have
considered it all hogwash.
But in the beginning he'd been
willing to try anything to escape his curse. He'd taught himself how to erect
and read astrological charts and had even pinpointed the planetary aspects the
maiden must possess to successfully perform the ceremony.
As time passed, his hope waned. Now
he had little faith the ceremony would work. Of course, until now there hadn't
been a maiden.
She must love him, so said the
text. With an abiding devotion that eclipsed fear and death. Since using his
hypnotic powers was expressly forbidden, why would Dana, or any woman, love
him? He'd become a hermit. Most days, even in human form, he looked and lived
like the creature he'd become. A creature not unlike the ones Dana had fiercely
sworn to protect.
No, not at all unlike.
And subtly, very subtly, Dana
behaved like the animals she loved. As soon as she'd become alert, she'd
scanned the small cabin, searching for danger like wolves in the wild. Later,
she'd roamed the room, touching objects as if marking her territory. But most
notably, she'd shrunk in size when he'd frightened her, looking away, baring
her belly like the submissive female he knew she wasn't.
This one was no stranger to the way
of the wolf. And from her display of devotion, he knew she loved them. Could
her love spill over to that abomination of nature, the werewolf?
To him?
He looked up sadly at the waxing
moon. Slim wisps of clouds streaked its mottled surface. It appears so
harmless, so insignificant in the ways of man. Morgan knew differently. Even
now it sped on toward that fated night.
In the meantime, he thought, as he
lowered his gaze to the glowing lamplight inching toward the woodshed, he
needed to discipline her, teach her exactly who was the dominant one of this
pair.
Her life depended on it. Or, at
least, his did.
The going was slow. As Dana
shoveled her way to the shed, she sank nearly to her hips several times, and
wished she'd had the foresight to don the snowshoes. But too late now. She
needed to get that wood stacked inside before Morgan woke up.
She felt a bit edgier than she'd
expected. Darkness and night sounds didn't normally disturb her. But the
lingering memory of the eerie howls she'd heard just before the crash still
nagged at her. Besides, it was the absence of sound that bothered her most. Not
unusual in the wake of a blizzard, but nevertheless, the cries of a few night
birds would have gone a long way toward making her feel more secure.
The loss of time wasn't helping,
either. If she didn't get back before Morgan woke, he'd be angry that she'd
ignored his warnings. She could better face that anger if she succeeded in her
task.
And she would be in a better
position to ask Morgan to take her back to her Ranger. He had no excuse now.
The sky was beginning to lighten and clear. By morning the storm would have
passed.
* *
*
Soon she reached the shed, which
was actually more of a lean-to. Settling the lantern on the roof, she looked
around and spied a sled leaning against a wall. She kicked it down on its
runners, then started brushing snow off the wood and stacking it on the sled.
The ceaseless wind kept blowing fresh snow across the patch she'd shoveled, but
she took satisfaction in knowing it wasn't quite as deep anymore, which meant
she wouldn't be sinking to her knees
As she piled on yet another layer
of wood, she heard a rumble.
Low and throaty.
She turned slowly.
Had something darted behind the
corner of the cabin?
She lowered her head, looked up,
moved her eyes left to right. All was quiet around her. Moonlight streamed on
the expanse of empty billowing white.
Letting out a quick laugh, she
realized she was behaving just like Sheila, the first wolf she'd raised from a
pup. Her dad was right. She had begun to act like them.
When had she come to fear things
that went bump in the night? It was only a tree branch scraping the roof, not a
banshee. With another laugh, she straightened the wood on the sled,
considered it all hogwash.
But in the beginning he'd been
willing to try anything to escape his curse. He'd taught himself how to erect
and read astrological charts and had even pinpointed the planetary aspects the
maiden must possess to successfully perform the ceremony.
As time passed, his hope waned. Now
he had little faith the ceremony would work. Of course, until now there hadn't
been a maiden.
She must love him, so said the
text. With an abiding devotion that eclipsed fear and death. Since using his
hypnotic powers was expressly forbidden, why would Dana, or any woman, love
him? He'd become a hermit. Most days, even in human form, he looked and lived
like the creature he'd become. A creature not unlike the ones Dana had fiercely
sworn to protect.
No, not at all unlike.
And subtly, very subtly, Dana
behaved like the animals she loved. As soon as she'd become alert, she'd
scanned the small cabin, searching for danger like wolves in the wild. Later,
she'd roamed the room, touching objects as if marking her territory. But most
notably, she'd shrunk in size when he'd frightened her, looking away, baring
her belly like the submissive female he knew she wasn't.
This one was no stranger to the way
of the wolf. And from her display of devotion, he knew she loved them. Could
her love spill over to that abomination of nature, the werewolf?
To him?
He looked up sadly at the waxing
moon. Slim wisps of clouds streaked its mottled surface. It appears so
harmless, so insignificant in the ways of man. Morgan knew differently. Even
now it sped on toward that fated night.
In the meantime, he thought, as he
lowered his gaze to the glowing lamplight inching toward the woodshed, he
needed to discipline her, teach her exactly who was the dominant one of this
pair.
Her life depended on it. Or, at
least, his did.
The going was slow. As Dana
shoveled her way to the shed, she sank nearly to her hips several times, and
wished she'd had the foresight to don the snowshoes. But too late now. She
needed to get that wood stacked inside before Morgan woke up.
She felt a bit edgier than she'd
expected. Darkness and night sounds didn't normally disturb her. But the
lingering memory of the eerie howls she'd heard just before the crash still
nagged at her. Besides, it was the absence of sound that bothered her most. Not
unusual in the wake of a blizzard, but nevertheless, the cries of a few night
birds would have gone a long way toward making her feel more secure.
The loss of time wasn't helping,
either. If she didn't get back before Morgan woke, he'd be angry that she'd
ignored his warnings. She could better face that anger if she succeeded in her
task.
And she would be in a better
position to ask Morgan to take her back to her Ranger. He had no excuse now.
The sky was beginning to lighten and clear. By morning the storm would have
passed.
* *
*
Soon she reached the shed, which
was actually more of a lean-to. Settling the lantern on the roof, she looked
around and spied a sled leaning against a wall. She kicked it down on its
runners, then started brushing snow off the wood and stacking it on the sled.
The ceaseless wind kept blowing fresh snow across the patch she'd shoveled, but
she took satisfaction in knowing it wasn't quite as deep anymore, which meant
she wouldn't be sinking to her knees
As she piled on yet another layer
of wood, she heard a rumble.
Low and throaty.
She turned slowly.
Had something darted behind the
corner of the cabin?
She lowered her head, looked up,
moved her eyes left to right. All was quiet around her. Moonlight streamed on
the expanse of empty billowing white.
Letting out a quick laugh, she
realized she was behaving just like Sheila, the first wolf she'd raised from a
pup. Her dad was right. She had begun to act like them.
When had she come to fear things
that went bump in the night? It was only a tree branch scraping the roof, not a
banshee. With another laugh, she straightened the wood on the sled,
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