Pale Claws
          by Kate Hill          

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        After years of studying the history of our kind, I was both fascinated and humbled by the variety and richness of our culture. I was particularly impressed by our influence on the myths of humankind. It is commonly known that long before settlers came to America, even before Native American villages were common in the forests of the Northeast, Shapeshifter clans thrived. We ruled the forest with power and cunning, armed not only with the strength of the wolf but with intelligence which man arrogantly believes to be an exclusive characteristic of his own. For this reason, man eventually forced our kind to near extinction, and when stories were passed down among them, we became their legendary Sasquatch or Bigfoot. While delving into human mythology and folklore, I was tempted to uncover our own legends and compile them in my book Shapeshifter Lore. "Pale Claws" is my personal favorite among these stories.

        Hunters from every Northeastern clan respected his prowess, and women sought to trap him for a mate, but Pale Claws' only interest was in the hunt. In man form, he was tall and lean, sinewy with muscle, and scarred from years of hunting wildcats, bears, and other beasts shunned by most hunters. In wolf form, with his club-like paws and limber gray body, he had dragged down fleeing bucks on his own. By day he sharpened his predatory skills while racing through the gnarled forest paths and wading in the chilled and rocky lakes which emptied from the mountains. His nights were spent tracking prey by scent and sound then howling prayers to the God of the Hunt who dwelled in the moon's gleaming face.
        One evening in midsummer, after a successful hunt which had provided a feast of moose and deer, Pale Claws walked down river away from the Clan's eating and singing. He traveled far enough from the village so that he could no longer see the fires, but when the wind blew he could still catch the scent of smoke and cooking meat and hear the cries of his people as they told the forest of the great hunt.
        Rustling in the trees alerted him, and he spun around, wolf fangs lengthening in his gums, his eyes catching the color of the moon on the river. He relaxed. Gray Feet, one of the young female hunters, had followed him. He usually liked Gray Feet's company since she was one of the only females who had other interests besides mating, but that night Pale Claws wanted to be alone with the sacred moon. After a hunt as intense as the day's had been, everything else seemed dull. Lately even the hunt had become less thrilling. There was not an animal he'd met nor a terrain he'd covered which had succeeded in dominating him. He'd fought the bear and the cougar. He'd tracked upland during winters when the others of his village had been content to live off smoked meat and stored food. For the first time he realized he was bored.
        "I wanted to tell you about the bear," Gray Feet said. "You shouldn't be out here alone."
        He shrugged. "I've hunted bears before."
        "Not like this one. It's gigantic. A fiend. It killed five hunters from a neighboring clan."
        For the first time in months Pale Claws felt the sting of excitement. He ran on four wolf legs back to the village with Gray Feet close behind him.
        "We must kill this bear. It's terrorizing the entire forest. Soon it will come to this village."
        Talk of the bear ended the night's festivities, and the clan decided that a hunting party led by Pale Claws would leave in the morning to search for the monster.
        "Be careful until we return," said the eldest hunter. "When Gray Feet and her women go out to hunt, make sure they stay close to the village."
        After two days' journey, the hunters saw no sign of the bear.
        "I think it was only a story," said one of the men. "There is no killer bear."
        "I saw the bodies of the dead hunters," said the Eldest. "Even in wolf form they were torn to pieces." Huddled close together, they spoke until their fire burned low, but only Pale Claws felt no fear.
        Just before dawn, the Eldest was standing watch when a low growl sounded from the trees behind him. With his wolf's vision, he squinted into the darkness. Everything looked still, so he settled back by the fire until the growling began again.  Since Shapeshifters usually traveled safely alone, he wandered from the camp without alerting the others.
        They awoke to the wolf's shrill death cry and the throaty growls of the bear. Pale Claws reached the Eldest first, but he was already dead, his white rib bones poking through raw flesh and blood-matted chestnut fur.
        While the two remaining hunters gathered up the body, Pale Claws, his paws gliding over the rocky ground and his eyes glowing furiously in the dim light of dawn, followed the bear's trail. He stopped and stared in awe as the bear's enormous hindquarters retreated into a thick group of trees.
        He wanted to follow, but the bear had already disappeared, and the other hunters had begun their mourning howls out of respect for their slain companion.
        They carried the body back to the village and told his widow that the Elder had died bravely, already in wolf form when the bear had killed him.
        While the clan mourned, Pale Claws stood by the river. Again Gray Feet joined him.
        "The other hunters won't continue the chase," she said. "They believe the bear is powerful and should share the forest with us."
        "No. It must be destroyed. We've shared this forest with all creatures, but this bear respects nothing."
        "That's not the reason," accused Gray Feet. "You want to kill this bear because you're restless."
        "Yes, I am. If the others won't join me, I'll hunt it alone."
        Though she'd tried to hide her feelings, Gray Feet cared for him deeply. She hated the thought of him dying needlessly before he had any sons or daughters, so she said, "I'll go with you."
        "You shame the other hunters. You have more courage than any of them, but I'll hunt alone. When I return, if you want, I'll take you as my mate, and we'll begin our own clan."
        Gray Feet very much wanted to start her own clan, and she could think of no better mate than Pale Claws, but even as she agreed to his arrangement, she knew that their plans wouldn't come to pass.
        Pale Claws left the following day. At the village, the other females wanted to help Gray Feet plan her mating ceremony, but she refused. She spent the days by the river, and as each one passed into night, she knew the chance of Pale Claws returning grew slimmer.
        Pale Claws, anxious to meet the bear, traveled quickly through the forest. After two days of tracking, he realized that the fiend was looping back to the village. Desperate, Pale Claws gained speed down the winding trails of rocks and roots.
        At midnight of the fourth day, the summer air was so hot that in his man form, Pale Claws stopped by a lake to cool himself in the shallow water. As he lowered his face to drink, a shadow blocked out the moonlight, and Pale Claws looked up into the face of the bear. Bellowing, it reared up on its hind legs, its eyes tinged red and its snout dripping with the blood of a recent kill.
        Pale Claws bounded onto the bank as the bear charged. The Shapeshifter, eyes narrowed and fangs bared, leapt into the bear's embrace.
        The sounds of the bear and the wolf pierced the forest, echoed down the river and up the mountain to the Shapeshifter village where by the lake Gray Feet wailed her mourning howls.
        Neither Pale Claws nor the bear were seen again. The clan guessed they had killed each other and the current had carried off their bodies.
        The Shapeshifter had finally found his challenge.
        Gray Feet never took a mate or founded her own clan, but years later she and the other hunters still told the story of Pale Claws and the bear. They believed that on windy nights in the Northeast forests, the mingled cries of the bear and the Shapeshifter would forever be heard.

Copyright 1998 Kate Hill