The Dare story continues as the Onijwa, a young woman possessing the spirit of a wolf, finds herself without a Master. Caught between two worlds, will she find a home with her human neighbors, or can she join her mate's Pack hunting in the wild? Only time...and Fate...will tell. -Note: you should read "Dare Book I" before reading this sequel.
I'd slept poorly again and awoken late to find Chance gone. Our den was beneath a broad pine whose heavy branches swept low over the ground. It was soft in there and warm, and well protected from the chill of a winter not yet arrived, but soon. It was coming and I knew the rain would give way to snow one of these nights. I could feel the cold coming inside me.
This morning was clear, however, like the one before it, and the day would be warm enough. I was hungry, but only my body, and my mind was but dimly aware of the need for food. It had been three days since I'd last been home and slept with my brothers. They'd tried to follow me when I'd left, Bandy leading them in their chase as I ran off. I'd led them away from the den, of course, and the dogs rarely ventured so far into the forest anyway, but I was always cautious and protective of my mate.
I'd lost them finally, smiling at the sounds of their frustrated barks and unhappy baying. I'd crossed the stream twice and even ran along it for a good distance before climbing a steep ravine and into the hills to circle around, through the meadow where the pack had moved in late summer, they hadn't made permanent dens such as mine, but used it temporarily as they followed the game lower, and a month or two later they'd moved on once more. The other wolves were gone now, not too far, but enough so that I felt the loneliness. I'd never been a part of them, but just the closeness of their kindred hearts had been a comfort. It had kept Chance near me as well, but now I understood he was restless to join them. They would hunt together and grow fat before the lean months of winter which lay ahead.
Slipping from the comfort of our den, I was able to stretch and stand upright, reaching up with my arms and enjoying the sensation. I'd go to the stream and bathe, collect the over-ripened gooseberries that grew along the banks and breakfast on their tart flavor. The bushes were thin by now, however, and I wondered if I couldn't catch a rabbit perhaps, although I had little taste for raw meat really, and my stomach was too gentle for such fare normally. I was annoyed with my hunger and inclined to dismiss it as I didn't want to go home yet.
I made my toilet and washed myself in the cold water as it rushed around my legs to the knees. I used smooth stones and sandy mud on my body, and tree bark on my hair. It was thick and dirty by then and I pulled a tick off my thigh, frowning at it and knowing there would be others. I'd need a real bath when I returned home, the two Indian boys would see to it anyway. They'd grown used to grooming me, even shaving my sex with shy smiles and blushing cheeks, and it was one of the few pleasures I still enjoyed there. Mostly I only felt the frustration of having no Master to care for me properly and I'd very little hope left of finding one.
Fate, which had once been so generous with me, was now pressing upon my heart with bitter claws and I fought it, but only weakly as I grew smaller inside with every day that passed. It was unnatural state for me, to be melancholy, and I ran to escape it. The adrenaline would help as I pushed myself to exercise and leave the stream behind, letting the air dry me as I moved quickly through the forest. This too was a pleasure and I'd found that if I pushed myself hard enough and long enough there would come a warmth to swallow my grey mood. It didn't last long enough, but it would make me smile and I was searching for Chance in any event, wanting to find him and spend our time together before he left me to rejoin his brothers.
I hadn't gone far at all when I heard a sharp crack, like thunder, but short and muffled somewhat. It was a curious sound and I'd heard it before, but this seemed different, closer perhaps, and it filled me with an uneasy fear. It was an unnatural noise, different than the sound of snow breaking in the mountains in late winter, but similar. That was what it reminded me of, but even that offered me little comfort and I leapt from the trail I'd been following into the brush, crouching there and sniffing the air.
After a few moments, when there was nothing else to alarm me, I moved slowly, keeping to the shadows and I couldn't give a specific reason for my anxiety. Perhaps it was my mood, or more likely the lack of proper rest and the weak memories of my dreams which had always seemed a foreshadowing of something else, something to come. I had lost much of my hope, but not all of it, and that was the real reason possibly. I'd come to expect something, but I didn't know what, only ... Something, to take me by the hand and guide me. This strange thunder out of a clear autumn morning could be it, as much as it could be anything else, and my spirits were desperate to rally to that cause. I was afraid though, for precisely those reasons, and I had no desire to suffer another frustrating disappointment.
So I held my heart in check and forced myself to move slowly, keeping my feet soft and staying to the moss and grass where it grew in the forest's weak light. I checked the wind and held myself low and I found myself enjoying that game, stalking a sound which was long gone seconds after I'd heard it. I moved quicker, picking up my pace finally, and my mood was improved, so that I was running again and getting very near the meadow. I could see the trees and brush thinning ahead, giving way to the blue sky and the tall green grass. It excited me, for no other reason than I'd always liked that place and perhaps Chance would be there, for the scent of wolves was in the air.
The wind shifted and I caught another smell suddenly, faint but distinctive and I came to a sudden stop, my heels digging into the dirt as I dropped to my hands and crouched there. It was blood, fresh and near, and I crept to the edge of the meadow and found it on the grass. The long, broad leaves were stained near a trampled path freshly made and I could smell the musk of the animal that had passed recently, only minutes before. A deer, injured and bleeding, but not so badly. It had been running and leaving a trail of crimson on the leaves and stalks, not upon the earth itself, but only where the grass was high.
It had been running for the safety of the forest, crossing the meadow, but turned suddenly away and I knew why. There was a howl, faint but carrying on the crisp morning air. The pack was giving chase. One of them was making the sound, it wasn't a chorus, just a lone wolf and he was herding the deer towards the others who would be silent and stalking, laying in wait for their prey to find them. One or two would be chasing, making noise and snapping at the animal's hooves to tire the beast and drive it on. The wolves had come out of the forest and turned the deer away and now I followed their trail easily, seeing the events as if they were happening right in front of me.
I ran then, as fast as I could, wasting no breath on the joy I felt in the depths of my belly. My heart was rushing and there was a hunt on and I wanted to see it, to be a part of it, if only from a distance. The pack wouldn't let me join and they'd guard their kill jealously. I'd have to be wary when I found them, vigilant in my approach, but what a great game this was! It called to my spirit irresistibly and I couldn't have let the moment go even if I'd wanted to. Chance would be there, I knew, and he'd have his share of the kill and bring some of the meat for me. Some scraps of muscle and fat, not much and I didn't require it, but he was my mate and we'd have that small victory together at least.
The trail led across the meadow and into the hills and I was gaining on them, the deer turning this way and that in its fright and confusion, only to be goaded once more upon the path chosen by the wolves. The pack would not be far off now and I hastened to find them, climbing through loose gravel and the short, tough shrubs and grasses which grew there. We were close to the place where the pack had made their summer dens, the odd bowl shaped hollow in the hill. I scented them now as they were upwind and I could hear the two chasers plainly.
They were down slope and still some distance from me, and the deer was caught finally. It was a large buck with sharp antlers and thick muscles, winded and weakened, but still dangerous. He was turning and kicking up dirt as he snorted and clung to his defiant life. His mouth was foaming and he lowered his great head, swiping at the two wolves who'd chased him so long, young males barely old enough for their first real hunt. They danced and barked and one circled too closely so that the deer caught the wolf suddenly with a powerful kick, his back leg snapping into the wolf's shoulder and sending the animal limping off quickly with a sharp yelp of pain. The other leapt in at the distraction, not to attack, but to antagonize and wear the buck down. The pack was close and I could see them as shadows among the rocks and bushes, moving closer, and they would take him down soon.
The buck was bleeding as I already knew, wounded high on his left shoulder and his brown hide was stained dark with blood. The injury was too high to have been caused by the wolves and in the wrong place entirely. The muscle was thick there and strong, and though it was hard to tell, it didn't appear as if the shoulder itself had been hurt, but only some of the fat around it maybe. I didn't understand that, but it hardly mattered. The animal was wounded and now trapped and I moved slowly along the hill, creeping closer and though I was perhaps still a hundred yards off, which seems like a long ways, the wolves would note my presence soon enough and when they did, wherever I was, I'd have to stop and remain there.
"Somebitch..." I heard a voice, a human voice to my right, higher up and downwind. I hadn't seen or smelled him at all, but I heard him now.
There were noises, the sound of metal and machinery maybe, the clacking and rattling unique to people and their things. I blinked and lifted myself, as I'd been moving close to the ground just then, and I saw him. A man dressed like a bush, or something. He was green and brown and wearing soft thin pants and boots and a jacket. He had a gun, I recognized that well enough, a big one. A long one, made of wood and steel and the word rifle came into my head and hunter, and not so much words maybe as ideas and memories. I knew what he was doing and why he was there. I knew why the deer was bleeding now and how only a human would have tried to kill a powerful buck by wounding it in the wrong place. Wolves waited until they could be sure of a kill, but this man, all he'd done was hurt the animal, not killed it and now he was angry, watching as the pack prepared to claim his unearned prize.
BLAM!!
The sound of his rifle hurt my ears, that short thunder echoing off the mountains and rolling down the hills. I'd leapt at the sound, my heart stammering and I screamed perhaps, not as a girl or a wolf, but as a spirit offended by the violence of that awful noise. He'd fired into the air and now the man was shouting, even as he worked his gun, jerking the metal to reload.
"Get out of here! Get away!" He hadn't noticed me, or heard me apparently, and he was aiming now at the wolves that had given the noise and the stranger on the hill only some of their attention.
The buck was still there, still dangerous and now fighting for his life as the wolves surrounded him. They had no time for thunder or men dressed as bushes, not so long as the man was all the way up here. They were the pack and they were many and the smell of blood was in the air, the taste of it on their tongues. Winter was coming and they had adolescents to feed, and they'd been hunting these mountains since last glacier had melted away, long before there were men and rifles.
The man cared for none of that. He couldn't appreciate the wolves or understand that they were unable to leave the deer. He was hot and tired and angry now, and I watched as he pointed his rifle at them, at Chance it seemed to me, for he was down there among them. I couldn't know which of the wolves this human intended to kill, but the possibility that it would be my mate forced me to move. I wasn't able to reason or decide, I only moved, scrambling up the loose hillside, howling with the sounds of warning and fear, and I'd attack the man if I couldn't stop him. I'd kill him if I had to. It was in me now, that one purpose to protect my mate, to protect my family, and whatever I was then, I wasn't a girl.
My instincts were sharp and my spirit awakened completely. This was my dream and I'd followed the blood and this was the part of my dream when I should have woken up, but not this time. I was more alive than I'd ever been in my life and all my rough play with my brothers, all of the battles with Chance and the dogs for our amusement had been nothing but practice for this. I was going to kill him. I felt it. I was making my plans without thought or desire, but with the ruthless chill of a real predator. I'd take him at the neck, where he was exposed and weak. I'd leap upon his chest, burying my teeth into his flesh and clawing at his soft belly and groin. It would be quick, I thought, and all I had to do was get my jaws around him and hold tight against his strength.
The man heard me of course, and then he saw me, lifting his wide eyes from the sights of his rifle and staring at me as I rushed towards him. A naked girl, dirty and wild, pierced and tattooed, with feral eyes and sharp teeth. I pushed myself up, digging my toes into the earth and springing with my strong legs. He couldn't avoid me, it was too late for that and his gun roared again, the air ripped around me by the noise and I was deafened for a moment by it. He hadn't been aiming though, my mind registered that in the split second I had before meeting him. He'd been looking at me and his finger had jerked with surprise. Chance would be safe now and I felt my heart lurch with eagerness, that sliver of time seeming to last an eternity as I was in the air, flying at him.
The man caught me however, his surprise overcome by his own survival instincts so that he brought his weapon around, just turning his shoulders more or less, twisting on his hips, and that heavy steel suddenly found the side of my head just as my claw-like fingers found his jacket. I felt it like a hammer to my temple and everything went black for a second, there was a sickening wave of pain and I was clawing at him even as my body crashed into his.
I couldn't hold him though. I was stunned and confused, falling off the man as he continued turning and he was large, very large. I hadn't thought about his size when I'd seen him, but he was strong enough to keep his balance and his attention now focused on me. My body landed heavily on the ground while he stumbled back, working his rifle to get another bullet into the breach.
I snarled at him, baring my teeth as my eyes cleared and I realized they were wet, and so was my temple and ear. I could smell my own blood and he'd cut me with that gun, but I barely felt it. I felt almost nothing except anger and frustration. I scrambled to my feet and he was close, just eight or ten feet away maybe, backing up and working the bolt. I was going to leap at him again, telling myself to be smarter this time, to watch out for that gun and duck beneath and go for his testicles and soft belly. My fingernails were thick and sharp, enough so I could tear through those clothes and into him. I was making a plan as best I could and spending none of my time waiting for it. Wherever I found the man with my claws and teeth, I'd hurt him.
He was bringing that gun around though, pointing it at me and his finger was on the trigger now. He held it low at his hip and he had no need of aiming. I was nearly impaled upon it as I prepared to rush at him once more. Somewhere in my mind I knew he was going to pull the trigger and shoot me. I was going to fail and he'd kill me and then my mate, shooting Chance for no other reason than my lover was a wolf. It angered me further and for just a second while my muscles tightened and I took the last breath I'd ever need, I wondered if the blood I'd followed in my dreams hadn't been my own.