fencing dragged it back down. It lay in the rough grass, its brown-and-white sides heaving. The black eyes beneath the dark nose stripe were wide open, rolling wildly as the wolf drew closer.
The wolf had been roaming the prairie, searching for something to eat. Game had been plentiful when she first moved into this area, but evidently the word of her arrival had spread, and most of the small animals had fled. Soon she would move to a new hunting ground, but today she tracked the scent trail of a hare and hoped to catch it unawares. Then the sounds of a large animal in distress came to her, and she followed that to find the pronghorn buck.
The buck had been here for the better part of a day. It was a large, healthy animal but the futile struggles against the fencing had sapped its energy. Still, the wolf held back. Her mouth dripped saliva at the smell of the prey, but she had never taken on anything so big. In her solitary travels across the prairie she had caught hares and mice and ptarmigan, and once she had feasted on a dead calf, but she hadn’t killed anything this big. She knew that the buck wouldn’t have the strength to fight her if she waited just a little longer. But the desire to taste warm blood was too strong, and the wolf threw caution to the wind.
She moved closer to the pronghorn’s head, watching its panicked motions carefully. The buck threw its head back and the wolf shot forward, clamping her jaws on the exposed neck. Warm liquid flooded her mouth as she bit down, and her eyes fluttered closed at the taste.
The pronghorn gave one last desperate heave, trying in vain to shake her loose. She clamped down harder, planting a paw on the antelope’s shoulder to brace herself. The buck thrashed its legs wildly and one sharp hoof connected with the wolf’s side.
Agonizing pain grabbed onto her ribs and squeezed. Her grip loosened, and the wolf managed to stagger a few steps before she collapsed. Her breathing came fast, a frantic fight for air complicated by the tortuous feeling of every inhalation. Tremors shook her body. Her amber eyes rolled up in her head and her limbs twitched violently as they started to change shape. The heavy black fur rose and fell in waves before disappearing into the light brown skin of the woman who now lay naked and unconscious on the prairie.
It was the increasingly cold air that brought Nowen back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to an indigo sky streaked with red and gold clouds. A breeze moved over her, and the feathery tips of switch grass trailed across her face. An all-too-familiar thought surfaced: Where am I?
Slowly she turned her head to the left. A dead pronghorn lay close by, lifeless black eyes seeming to stare accusingly at her. Blood trickled from a wound in its white-furred neck, and as the copper-and-saltwater scent came to her she licked her lips unknowingly.
Nowen rolled to her left. A raspy exhalation escaped her throat as pain flared like acid all along her right side. She teetered on the edge of insensibility, drawing tiny sips of air through her gritted teeth, as the pain grew worse. Her hands dug into the dry soil and saliva dripped from her lips as she tried to outlast the all-encompassing swell of agony. Black flowers had started to bloom behind her eyes when the pain finally eased.
She thought longingly of never moving again, but the deepening cold chased that idea away. Gingerly she trailed her fingers down her right side, finding an area low on her rib cage that rewarded her touch with another bolt of pain. She also discovered that she was nude, which just added to her confusion. I remember running down the alley behind the hospital, she thought, and then the Revs were everywhere...and then...
Nowen raised her head cautiously, expecting to see the buildings of Exeter. Instead she saw nothing but grassland, dusted with snow and stretching in front of her as far as her limited vision could see. She let her head drop back for a moment and
The wolf had been roaming the prairie, searching for something to eat. Game had been plentiful when she first moved into this area, but evidently the word of her arrival had spread, and most of the small animals had fled. Soon she would move to a new hunting ground, but today she tracked the scent trail of a hare and hoped to catch it unawares. Then the sounds of a large animal in distress came to her, and she followed that to find the pronghorn buck.
The buck had been here for the better part of a day. It was a large, healthy animal but the futile struggles against the fencing had sapped its energy. Still, the wolf held back. Her mouth dripped saliva at the smell of the prey, but she had never taken on anything so big. In her solitary travels across the prairie she had caught hares and mice and ptarmigan, and once she had feasted on a dead calf, but she hadn’t killed anything this big. She knew that the buck wouldn’t have the strength to fight her if she waited just a little longer. But the desire to taste warm blood was too strong, and the wolf threw caution to the wind.
She moved closer to the pronghorn’s head, watching its panicked motions carefully. The buck threw its head back and the wolf shot forward, clamping her jaws on the exposed neck. Warm liquid flooded her mouth as she bit down, and her eyes fluttered closed at the taste.
The pronghorn gave one last desperate heave, trying in vain to shake her loose. She clamped down harder, planting a paw on the antelope’s shoulder to brace herself. The buck thrashed its legs wildly and one sharp hoof connected with the wolf’s side.
Agonizing pain grabbed onto her ribs and squeezed. Her grip loosened, and the wolf managed to stagger a few steps before she collapsed. Her breathing came fast, a frantic fight for air complicated by the tortuous feeling of every inhalation. Tremors shook her body. Her amber eyes rolled up in her head and her limbs twitched violently as they started to change shape. The heavy black fur rose and fell in waves before disappearing into the light brown skin of the woman who now lay naked and unconscious on the prairie.
It was the increasingly cold air that brought Nowen back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to an indigo sky streaked with red and gold clouds. A breeze moved over her, and the feathery tips of switch grass trailed across her face. An all-too-familiar thought surfaced: Where am I?
Slowly she turned her head to the left. A dead pronghorn lay close by, lifeless black eyes seeming to stare accusingly at her. Blood trickled from a wound in its white-furred neck, and as the copper-and-saltwater scent came to her she licked her lips unknowingly.
Nowen rolled to her left. A raspy exhalation escaped her throat as pain flared like acid all along her right side. She teetered on the edge of insensibility, drawing tiny sips of air through her gritted teeth, as the pain grew worse. Her hands dug into the dry soil and saliva dripped from her lips as she tried to outlast the all-encompassing swell of agony. Black flowers had started to bloom behind her eyes when the pain finally eased.
She thought longingly of never moving again, but the deepening cold chased that idea away. Gingerly she trailed her fingers down her right side, finding an area low on her rib cage that rewarded her touch with another bolt of pain. She also discovered that she was nude, which just added to her confusion. I remember running down the alley behind the hospital, she thought, and then the Revs were everywhere...and then...
Nowen raised her head cautiously, expecting to see the buildings of Exeter. Instead she saw nothing but grassland, dusted with snow and stretching in front of her as far as her limited vision could see. She let her head drop back for a moment and
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