One By Night and Other Collected Tales

Moondance

A score of gouges slashed across her face. His familiar sage eyes, set within unfamiliar moon-silvered fur, had stayed her trigger finger as he leapt toward her, all claws and fangs.

Tomorrow, he'd trace her wounds with tender concern, ignorant. Innocent. He'd gentle his touch and his words to soothe her and insist she see the village healer, even though she knew every bit as much herb-craft as the crone did.

Tonight, though, he sought her death beneath the moon.

So be it. Let them dance.

By sunrise, he'd bear a few new scars, himself. She dare not chance a bullet lest he die forever locked in this form, four-footed and wild. A few quick swipes of a silver blade, though, and he'd slink off to the shadows in search of easier prey. Hopefully, he'd settle for a doe.

And yet, there was no cure of which she knew.

Someone had to hunt the hunters of the night, and someone would ensnare him, still. Let it be someone else, though.

Mayhap it were cowardly to shirk her duties as protectress of these woods. Let them call her coward, though, but let him yet call her to his bed.

When his ardor withered, she'd then aim true, with a steady eye, unwavering.