McRee - Biteclans Daughter

Biteclans Daughter

By

Devin McRee

I

Her elders often said when one of these creatures is staring directly at you, then you are in the last minute of your life. Kira Naughton slid the shredded tatters of her parka off her shoulders and pounded her fists together, staring right back.

On the brow of a slight ridge sloping above her, the tomwolf let out hot breath into the cold forest air and paced at a right angle to his line of sight. He never averted his gaze. The parka slid over her fathers tawny brown pelt in the snow between her feet, and he whimpered so faintly that no steam even wafted up from his muzzle. He was going to die, right before her.

She needed to find the cell phone that had been knocked aside in the mossy rocks and summon medical attention. She needed to carry him away. But right now she couldnt even afford to look down at him. The creature was waiting for just such a moment of distraction.

Losing the parka had left Kira standing chilled under several mature oaks, even in a pair of her thermal running tights and the training pullover that she and other varsity team members wore to practice in the early track season. Her hair was mostly tucked under a form-fitting skullcap, and beneath it the tips of her ears began to lengthen.

She was hardly dressed for this the late afternoon air had warmed enough to melt much of the snow, but the breeze still cut into her skin. A layer of fur grew already up her back to fend it off, and under her full cheeks a set of burgeoning fangs began weighing down her jaw. The change lengthened her face and unnaturally aged her young features.

You, she rasped in a gravel voice. She wouldnt be able to speak much longer. You arent leaving. Not without finishing this.

There was no question that it was a tomwolf. The size and the aquamarine eyes were unmistakable. Besides, the natural eastern timber wolves inhabiting these woods never confronted her father nor the rest of her pack. Not even to feed. And there were always the residual anthropomorphic features that no timber wolf breed ever displayed: the knees, knuckles, five toes, a pair of deltoid shoulder muscles and discernible triceps above the forelimbs, and the moderately enlarged cranium. Passable for a wild animal at a distance, maybe but up close it was clearly something else.

And it had stopped short at her threat, facing directly toward her and lowering its tail and ears. Even in the rage of a hunt, they could understand. At this range, it had to see the gold color imbuing her own irises as well. She was not some random human bystander jogging into the wrong place, and this kill was not yet over.

Warm blood pooled around her feet, soaking through her training shoes and melting the snow. She winced slightly and shed them, her bare feet already assuming a triangular shape and coated in a silver-colored pelt. The change was taking very little effort, especially for daytime; but then Kira was already close to her moon-cycle and surging with adrenaline.

Her fathers paws were lengthening again into fingers, his fur thinning and giving way to skin. She tried to ignore this and stay in the fight. Still, the brief shift in her stance was the moment the tomwolf sought.

Her friend Lavons open carcass was almost directly between them, sprawled over a thick oak stump, his neck impossibly bent and his open rib cage turning the dead bark an even deeper crimson.

His mate lay dead somewhere around here as well. Not Ronda, though; this was the new bitten girl, whose name Kira hadnt yet learned. The attacker bore down, charging for the stump as if to kill Lavon all over again, its large black pelt like a solid shadow crushing thistles of ground cover that poked through the snow.

The ground immediately behind the stump sank into a slight depression, and it disappeared there for an instant before launching into view as if he were a new creature, reborn from Lavons remains. There was no thinking. Kira ran headlong, clearing the snow and prancing up the length of a fallen tree limb and ricocheting off another nearby tree trunk, to meet it in the air.

No one is ever supposed to fight a tomwolf without the pack. The elders had pounded that rule into the heads of every damp-furred cub, including her, along with basics like cycles and tracking techniques, and deciphering howls. Well, she had confronted him along with the pack it had just made short work of everyone else, and now there was nowhere to retreat. And who could expect her to leave her father alone out here?

His long and curved fangs yes, his, it was definitely a male now found the same spot in her shoulder blade where the parka had ripped open, cutting into her first wound from above her. She yelped, this time making a fully lupine growl, and tucked into a roll while digging into his back with both hands. It was a move Vance had taught her, and it flipped the creature onto his back and sent him sliding tail first through the snow. He regained his feet quickly, shaking off tufts of white powder and looking stunned.

Her hand had caught the trunk of another oak and dug in with newly-sprouted claws, allowing her feet to grip it and turn herself around. In this posture she looked more like a monkey than another wolf, but he lowered his head nearly to the ground, flicking his ears.

Thats right, she thought. Ive seen your moves already. You still havent seen mine. But his green-blue eyes abruptly disappeared into the snowdrift at his feet, and he threw a cloud of powder into her face with his muzzle.

A torrent of white needles assailed her vision, followed by another onslaught of pure black as he pounced. Kira flailed, striking the ground with his fangs lodged near the base of her neck.

He tossed her back and forth like a chew toy, and she stifled a whimper as the pain racked her back. Her body kept smashing against the same fallen branch she had strode over just a moment before, until she could find a footing and push back against him. Growling again, she threw one fist forward like an uppercut, all the energy radiating from her core straight through her claws.

He reeled once more, with a roar that became a gargle, and this time Kira realized she had found blood. Vance would be proud of her, even if for now he was no more than a flickering thought that her rage chased away. Bounding onto the branch again, she pounded her knuckles into the tomwolf again and again, until her hands fully transmogrified into paws and her legs bent back and the muzzle erupted fully formed from her jaws. Now she was on all fours, seething and raising her withers.

He roared once more, as her clothes ripped away and she lengthened herself into one long, leaping scream.

***

Im sorry, did you say that name was Norton or Naught?

Naughton! Scott Naughton. And Kira. Father and daughter. Sharon struggled mightily to keep her composure with the charge nurse. Both were admitted here, about an hour ago. Im the emergency contact. They said to come to this desk, in the trauma

Sharon, honey. There. Ronda tapped her shoulder and pointed up the hallway to their right. Here she comes.

Kira! Oh Lord, let me look at you. Sharon left her friend and almost broke into a run toward the nursing assistant pushing a wheelchair in their direction. Im here, baby, Im here. Are you all right?

Kira thanked and waved the man behind her chair away and then struggled to her feet, clutching her hospital gown. He bent down to grab the I.V. stand and pull it clear of the chair so she could take it and roll it alongside herself. The twins, Cory and Charlie, who had flanked their mother, now approached their sister while Ronda remained at the nurses station. Kira gripped the pole with one hand as if it could steady her, while she raised the other to offer a feeble hug.

Where is he? Her words came slowly, dampened by what Sharon assumed were acute painkillers. Th-they separated us as soon as we got here.