by Allison Moon
The wolves were now only three paces from where Sharmalee stood frozen. The largest one leapt, his claws spread and ready to rake out her guts.
Hazel and Renee both launched across the barrens. Yards to the left, a pale blur bounded into the field. Sage shifted as he ran, his wolf beginning at his snout and scudding down his skull and spine. At once, he ran on lean legs, pale gray and beige, as graceful as a ballet dancer and with the speed and heft of a bounding elk.
He bellowed a growling snarl as he rammed into the neck of the first full-blood. The animal toppled and rolled, and Sage leapt over it as the two other wolves set their eyes on him. A clatter of barks shook Sharmalee out of her inertia, and she fell over herself to run.
To Lexie, it almost looked as though she were running in slow motion, her skin rippling over her thick thighs each time her feet hit ground. She couldn’t outrun them.
Sharmalee disappeared beneath a mass of fur and growls. Lexie bolted after Renee and Hazel, all strategy forgotten. She was only yards into the field when a growl greater than the full-bloods’ bellowed from beneath the writhing pile. Sharmalee burst from beneath them, feral and fur.
Sharmalee’s fur gleamed blue-black with the same sheen as her human hair. Her brown chest mirrored her skin. She looked beautiful, and enraged. She leapt onto the back of the closest wolf and bit down hard on the scruff of his neck. He yelped and shook to dislodge her hulking body from his own, but she held on.
Renee launched a bolt into his haunch, attracting the attention of the three other wolves. They raced toward her. Renee ran to meet them, tossing her crossbow to the ground.
The forward pair swiped out to slice across her chest. She released a cry more fierce than anything Lexie had ever heard from a woman. Renee seemed half-banshee, her mouth stretching beyond rational bounds, a caterwaul erupting in a torrent of rage. She leapt, shifting fully in midair. Her wolf form erupted out, catching the full-bloods at the apex of their swipes and stifling the power of their blows. She landed behind them. The wolves scrabbled to a stop. Renee didn’t pause to let them recover. She charged, battering them aside with her shoulder and swiping at their ribs and bellies with her claws.
Hazel and Lexie ran to her aid. Lexie raised her shotgun to her shoulder and fired, catching one of the Morloc at the shoulder. She followed by slamming the butt of her weapon into the shredded meat of the wound. Hazel aimed her shotgun at the neck of the wounded full-blood, but the third, fresh full-blood slammed into her with his pointed snout. Lexie pulled her knife and ran to Hazel’s attacker, slicing his haunch. He turned and snapped. Lexie dropped to her knees and rolled under his belly, dragging her knife across it. He sprang away in a storm of blood and squeals.
Lexie heard a crack from the treeline. Jenna released a shot that drove deep into the yelping wolf’s ribs. Lexie leapt to her feet and was blindsided by the fourth, unwounded Rare.
Lexie’s vision went white, then star-filled black, the feral noises fading in and out as her body fell to earth. Another crack from Jenna’s tree shook her awake. The beast above her teetered and fell. His skull slammed onto her ribs, the bones in her chest grinding, her ribcage bowing from the impact.
With a quiet moan, Lexie let her own wolf breach her flesh. Her ribcage expanded beneath the tonnage of the felled wolf. She pushed him off. He snarled, not dead, not nearly. There was a bloody gouge where his ear should be, his skull exposed by the bullet’s path. His lips pulled tight from his teeth. He snapped and licked his maw, saliva and blood intermingling, pink foam dripping from his jaw. He dove for her and she swiped him aside with a clumsy paw. He snarled and snapped his jaws closed around her shoulder. He gave her a fierce shake and tossed her to one side. She lost hold of her wolf form and landed in her girl shape. The Rare bounded after her while she struggled to right herself. Lexie shouted for help, but her sisters were all busy when their own fights.
The Rare jumped on her, seizing her once again in his jaws, shaking and tossing her aside. She fell to the ground like a crumpled heap of dirty clothes.
Another shot from Jenna sent the Rare stumbling back with a low whine. Across the field, Renee rammed her heavy wolf skull into a beast that threatened Corwin. Sage returned, pursued now by five Rares. He barked, sharp, three times. Sunrise. Time to shine.
The yellow light breached the treeline. Lexie scrambled to her feet and ran for the trees to regroup. The others broke from their fights and did likewise.
All of the Pack—except Jenna, who was laying down covering fire from her perch aloft—collected their breath behind the treeline. Her shotgun lost on the field, Lexie grabbed the last rifle and reloaded alongside Hazel. Renee cocked a new bolt.
“Are we ready?” Lexie whispered through heavy breaths. The girls nodded, and Mitch wiped sweat from his face.
“Let’s go,” Lexie said. Those who had guns slung them over their shoulders. Lexie stepped to the field in a ragged line with her sisters, took a deep breath, and shifted. From the corner of her vision, she could see the others, shifted to the height of their changes, towering tall, balanced on two legs.
Renee struggled to maintain her equilibrium, her center of gravity higher than she was used to. She gripped her crossbow in her right paw, fingering the trigger with a long and fearsome claw and screamed “GO!” in a howling, bestial croak.
Lexie ran, teetering and stumbling a few steps before catching her stride and leaping over the tripwires that defended their front. Jenna shot a few more suppressing rounds. Dust and rock burst in the wake of her missed shots.
The Morloc squinted and flinched at the glare of the rising sun, and didn’t seem to notice the furies bearing down on them. Lexie stopped to aim her rifle at one of the newcomers, her wolf-finger pulling the trigger so hard that she jerked the gun and skewed her aim. The bullet whizzed above her target, but it got his attention. The Morloc’s jaw dropped in shock as Lexie ran to him with gun raised. She unloaded a second shot square between his eyes.
The shocked expression stayed on his face as he dropped, snout first, into the dirt. Lexie threw back her head and howled for the first kill of the battle, and her sisters joined in.
The other Morloc gaped as the howling, bipedal she-wolves ran at them. Hazel chased after the slowest, bulkiest one, running full-tilt with her gun at her side. She roared and sunk her teeth into his haunch. He fell, and she lost her grip. The bulky Rare recovered and ran at her, ramming her with his head. She flew and fell onto a pile of broken rocks, her hybrid form dissolving into her tiny human body.
The eight remaining Morloc scattered, the four healthy ones attacking anyone that crossed their path with swipes and bites while the wounded wolves from the first wave snarled and snapped and licked the hurts they could reach. Sage tried to lead the Morloc in confusing circles, but rather than bank with him, they held their ground and used his dexterity against him, waiting for Sage to cross their path and leaping to harry him instead.
When Sage showed no sign of tiring from that game, the healthy Morloc grew impatient, darting and dodging with increased antagonism while the wounded sought easier prey.
A whipping paw caught Renee across her thigh. A battering ram of a skull shoved Mitch face-first into the slate. A Rare’s paw caught Corwin under the jaw. His swipe knocked her over. She hit the ground with a heavy thunk. Sage darted in her direction. He lifted her, but a Rare rammed Sage in the back, forcing the pureblood to drop his cargo.
“I’m out!” Jenna’s call rang over the field of battle. Sharmalee ran to the truck, retrieved another box of ammo, and threw it into the tree to Jenna. Lexie zigged and zagged around Rares, trying to get to Corwin, trying not to get killed in the process. Her chest burned with the furious pain of her broken ribs. She wheezed and pressed her hand upon her sternum. She hoped the healing had already begun, though it didn’t feel like it. She forced a half-shift and looked at her chest; her honey-colored fur was matted with dirt and blood. She found the faces of her sisters, bloodied, battered, tears and sweat inter
mingling, as though they were the same. The sun bathed the battlefield in yellow light, illuminating the thick dust that filled the air.
With the chaos of battle, most of Jenna’s shots were hitting only rock. Hazel slashed her paws wildly at anything furry that passed by her, and Renee bared her teeth and ripped at flesh and fur. Mitch, a burly and short hybrid, ran at one of the Rares assailing Sage, launching himself at its throat and latching on tight.
Lexie looked back to the Barrens and saw the tall, mahogany-furred Renee unload an arrow into a Morloc’s eye, then fully shift and force it deep into his skull with her paw. He staggered, and his jaw went slack. She shoved him to the dirt with a swipe across his snout and howled her victory.
The answering howls were a little more ragged this time. Hazel ran two more Rares in circles, dodging around a boulder, then leaping atop it. She half-shifted in midair and landed on one of her pursuers, claws digging into his skin as he bucked like a rodeo horse. She reached her paw into his mouth and pulled his head back, contorting his neck until it snapped. The second wolf snatched her forepaw in his jaws and clamped down with an audible crack. Hazel yelped and staggered away, gripping the injury.
Jenna dropped from her perch and tore across the barren land, each footfall clattering on the broken slate. She shifted fully and drove her skull into the Rare’s shotgun-shredded shoulder. She followed him to the ground, clawing and biting in a flurry of adrenaline. Hazel limped back to the woods, shifting back to human, holding her arm and crying.
Mitch joined Jenna, and together they tore the throat from the wolf.
Sage darted through the knot of remaining wolves and the Rares followed him, frustrated with his games.
Sharm stumbled toward Corwin’s prone form. Lexie took the reprieve to run to Renee’s side. She retched as her form returned to human-shaped. “How many did you count?” Lexie asked, bracing herself on her knees.
Renee shifted back to human form, spitting a wad of blood onto the dirt. “Nine total,” she said, gulping in breath. “Four kills.” She picked up her crossbow and loaded another bolt.
“There were supposed to be twelve,” Lexie said.
“I ain’t complaining,” Renee replied.
Lexie looked at her with doubt and hope, but mostly doubt.
From back in the forest, Lexie heard an odd sound. Bicycles. She pushed herself to standing and groaned at the pain that thrummed in her chest. Three tiny bicycle lights bounced behind the trees. Lexie limped to the forest and found Stefan, Taylor, and Otter dismounting from their mountain bikes.
“I’m pre-med,” Stefan said, out of breath. “I can help. I think.”
“The rest?” Lexie asked.
Taylor shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “We tried.”
She cursed and briefed the boys. “Can you shift?” she asked.
“What?” Otter said. “Now?”
Stefan shook his head. “Of course not.”
Lexie led the boys to the truck. “Here then,” Lexie said to Otter. “Take my gun. Ammo’s there.”
“I’ve got this,” Taylor said, pulling a katana from a sheath on his back. “It was my grandpa’s. Never used it, though.”
“Now’s your chance,” Lexie said, too exhausted to be hopeful. She ran back to the field and stopped, turning to face them. “Thank you.”
“INCOMING!!!” Jenna screamed. Seven Morloc stood on the horizon, ready for blood. Lexie recognized one of the new ones by the bloody knife wound festering on his shoulder. She squinted at him—it was the wound she’d cut into the caged Morloc two weeks ago. It hadn’t healed. “Fuck yeah,” she whispered. Lexie drew the knife from her sheath and narrowed her gaze on the Rare. She charged.
Taylor and Otter followed her to join the fight. Sage ran past the ridge, pulling some of the Rares back over the crest and temporarily thinning their ranks so the girls stood a chance.
A Rare—the one with the sagging belly, courtesy of Lexie’s knife—bounded toward Jenna. She aimed her rifle, but when she pulled the trigger, it only clicked. She was out of ammo. She raised the gun like a club and bludgeoned the monster on the snout. The gun cracked and broke apart on impact. Renee ran to help, arriving in time to watch the wolf strike so hard that Jenna landed yards from where she had stood.
Sharmalee found Corwin’s shotgun and lifted it to her shoulder, standing her ground, waiting. Stefan ran to Jenna, lifting her from the rocks and carrying her to the truck bed for care.
The battlefield was bedlam: Otter and Taylor together, shooting and slicing at the beasts; Sage running interference; Renee shifting back and forth, swiping and snarling; Hazel tumbling about with her acrobatics, taking jabs wherever she could find them; Sharmalee nude with a gun, looking for a clean shot; Mitch throwing fists and rocks in equal measure, rage burning red on his cheeks. This didn’t look like the battle Lexie had imagined—instead of armies, strategy, lines and ranks, it was chaos.
Lexie drew her knife and stood in the field, seeking out the full-blood she wanted most to kill—the one the Pack had caged. They saw each other at the same time. He ran at her, and she dropped the knife and shifted. He stopped dead before making contact. He snarled and swiped, but didn’t connect, trying to intimidate her into running. Just like gray wolves, she thought. She snarled back. He kicked onto two legs, trying to dominate, but Lexie shifted back halfway and met him. They grappled, each trying to wedge their snout into the other’s neck. The Rare’s breath was rank and muddy. Lexie swerved her head left and right, snapping at his matted fur. He roared and pushed her. She grabbed his forepaws with her wolfish fists and pushed back. She dug her feet into the rocky ground, bracing. They were deadlocked, pushing against one another like wrestlers in a clinch.
Lexie shifted back to human, the change oversetting his balance. She somersaulted under his chest, catching her knife and swiping it across his ribs. The gash rained blood on her face. He snapped and wheezed, but she was already rolling out past his tail. She ran, tossing the knife aside and shifting once again to all fours. She tore across the Barrens, feeling him close behind her. He closed in and leapt, sinking his claws deep into her haunches. She stumbled and tried to drag herself free, but his claws dug further into her muscles. She yelped.
Then, just as suddenly, she was free. She bounded away and turned to see Mitch, then Hazel, then Sharmalee, then Renee pile on. Their tails wagged. They buried their faces in his chest and neck then returned to the sunlight drenched in blood. Mitch and Sharmalee shifted back to human, vomiting and choking. The Rare burst from under them, his filthy coat matted with glossy blood. He stumbled, limping, back over the horizon.
Lexie looked at the sky, expecting stars and dusk but finding that the sun had barely moved. It could have been midnight or it could have been May, for all her muscles knew. It was all exhaustion, strain, and stress, none of which she allowed to broach her brain. The girls looked just as weary, but the Rares kept coming, chasing down the girls who had come to Lexie’s aid.
In the field, Sage shifted from wolf to buffalo, running, ramming, and corralling the Morloc for the girls. But the girls were growing weak, needing rest, water, a moment to recoup. It didn’t come.
Lexie looked at the bed of her truck, where Stefan tended to Jenna. He raised his eyes to catch hers, shook his head, and returned to work.
They couldn’t keep this up much longer. The early kills had been heartening, but most of their attacks had only wounded the Morloc. Six foes—four of them unhurt and barely winded—stood in the field, tails aloft, heads aligned with shoulders, gums curled back over sharp teeth.
The remainder of the Pack, plus Taylor and Otter, gathered at the forest’s edge, preparing for a final melee. The Morloc charged, and the Pack fully shifted together, a motley collection of fur colors and heights. Tight together, they ran as a pack. Taylor’s eyes widened and Otter choked up on his shotgun. Each Morloc footfall clattered in their ears, bits of slate and dirt exploding into the air beneath each step. Hold onto it, girls, Rene
e chattered. 3 … 2 … 1 …
At the last possible second, the girls shifted to hybrid and scattered, the Morloc shuffling over themselves to attack their suddenly-wily targets. Each girl ran, pursued by a Rare. Renee struggled to nock a bolt to her crossbow, her unwieldy paws fumbling it. The Morloc who pursued her smashed it beneath a heavy paw. Hazel tried to leap into a tree, but the Morloc caught her by the ankle and tossed her to the ground. She landed with a yelp on a scatter of sharp rocks. The Morloc trampled her. Sage darted to distract the wolves once more, but they ignored him, so he shifted into a buffalo and began ramming each one with his horns until they paid him mind. Taylor ran past the individual skirmishes, slicing his katana against the tough hides of the Rares, drawing blood wherever he could. Otter followed, picking off a Morloc and chasing it over the rise. Mitch tried to run but turned his ankle and was set upon by another wolf. Sharmalee swung her empty rifle, battering her pursuer’s snout, but he didn’t relent, pushing her to the ground and snapping at her neck.
Lexie saw their undoing. One by one, the girls fell, scratching, kicking, and punching in desperation rather than fury.
“Fall back!!!” Renee shouted.
Lexie sobbed, rejecting the notion. They couldn’t yield. Not now. Not like this.
She sought and found Sage’s eyes. They steadied her. He nodded and broke for the trees and the truck. Lexie bounded after him, as did Hazel, Sharmalee, and Mitch. Lexie’s legs and lungs burned. Her vision blurred with unformed tears, and her breath broke around jagged spurs of pain. Jenna was in the truck bed, where Stefan tended her. But where was Corwin?
She caught sight of Corwin across the field, slumped and neglected in a rumple on the rocks. How long had she been out of the fight? Lexie couldn’t recall. There was too much to keep track of. The dawn’s glare glinted off the steel of Lexie’s blade, abandoned on the shale halfway between the treeline and Corwin’s body.