by Jaide Fox
Jaxon raised in the stirrups, letting some of the kinks out of his sore backside. He rolled his head, cracking his neck again as if that would alleviate the headache that’d been bothering him since the night before.
He didn’t want to admit it was probably from sleeping on the ground and being on the road…that he was past his prime.
Adolfo pulled the reins with his meaty hands, making the enormous horses stop before the trail. The pair snorted and pawed at the ground before settling down. “Road’s too narrow. I’ll wait here with the wagon while you all check ahead.”
Jaxon nodded, nudging his bay horse forward with his booted heels. Leaving the noise behind suited him just fine. Behind him, Torolf and Ranger followed suit.
Ancient trees reached their heavy arms towards one another, arching limbs over the road like a canopy. Grey moss laced through the leaves, dripping from the branches like curtains. Dust motes drifted through the early morning sunlight that dappled the pitted trail.
Foliage hugging the road slapped against his legs as he guided his horse along the little used trail--if the overgrowth was any indication. If the baker was to be believed, the couple that lived out here rarely went to town, but he said he’d caught glimpses of a young girl a few times and thought they were keeping her out of sight on purpose.
Jaxon knew how small towns were. If anything didn’t seem normal, it was up for conversation and speculation. It could be she was just too young to participate in the festivities and had overprotective parents. Tradition dictated all unmated women gather for mating rights, but he wasn’t so sure he’d want a daughter of his attending the sometimes brutal festival.
The smell of earth permeated the air, and the longer they traversed the trail, the clearer the scent of cooking meat became. Jaxon caught a whiff of bacon grease carrying through the air.
“We’re close,” he said to Torolf and Ranger.
“I know. The smell is driving me crazy,” Ranger said.
“My stomach’s about to eat me alive,” Torolf muttered, clutching his belly.
“We’ll get done here and go out on a hunt. I’m ready for some fresh meat,” Jaxon said.
As he said it, the quaint cottage came into his view. A small paned window stood open, allowing bacon grease and wood smoke to perfume the air. The trail came to an end at a small, closed gate. Over the rustic wood fence, Jaxon could see a few dozen chickens pecking at feed strewn across the dirt.
He dropped down off his horse, handing the reins to Torolf before going to the gate. It opened with a creek, and he stepped under the small trellis trimmed in ivy before walking stiffly down a flagstone path. His bum knee burned and pinched from riding in the saddle for too many days, and he favored it with a slight limp.
The way the sunlight filtered through the great pines surrounding the cottage produced a homey picture that made him miss his own place.
Approaching the porch, he could hear voices inside that quieted as he stepped on the hand hewn boards and rapped sharply on the door.
A chair scraped inside.
His senses, ever acute, detected furtive movement. Jaxon cocked his ear, listening to anxious moves, steps across weakened floorboards. The scrape of two more chairs. He felt the vibrations of a door being shut.
Puzzled, Jaxon frowned and knocked again. Harder this time.
Footsteps approached the door. Jaxon tensed, expecting the worst.
“Who goes there?” a male voice asked on the other side.
By the raspy quality, Jaxon suspected the man was older. “Open in the name of Clan Leader, Nicodemus,” he said.
A few moments passed.
The doorknob squeaked as it rotated, and the door slowly opened. A cautious old man with black skin and a salt and pepper beard and white hair peered through the crack. Behind him, he could see what had to be the man’s wife, round and short with wide, fear filled brown eyes.
Why were they so scared? Enemies certainly wouldn’t take the time to knock before attacking.
“Who are you? What you want?” he asked in a furious whisper.
Jaxon cleared his throat, relaxing the fists he’d made of his hands without realizing it. He pasted a smile on his face. “Good morning Sir, Madam. I’ve orders to round up all available women for the Moonlight Festival. I’ve heard word from town that you have a daughter.”
“We ain’t got no daughter,” the man said, moving to shut the door.
Jaxon put his foot on the stoop, blocking him. The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned. “Reliable sources tell me you do. Can I check for myself? I’ve come a long way.”
Behind the old man, the wife tugged at his sleeve. He dipped his head to let her whisper in his ear. Finally, he nodded. “I reckon. But make it quick. We was eating breakfast.”
The man opened the door, allowing Jaxon to walk inside. “It won’t take long,” Jaxon said, applying his politest voice and immediately spotting the loft above the kitchen and the table set for three.
Jaxon stopped at the table. Beneath his foot, he felt the floorboards sag beneath a rug covering.
Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the table, then glanced at the plump woman. “Any reason you have three plates? Were you expecting someone?”
The wife hurried to the table. “That was just some extra I fixed for my husband. Sometimes he wants seconds in the morning.”
Jaxon stooped and flipped the rug up, revealing a trap door. “What’s this?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.
“It’s just the root cellar,” the old man said, crinkling his forehead and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“You don’t mind if I check it too?”
“Nothing down there but salted meat and preserves,” the old man said, walking stiffly into the room. His wife waited by the open door, wringing her hands.
“Just the same….” Jaxon nodded, then pulled the rung and lifted the trapdoor.
As soon as it was opened, a form lunged through the opening, knocking Jaxon back on his ass. The wind left his lungs and the floorboards reverberated with the force of his landing. A girl leapt over his prone body, heading for the open door.
Jaxon snatched at her ankle as she ran past. The girl stomped his fingers before continuing through the small house, bursting outside and leaving him behind as he recovered.
Rolling on his belly with a roar, Jaxon launched himself to his feet. She was quick, he’d give her that.
“Too old for this,” he growled, following seconds behind her.
She rounded the building, moving away from his men waiting outside the front gate instead of heading straight for them.
“You got this?” Ranger called when Jaxon came into view.
He didn’t answer, focusing instead on catching the girl. Dust sifted into the air from her feet striking the bare ground. She ducked around the thick trunk of a pine, heading for deeper wood. Pine needles and leaves scattered in her wake.
He surged behind her and felt his knee threaten to buckle beneath the strain. He realized her head start would keep her just out of reach if he didn’t do something drastic. He didn’t have time for this shit, and he damned sure wasn’t going back to his men empty handed and showing them he didn’t have an edge anymore.
Without pause, Jaxon shifted seamlessly to the wolf, his loose clothing no impediment to the change. Years of practice, from the time he was a mere boy, allowed him to transform without pain or strain.
Padded feet hit the ground, soft and lithe, carrying him with a speed his human form could never match. He charged through the underbrush, a dark blur as he pursued the girl.
She glanced back, eyes wide as she saw him. She stumbled over a root, careening to the left to avoid hitting the trunk.
The scent of her fear permeated the air, and he caught a whiff of fine sweat as she pushed herself ahead to recover her unsteady gait. Weaving through the trees, she swiveled through the sentinels in her wooden shoes and kicked them off to gain better t
raction in the soft, moist loam.
The tactic wouldn’t save her.
Jaxon shot forward, energy pulsing through his powerful muscles. Her panting rang in his ears, making his blood thunder with excitement as he closed in on her.
Her lilac dress flapped like a sail in a breeze of her own making. He launched off the ground with his hind legs, snagging the coarse fabric with his muzzle. Ripping at the fabric like a wild, excited beast, he snatched her backward. She screamed, flipping backward to land on her backside.
Halting her flight, Jaxon immediately shifted back to human form, landing on top of her. He pinned her back to the ground, kicking and screaming, snapping her teeth at his arms and face and flailing her arms in a tornado of movement that nearly stunned him.
“Hold … still,” Jaxon shouted, sitting on her stomach to keep her from bucking him off. Fear strengthened her, but she was still no match for his greater weight and experience.
“Get off me,” she screamed, clawing at his face with talon-like fingers.
Her struggles forced him to wrangle her arms to the ground above her head. It left him panting for breath above her, his face within inches of her gnashing teeth and glaring golden eyes.
“Do you yield? Do you yield to me” he asked again when she refused to answer, tightening his hands on her wrists for emphasis.
Her eyes widened, terror filled. “Never!” she said, breathless, through gritted teeth.