My Furry Valentine

by Karen Ranney

  And if communicating with the furniture was considered a skill, then I’d demonstrated that. I’d either been warned by my grandmother, the ottoman or I’d engaged in a half hour of inventive hallucinations.

  Yet the Brood had been with me. They'd barked at the ottoman. They'd seen it move.

  So we were all nuts.

  I pulled out my phone, called my mother, and arranged to meet her and my sister at Lady Bird Johnson Park. It was a small but contained area on the northeast side of town that would give us freedom during the Hunt, but also protection. We knew people who lived around the park and if anything untoward happened, we could certainly find shelter there.

  We should all be safe in our usual stomping grounds. At least that's what I told myself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Something was wrong

  Lady Bird Johnson Park was located off Nacogdoches Road in San Antonio. It was not a Furry friendly location. Therefore, it was the responsibility for each group or family to provide their own privacy, robes, and shoes.

  For years, my mother and Sandy have used a small pop-up tent. It erects in seconds and is large enough that two people can stand upright in it. I waited until they had changed, then went inside, removed my jeans, T-shirt, underwear and sneakers, donning a robe and flip-flops that looked like they were new.

  I hadn’t brought anything because my mother had told me she had a carryall packed and ready in the car, waiting for me to join her on the Hunt again. How long had it been? I couldn't even remember, which meant that it had been a really long time.

  Tears peppered my eyes, which was just ridiculous. There was no reason to cry right now. I was simply feeling nostalgic. Or something.

  My mother and my sister had kept to themselves on the Hunt for years. My father went somewhere else; I wasn't sure where. Nor did I know if Austin accompanied him. Right now, it was just enough to be with my female relatives. I wanted to ignore the existence of the male ones for a while.

  We assembled outside the tent where my mother gave Sandy a hug and then me. The hug seemed to stretch on for minutes, and when she was done, she pulled back and curved her hand around my cheek.

  “You don't know how long I've hoped you would join us, Torrance. It will be just like it once was.”

  Well, not entirely. I had been a great deal more, shall we say, rebellious back then. I wasn't rebelling against anything at the moment. I had too many real problems to worry about the silly things that used to occupy my thoughts. Maturity had finally mellowed me.

  Now was probably not the time, but I didn’t know when I was going to get my mother semi-alone again. I didn't want to take the chance of going to my parents’ house and encountering Austin. I honestly didn't know how I was going to be in the same room with my brother again.

  "Mom, do you know about the family meeting?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, turning away from me and speaking to a tree. "Are you ready?”

  That was about as direct an answer as I was going to get. My mother had no intention of discussing the meeting of the families with me.

  "Do you know what it's about?"

  Points to me for daring. Sandy made a noise of disapproval and I glanced at my sister and then away. Great, if nobody wanted to talk about it, that was fine, but I, for one, didn't want to be blindsided.

  “Torrance," my mother said, uttering my name in that long-suffering tone she used when I’d ventured too close to the boundaries of her tolerance. It was an entreaty for me to back off, go away, be quiet, or refrain from doing whatever I was doing that was getting on her last nerve.

  "Come on, Torrance," Sandy said, turning and walking into the bushes.

  There was probably a path she was following, but I couldn't see it. It was full dark and only a few of the park’s lights were lit in this area. My night vision as a wolf was a hundred times better than my human vision.

  Nature hummed around us, the sounds of crickets and tree frogs almost a cacophony. I couldn't utter the hearing spell in my wolf form. I didn't know many Furries who could actually talk on four legs. Would the noises overwhelm me?

  I guess I should’ve given that some thought before coming to the park.

  I don't know why I felt the need to go on the Hunt tonight. Maybe because it had always healed me, brought me back to who I was, and made me feel more myself. Maybe that's all I needed to completely heal from what Austin had done to me. Right now I felt stuck in a between place, neither in one world or another.

  I sought out my own bunch of bushes, removed my robe and folded it, only because my mother was nearby. I was always neater around my mother.

  I knelt, waiting for the transformation to occur, hearing the crunch of leaves around me, the soughing of the wind, the call of some frightened animal in the forest. We weren't far away from a major thoroughfare, and I could hear the tires on the street, the blaring radios inside, even threads of speech.

  “I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t…”

  "You’re not going to make it home tonight, either?"

  “And then she said that I was being unreasonable…”.

  A burst of laughter made me wince it was so loud.

  I could even hear the other side of the conversation on a cell phone for as long as the car remained near the park.

  Just as always, my ears hurt as I became my wolf. The transition never lasted long and when it was over I lay panting on the ground. I was still Torrance, with a human’s thoughts, wishes, and desires in a furry four legged body.

  I’ve often thought that Furries were the most blessed of God's creatures, because we were reminded every month, if we wished to be, of the miracle of creation. In the hours between darkness and dawn, we didn't have to worry about mortgage payments or the boss, what to make for dinner, or how to pay the water bill. We were simply alive and we got to experience the purity of that feeling, becoming close to earth and nature.

  I sat there for a few moments, listening. Thankfully, the sounds were bearable. My nose, however, seemed to be more sensitive. I could smell the scent of my mother and my sister not far away. Sandy was making that curious chuffing sound that passed for a Were laughing.

  Something was wrong.

  I got up on all fours, nosing out of the bushes and heading for my mother.

  A feeling of dread spread over me like a bad case of mange. I had to get to them before something else did, something unexpected and bad.

  Someone was near. Someone who shouldn’t have been.

  A wolf was naturally cautious in his four legged state and maybe I was being a little too paranoid. I reached my mother and Sandy in a clearing where they were obviously waiting for me.

  My mother nosed me on the neck, a universal greeting. I responded by lowering my head like a pup did in the presence of her parent.

  She turned and led the way through the trees, leaving Sandy and me to follow.

  I hung back. I still had the feeling that something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe I’d heard something, but whatever it had been was gone now. Or maybe it was a smell that shouldn’t have been there, some odor that was wrong for the place and the time.

  A dozen feet separated me from my family and I wanted it to be greater. I had the sudden and unexpected feeling that I was a danger to Mom and Sandy.

  Let’s face it, I was Furry Non Grata the minute any Were figured out who I was. Plus, I had the vision of Maddock the Rabid Vampire to scare me after dark and it was dark right now.

  It was a bit late for me to be figuring all that out. It had been selfish of me to want to be around my family. I would have been better off taking Waxinine and blowing off this month.

  The episode with the vampires had thoroughly spooked me, but I couldn’t even protect myself for fear that I’d accidentally kill a vampire and end up being responsible for five hundred Furry deaths.

  My mother halted on the path, her tail fluffing like a flag in a gust of wind. Sandy stopped behind her, nose up, scentin
g the air.

  Wolves don’t vary by much in our four legged form. There are silver wolves, of course, but they’re old creatures. Most of us are brown, with lustrous dark fur with few other personal details.

  Sandy was different. She had an auburn stripe winding through her fur. My mother had the same coloring while I was just plain brown.

  The wolf that appeared on the trail above my mother was different, too. His fur was black, so black that he appeared as no more than a shadow in the darkness at first.

  Then he looked at me and I recognized him.

  Be still my heart.

  It was the first time I’d seen Mark as a wolf and he was as gorgeous in his four legged form as he was as a man.

  He bowed his head slightly, a curious gesture for an alpha male, but it was an act of courtesy toward my mother. He passed her on the path and she stepped aside but watched him closely. Sandy did as well, her tail aloft, her eyes widening.

  Then he reached me and touched my nose with his. I could have sworn there was mischief in his eyes, and a canine grin on his mouth.

  I was an absolute idiot around Mark Avery and now my mother and Sandy knew it, too.

  I allowed him to come closer and brush his face against mine. I inhaled the smell of him, wanted to bathe myself in his scent so that anyone coming close to me would know that I was claimed. He made a sound deep in his throat and I answered it with my own, as fervent a call as a cry to the moon.

  Come with me.

  Yes, anywhere.

  I sent a look to my mother and she nodded.

  In seconds, I was away with him, our strides lengthening as we began to lope, then run through the park, dancing over paths and gravel, flying over the dry creek bed, bounding to the tops of boulders and then down, across the undulating earth.

  We played in the darkness like two children given freedom for the first time.

  We explored the whole of Lady Bird Johnson Park. There were barbecue areas, nature walks, a dog park, and a secluded place where couples fogged up their car windows.

  My human psyche couldn't help but wonder what would happen after the Hunt. When we transformed, would Mark and I do our own form of fogging up the windows?

  Things had to be said, first.

  Mark owed me an explanation and maybe more than one. Why had he disappeared again? That was getting to be a habit. Was he really living with his sister-in-law? And if he was, why the radio silence? For that matter, why hadn’t he just told me? We could have had a semi-amicable breakup.

  Why wasn’t he running with Danielle?

  Why was I jealous? That was not a question I was going to ask him, but it certainly needed to be answered.

  I hated being petty. I hated feeling insecure. In a lot of ways, it was just easier not having a relationship at all rather than having to go through this. Or maybe I should just wait until they came out with a robot humanoid, something that I could stick in a closet. Maybe it would have a remote control and I could just press a button when I was feeling frisky, if you get my drift. I wouldn't have to worry about it going astray on a full moon. It wouldn't transform to four legs. It wouldn't give me any jealousy issues. It would be mine, all mine.

  For some reason, I could see my grandmother approving. In fact, I could see my grandmother ordering one of the first units.

  Loving Mark annoyed me. What was his commitment to this relationship? Or did he have any? Or had I just been a friendly port in a storm until he connected with Danielle? Or was that label shacking up? I did a Furry eye roll and followed him.

  No, we were definitely not going to get friendly after the Hunt. Instead, we were going to have a conversation. And if he didn’t feel like talking, that was too bad. He could just listen.

  I couldn't keep up with him, but I’d never been able to keep up with a full grown male wolf as he ran full out. I was satisfied with being in his jetstream, as it were. Following, but allowing the distance to stretch between us. Until…

  I skidded to a stop, hearing something. I knew that sound. I’d heard that guttural growl before.

  San Antonio had its share of Weres. There are just so many places within the city for them to run, but Lady Bird Johnson Park had always been big enough to accommodate a great many Furries so that we didn't encroach on one another's Hunt.

  This wasn't a “you're getting too close” growl. This was something I remembered, something that had frightened me in the past and was doing a good job of it right now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We are paranormal, but we aren’t magical

  I took a few steps back, wanting to signal Mark but knowing that he was too far ahead to hear me. I didn’t want to take a chance at howling. The last thing we needed were rumors of wolves/coyotes in the park.

  My tail did a natural tuck between my legs because right at the moment I was scared and it was pretty much an automatic thing in times of stress.

  I could feel the fur all along my back pop up like a boy band’s haircut. I took another few steps, lowering my head just in case submission made a difference.

  I really didn't want to have to transform to my two legged form right now. My mother and Sandy weren't far away and I didn't want to take the chance that they would see how strong I was. I hadn't yet confessed about being Pranic to my family – other than Austin, of course. Right now he didn’t count as family.

  I wished that I could talk. I wished that I could do something other than growl back at the Furry in the bushes.

  Stay back! Go away!

  He stepped out of the shadows.

  It was him. The same monster wolf from Kerrville. I saw the ram horns and the sheep’s head in a blur before his wolf face reappeared. It was like something was reminding me of his true nature. As if I could forget.

  How had he known where I'd be?

  I took a few more steps back, hitting the chain that cordoned off the parking area. I ducked beneath it, finding no escape to my left since that terrain would funnel me toward the monster wolf. To my right was the hiking trail that Mark had taken.

  If I got a good enough start, I could lose the wolf.

  Maybe.

  Or maybe I would simply lead him to Mark.

  Well, damned if you do and damned if you don't.

  He advanced on me. He didn't rear up on his hind legs, but he didn’t need to. He was a big wolf, maybe one and a half times my size. His mouth was open, his tongue lolling out to one side. The moonlight glinted on his canines.

  The better to eat you, my dear.

  Well, crap.

  Male Weres were taught to respect females. We might be physically weaker, but we had other attributes that made us just as important as a male. At least I thought so.

  We were the ones who kept home and family together. We bore offspring. We taught and we nurtured; we shaped and formed the next generation. We were the matriarchs, the keepers of tradition and our culture.

  We were to be venerated, not hunted willy-nilly. Nor was a male to ever accost us without our signaling him that such behavior would be accepted and approved.

  But this Were hadn't learned that lesson in Kerrville and it didn't look as if his education had grown by leaps and bounds in the past month.

  Still, I lowered myself to my belly, laying there, more than willing to move to my side and even to my back if that would save me from having to prove my strength or putting either my family or Mark in danger.

  However, the best laid plans of mice, men, and female Furries don't often go as they are planned. I heard another sound, one that halted the monster wolf in his tracks.

  I glanced to my right to see Mark approaching at a full run.

  I stood, wishing again that I had the ability to communicate. I would be willing to pay this wolf to go away now, anything but allow a possible confrontation.

  He raised up on his hind legs, his front legs stretched out as if to hug Mark when he approached.

  His growl, however, was an indication that he wasn't feeling welcoming.r />
  Neither was Mark. He didn’t even stop. He didn't investigate the situation further. He didn't send a cautioning growl toward the monster wolf that he was too close. Instead, he barreled right into the other male. For a moment, there was nothing more than a tangle of legs, tails, and flying fur.

  The two were growling so loudly that I was sure that anyone — human or wolf — within five miles could hear them.

  Someone yelped and I couldn't tell who it was, but I prayed it wasn't Mark.

  I took a few steps toward them, but I didn't know what to do. Even in my human form I wouldn’t have been able to interfere. I’d learned a lesson as a vet early on in my career about being careful when separating two fighting dogs. Picture a pit bull biting another pit bull and then escalate that by a hundred times and that’s what the fight between Mark and the monster Were looked like.

  I saw a flash of something to my left and turned my head to see my mother and Sandy standing there, moonlight glinting off their wide eyes.

  I guess that meant I wasn't transforming to my human self and demonstrating my Pranic strength. Instead, I could only be the little woman off to the side, waiting until the big boys decided to stop acting like idiots.

  The Were from Kerrville’s ram horns were glowing golden, his face alternating between sheep to wolf, a curious transmogrification that made me think that perhaps I had interpreted it wrong. Maybe what I was seeing was the duality of his nature. Both coward and courageous. Or follower and leader.

  Hell, what did I know?

  He pushed Mark and he stumbled back. I suspected that Mark wasn't using the extent of his powers. He had a well-developed sense of what was right in any given situation. In other words, he was intensely honorable. He wouldn't think that it was fair for him, with his Pranic blood, to fight another Were unless he made the odds even.

  The Were from Kerrville — and I had to come up with a better name than that – glanced over at me, smiled, and then returned to the fight.