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lordragoon
I padded out onto the snow, tail twitching in the wind. There were so many fresh scents, so much prey to track, so much life, even in winter. It was my first time hunting in snow; it was the first time I'd felt the cool slush melt under my paw pads. She stepped out next to me, white and black fur flowing as snowflakes crashed silently against her pelt. I turned to face her.
She was a normal tiger, her light fur matted down by the melting snow. She was a Bengal tiger, with blue eyes and white fur. She was a powerful tiger, graceful muscles rolling under her skin. She was a hunter, a good one, better in the snow than I could be. She was a wise tiger, the wisest of our pack. She was a shifter, human or tiger depending on the circumstances. The sword strapped to her back and the set of clothes wrapped around that made it obvious she wasn't a normal animal. That, and the rarity of white tigers in Alaska.
She was also quite beautiful, for those with that type of aesthetic sense. I was also paired with her. Not in that way, at least not yet. We weren't the same species, so that put a damper on any relationship. For now, we were just... together.
I closed my eyes, letting the different scents and tastes roll over me. She did the same.
There were so many scents. While the falling snow had washed away the old smells; new ones, bright as they hung in the air, were stronger than I had ever sensed in my homeland. I was used to hunting with long dead tastes floating through the air. Here, the new scents were so strong I couldn't see the forest for the trees.
The tiger took a deep breath. "There's some good prey to the south; no humans there. Sound good?" I nodded. The smooth, graceful motion as she began to run was closely followed by my graceless limp. My foreleg was still in too bad shape for a real run, but she kept her pace slow enough that I could keep up.
It was a single bullet wound, and I had taken much worse than a .45 shell before. But it hit the bone, almost shattering it. The man with the gun... he shouldn't have be here. He was a killer, out for blood. More specifically, out for my blood, but the last report I had heard put him in California, not here. I let myself fall into the memory. Memory was always physical for me - that was the only past for me. At least it took my mind off the pain.
It started in a bar. Not a nice place, but not the type where a fight normally starts. The bar was filled with a sullen silence where everyone drank to forget. Most of them drank like they was no tomorrow and wanted to ensure that there wasn't.
We were there to pick up a human. A man who said he had something to tell us. The fact that he knew we existed was enough of a draw. We couldn't ignore it.
We sat at the bar, as close to the door as possible. Two mugs filled with soda sat before us, and we both took occasional sips. Asking for a Sprite here had brought more than one stare, but they'd keep the barkeep, a slow guy old enough to be my grandfather, off us. We weren't heavy drinkers, and we didn't want to be drunk when the informant got here. I took another sip and glanced at Flora. That was her name, at least when she was human. She took a deep gulp and started to crunch an ice cube. Two light bulbs flickered overhead, barely keeping the room's darkness at bay. Flora and I didn't care. We could see in the dark, though her eyes tended to scare.
He's late, she motioned at me. The lupine language is mostly physical, only a few words are verbal. It was a great way to say something without a human overhearing.
I know, I said silently. Do you think it's a trap?
A quiet, metallic click answered me. Right behind my head. "Keep your hands on the table." It was him. A human with a taste for revenge. I pushed my palms against the varnished counter. "You sit still, girl." Flora's white hair was starting to flow, like in a soft breeze. The fact that there was no wind or fan meant that she was struggling not to shift.
"I'm guessing our man isn't coming."
The human laughed, a grim chuckle. "He'll survive... but he won't be up for a few hours."
"What do you want?" Flora purred. The anger in her voice wasn't hidden.
"Shut up," the human muttered.
"No guns," the old man said, his voice calm and even-toned. The bartender sighed and tapped an off-white sign : an Uzi surrounded with a circle, a single red slash through it.
"Go wash your mugs, gramps. Now, you two, get up. Slowly." I began to stand, keeping my palms against the bar. Flora did the same, a couple loud cracks echoing in the otherwise silent room. Her knees were going feline. She was starting to shift, but fighting it. There was another click. Over my head, a light bulb buzzed.
"No guns, or else." The bartender muttered, a double-barreled shotgun in his hands. "Drop it now, and you'll walk out of here down a pistol. Don't, and you'll lose something more important." The shotgun was pointed at crotch level.
"Don't do anything stupid. You're in over your head," the human said.
The bartender grinned. "I don't see a badge. Put the gun down. Now."
The gun was pulled from my neck and brought toward the barkeep. I took my chance, the only opening I would get. I dropped to one knee and kicked backwards. The man grunted when I hit him, my foot smashing him where the shin met the kneecap. Flora had hooked the man's other leg, knocking him down. He fired a bullet into one of the lights.
The stampede began, all of the people running from the room. The humans may not have been sober, but they knew a bad fight about to start. They took the back exit. The bartender pulled up the shotgun and pumped a shot out, but instead of hitting the gunman, blew a hole in one of his tables.
I dropped to all fours, padded back a step, and jumped toward the human, attacking like a wolf, one arm prepared to sweep down on the human. It wouldn�t be a good hit, but the dagger up my sleeve might help the strike.
A second blast from a shotgun and a pair of pistol shots echoed. The shotgun shattered the remaining light. The bartender's aim was bad. The human's aim wasn't. The first shot blew through the folds of Flora's t-shirt, grazing her left side. The second shot went through my forearm, blowing a circle of blood onto the roof. The force blasted me backwards, spinning me into the ground. I landed on my side, a grunt escaping my mouth.
The pain was everywhere. It filled my mind. My arm felt like it was on fire, and I couldn�t move it. A shard of glass stuck in my back and a hole in my arm blazed through my mind. I couldn�t deal with the pain.
Creaking bones and tearing muscles pulled at my body. Whenever I couldn�t concentrate, I started to shift. The red haze of pain filling my mind prevented me from concentration. My skin began to itch as fur sprouted. I shuddered in agony - the bullet must have broken my arm, and now muscles were trying to pull it apart.
The human ran. He knew better than to fight in the dark, especially with a wolf. We didn't bother to chase him. I couldn�t fight at all, and Flora never had much practice against humans. A low ringing on the edge of my hearing told me an alarm had been set off. The barkeep was hiding behind the bar, crouched under a metal keg. A faint bubbling noise was audible. Seeing a shift did that to some people.
"Can you walk?" Flora asked.
"I can limp, but I won't be able to do much else. How's the hole look?" Lupine was much easier as a wolf - it felt like I was really speaking, not just waving my paws and yipping. Flora kneeled down and looked over the cut. A pool of fresh blood was already forming under my arm, dark red bleeding into the split wood. "Can you splint it? I can't shift back like this."
She glared around the bar, and then ripped a chair leg off. The remains of my shirt bound the stick to the limb, keeping my leg from moving. Flora sighed and stared into the horizon, through a wall. Then she shifted, letting the tiger take over. "Let's get out of here," she said, the wolf speech thick on a feline tongue.
Ahead of me, the tiger stopped running, taking me back into the present. Close to our prey. For her, the hunt was simple, a graceful leap ending the rabbit's life quickly and with mercy.
For me, it wasn�t simple. I knew that killing was an evil - I had been on both sides of the hunt pretty often - but it was a necessary evil. I didn�t try to help much with the hunt. With my foreleg like this, I wouldn�t be able to. The bleeding had stopped, but it would be hours before the bone mended enough to walk on. Until then, I would keep my eyes open and wait. There were still things to be done here, and at least one person hunting me. I just hope our human contact hadn't been scared too much.