered them; he gathered himself, lunged over a lawn chair without touching it and caught his stride again on the other side.
Under a tree, he picked up a stick, pranced a few yards away to fling it skywards with a toss of his head, then chased it to repeat the game. After a number of tries, he grew quick enough to sometimes snatch it right out of the air. Playfully, he snapped at his own bushy tail, chased it around and around until he collapsed giddily to the muddy ground, panting. After a moment, he loped back to the fountain, jumped up to place his front feet on the rim and lap thirstily at the cold clean water. Then off he went again.
This time he investigated scents. One he found over and over his instincts identified as alpha wolf, but he knew too that he had permission to be in the alpha wolf's territory. Other scents wended their ways across the yard, ended at trees or holes. By sniffing at the picnic table, he could pick up so many scents, surely if he knew them all he'd be able to know everyone who had touched it for days.
Following a trail, he hesitated at the gate. Here in the yard it was safe; out there, anything could happen.
The moon wanted him to go, to run far and free, to explore this new world he'd been given. No walls, he didn't need walls to protect him, or his leather and denim, or anything else, only himself.
He wavered a moment longer, turned away from the yard, allowed the enticing scent to lead him out into the wild woods.
Eventually, he lost that trail, but that didn't matter. So much lived in the woods, he'd never dreamed half of it! Scurrying things and flying things and prowling things, a neighbour's cat he came across dining on something she'd caught... suddenly everything was alive, and he belonged here as part of it. He stalked a hare, wriggling on his belly in the mud, but when he pounced it fled and he couldn't catch it.
He wandered blissfully until weariness caught up with him. A little searching found him a place to curl up, half-under a fallen tree and out of the wind, and he slept.
* * *
Kevin came down to the kitchen, found the kettle plugged in and the inner door open, and no sign of Bane. That was uncommon: though Bane, like most wolves, had learned to need only a few hours of sleep, he was also frequently up late enough that Kevin was out of bed before him. And what was so interesting outside at this hour? He pushed the screen door open, and stepped onto the porch.
Hanging over the rail were Bane's robe, worn more for warmth than modesty and soon to be discarded for the summer, and a black magesilk blanket, a colour he'd done only for Jess.
Growing concerned, he sought out his lupine coven-mate mentally, and sent a query.
*I'll be back in a minute,* Bane answered; he sounded satisfied over something. *Nothing's wrong, go have breakfast, I'll be in soon.*
*Jess?*
A silent laugh echoed in his thoughts. *I do believe the moon was running high in someone's blood last night.*
Oh? Now that was interesting! Contrary to popular belief, the full moon was unrelated to wolf shapechanging. However, if the moon were bright and a wolf in the right emotional state, it could have a powerful effect. Some called it moon-madness; wolves called it making love with the moon, and rarely discussed it in much depth.
Cynthia joined him while he took cups from the cupboard, no more awake than he had been until he repeated his brief conversation with Bane.
“He's okay?” she said excitedly, eyes widening.
“Would seem so.”
True to his word, not long later Bane came in, naked and mud-splattered, but he looked pleased as he sat at the table across from Cynthia. Kevin pushed his usual cup of tea towards him.
“So? Where's Jess?” Cynthia asked.
“Beats me,” Bane laughed, reaching for the sugar. “Anywhere in the township, by now. I was out trying to track him. I know one wolf-cub who had a hell of a time out in the yard last night—scent trails go every-which-way so much I can't untangle them. One trail matches a hare's, he followed it out the north gate, then it doesn't come back. I tracked him for a good half-mile or more, and it goes all over the place.”
“He changed?”
“Yes.” That explained the intense satisfaction. “Jess is out there on four feet somewhere, I predict thoroughly worn out and asleep by now.”
“That's wonderful! The key part is 'somewhere', though. How are we going to find him?”
“We don't.”
“Oh, come on,” Kevin objected. “He doesn't know how to hunt, or anything else, really. And you want to leave him out there?”
“Yes. He'll be fine, he can find his way home when he wants to. I'll pass on the word to friendly wolves to keep an eye out for him, just in case he does need help, but I doubt it. He's even more of a survivor than most wolves. Let him go.”
Cynthia sighed. “This must be a wolf thing, because I don't understand. But all right. You'd know.”
“Everything's all right,” Bane assured her. “The moon wanted a lover last night, and it happened to time itself with Jess being ready to run. Everything's completely new, there are as many new things to explore as there are stars in the sky, and he's just been given all of it. Would you be in a hurry to come back to everyday life?”
Kevin echoed the sigh. “No, I suppose not. It's just second nature to worry about Jess these days.”
“Don't. He's probably happier than he's ever been.” He looked down at his cup, and smiled. “I almost envy him. He gets to find everything for the first time, instead of just growing up knowing it. Ah, well.” He stood up, went to the phone, pressed one of the memory buttons, and waited. “'Morning, Liam. Is Eva around? I have something important to tell her. No, I can't tell you to tell her—get her. She'll forgive you, I promise.”
* * *
Twilight.
Jesse woke, untangled himself from his bed, and stretched lazily before relieving himself a short distance from his den. He was hungry, he had to find something to eat, that was of primary importance right now.
He saw hares, learned to identify their scent, most often at the edges of the wooded areas, but he lacked the skill to catch the swift creatures. There were largish birds that liked to run around on the ground but they were hard to spot and tended to explode noisily into the air, disturbing everything in range. He had better success with a few mice and a squirrel, much to his delight, and devoured each. That wasn't enough, so he kept searching. He came across a stream, paused for a long drink, that helped a little.
Where could he find food?
He had more sense than to challenge the porcupine he met up with, after it bristled its quills and turned its tail towards him.
There must be something he could catch!
He came to the stream again, and a patch of tender green grass; instinct gave him a nudge, and he snatched a few bites of that. Tasteless, but it helped fill his stomach.
He laid down there in the grass, pondering this dilemma. Food was all around him, now how could he make use of that? Since he didn't have experience or a teacher, he'd just have to use his wits.
There was one highway of note that ran through the township. Maybe he could find a meal waiting for him?
He wasn't sure how he oriented himself and found the right direction, but the one he went in he was certain would take him to it. Deer trails and people paths let him lope at a more or less steady pace most of the distance.
He skirted around houses and farms, finally reached the highway, followed it. When cars drove by, he flattened himself against the ground in the shadow of a bush or rock and effectively disappeared, thanks to his black coat. He ranged some distance, was about to give up when he smelled something. All was quiet; he darted across the highway to inspect it. A groundhog, he thought, and not long dead, perhaps sometime that afternoon. He carried it farther from the highway, tore into it ravenously, ate everything except a few noxious-smelling innards and the bones.
There, much better.
The sun was creeping over the horizon by the time he finished. On a hilltop he found a huge flat rock, unshaded by trees, and laid down to lick away what he could of the mud and bite at the burrs tangled in his heavy fur. The sun felt good, black absorbed the heat and carried it to his bones. He finally gave up, rested his head on his paws, and drowsed away the afternoon in pleasant dreams.
