moving through the crowd. Right now I felt buzzing, tingling, a sort of pre-painful ache in muscles and joints. Soon it would be more, but I could tell I had time to get out. A stabbing cramp hit as I reached the door and I stopped with my hand on the doorpost, bent, waiting.
âHey, you okay?â It was the silver-bracelet guy from before. âYou should have some water, sit down awhile.â
âNot drunk,â I gasped. I pushed away his solicitous hand and made it out the door. The night was cool, but I was sweating. The ache grew stronger in my feet, knees, ass, back. I ran, a strange, loping gait, aided by urgency but hindered by pain and the stretch in my bones. There was an almost-forest at the edge of campusâdeep enough to hide for a while, not deep enough for much hunting, if it was a hunter coming. I could get there.
I panted as I ran, sweat dripping down my neck and my back. I could feel my skin soaking in it, letting it out and marinating itself. I peeled off my hoodie and let it fall. I reached down and pulled off my shoes; my feet were all pins and needles and wanted to be free. My vision was changing, sliding, shifting. For a moment I thought I knew a wolf-time was coming and I laughed to be so suggestible. Then my tongue went heavy in my mouth and my thoughts slanted and I bent over, close to all
fours but not quite touching the ground in front. I was moving faster now, faster than I could in woman-times. I was at the trees and then the pain was blinding for a minute and then I was sleek, sleek, fast, energy straight through, shooting silver out to ground and pleasureâ
Pleasure of movement, pleasure of speed, pleasure of sweat on fur, heavy pleasure, feet quick and smell all over. Nothing to worry, all moving and smelling and listening and pausing. Yes hunger mouth hunger stomach hunger pit hunger. Turning turning smelling stillness eager. Other-kill yes growl gobble spin chase. Smell of not-prey, smell, too-strong, melt vanish go. Marking, smelling, moving. Not-prey still. Smelling. Knowing.
I know. I am still. Looking. Stillness. Looking at her, in her stillness. Alive, right here, surface. Fear and pleasure. Deep. Strong. She opens her fingers, at her side. I want to smell them. Step. Step. Close now. Nose raised. Nose to fingers. Strong smell, deep smell. Sweat and the brass tang of her just-starting menses. I can see her with new sharpness. Must be coyote-time. Woman-time things bleed through in coyote-time. I keep my stillness and her eyes. Then I run.
When I came to myself again I was crouched at the far edge of the forest. I sat, exhausted, in my own sweat, feeling moss and dry leaves against my knees and thighs. I stayed there for a moment, letting my breathing come down, muscles quivering under skin. Then I remembered. Had she really been there? Had I imagined? I turned around, slowly, getting to my feet. I could barely see in the early dawn. I couldnât smell a thing, the worst part of woman-time. Humans canât smell for shit.
I figured my clothes were back closer to the campus, maybe shredded a bit but hopefully wearable. I started walking back, slowly, touching the trees as I passed. After a long change, a full night like that one, I was always both tired and strangely rested.
The sun coming up was warm and bright. I watched it coloring in all the night grays of the almost-forest.
Back at my clothes, there she was, dozing against a tree with the remnants of my Harry Potter shirt under her arm. I tried to wear mostly clothes I didnât care about, but sometimes I felt perverse. I watched her, the pull of her party dress over her boobs and her belly, the fabric carelessly riding up her thighs. I looked at my shirt in the crook of her elbow. She opened her eyes. We watched each other.
She held my shirt out and I took it, examining the strain, the rip caused by a claw as I worked my way free. I pulled it over my head. I started to walk away.
âYour pants
âHey, you okay?â It was the silver-bracelet guy from before. âYou should have some water, sit down awhile.â
âNot drunk,â I gasped. I pushed away his solicitous hand and made it out the door. The night was cool, but I was sweating. The ache grew stronger in my feet, knees, ass, back. I ran, a strange, loping gait, aided by urgency but hindered by pain and the stretch in my bones. There was an almost-forest at the edge of campusâdeep enough to hide for a while, not deep enough for much hunting, if it was a hunter coming. I could get there.
I panted as I ran, sweat dripping down my neck and my back. I could feel my skin soaking in it, letting it out and marinating itself. I peeled off my hoodie and let it fall. I reached down and pulled off my shoes; my feet were all pins and needles and wanted to be free. My vision was changing, sliding, shifting. For a moment I thought I knew a wolf-time was coming and I laughed to be so suggestible. Then my tongue went heavy in my mouth and my thoughts slanted and I bent over, close to all
fours but not quite touching the ground in front. I was moving faster now, faster than I could in woman-times. I was at the trees and then the pain was blinding for a minute and then I was sleek, sleek, fast, energy straight through, shooting silver out to ground and pleasureâ
Pleasure of movement, pleasure of speed, pleasure of sweat on fur, heavy pleasure, feet quick and smell all over. Nothing to worry, all moving and smelling and listening and pausing. Yes hunger mouth hunger stomach hunger pit hunger. Turning turning smelling stillness eager. Other-kill yes growl gobble spin chase. Smell of not-prey, smell, too-strong, melt vanish go. Marking, smelling, moving. Not-prey still. Smelling. Knowing.
I know. I am still. Looking. Stillness. Looking at her, in her stillness. Alive, right here, surface. Fear and pleasure. Deep. Strong. She opens her fingers, at her side. I want to smell them. Step. Step. Close now. Nose raised. Nose to fingers. Strong smell, deep smell. Sweat and the brass tang of her just-starting menses. I can see her with new sharpness. Must be coyote-time. Woman-time things bleed through in coyote-time. I keep my stillness and her eyes. Then I run.
When I came to myself again I was crouched at the far edge of the forest. I sat, exhausted, in my own sweat, feeling moss and dry leaves against my knees and thighs. I stayed there for a moment, letting my breathing come down, muscles quivering under skin. Then I remembered. Had she really been there? Had I imagined? I turned around, slowly, getting to my feet. I could barely see in the early dawn. I couldnât smell a thing, the worst part of woman-time. Humans canât smell for shit.
I figured my clothes were back closer to the campus, maybe shredded a bit but hopefully wearable. I started walking back, slowly, touching the trees as I passed. After a long change, a full night like that one, I was always both tired and strangely rested.
The sun coming up was warm and bright. I watched it coloring in all the night grays of the almost-forest.
Back at my clothes, there she was, dozing against a tree with the remnants of my Harry Potter shirt under her arm. I tried to wear mostly clothes I didnât care about, but sometimes I felt perverse. I watched her, the pull of her party dress over her boobs and her belly, the fabric carelessly riding up her thighs. I looked at my shirt in the crook of her elbow. She opened her eyes. We watched each other.
She held my shirt out and I took it, examining the strain, the rip caused by a claw as I worked my way free. I pulled it over my head. I started to walk away.
âYour pants
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