Howl (8 page)

“True.” He nodded. “Anyway, I’m off to the
lumber yard with Gavin. We’re taking in some trees we felled this
morning so I might not see you before dinner.” He gave me a fist
bump before departing.

“I meet you by the creek at dark.” I hollered
just as the kitchen door shut.

*

As night fell heavy around the forest, I
slipped quickly through the trees. Heart racing with excitement, I
skipped over fallen branches and swatted away the gnats as they
encircled my face. I frequently told my family I was hunting but
instead I used my time to see Jaime. In reality it had been at
least two months since I’d been out running. I missed the feeling
of dashing through the trees, catching the scent of rabbit, deer,
foxes, and more, following the trails to their belly-filling
conclusion.

“Took you long enough.” Tristan sat on a
massive slab of worn-down rock along the creek’s edge which
surrounded the clearing I had just crossed. This was sacred space
to my family. Peaceful and secluded, there were no roads this far
into the forest. This was where we met to run, hunt, and gather
away from home. Better to control tracks leading to the house this
way.

Grinning, Tristan stood up and tore off his
shirt, running off into the shadows. Alone in the open field, I
slithered out of my sneakers and socks, then jeans. I slid my top
off and dropped it onto the crumpled pile. After unhooking my bra
and wiggling out of my panties, I stood for a moment in the open
clearing, naked, soaking up every noise of the surrounding forest.
Bubbling water over the creek bed, the scurrying of the opossums
and raccoons to my right, a cougar crying in the distance – no more
than a mile away.

I took a deep breath. This night was supreme.
The air was fresh and just cool enough to send a ripple of goose
bumps over my bare skin as a breeze floated past me. The Harvest
Moon was waning in its brilliance being a day past its peak. Still,
the silvery light illuminated the open field of patchy hay grass
and wildflowers before me on into the thickness of woods
beyond.

Even the sky above was clearer than it had
been for days. The storm that had brewed earlier in the week left
almost no evidence of it’s having been there at all. The ground
underfoot took in every drop of rain and kept it stingily stored
away, not allowing even the tiniest amount of mush or mud.

Everything felt clean and vibrant. The stench
of skunk cabbage by the creek’s edge competed with the sharpness of
wild onions and sweet plantain between my toes. The surrounding
forest itself give the impression of a singular, living being
opening her arms to welcome back her long-lost, wayward daughter. I
relished every moment.

Tristan’s howl echoed through the trunks of
trees, making its way to my still human ears. It was a call to
freedom, the thrill of the hunt, and the promise of an appetizing
meal of game. At this thought, my belly gurgled with hunger though
I had eaten dinner with my family mere hours before.

Without pause, I sprang forward, hands and
head first. The sizzling ripple of heat started in the core of my
stomach and made its way to the tips of my toes and fingers before
I had even landed. My pale hands now dusky fur covered paws, I
bounded after my brother under the sparkling sapphire sky.

Each fiber of muscle was injected with lactic
acid as I moved forward, faster, harder, longer. I had been
neglectful – not getting out running in almost two months wasn’t
good. I had so much pent up energy that yearned to be released and
my muscles ached from lack of use. As my paws clawed their way
through the brush and fallen leaves, I gave myself over to the
animal inside. I let go of my joys - recollections of smiles and
peals of laughter from those I loved - all consciousness of my
human world. Even Jaime’s face, so hauntingly comforting, grew
fainter until it dissolved completely into the background of my
memories. For a while, I forgot who I was and just let myself
be.

Ahead of me by no more than a few yards,
Tristan caught a fox trail. A low bark signaled me to pick up the
scent and track it. As the trail led us behind a small, rocky
mound, Tristan and I slowed to a near crawl. The fox we tracked led
us to his home. There would be more than one. We positioned
ourselves for attack and subsequent chase should the foxes attempt
to flee. It took less than a minute and the two of us each had a
small meal between our jaws.

Deeper into the forest, I caught a trail left
by the cougar I had heard before shifting. He was alone and
stalking a meal of his own. I howled to Tristan, tailing me now. A
cougar would make for a fantastic final course plus the added
advantage would be his willingness to give chase. Unlike wolves or
bears, which we never attack out of kinship and reverence,
respectively, mountain lions are in a whole different sphere. They
always run away and when you catch them, they fight with the
ferocity of an animal four times their size. The anticipation was
intoxicating.

Tristan and rounded another clearing, this
one with a ledge of rocks at its north-north western borders. He
didn’t need to signal me, I just knew how to proceed. I took the
long way around the clearing, giving the clearing enough berth to
avoid the wind catching my scent and tipping off the cougar.
Tristan and I diverged at this point, me to my path, him to the
southeastern entrance. Creeping to a spot on the ledge from which I
could monitor the scene below while remaining unseen by our prey, I
spied Tristan advancing. The cougar bounded away from my twin and
cornered itself not far from where I sat, patient as death. The
moment the cougar realized its chances of escape were zero it
pounced at Tristan, jaws baring glittering white teeth, claws
outstretched. I moved forward a foot or two and sprang down the
rocky cliff, mere feet from where the cougar once stood.

It was no match for us. But it put up a
valiant fight. I walked away with a gash several inches long and
half an inch deep across my right shoulder and into my chest.
Tristan’s hind leg had two, fairly superficial puncture wounds from
the cougar’s canines. To show our respect, we gave it a good death,
a quick snap of the neck. Neat and honest. I refused to play with
my food as many of my kind do.

The meat was unbelievably satisfying. After
going months on a vegetarian diet, fresh meat hit the spot. The
blood was warm and coppery as each bite slid over my tongue and
down my throat. It was heavy in my gut. I was just a hair slower
after polishing off my kill. Tristan and I, tummies contented,
started for home.

Upon to returning to my clothing pile, I
shifted back to human form. The gash burned terribly in a way that
had been more bearable in my wolf form. As a human though, it took
plenty of concentration to not focus solely on the pain. Before
dressing, I headed to the creek to wash off the cougar’s blood from
my face. Not that it would matter really because my wound bled
quite profusely. Still, I didn’t want blood all over my face and
neck as well.

Pulling my bra on with only one strap to hold
it up, I carefully avoided touching my gash. I flicked a spider off
my panties and shimmied them up my thighs. When it came to putting
my jeans back on, it was harder. The slash was stinging so bad that
I called to Tristan who helped me to pull them up by the band, as
an adult would help a child.

“You're bleeding everywhere, you know.” He
said as I buttoned the jeans.

“Thanks for that update. I had no idea.” I
said, dripping sarcasm and crimson.

“I wouldn't put your shirt back on. You'll
ruin it.”

“Aren't you Captain Obvious tonight?” I
glared at him. My irritation was compounded by the intensity of the
pain. “I wasn’t going to put it back on. It would hurt too
badly.”

“Fine then, miss pissy-pants.” He rolled his
eyes at me and pointed at my chest, grinning. “On a happier note,
that’s going to be an amazing scar with one hell of a story behind
it!”

A scar, a tale to tell…Something in my
expression must have tipped Tristan off to my reluctance to laugh.
He jerked his head toward home and smiled. “Come on Fifi. We have a
brother to piss off with a late night phone call.”

Tristan’s assumption was spot on. Mom
panicked at the sight of so much blood pouring down over my bra,
soaking the waistband of my jeans that she dialed Thomas’ number
repeatedly until he answered. While she waited for him to pick up
the phone, she chewed us out for cornering a cougar.

“I know I’ve taught you better! You are not
pups anymore! You got what you asked for, going after a cougar.
They get nasty when confronted! What on earth were you thinking?!”
On and on it went until Thomas answered the phone and cut her
off.

Thomas walked in the door not fifteen minutes
later carrying an attitude darker than his black medical bag.

“Just to let you two know, one of us has an
intelligent and sexy woman lying naked but alone because of your
stupidity.” He grumbled as he gave me a shot to numb my cut. Behind
his hand, Tristan snickered. “If you don’t want to die from an
infection, you might want to shut the hell up.” He pointed the
syringe at Tristan.

“So the Terrible Two strike again. Why is it
always you two?” Gavin’s voice carried over Thomas’. His expression
was less irritated but still not pleased.

After stitching up my gash and giving both me
and Tristan an immediate dose of antibiotics, he handed Gavin a
prescription and made an appointment for us to be seen at his
office in two days.

With my wound still numbed, I lumbered up the
steps to my room hoping I'd be able to fall asleep quickly. In the
morning I would have to think of a really good excuse for my new
and very permanent mark.

*

The office of Dr. Matthews was crazy busy
when Tristan and I slid open the double glass doors. Parents
comforting concerned kids with sick dogs and cats, pet parakeets
and lizards, took up nearly every seat. As my eyes scanned the
waiting room, I realized how out of place we must have looked
without an animal in our arms or a child to console. After a
surprisingly short waiting time, Tristan and I were called back to
one of the exam rooms.

I stripped off the poncho I’d worn to
conveniently conceal my wound. It was hurting terribly and I hadn’t
been sleeping very well because of it. The gash went into the
muscle and now anything more than breathing was very painful.
Thomas tilted the blindingly bright lamp light directly onto my
wound. He poked and prodded checking for swelling, of which there
was a good degree, and infection. “You’ve got a mess in here
Sophie.” He chided.

A nurse knocked on the door and pushed it
aside enough to poke her head in. She glanced back and forth
between Thomas and myself, covered by nothing but a bra and clearly
having stitches checked by my brother. I was pretty sure there is
some rule against a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine treating humans.
A momentary concern for Thomas’s reputation passed over me.

“Dr. Matthews, Jaime Robertson is here. He
needs a quick word with you.” My heart soared and landed somewhere
in the vicinity of my voice box.

Jaime’s here!

“Tell Jaime I’ll be out in a minute. I’m just
talking to my sister.” The nurse nodded and closed the door. I had
a sneaking suspicion the last sentence was for the nurse more than
for Jaime. About the moment the thought passed over me so did a
serious wave of pain as Thomas sliced into my stitches. I wrung my
hands together and inhaled sharply through my teeth.

“Sit still Sophie. I'll numb you as best as I
can but you may still feel this. You're a mess. This wound needs to
be cleaned out before I can stitch you back up.”

He wasn't exaggerating. The pain was so bad a
rumbling growl erupted from my chest and before I could try and
stop myself, my canines burst forth and my back convulsed as the
pain brought on the shift.

I heard the slap before it ever registered on
my cheek. “Sophie!” Tristan’s hand raised again, ready to strike. I
breathed in and out slowly for a moment as my teeth retracted and
the spasms ended.

“Thank you.” I heaved. To control the urge to
shift, I nearly crushed Tristan's hand while squeezing. When that
didn't work, I forced myself to focus on the magazine rack across
the room, studying the mundane cover. Then I counted the lines in
the floor tiles, desperate to focus on anything that would keep the
pain and my wolf in check. For several excruciating minutes Thomas
poked, cleaned, and finally stitched up my gash.

“Okay, I’m writing you a prescription for a
second antibiotic. It’s a different type than the one you’re
already taking so together they should be able to clear up the
infection raging under the surface. Let me know if you start
running a fever, if the pain gets worse or it swells more. And even
though it’s not oozing yet, it might start.” He shook head as he
tore the top off a little white pad of paper and handed me the
sheet. “I hope you learned a valuable lesson about going after
mountain lions.” His eyebrows arched stiffly as if he was just as
certain that I wouldn’t learn my lesson even after this.

Tristan’s leg was glanced over quickly and he
was declared in good condition. The puncture wounds were minor and
were healing quite well. Thomas’ displeasure was abated somewhat by
Tristan’s minor wound. At least one of us fared well enough to take
no more time away from Thomas’ work.

“I have real patients to attend to. You know,
dogs with broken bones and cats with colds.” He ushered us out of
the room, Tristan first.

Jaime leaned against the check-out counter,
waiting for Thomas to exit the room across the very narrow hallway.
As Jaime and I crossed paths, our eyes settled on each other for
about two beats. His unblinking blue eyes blazed as they caught
mine. His perfect lips quivered slightly, battling a grin playing
at the corners of his mouth.