The Shadows of Night by Ellen Fisher

stretch marks of childbirth, and her breasts hung low from feeding children, yet she was still an attractive woman.   There was something about the breadth of her jaw and the narrow blade of her nose that made Hart think of Katara.
    “Explain yourself, daughter,” the woman snapped.
    Katara shifted.   Standing just behind her, Hart observed the interesting sight of her tail shrinking and disappearing, and her sleek flanks shifting into round, shapely human buttocks.   He tried not to let the sight distract him overmuch.   In Claw territory, and facing half a dozen savage cats, the last thing he needed was to allow himself to be distracted by a woman’s curvaceous rump, no matter how lovely it was.
    “Mother,” Katara said formally.   “I bring you Lord Hart, eldest son of the monarch of the Antler Kindred.”
    The woman’s nostrils flared, and her amber eyes flashed fire at Hart.   “Why has this Antler set hoof into our territory?”
    Hart felt a vague surprise that this woman appeared to be in charge, then recalled that Pride leaders were always female.   Among the Antler, the monarch of the Herd was always male, and he’d heard that amongst the Fang, an alpha male and female shared the leadership of the Pack.   It was just another reminder that, although they looked alike in human form, the three Kindred had entirely different customs and beliefs.
    “He has twice saved me from the Fang Kindred,” Katara said.   “But even though I owe him my life, I would not have brought him here for less than a matter of grave import.   We come with news, Mother, news that you must hear.”
    The woman’s eyes shone with contempt as she glared at Hart.   “Does the Antler not possess his own voice?   If he wishes to speak, let him speak for himself.”
    Hart understood the challenge.   He was unable to speak as a stag.   Faced with half a dozen Claw , most of them in cat form, did he have the nerve to effectively disarm by shifting to human form?   
    To shift was foolhardy—he would likely be unable to shift back quickly enough if they attacked him.   And yet he must prove his mettle before these people somehow, if he was to have the slightest chance of earning their respect.
    Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to change.
    It wasn’t easy to shift to human form.   In any dangerous situation, with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he shifted automatically into stag form.   Faced with the scent and sight of half a dozen felines, he was instinctively nervous, and his body didn’t want to give up its natural defenses.   But he concentrated, forcing the change on his unwilling flesh, and seconds later he stood before them, stark naked and entirel unarmed.
    He thought he glimpsed approval in the woman’s eyes as he stepped forward and bowed deeply, a mark of respect he ordinarily wouldn’t demonstrate to anyone other than his monarch.   Exposing the back of his neck to a predator was not something he enjoyed doing, and he had to fight his body to avoid shifting back to his animal form.  
    “I am Lord Hart of the Antler Kindred,” he said, imbuing his voice with the respect he usually reserved for his father.   “I apologize for entering your territory, but Katara and I bring news.”
    “It must be startling news indeed, to make you risk so much.”
    “It is certainly not good news.   The Pack have developed a fang that wounds from a distance.”
    The woman’s eyebrows lifted.   “Ridiculous.   Such a thing is nothing but myth.   A tale told to children.”
    “It is more than myth,” Katara said.   “It is reality.   I have experienced it.   It bit deeply into my shoulder.”
    A flash of concern lit the amber eyes as the lioness studied her daughter.   “You do not seem to be seriously wounded.”
    “Only because of the healing abilities of the Antler,” Katara said.   “Were it not for him, I would have bled to death.”
    The woman’s eyes narrowed.   “You