The dying she-bear staggered about at random, pawing at her face and moaning pitifully, but the general course of her death throes sent her gradually further away from Firetooth and his young charge so, apparently, they weren't dead yet.
He closed his eyes and breathed through his teeth, hissing in an effort to control the agony of the Change. A series of sharp jabs of pain sparkled along his chest as his broken ribs finished reforming into a human chest, and he breathed a bit easier after that, the fractures resolving into a dull ache.
Beside him, the young werewolf he thought of as Drooly sat up and stared at his own hands, then turned and beamed down at him. Firetooth met the insufferably gleeful expression with a raised eyebrow. Glad you're enjoying yourself, boy. He carefully rolled onto his side and helped himself upright. A sad heap of fur was all that remained of the other young werewolf, the one the bear had killed. He must have died before the Change took him. In the distance, a heavy thump told of the bear's final surrender.
"Are you all right?" Drooly asked. He sounded different, somehow. Clearer, more articulate.
"Of course," he replied gruffly, and managed to stand without wincing. Drooly stood also, and the two looked at each other for a long moment before the younger man's goofy grin came back and Firetooth grudgingly admitted, "You did well, when you attacked the bear."
Drooly's grin broadened and he looked about to speak, but Firetooth cut him off. "But don't forget that this entire mess is your fault. His death-" He just barely stopped himself referring to the corpse as 'Fuzzhead,' which would have been inappropriate- "was your fault. You disobeyed my direct order."
Drooly hung his head and hunched his shoulders, grimacing a little as he tried to flatten his ears and found out human ears don't move much. "Yes, sir," he whispered wretchedly.
Firetooth regarded the young man, realizing suddenly that he would never have recognized the boy had he not Changed right beside him. He did still have brown fur – hair, actually, humans have hair, and his was thick and curly – and dark brown eyes, but everything else was different. Would he be able to recognize Swiftrunner?
Would he even recognize his own mate? Would she recognize him?
"Let's go," he said abruptly and started back the way they had come. "We have to get back to the rest of our pack."
"What about him?" Drooly pointed at the dead werewolf uncertainly.
"Leave him. He's beyond caring." Firetooth set as brisk a pace as he could manage, finding his way home by memory through the familiar hunting grounds. If the other males thought they could take liberties with his Nightsong under the excuse of failing to recognize her, then... well... They were wrong.
He shook himself, momentarily confused at the vagueness of his thoughts, wondering why his mind didn't fill with howling and blood and very specific, horrible, gruesome ideas. This unfocused dread was most unpleasant, the silence inside his own head unsettling and grim. He blamed the pain of his wounds and focused his thoughts on the rough path before him.
Nightsong tried to howl again, blushing when she heard her ridiculous voice. I sound like a bird, she though wryly. But there was nothing else for her to do but struggle painfully through the briars, thorns that had only hours before been a mere inconvenience now a nigh-impenetrable barrier. She was already clutching one arm across her generous breasts to protect them after the stupid things had gotten scratched one time too many. She struggled on for another few minutes and repeated her embarrassing 'howl.'
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
The rough shout came from somewhere off to her left, and she immediately turned towards it, wincing as she tried to go faster and snagged her hair on a bramble. "It's Nightsong! It's me! Who's that?"
Only after calling out did it occur to her that the voice might be an elf, and not her pack at all. She froze for a terrified instant before a second voice, female, said in surprise, "Nightsong? What are you doing out here?" A pause, and then, "It's Sundancer, I'm with Swiftrunner and Gatekeeper. And the babies! Come quick and see them!"
Nightsong brightened and finally managed to make her painful way to the game trail her alphas were using, finding to her relief that she could indeed recognize Swiftrunner and Gatekeeper, at least now that she knew who they were. Swiftrunner still had his indefinable air of authority, Gatekeeper the slight twist to his mouth that implied he'd been everywhere and done everything. Sundancer must be the blond with the babies (two in her arms, one in Gatekeeper's), but she had no ideas about the fully-dressed women with shoes.
"Look, look at their blue eyes," Sundancer said excitedly, adjusting the two infants she held in her arms to show her, once Nightsong had finished offering a formal greeting to the two dominant males. The ritual was awkward as humans and she had settled on kissing their cheeks.
"May I?" Nightsong asked politely, holding out her arms, and Sundancer gratefully surrendered control of one of the surprisingly large and heavy infants.
Sundancer sighed and stretched out the arm she'd been using to hold him. "Phew," she said with a laugh. "Those boys are big. I'm just glad they came out before the Change."
"By the Lady, yes," Nightsong agreed fervently, imagining three babies this big coming out of her new petite human frame.
"By all means, continue to ignore me," the well-shod women said dryly.
A scowl flashed across both men's faces and Nightsong held her breath for a moment, but there was no explosion, and after a moment Sundancer said, "This is Morrigan..." and, as they began walking again along the blessedly open game trail, she explained the completely unbelievable events of the past 24 hours.
The disbelief must have shown on her face, because Sundancer laughed after she was done and added, "I know, I wouldn't have believed it either. Yet somehow it's still true. Latitia wants us to get everyone together and meet up with her as soon as we can."
"She was too busy fussing over her precious Templar to think about such minor matters as food and supplies," Morrigan put in. "But life as a human can be quite expensive. I suppose it is too much to ask if your pack has any sort of treasure?"
They all looked at each other uncertainly, and then Swiftrunner suggested, "Would treasure include carved metal objects? We kept them as decorations, but I think humans wear them in war. There are pictures on the walls of our den," he added by way of explanation.
Morrigan shrugged. "I would have to see them, and I am far from expert on what humans will value, but anything is better than nothing. Sometimes they will pay good gold for the most absurd things."
"You – I mean, pardon my impertinence, but you speak as though you are not human yourself," Nightsong said, stumbling in confusion over how to address the stranger.
She smiled coldly. "I am human, but other humans would prefer not to admit it. I am a mage." The pack just stared at her in confusion, so she added, "A magic wielder." Another expectant pause, and she huffed in exasperation and said, "I can make things happen just by thinking about it."
"Ooohhh," they chorused, and Nightsong noted that the men's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, accepting her status with better grace in light of the strange and exotic power she claimed.
They emerged at last from the briars and into a serene and open space dominated by bracken ferns and grasses, and some ways off, a rabbit froze, hunkering itself down as it wondered whether it should hide or flee.
"In fact," Morrigan murmured, gesturing for them all to stay still, "I believe it is time for a demonstration."
With that, she began to whisper quietly to herself, moving her hands in a few complicated motions, and then with a thrust of her right hand and a musical tinkling sound, the rabbit suddenly glistened with frost. Nighsong gasped in astonishment, and Morrigan sauntered calmly to her prey, which thawed out just as she came to it and fell over, dead. She picked it up by the ears and stuffed it unceremoniously in her bag.
"Dinner," she announced, grinning at their expressions of awed respect, before turning and leading them on through the forest once more.
Dusk fell as Firetooth made his weary way down the stairs to the den. A few of the other hunting groups had returned for the night, others camping out if their search had taken them too far afield – he did not envy them sleeping outside without their fur. The rest of the pack milled about helplessly, confused without any of the dominant members around to give them instructions, and he reflected dully that he was probably in charge.
"Everyone line up and say your name," he said tiredly, as soon as he entered the den's common area and before they could descend upon him with questions. They just stared at him blankly.
"I'm Firetooth," he told them, realizing their confusion. "I assume Swiftrunner and Gatekeeper aren't here, yes?" A few of them nodded, and he went on. "So I'm in charge until they come back. Get in line and say your names. Let's get this mess straight."
Once they were all introduced, he found he could put names to faces relatively easily; all retained some aspects of their former appearance, however subtle. He noted in passing that the pack's few females were quite pleasing to look at, their form revealed clearly without fur and very curvy and smooth.
None of them was Nightsong, though.
"We don't have names," said one of the children. The pack had no very young children, the youngest being only just prepubescent, reflecting the gap between the loss of the old pack mother and Sundancer's coming of breeding age. But the little group of nameless youths also included adolescents like Drooly and they now stood together, gazing at him with unusually bright eyes.
"I know," he said shortly. "I'm going to my room. Set guards – Daystalker, see to that. Come get me if my mate returns."
She did not return that night, nor the following morning. The pack shared out what remained of an elk, killed the previous day and still reasonably fresh but not enough for a good meal for all of them. Firetooth kept a hunk of the haunch for later, justifying the act to himself by figuring that Nightsong should be here, so she should get a piece of meat, even though technically she was somewhere else. It occurred to him later that if he was going to use that kind of logic, he ought to have saved some for Swiftrunner. If the alpha came home first, he would give the meat to him instead, he decided.
He really, really hoped the alpha or the gatekeeper would return soon. The others were getting restive and he had no idea what to say to them. "What do we do now?" was not a question he was well-suited to answer – except, of course, when the answer was "Kill something and eat it." He doubted that would be enough now, unfortunately. He stood up with a jerk and stalked out of the den.
"I'm going for a perimeter walk," he told his friend Daystalker, who lurked behind a column near the den entrance. "I'll be back soon. You're in charge here. Don't let anyone in."
"Thank you, sir, but I'm not dom-"
"For the love of the Lady, it's just a few minutes! You can handle it."
"Yes, sir." The lean man ducked his head obediently and came out of the shadow with some reluctance; his liking to blend in and stay unnoticed – so useful in a hunter – did not serve him well in a position of leadership. Firetooth felt a brief flicker of guilt at misusing his old friend, but told himself the taste of responsibility would be good for him. Or so Swiftrunner had said to him once. He strode out to the well-worn perimeter patrol path and began the familiar circuit.
His mind had begun to settle and he was enjoying the exercise so much he was considering taking another turn or two, when he came back around to the beginning and heard raised voices. Oh, no, he thought and quickened his pace.
"-your damned Alpha, man, show some respect!"
"I don't – I'm not supposed to – Firetooth said not to-"
Poor Daystalker was falling all over himself in confusion. Firetooth burst out into the cleared area in front of the den and waved his arms to catch everyone's attention. "At ease, Daystalker. Obviously I didn't mean you should refuse the alpha entrance!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't recognize him," he said miserably. "I'll go." He began to slink away into the forest, but the big man Firetooth assumed was his alpha called him back.
"Wait, I want to talk to everyone. Go inside and make sure everyone's ready to hear..."
Swiftrunner was still talking, telling him where to go, what to do, but Firetooth wasn't listening. He'd been wrong.
Of course he would recognize Nightsong. Damn, but she was fine. In a minute he was going to be standing in a puddle of drool.
She caught him staring and frowned, drawing back a little before her eyes suddenly lit in comprehension. She smiled and waved, all the invitation he needed to rush over and catch her up in his arms. His ribs protested but he ignored them, kissed her soundly and then looked over her shoulder at his friend Daystalker, triumphantly mouthing the words My mate.
Nice, Daystalker mouthed back with a grin.
Nightsong was babbling something about strangers, elves, dwarves, clothing, and shoes, but frankly, he was far more interested in getting this pack meeting over with so he could make some excuse to get her alone. "Let's go in," he interrupted her, taking her arm and leading her inside. The sooner the meeting started, the sooner it would be over and he could set about exploring the possibilities of her completely different and extremely sexy new body.
A thousand thanks to mille libri, Enaid Aderyn, JessicaJones and roxfox62 for their very kind reviews – you guys are awesomesauce! And a great big thank you to everyone else who's reading, too. You rock!