Red Moon by M.A. Grant

Author:M.A. Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The hare had disappeared into the brush ahead. He could smell its fear—wood smoke on the breeze—and could hear the soft whisper of leaves as they shifted under its paws. He stuck his nose to the ground and leisurely followed his prey, tracking the widely-spaced, zigzagging path deeper and deeper into the woods.

He wasn’t in a hurry to kill; he was content and relaxed and simply wanted to revel in his senses. If he spilled blood tonight, it mattered little in comparison to the peace he was finally feeling. The past few transitions had been so brutal, so painful, that he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to make it through another. But this time had been easier. The wolf had been polite—that much was evident from the lack of stiffness in his joints, the slow burn of ripped muscles knitting themselves back together, the sudden, sharp pain as his lungs tore into larger pieces to fit his thick chest cavity.

Tonight, the shift hadn’t felt like a curse.

He was getting closer now, zeroing in on the creature. It was fast. He was faster, if he wanted to be, but the game was fun. This was the way he was supposed to play. What was the point of having all these instincts, all these skills, if they were never given free rein?

The sun was just beginning to settle beyond the horizon, a rarity in the summer. Full dark wouldn’t come for hours yet, leaving the world bathed in this flame-coloured dusk. The trees, a mixture of spindly dark evergreens and shivering aspens, crawled their way toward the mountains, those titanic peaks of deep blue and purple that hemmed in the entire Peninsula. Never in his life had he felt so small, so insignificant, than against the vastness of this wilderness. Here he could be forgotten. Here he’d have a chance at taking back the life that had been stolen from him.

The hare had vanished into the dense underbrush, heading away from the river. He could continue to track it but that would take more work. He didn’t feel like fighting his way through the tangled thickets for barely a mouthful of food. The hare would live to see another day. Tongue lolling, he’d begun to head back to the house when he heard a strange sound to his left.

He immediately froze, zeroing in on the noise. There it was again, although quieter this time. The crackle of sticks and leaves breaking under heavy boots was unmistakable. He crouched, tucking his tail low to the ground, ears flattening, and took a few cautious steps forward. About twenty feet ahead of him, the ground sloped into a gentle hillock that levelled off and opened onto a small clearing.

He waited until he heard yet another step from the unknown intruder, then slid forward himself. One, two, three breaths. Another foot forward, and then he was slinking closer to the edge. He had all night. There was no reason to rush the moment.

When he finally reached the edge, he peered down.

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