Hunter's Moon

The Hunters

Once he had seen Liza enter the house, Lincoln had headed back out into the woods. He hadn't been kidding when he had said the Hunters were out here. And then Liza had had the nerve to joke about it!

Let's give the big bad wolf to the big bad hunters, Lincoln!

He angrily kicked a stone out of his path, not caring about the noise it made while it crashed over small trees and bushes. Why were the Hunters even here? They hadn't bothered them since Lincoln had been eight. That had been nine years, when his father had demanded they move instantly. His mother had, obviously, questioned the high demand in his father's voice, but had carried on with the plan. She had secretly been hoping he would want to move. A two-bedroom one-bath house was too small for a family of five.

But now, Lincoln couldn't just move like that. He had school to think about, his siblings. Liza. He had to be here for her. She couldn't protect herself against things like the Hunters. They were a complex breed—not human, but not Lycan either. A Hybrid. One that shouldn't exist.

It showed, too. Just because the Hunters didn't have to worry about the Change didn't mean they got let off the hook. You don't get enhanced senses from a Lycan without some type of deformity. The Lycanthrope virus had been slowly dominating the human genes over the years, leaving the newest Hunters with flat, wide noses like a dog, pointed ears most people assimilated with elves of folklore, patches of hair where normal humans wouldn't have any—or that much—and their teeth have been getting longer, much like Lincoln's canines were. In most cases, being born a Lycan was better than being born a Hunter. At least Lycans could blend in with humans, even when they had longer canines.

Lincoln stripped out of his clothes, crouching into position. It took very little thought to bring about the Change now that he had been doing it for a couple years. When he had first started, he had ended up losing everything in his stomach, sweating like a sinner in church, and getting to the point he was so exhausted he'd pass out and wake up Changed. The pain had been excruciating during the times he hadn't passed out.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused his breathing. In...out. In... His rib twitched first, making him wince. The muscles all along his body started stretching like a rubber band about at its breaking point. He kept in a groan as his bones shifted, clenching his teeth and trying not to shiver against the sound of moving bone.

The beast welcomed him, gladly offering his sacrifice, bucking against its cage deep within him. He felt his mouth elongate, shifting into a snout, while his Lycan teeth pushed through the gums, forcing his human teeth out of the way. His ears stretched upward, becoming pointed at the tips. He felt his eyes sink further back into his head, widening into the correct size for a mammal his size.

His nails thickened and grew into sharp claws, his fingers getting thicker as muscle filled them. His feet turned into paws, the claws looking like a normal dog's. His tail sprung out of his back, pulling it a bit to get to the right length. He closed his eyes again and let out a long exhale through his nose as the final shudders subsided.

Opening his eyes finally, Lincoln could see everything in the forest with great detail. Everything was in black-and-white but it didn't make any difference; his vision was still sharper than normal. His ears swiveled back and forth, listening intently for any signs of the Hunters.

The beast growled from deep in his gut, reverberating through his chest and out his throat.

The forest grew silent. The beast shook his fur, eager to find the Hunters. Standing up on its hind legs, it started forward, eyes, ears, and nose constantly checking. Lincoln slid his consciousness back far enough to give the beast control but not far enough he lost his ability to take control should the need arise. He had learned from his mistakes, the last time he lost control turning disastrous. At least it had only been deer.

The beast froze, turning his head slightly to the right. Raising his nose to the sky, he sniffed a few times. Lincoln smelled them as well. It wasn't a pleasant smell. It smelled like B.O. and wet dog mixed; the two worst smells of both the Hunters' halves. The beast shook his head to rid it of the smell and took off, dropping his hands to the ground to run faster.

He approached them in no time, being sure to remain absolutely silent. The beast was smart. When he got fifteen feet from the Hunters' position, he jump into a tree, climbing to the middle to oversee their meanderings.

The beast growled softly when he recognized one of their scents from their previous Hunt, when they had almost got him. If Lincoln hadn't have offered himself, they both would have been long gone by now. Hunters didn't fool around when it came to "rabid" Lycans. In other words, Lycans who had not yet been euthanized.

The beast shifted on the tree branch, grumbling quietly. If the experienced Hunter hadn't been there, the beast knew he would have been able to take on the pack. There were only three of them, after all—not that hard even for some humans. But the experienced Hunter threw a kink in his plans, angering him.

Lincoln gently prodded the beast mind to remind him he was still there and the beast quieted, listening and watching.

The experienced Hunter signaled the others, putting his hand in the air and waving it in a circle. The others gathered around and they all crouched down low. The beast leaned down to see what was being draw in the dirt. He couldn't interpret the drawings but Lincoln could. He relayed back to the beast what was being said.

The wolves are around here somewhere, the Hunter wrote. He erased it and wrote, Never split up. Keep close.

The trainee Hunters nodded, shifting their weapons excitedly. The older Hunter glared at them and motioned them slowly forward, but to stay in line. The beast was amazed Lincoln knew all this. As an animal, he had no need for this knowledge.

When the beast knew they were far enough away, he leaped onto the other tree branch, following them from above. His foot slipped off the branch, slamming into the one below it hard enough to knock it off. It went crashing down, the rustle of shaken leaves following in its wake.

The footsteps on the ground stopped, a startled yelp the only sound.

Lincoln tried to take control but the beast snarled at him inside his head. The beast tensed his muscles, preparing for the thirty-foot drop he would take. Lincoln desperately tried convincing the beast otherwise but he was plaintively ignoring him, determined in a hunt of his own. The claws on his fingers retracted and extended, much like a lion's would in preparation to a kill.

Lincoln pressed against the beast, demanding his body back, but the beast let forth a vicious growl, springing from the tree with claws outstretched and mouth agape. All three Hunters raised their weapons, one each aiming for the heart, head, and gut. Lincoln shut his eyes, praying desperately to live—

The shot rang out.