CHOICES

Disclaimer: I wish I owned them. I do. But sadly, no such luck, so I am merely playing with them for a time.

ANSWERS TO REVIEWS

Blank Ned: You must have caught it just as I updated, so before it showed up. I know, I almost feel guilty about what I'm doing to them... Hehe only almost though. Wasn't planning to add Cheery in but just for you I will add a small piece of Vimesey at the end, which sadly is just a few chapters away.

Watchman-whose-new-pen-name-is-too-complicated-for-my-little-brain: Glad you're still with me, my friend. And I'm not really bothered about the chapter length thing... You did have a point; they were short. Full moons are once every lunar month, which is about once every 28 days. I think. Once a month, anyway. Also, thanks for that link! I like the pics but you need more Discworld ones.

Eridala: Thanks! Appreciate the compliment

CHAPTER SIX: MOONLIGHT, PART TWO

He was a handsome wolf, she noted dazedly in the second or so it took her muscles to react. Bigger than she was, with red fur and blue eyes that meant he could never be mistaken for a dog, even now he would still stand out in a crowd. Then she managed to gain control over herself and turned away, too fed up to want to see him leave. Better that it was her choice to walk away. She heard him padding after her and sighed, blinking rain out of her eyes; she was in no mood to argue right now. Breaking into a trot, she accelerated.

It occurred to her even as she moved away down the slick wet cobbles of the street that she was running away. She'd been waiting for him to acknowledge her existence for weeks, and when they finally came face to face with no excuse to leave, she walked away. The wolf, who was far more practical than the woman, ignored this and just kept going. If a situation made you uncomfortable, you left. Simple.

It didn't work entirely like that, though. Pausing at a junction, she could hear his paws behind her. She really, really didn't want to have to deal with this right now. He had made it only too clear that he was less than happy with what she had done, and that was the understatement of the year. So whatever happened, the conversation was going to be unpleasant, probably painful, and she just didn't want to hear it. Because if she didn't hear him say it, she could go on for a while living with the hope that it might work out and he might forgive her. The illusion held some small measure of comfort; gods knew she didn't have anything else even remotely comforting in her life right now.

He was still following her. Well, let him. She had come for a run, and run she was going to. At the next corner, she did just that, leaping from a slow trot to a flat out sprint in less than three strides and flashing away towards the nearest gate. Bigger than her he might be, but she was damned sure she could outrun him. Trying to ignore the small part of her that was screaming that she was making a mistake, the part that wanted nothing more than to turn and see him again, Angua ran into the pouring rain and sped off down the muddy road to the gate, ears flat against her skull.

He'd lost sight of her. Damn. Slowing to a halt, the wolf cocked his head and distantly heard her running, several streets away. Well, he'd handled that brilliantly, hadn't he. Knowing it was hopeless, he lowered his nose closer to the wet cobbles; he wasn't surprised to find no scent. Even a fresh trail wouldn't settle in rain like this. Okay, time to think. She would be headed out of the city, the way he had planned on going when he'd left this evening. That meant the closest gate, which was... That way. His tongue lolled out in a wolfish grin – she never had learned all the short cuts in the city, and he had a map of Ankh-Morpork in his head.

Less than five minutes later, he loped up to the gate and was rewarded by a distant glimpse of pale fur some way off, just vanishing into the rain. He'd cut her lead down. Now he just had to keep her in sight until she stopped or he caught up, whichever came first.

Easier said than done. Angua was a werewolf of long experience, especially when compared with his three weeks, and she knew exactly how to run over this sort of ground. Not surprising, when you thought about it; whilst she'd never gone into any detail, he knew in a vague sort of way that she had had to flee one step ahead of a mob several times before. Good for her, but he was beginning to get tired; he wasn't used to running on four legs yet and his muscles were aching with the strain of trying to grow accustomed to the new style. Still, she couldn't keep going forever. Right?

He wasn't sure when he'd lost sight of her, but he suddenly realised that it had been a long time since he'd seen even the distant glimpse of pale fur. There was no scent in this rain and he couldn't track to save his life, but he was certain he was on her trail. Dismissing it as a werewolf thing – he didn't have time to think about it if he was ever going to catch her – he ran onwards through the rain, wondering if he was going to be able to sort this out if he ever caught up with her. Gods, Angua, you never make it easy, do you? He thought to himself as he ran.

Angua was finally beginning to grow out of breath. It had been a long time since she'd tried a cross-country sprint, but she'd kept going long enough that she was certain he couldn't find any physical trace of her. Slowing to a steady lope, then easing down to a trot, she finally dropped to a walk and then stopped, ears pricked as she caught her breath. Oddly, she felt better; running had its own peculiar liberation in it, and the exertion had burned off a lot of pent-up energy.

There was just one small problem. Her senses were telling her that against all expectations, he was close by. She shouldn't have underestimated him, she realised dully, the exhilaration of the run leaching out of her. Well, she wasn't going to run again. She might as well listen. Then, when she'd recovered from the black depression and, if she was honest, heartbreak his words would give her, she could decide what happened next in her life.

The only thing keeping her in the city now was the remote chance that he might forgive her with time. Once that possibility disappeared, she knew there was no way she'd be able to stay. At a conservative estimate, the entire undead community of Ankh-Morpork hated her, most of the Watch were afraid of her and the ones that weren't afraid were somewhere between loathing and rage. Not a lot of future there really. Where she could go was a problem to be dealt with later. Resignedly, she turned and stood waiting for him to arrive.

He came into view slowly, pausing to sniff the air, to look around, obviously not entirely certain of his way. Cursing herself, and wishing she didn't react to the sight of him so easily, she shifted position deliberately and watched his head snap up, bright blue eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on her. Biting back a low whine of sheer longing and unhappiness, she looked at him, her expression as blank as she could make it.

END OF CHAPTER SIX

I was going to continue, but I'm out of time and I wanted to update tonight. So you're just going to have to wait. And what happened to all my reviewers? If you want more story you have to motivate me into writing it... So review and tell me you love me, and I shall write some more.

Frosteh