Leopard Moon

Chapter Four

Cormac was jogging through the late autumn woods, pacing off the perimeter of his family’s property. The McNeils owned a couple hundred acres of the deeply forested mountains in western North Carolina and his family worked hard to keep it private and protected. Burke, his cousin, loped beside him in the form of a large grey wolf. Cormac had lost the rock/paper/scissors game, which meant he had to do the patrol as a human. It was faster and easier in wolf shape, but the pack's Alpha and Beta—Cormac’s and Burke’s fathers, respectively—had determined it was better, not to mention safer, for one person in each patrol party to remain unchanged.

 It meant that he was the one responsible for calling for help if they needed it, for dealing with any interlopers on their property, and for keeping the clothes for the other in case a quick change was needed. And it meant that Burke got to run along tirelessly beside him, grinning his smug wolf grin.

Cormac's pack didn't look markedly different from regular wolves. The only difference that set them apart was size. Werewolves were larger, weighed significantly more and stood taller at the shoulder. Burke's wolf shoulder came up almost to Cormac's hip; an actual wolf would stand maybe three feet high. 

It was getting on towards dusk and Cormac knew they'd be running out of light soon. He knew he slowed Burke down so he picked up his pace, only noticing that Burke wasn’t following him when he didn’t feel the occasional brush of a furry body against his running pants. Cormac stopped and looked behind him. Burke was moving up a game trail they had passed. It branched off to the left of the main trail. He beckoned Cormac over with a jerk of his head.

Cormac eased over, edging past Burke to see what his cousin had found. He moved slowly up the game track, on the lookout for what might have attracted Burke's attention. Hidden in the brush was a steel trap, probably meant for a bobcat or maybe a fox. It wasn’t one of the humane catch and release ones; this one was designed to snap on the animal’s leg and disable it until the trapper came back. Cormac found a heavy branch and triggered the trap, flinching as the metal teeth bit deeply into the bark. Burke growled low in the back of his throat and Cormac nodded.

"Someone’s poaching on our land. There may be more of these out here, so keep a nose out." Most traps were baited with a strong scent marker, so Burke would be able to sniff it out.

Cormac pulled out his cell, relaying the information in a text to his dad so that the next patrol would know to be on the lookout and the word could be spread throughout the pack. Trapping was allowed in North Carolina but this was private land. He knew no one in his family would have set those traps. They didn’t have need of another animal’s fur. Most of them came equipped with their own.

He and Burke continued on, covering ground quickly. They were almost finished with the sweep of their assigned part of the property when they heard something coming through the trees. They stopped and waited. After a few more minutes of rustling and thrashing, a short man emerged from another game trail carrying a bloody sack. In his hands was a rifle. He stopped short when he saw Cormac and Burke-wolf.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. "You're trespassing on private land," Cormac said, keeping a sharp eye on the man's hands. Burke put a little space between them, making sure the man had two targets.

"I didn't see no sign." The man held the rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

"Doesn't mean you aren't trespassing." Cormac chose to give the man the benefit of the doubt--maybe he hadn't seen the large posted signs strewn throughout the edges of the property or maybe he thought ignoring the signs was worth the risk. The man's clothes were worn and dirty and he looked haggard. He could be in desperate straits with the economy the way it was. And desperation made men do a lot of dangerous things. "What's your name?" Cormac asked.