Following the stream south, every few feet I
rubbed my fingers against the tall brush, checking for
scents. The faint whiff of animal droppings mixed
with the dirt beneath my sneakers, but so far nothing
stuck out as significant. I’d gone miles from the new
house, and Dad would be pissed, but he’d just have to
wait until I satisfied the beast inside me.
The wind picked up, carrying with it a musk that
tickled my nose. Definitely deer. I broke into a jog
along its trail, muscles quaking with the possibility of
a hunt.
I had to slow down. If I shifted now, my clothes
would be wrecked, and I’d have to return home
naked. Not cool. I rubbed the growing stubble on my
chin and the beginning of whiskers tickled the back of
my hand.
A rustling to my right drew me. Screw helping
Dad set traps to catch game. I wanted—no needed—to
run off some pent up energy, and what better way to
do that than tracking live prey.
I kicked off my shoes, stripped, and hung my
clothes on a tree branch, all while visualizing my
body stretching into a sleek, feline shape. My canines
extended, my ears lengthened, and whiskers sprung
out on either side of my upper lip. I was thrown into a
bent position as my bones cracked, realigned, and my
muscles reconfigured. Once the shift started, I could
only ride its momentum.
A deep growl rose from my chest as I stretched
my new limbs. It’d been so long since I’d shifted.
Downwind of my potential dinner, I stalked it,
rapidly closing the distance. I crept up to a clearing
filled with tall grasses and hovered at the edge. The
doe fed on a patch of alfalfa a hundred yards away—
alone.
An easy catch. Maybe if I brought it back to Dad, I
could show him that hunting as panthers without
getting caught was possible. Then he’d have to listen
to me about giving up the trapping system.
Crouching, I padded into the clearing, using the
grass as cover. About halfway to her, the doe lifted
her head. She tuned her ears in my direction and
stomped the ground. Crap. I lay on my belly and kept
perfectly still, right down to holding my breath.
Her tail flicked, and she stomped her hoof again.
In a blink, she dashed in the opposite direction.
I shot after her, pumping my legs faster and
faster, savoring the friction of dirt under my paws
