The Hunt

Did you know that trees smell like sky and earth and grass all whirled together with musky bird-feather and squirrel-fur and sweet/sour tang of animal markings? That grass is a clean, cool green smell, like sea foam soap and clear air? That the long-eared fur-ball running up ahead smells like heat and fur and blood and fear; that it smells like food?

Most people don't ever know that. Jody knew. Bobby knew. Shani knew. The three knew the woods of Victoria Falls better than the old men who had lived there all their lives.

The rabbit twists and dodges, shaking Shani but not Bobby. It may be able to outmaneuver the pack's newest yearling, but not its fastest. Strong jaws close, snapping the bones of the rabbit's neck. A joyous howl splits the night as blood spills. Together, the three wolves fall upon the corpse and shred it. The blood and flesh taste better than anything the cafeteria can dish out, better than pizza or chocolate or cokes.

Euphoric.

The moon is bright, the air is cool, the rabbit is warm with the heat of the chase. Gray-white sides shaking in a lupine laugh, Jody raises her muzzle and cries to the moon. Shani licks the last of the blood from her teeth and joins Jody's howl. Bobby throws back his brown head back and adds his voice to theirs.

With the bones of the rabbit buried, the Victoria Falls' wolf pack pad back through the woods towards the dorms. The closer they get to the school, the more the smells change. The cool air-leaf smell of trees and sky fade back behind the strange mixed smell of humans and brick and machines. Car exhaust, perfume, human sweat, blood-heat, food. Sometimes, when you're a wolf, it gets harder to tell the difference between what was your own kind just that day and what is food to be hunted and eaten. Jody shakes her furry head like she is shaking off a fly.

The first stop is at Shani's dorm. The small timber wolf strains slightly, then shakes. Fur flies away, leaving behind a petite black freshman on hands and knees. She smiles softly, rubbing the thick fur between their ears. "Night, guys. Good hunting." The little shapeshifter slips through the window to her room and closes it behind her.

Second stop is Bobby's building. The smaller, darker red wolf snuffs through the bush at the foot of his window and comes out with a pair of boxers. His eyes shift first, from warm amber to soft brown. Then the fur flows upwards, shortening to chin length, as the pricked ears become more blunt and the muzzle shrinks down. He stands up, a tall human of about sixteen with chin length red-brown hair. He slips the boxers on, grinning sheepishly at Jody. The boxers are only for his roomie's benefit. Scott doesn't seem to ever get used to his Georgian roommate coming in at night stark naked. He knocks on the window and a sleepy Scott lets him in. He waves to Jody and she trots back off into the night.

The last stop is at the Philip-Hawkins dorm, Jody's place. The rock wedged against the door is still in place, so Jody noses it open and lopes inside. The halls are quiet and dimly lit; most of the students are long asleep. Jody never needs that much sleep. She goes up the hall, paws at the elevator and rides to the second floor. Her door is still propped open.

With an almost depressed sigh, Jody shifts. It's a nearly painful process with all the bones moving about and the muscle restructuring. It always feels better when she goes wolfy. Jody stretches high up, muscles and joints popping. She sheds her ragged Jean cutoffs and tattered Joe's Crab Shack T-shirt, heads for the shower.

She brushes her teeth, paying careful attention to the tiny fangs of her canines before stepping into the shower to get rid of the blood. Changing was always a bit messy after a hunt. The fur goes away, but the blood stays. Once upon a time, her parents were worried that she spent too much time as a wolf. But then, once upon a time, Jody thought that maybe she really was a wolf, kidnapped by human foster-parents. That was silly of course. Jody soaks her gray, white-streaked hair, reaches for the soap. She is not a wolf, just a paranormal.

But sometimes, at night, when the moon is bright and the air is crisp and the hunt is just ahead of her, she likes to pretend that maybe she really is the lupa, the alpha female, the head wolf of the Victoria Falls' pack.

The last of the blood washes away down the drain and Jody slinks back to her room. She doesn't have to worry about waking a roommate. Her last roomie applied for a room transfer after the first time Jody changed. It was, she suspected, a bit too much for the freshman telepath to handle when Jody looked at her with lupine yellow eyes and thought 'Food.'

Not that she would ever eat a classmate.

Humans don't taste very good.