The Hart
Hart of Steel
Hart of Stone
Hart of Silence
Hart Alone
Hart of Wood
Hart of Gold
Amber Hart
Hart's Hold
Hart Apart
Hart of Years
Storm Hart
Hart's Tears
-- The Antlered Cant, from Song of the Eight

PROLOGUE

"Ho young ones! Settle down, and I'll tell you a story."

The children gathered around the elder eagerly. She pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders, and smoothed her graying muzzle fur with a fingertip. The old Cougar folded her tawny hands, the fingerclaws making soft clicks as they met. A scuffle between two of the youngsters brought the old ears forward, and she leaned their way, squinting.

"Here," whispered a gentle voice, and her glasses were placed in her hand. Lips tightened over dulled fangs, but she shrugged off the predations of age and slipped the wire frames over her ears. Bright yellow eyes blinked at the children, and furred faces glowed up at her, ears pricked to catch any word. Except for the Bear and Wolf , who were fighting over a place to sit, they were well behaved. Those two growled and squirmed, tiny hands with blunt claws clutched in each others' colorful body wraps. At this age, the small Bearling was evenly matched with the juvenile Wolf, and they snapped at each other with harmless milk teeth.

She levelled a stern look in their direction and thumped her heavy tail twice against the ground. The pair settled down at once, having heard that warning before. She nodded with satisfaction.

"Now then. What story shall I tell?"

Hands were raised and waved, suggestions shouted out at the same time. The loud raucous tones of the Bears called for their favorite, about the Grizzly Chief Arrrgaph. Ululating tones yelped the name of Ooorrn, the Packsinger, and Felines clamored for a story of long ago Merrr, First of Cats. So it went with all of them. She huffed and shook her head, wondering why she ever bothered to ask.

Then a tugging on her sleeve brought her gaze back to the one who had given her her glasses. It was a Whitetail fawn, whose coat bore the white spots of youth, and long limbs were clumsy with the promise of speed. The other fawns present watched, limpid eyes gazing solemnly into the elder's, and she spoke softly.

"Grandma Hrrii, please tell a story about all people."

Hrrii thought on it for a moment, and nodded. She sat back in her chair and rearranged the loose folds of her garment. She raised her muzzle and spoke out over the noisy children.

"Enough noise you cubs! I will tell you about a long ago time, before the Reclamation, when Gaia finally took back Her own. It was the time of Changing, when what was the human race started Becoming. Only one out of five were like us, and the humans called them Beastmen. Gaia had started the Reclamation slowly, and by this time harmony ruled between the Beastmen and the humans. But peace never lasted long among men, something in them demanded to see differences, and draw lines in the sand between themselves. And the Beastmen were still very human in spirit.

"It is in this time of cities and forests that a halfgrown human girl began the Change. Why she became The Hart only Gaia knows, but she is the only one of her kind, and most say Gaia shaped her Herself. Ho, cubs listen! This is a tale not often told of the beginnings, and it starts in this land, when it was called California . . . "

Macenna Hart swung her backpack down on the table in disgust. Her roommate blinked up at her mildly.

"Mmmmm. Bad day?" the Feline rumbled amusedly, moving his ears forward to invite talk. His slitted topaz eyes gleamed with entirely too much humor for Macenna, as she flopped into the other chair and got involved in a serious slump. She glared at the Tiger, her foot tapping restless against the chair leg. Never a good sign, thought Rrruune. He uncurled his tail and sat back, getting comfortable for what was obviously going to be a tirade.

"That Lawrence is a jerk! Roo, I want you to do me a favor. Just scare the guy. Flash a little fang, show some fingerclaw, and then pounce him into next week!"

Rrruune sighed and looked at his friend with more sympathy. He didn't know anyone who could stand to be with Lawrence, and Macenna had more strength than most.

"What has that lizard-brain been doing now?"

"First I get him as a lab partner, and now he refuses to pull his weight! His half of the lab write-up isn't even started! When I asked him about it, he said I could just do the whole thing if I was going to be so picky. Picky! The damn paper is due tomorrow!"

"Mac, you have to calm down. You aren't thinking straight. Have you spoken to the professor?"

Mac nodded angrily, the lashing of her long brown hair as eloquent as any tail. Her brows drew closer together as she leaned on the table.

"She said that this was nothing new, and there was nothing she could do unless we both agreed to an alternative way of grading, like having only our names on what we did. Like that's gonna happen. If I want, I can dispute the grade after I get it. That will take time and energy I don't have. Turns out that's why no one will partner with him anymore. I should have gotten a clue. Now I'll be lucky to get a C on that blasted paper," she finished bitterly.

"Damn it!!" Mac brought a fist down hard against the table, rattling both it and Rrruune. He sat back, alarmed at her behavior. The violence and anger were so unlike the calm, reasonable human he knew!

She kicked the chair back and paced the small length of the room.

"I can't afford to do badly in that class!"

Just as suddenly as it had built, her anger slipped away, and she dropped wearily back into her chair. She looked over at Rrruune, and a smile pulled up one corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Saucer Eyes, don't look so shocked. Everyone needs to vent once in a while, huh?"

Rrruune blinked again and relaxed, dropping his jaw in a Feline grin.

"So, tell me Roo, have you talked to that blue-eyed goddess yet?"

Rrruune's black-tipped ears flicked sideways in embarrassment.

"MAC!"

Macenna chuckled.

"I bet you don't even know her name yet, you chicken. You Felines are all alike. One look at a white Tigress and you turn to mush."

Rrruune's eyes glazed over and he sighed.

"Such lovely fur . . . as white as can be, black stripes darker than . . . than . . . And those eyes! Blue fire!"

Mac grinned mischievously and rose, moving into his side of the room. She opened his closet and began looking through his wardrobe. Rrruune squawked and got up hurriedly.

"What are you doing? Mac! You're making a mess!" He started gathering the clothes she was tossing on the neatly made bed.

"I'll clean it up you overgrown tabby. You have a date to get ready for."

Rrruune froze and slowly turned to face Macenna.

"You didn't."

She mumbled from inside the closet, "I did."

"MACENNA!!"

The full throated roar was all the warning she got. Rrruune reached in and grabbed Mac by the arm, spun her around , and lifted her like a child up to his eye level. His white fangs were half bared, and glistened under the lights. The amber eyes were slitted and narrowed, and his ears laid back. The fur of his nape bristled, and his obsidian fingerclaws had a tight grip on her. He was an altogether frightening sight, and Mac was not in the least worried. She reached up and tapped the leathery black nose with a finger.

"Her name is Arayna Collins, and she likes you too."

The ears came forward, the fangs disappeared.

"She does?"

"Yes. And don't worry, your pride is intact. She knew I roomed with you, and caught me coming out of class. When she asked, I said that I knew you had tonight free, and got her number. You can call her up right now."

Rrruune broke out into a huge grin, and swung Mac through the air in an impromptu dance. They both laughed once he set her down, and she handed him a slip of paper. He covered the distance to the phone in one leap, ears and tail flicking nervously.

Macenna smiled to herself and started unloading the night's batch of homework onto her small desk. The thick books and various papers soon took all her attention.

Rrruune hung up the phone and let out a whoop, startling Mac. She looked up at the Tiger, who grinned back.

"Good news, I take it."

Rrruune bounced over to his closet and took up the destruction of order where Macenna had left off.

"Arayna has one class tonight, then is free. We're going to have lunch together." "Lunch huh? I didn't know she was a nightrunner too. Ummm, that would be about when, midnight? One a.m.?"

"Around then, yeah. We're meeting at the Night Owl Restaurant."

"You'd have to. There's nowhere else that keeps nocturnal hours."

Rrruune shrugged, "At least the food is good."

It was an old gripe. To his mind, the city could stand to take lessons from the set-up he and Mac had. It was simple, efficient, and pleasant. Unlike most other Tigers, he preferred to be active at night. He started his day at about 8 p.m. and ended it around 11 in the morning. Rrruune took advantage of the classes that were part of the school's program for those Beastmen who were nocturnal, and worked as a night watchman at an electronics store. Aside from a few hours each morning and evening, he had the quiet he needed to sleep and study. Macenna had the same. They each shared what they had, and had what they needed.

Rrruune made a slight chuffing sound and shook his head. As if the bureaucrats would be able to see the simplicity of having more then one public restaurant for the nightrunners. Or anything else for that matter.

"Something the matter Roo?" Mac paused in her work and looked up.

Rrruune grunted.

"No, just heaping mental curses on politics again."

Macenna smirked.

"Oh, that's all? I was doing the same to biology and Lawrence. But hey, you should be thinking of other things shouldn't you?"

Rrruune beamed at the thought of Arayna. Mac laughed and turned back to her desk. He busied himself with getting ready, and she buried herself in her work.

"Well, what do you think Mac? How do I look?"

She pushed back her chair and rubbed her eyes. She gazed at her friend and tried to see him as any other person would.

Rrruune's thick, black striped fur was brushed to a shine, his yellow eyes bright with anticipation. He flexed his white palmed hands with their polished fingerclaws, and smoothed his heavy ruff. He wore a loose black tabard, highlighted by gold threads woven subtly through the dark fabric. It hung open like a vest, showing his white-furred chest and midriff. Around his waist hung what was called a slilkit. His legs, while similar to a human's, did not entirely follow the same lines. They had a shortened calf, and bent into a hock before flowing into the paw. This straightening of the basic animal hind leg allowed Beastmen to walk on all fours as well if they so chose. The slilkit wrapped around the hips, long panels of cloth hanging down around the legs and tail, allowing free movement. Rrruune favored the style preferred by most Feline males, in which the slilkit had shorter panels around the thigh, one long piece at the back with a slit for the tail, and a few long panels in front. This was for upright travel exclusively. The one he had chosen for tonight was also black, but plain except for a thin scrolling design of gold thread, at the foot of all the bands of cloth.

Macenna tried to see this as Rrruune's prospective date might, making it a given that he was handsome. She got up and walked around, looking at him from all sides. Rrruune grinned and struck a few poses, at which Mac chuckled and poked him.

"Hold still you big ham. Save it for Arayna."

She stepped back and looked him over once more, from his white spotted eartips to his orange hindpaws.

"Where's your family crest?"

Rrruune blinked in surprise and padded over to a chest at the foot of his bed. He withdrew a box, and took out a small golden medallion. A rampant copper shaded tiger floated against a background of gold wires, a small irregular spider's web, in a circular frame. It matched the design embroidered on the upper left shoulder of the tabard. She watched as it settled against his chest. Mac nodded, pleased.

"You look great."

"You think so? It's alright?"

"If I was a Feline, I think I'd be jealous. You never dress up for me," she teased.

Rrruune laughed away the last of his nervousness. It showed in the suddenly relaxed way he stood, his ready smile. There's the Rrruune I know.

"Well, I'm off. See you later Mac."

"Good luck Rrruune."

As always, he was surprised. No other human could properly pronounce his name.

"One day Mac, I'm going to figure out how you do that."

"Good, you can tell me. Now get out of here!" she laughed, threatening to throw a book at him. He was out the door before she could chastise him further.

Rrruune entered the apartment quietly, not bothering to suppress his wide grin. He turned a quick circle on the patch of linoleum that made up the kitchen, then paused in surprise.

"Aw Mac," he muttered.

It was still a bit early for him to go to sleep, only five thirty in the morning. But Mac lay where he'd left her, sprawled over a book. He let out an exasperated rumble and went to his closet, where he hung up the tabard. He turned around to clean up the mess he'd left on his bed, only to find it once again clear and neat. Rrruune sighed and scratched his head, realizing what she'd done. He padded over to Mac, carefully picked her up, carried her to her bed, and set her down. She murmured sleepily as he put the spare blanket over her. Then he moved the dark partition they kept against the wall, screening her from view. That done, he started straightening the books and papers on the desk so he'd have room. One thick stack caught his eye, and he scanned it briefly. With a low growl, he recognized the biology assignment she'd had to finish. No doubt the cause of her late night. He picked up a waiting cup of coffee, finding it still warm. She couldn't have been asleep for more then 15 minutes before he arrived. He flicked his ears in concern, but got out his own set of books and papers and started in. He also had work to do.

Rrruune lifted his head, ears flicking backward as the clock started blaring. It continued its annoying shriek for a minute, until Macenna's hand came slapping down. It fell to the floor with a dull clatter, the drop having the desired effect of silencing the alarm. Rrruune snorted in amusement, and sipped tea from his mug. Still reading his textbook, one ear swiveled back automatically to catch the sounds of his roommate stirring.

"You'll break it if you keep shutting it off like that Mac," he called.

She groaned and turned over, pulling the blanket over her head. Her voice was muffled, but Rrruune understood her perfectly.

"It lied. It can't possibly be tomorrow. I can't stand lying appliances. It deserved to be hit."

"Oh, come on Mac. It's only doing what you told it to. You set the alarm after all."

"Quit taking its side fuzzball."

"Come on, get up. And don't put the pillow over your head!"

"Why did I have to be saddled with a roomy who has ears sharper then Superman's?" Mac wailed plaintively. But there followed two thuds as she swung her legs down and stood up.

Rrruune shook his head and finished the chapter while Macenna showered and got ready. After turning on the radio to his favorite oldies station, he went to the kitchen and busied himself fixing some skillet fries and ham slices.

When Macenna came out, she sniffed appreciatively and started folding up the partition. Over in front of the stove, Rrruune swayed to the song on the radio, shoulders dipping and weight shifting from one hindpaw to the other in an easy dance. His head moved up and down, his tail curled up and waved with every beat. His voice rumbled out the lyrics pleasantly.

"...Gimme one reason to stay here, and I'll turn right back around. Gimme one reason to stay here, and I'll turn right back around. Said I don't wanna leave you lonely, you gotta make me change my mind..."

Mac laughed and got plates down from a cupboard. Rrruune looked at her over a furred shoulder and grinned as she moved around the table, setting their places. She smiled and joined in, her voice sliding into place alongside his.

"...baby just gimme one reason, oh gimme just one reason why. Baby just gimme one reason, oh, gimme just one reason why, I should stay. Said I told you that I loved you, an there ain't no more to say..."

Rrruune chuckled and set the food on the table. They sat down and started in.

"Thanks Roo. I appreciate this. I know it was my turn to fix ...uh, what'd we decide to call it?"

Rrruune chewed thoughtfully.

"Didn't we give up on that yet?"

"Hmmm. Guess so. Just couldn't combine breakfast and dinner into a word that made sense. Well, it was my turn to cook. Thanks for letting me sleep."

Rrruune nodded and pulled one of his books over.

"Oh yeah, I figured out how to handle Lawrence."

He looked up and grinned.

"I gotta hear this."

Mac smiled.

"Okay, I thought back, and remembered that he always signs his name to the reports, even if he never does anything. Doesn't read it or ask if he can. Well, I typed up this thing last night, so it looks like the coversheet to our report. But what it really says, is that we have agreed to be graded only on what each of us did, based on the font appearing on the paper. He typed the experiment procedure and stuff, pretty early on, and hasn't done a thing since. I made sure to print my work in a totally different style. So he signs his name, I sign mine, and the real coversheet with both our names nicely typed up is underneath it."

"Hrrrrrrr," Rrruune said with admiration, "That's wicked."

"Uh-huh."

"That's nasty."

"You bet."

"That's underhanded."

"Yup."

"Sneaky."

Mac nodded.

"I'm so proud of you! We'll make an honorary Feline of you yet," Rrruune winked.

Macenna laughed and finished up her food.

"I just hope it works. He's as much of a morning person as you are, so maybe he'll be too groggy to notice."

Rrruune held up his fingerclaws for inspection, then cleared his throat, the air of teasing gone.

"Yeah, well, about that honorary Feline thing. Remember when I went home?"

Mac sat back. She remembered.

"Just afterwards, before I left, I spoke to the clan Matriarch. She sent this to me a few months later, when it was done. I've had it for a couple of days now."

Rrruune slid a small black box across the table. Mac looked at it uneasily.

"What is it?"

"A gift from my clan."

Macenna sat back with an exasperated sigh.

"I figured that. Why would Mmearrrra want to give me anything? She made it clear she doesn't care for me."

"Even old Mmearrrra can change her mind. Besides, you know how she feels about humans. It's not her fault she remembers what her great-grandsire told her about those times." He reached over and nudged the box closer. "Come on Mac. This doesn't happen everyday. Please."

Macenna opened the box and caught her breath. She reverently lifted a small necklace, the miniature copy of Rrruune's family crest, and held it up. It was the same copper tiger, but the light glinted off delicate silver filaments instead of gold. The circular frame and chain were also silver.

"Rrruune ... it's beautiful."

"From this moment on, you are a member of the family. You may claim any of the clan rights bestowed on the least of us, and you may use the name Merrrdar, for Merrr's Daughter, after your own surname if you wish. You have the right to wear that in public, and are required to display it should you ever return to clan ground. Should any of our clan need help, and you be able to give it, you will be called upon. Should the Change come upon you, you will still be tied to the clan, no matter what your species, breed, or association. My parents have spoken for you."

Macenna looked at Rrruune with awe.

"Roo, I 've heard of this. Humans made part of the family in honor of some great service done. But your clan? Your clan has never adopted a human! Or even another sort of Beastman! Yours is the only one that follows bloodlines, all the way from Merrr himself!"

Rrruune's head lifted with pride, whiskers bristling in a fan of white hairs.

"All this I know. But there is a first time for everything. You were the first human to set foot on clan ground since Merrr's day. On Mmearrrra's side there hasn't been a single Beastman who was once human in three generations. It's time for things to get stirred up."

"I thought we did that already."

Rrruune chuckled.

"Besides, I always wanted a baby sister."

"BABY! I'm older then you by a year!"

Macenna rose and threw a hug around a startled Rrruune.

"Thank you Rrruune. I'm honored."

He slid fluidly to his hindpaws, tail waving slowly.

"There is a ritual. . . " he said hesitantly.

Mac nodded and held out her arm, wrist up. He quickly drew a fingerclaw along the skin in a shallow scratch. She winced a little. The blood welled up, and Rrruune inhaled deeply to catch the metallic scent. He daubed the cut with a piece of gauze until the brief flow ceased.

"You know, that's one thing you're going to have to explain to me. I never understood why the bloodletting was so important."

He slipped the stained pad into a waiting envelope.

"It has to do with our sense of smell. Every member of the clan will get your scent from the gauze. It's a symbolic promise that should anything happen, we will track you. The clan will help you if it can, avenge you if it must. Your blood is as our own now."

She nodded her understanding. He watched her slip the chain over her head and tuck it inside her shirt. He frowned slightly.

"Why are you hiding it?"

"I know it's there, and you know it's there. Who else needs to?"

Rrruune nodded -- Yes, he'd forgotten it could raise some nasty questions. Some humans just couldn't grasp the concept of privacy.

Mac grabbed up her books, pausing only to grip Rrruune's hand tightly with her own, and smile through eyes suddenly bright with moisture. Then she whirled out the door with a clatter. Rrruune listened for the distinct sound of the car engine, and started composing his letter to Mmearrrra. The lettering was ornate, a flowing script and formal language used only for addressing members of the clan with high rank.

Honored Matriarch,
This is to inform you that I have given the Clanshat crest to my friend and now sister, the human, Macenna Hart. I have performed the necessary ceremony, and enclosed is what you require to complete your part. You also gave me strict instructions that I give an account of her reaction to this honor. While I see no need or reason for such a chronicle, I shall nevertheless give as detailed a description as possible, per your explicit orders.
When presented with the box with no explanation but that it was sent by you in the familys' name, my friend was hesitant, recalling that you lost no affection on her. Both her posture and scent revealed a defensiveness, and her pupils narrowed. When I prevailed on her to finally look in the box, she immediately straightened, pupils widening. She showed the crest the proper respect, and commented on its beauty. She was surprised and pleased, her scent betraying her shock even as she displayed a commendable knowledge of our clan history in such matters. She submitted to the blooding without hesitation, and showed a willingness to learn our customs as well their reasons. She thanked me personally, and even made a show of affection, as I can assure you was proper to the moment. She wears it even now, concealed beneath her shirt in a wise move designed to protect both myself and the clan, and is a credit to us all.
In closing I can only say this. Macenna Hart was moved to the point of tears by the gesture of you and the clan. I can personally vouch that it takes a great deal to produce that reaction in my friend. I do not know why you found this information so vital, and must here reveal that in my opinion, this should not be the clan's concern. Respectfully,
Rrruune Merrrson

Rrruune snorted, lips wrinkling back in distaste over the halting and stilted language in the letter. Unable do to much more, he took utmost care to inscribe 'the human', 'my friend', and 'sister' in subtly exaggerated style. He had the highest regard for Mmearrrra, but she was family, and no self respecting member of Merrr's clan ever let rank preclude some artful needling. He sealed the envelope and set it aside to mail later.

Rrruune went back to his books with a yawn. Maybe he'd turn in early this morning. It had been a long, enjoyable night.

Macenna pulled herself out of bed and went through the motions of Saturday mornings, leaving the partition up around Rrruune's side of the room. She started some eggs cooking and cut up a few potatoes for papas. She plopped down at the table, looking out of the kitchen into the living area.

"Roo, you awake?"

There was some vague growling and a thump thump thump as Rrruune's tail flicked irritably.

"I take it you didn't do well on your exam?"

There were some more growls and snarls, less obscure this time, concerning professors and TA's.

"That well. Hmm."

He poked his head over the divider.

"Yeah. You know me and engineering, a love hate relationship."

She smiled wryly.

"Uh-huh. Love the subject, hate the teachers."

"Is it my fault they're all sadists?"

He shrugged and padded into the kitchen.

"By the way, you never told me how it went in biology."

She shoveled the food into bowls and sighed.

"Didn't work. I really hadn't expected it to anyway. Where his own grades are concerned, Lawrence is a pretty quick study. But it was fun planning."

Rrruune quickly downed his share of the food -- enough for three humans -- and looked at Mac, who listlessly pushed hers around on the plate. He licked the sides of his muzzle eagerly.

"Not hungry?" he asked hopefully.

Mac shook her head and pushed her plate away. He happily abandoned his silverware and started bolting down her portion as well. She gave a half smile.

"No, go ahead Roo, you can have mine. I don't mind, really."

He flicked an ear and continued inhaling, the sound of smacking lips and clicking teeth illustrating his willingness.

"Thanks, mmmm, don't mind if I do."

He snapped up the last bit of scrambled egg and swabbed the plate clean with his raspy pink tongue, which flicked up to caress his whiskers. Rrruune sat back and burped. He glared at Macenna.

"You were going to say something?"

She rested her chin on her palm and looked back mildly.

"Who me? I might've been thinking one or two things, but I wouldn't dream about saying them out loud. What would saying 'pig' get me except a view of those pearly whites of yours? Besides, since I ate so little, you'd probably have some snappy retort like 'bird', and how could I ever recover from such stunning wit?"

He chuckled at her dry tone.

"So why didn't you eat? I usually have to fight you for the papas whenever you make them."

Mac shrugged.

"I'm not feeling so great this morning. I think I'm catching a cold."

Rrruune hrrrumped. "You could have told me that before I ate your food, you know."

"You've never had a cold in your life."

"The idea is to keep it that way."

Mac yawned, and headed for the phone.

"I'm calling in today Roo, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"You? Calling in sick? Oh Gaia, you're dying! How long have you got?"

She tweaked his ear as she went by.

"Oh shut up," she said amiably, "It's your turn for dishes. And wash them this time, no licking!"

Rrruune managed to wrestle his animal features into a large-eyed expression of hurt innocence. Mac just made the call and went back to bed.

When Rrruune woke up that evening, he checked on Macenna. His ears flicked sideways with concern when he saw she still slept. He scented the air carefully, and whirled back to his own side of the room. He dragged out a duffel bag and began hastily packing enough things for several days. That done, he went to the kitchen and filled a large glass pitcher with water and ice. He padded quietly over and shook Mac's shoulder.

"Mac."

She barely stirred.

"Macenna."

He shook her harder.

"Mac!"

She dragged open unusually bright and unfocused eyes, then rolled slowly over to face him. Her voice was low and slurred.

"Huh? What? Whaddo you want Roo?"

"I'm going over to a friend's house for a few days. I'll try and call you later. Look. This pitcher has water, and here's a glass. It's already full, so don't worry about getting up, okay?"

Mac blinked and turned back, muttering sleepily.

" 'kay."

Rrruune strode to the telephone, and punched in Arayna's number. He spoke in a fast whisper.

"Hi, Arayna? It's Rrruune."

"Hi Rrruune! Are you okay? Why are you whispering?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, listen, I need a place to stay for a while."

"What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"No, no. I'm fine, but Mac is sick, and well . . . I got the scent of trees and grass."

"Grass? Oh, I see. But you said she was sick? How is that possible?"

"I don't know! Should I stay with her then? She doesn't look too good. She slept all day."

His tail twisted upon itself with his anxiety. His free hand kept flexing, the fingerclaws drawing through his heavy ruff. He shifted his weight nervously, unaware of the action.

"No, I don't think you should. But you'll have to go to her classes, and don't forget to call her boss. Tell them she won't be in. Her parents first though. Come on over, and we'll see if some of the guys in the room next to us will put you up. If nothing else, my roomies say you can have the couch."

"Thanks Arayna. I'll be right over."

"No problem Rrruune. We'll be here."

He set the phone down, gathered his things, and hauled them out to his bike. After securing his stuff in the saddlebags, he made a final trip up to stand next to Mac. She was huddled in the blankets. He put a hand out and touched her forehead. He was surprised by the heat, which soaked through his handfur immediately. Mac tossed her head to be rid of the extra warmth. The skin was hard and taut, radiating heat even as she pulled the covers closer around herself. Once more the smells of the forest came to him, and a prickling along his back that set his nape to bristling. He backed away, suddenly feeling as if he'd stepped into one of the private territories back home. Ears half-flattened, he retreated and left the apartment. As he sped away on his motorcycle, he risked a look back at the now dark windows of their place, and couldn't quite still the worried twitching of his hide.

She curled up as best she could. It felt so strange, as if her nerves were connected to two different sides of her brain. There was a doubleness to each feeling, an extraordinary sensitivity that reached every fiber. She was cold, skin radiating a chill against the soft material of the covers. At the same time, she was aware of the delicious warmth coming from the blankets, pressing it back. But her face, her head, they were too hot; the blankets were tucked well under her chin, even one too much to be allowed a touch. Half asleep and feverish, she wondered at the strange duality of sensations. She wandered in the haze, occasionally hearing what must have been her own voice moaning and calling into the silence. Her limbs moved steadily, as if trying to generate heat with just the motions. The only action she took was to periodically thrust her way to a sitting position and drink from the pitcher of water sitting on her nightstand. Most times, she wasn't even aware of doing it. Time passed unmarked, and was not the kinder for it. By the time Macenna Hart could raise her head and open bleary eyes to a new day again, the changes had been wrought. Still groggy, eyes only seeing a blur, she tried to get up, lurching on legs that no longer seemed to work. She made it to the sink and fumbled for a glass, the need for water the only thing breaking through the stupor binding her. Instinct more than thought allowed her to drink, jaw resting on the sink edge, mouth sucking at the faucet. She made her way back to her bed, feet strangely stiff, neck oddly fluid. She perched at the foot amid rumpled sheets, uncomprehendingly picking at the shreds of her pajamas. She stared dully at hands and legs that couldn't be hers. She leaned forward to look more closely, and almost toppled over, a great weight pulling at her skull.

As she tried to regain her balance, there came a barely recognizable thunder. One, two, three booms, and she finally figured out it was someone knocking on the door.

"Come in."

She jumped. That wasn't her voice. She started to ask who was there, only to hear the strange voice utter the question at the same time.

"It's Mom and your friend, Arayna."

That one she knew. Mom. Arayna too, come to visit.

"Mom?" There was that voice again! Her breathing sped up, and instinctively her nostrils flared. She was getting angry.

Two blurry figures entered her field of view. She turned her head slowly, afraid of falling.

"Mom?"

There was a sudden gasp and a strong wave of -- something -- that made her wrinkle her nose.

"Oh, goddess . . ." Arayna murmured, as the clothes she held fell to the floor. Her tail stiffened, and her ears went sideways as she backed away, eyes wide and nape bristling. As soon as she was out of Hart's sight, she turned and leaped for the door, barreling away as fast as her powerful hindpaws could take her.

Elena Hart watched as a bluish film cleared from her Changed daughter's new eyes. The large Beastman held out her hand and gave an unnerving smile.

Arayna fled. She didn't think, didn't reason, didn't slow from her crazed run until she'd reached her dorm. Then she took the stairs, seven at a leap, and surged through her door. Rrruune stood up as she came to a halt before him, his grin disappearing as her stance and the odor of terror assailed him. He grabbed her arms.

"What is it? What's happened? Is Macenna okay?"

Arayna wrenched herself free, ears clenched so tight to her head, it looked as if she had none. Her ice blue eyes were slits, and the fur along her neck rose stiffly on edge. "She is wrong!" Arayna hissed, teeth fully bared.

Rrruune moved closer, even as Arayna's roommates were careful to give her space. They'd never seen her so overwhelmed. He gripped her tightly, fingerclaws anchoring in her fur. His amber gaze held hers.

"Tell me," he growled.

He walked slowly through the hall, concentrating only on putting one paw in front of the other. He finally reached the door, and put one hand up. He lightly rapped his fingerclaws against the wood, knowing she would hear.

"It's open Roo."

He opened the door to a shadow ruled apartment. All the blinds except one were still drawn, and the weak sun threw a faded square of light into the living area. Behind it, the dark shape of what had to be his friend huddled, an indistinct silhouette, even to his sensitive eyes.

He stopped at the edge of the light, nose working to catch her scent. It told him nothing. Like all newly Changed, her individual scent would not develop until four days after the metamorphosis. Until then, she would smell like earth, like wild grass and ancient trees, sun-warmed rock and wind.

"Well, let's see you my friend," he said quietly.

The shadow rose, gained definition as her head came up, and the sheer size of her made his ears go sideways in astonishment. Taller even then his six foot seven, she had to be a good seven feet, the branching arms of antlers adding nearly two more. It was a good thing, he mused distractedly, that their building had the required twelve feet of ceiling clearance to accommodate Beastmen, who grew larger then all but the tallest humans. The broad head bent on a graceful neck, and she took a step into the light. A black cloven hoof only slightly smaller then his oversized hindpaw slid into the sun, followed by a leg that ran along the same design as his own. But her shorter, slicker fur showed off the powerful tendons that would make her fast enough to outrun a horse, and deliver a kick that could powder bone. As the rest of her moved into view, Rrruune felt his lips pull tight, showing the tips of his fangs.

She wore a grey slilkit, cut longer in front and back, that arced over the thigh of her hind legs on the sides. A white rimmed tail over a foot in length hung relaxed, flicking sporadically. She turned to face him fully, and he saw what Arayna had meant. She wore a vest, the only thing she'd found that fit. Her chest was wide and flat, not differing much from Rrruune's own. The fur around her neck and down her chest was longer, thicker, and a lighter brown then the rest. But it, like all of her rich, dark brown coat, carried a faint but distinct reddish tinge. The most astonishing feature, the antlers, were black. Five points! It took normal bucks five years to grow such a rack, and she had them at the outset. Rrruune shook his head. Wrong, Arayna had said, and he grudgingly admitted it. She shouldn't be so large. Does of all Deer species, save a few, were smaller then the males, and she certainly didn't resemble those breeds. She shouldn't have antlers! And what line had black ones? Despite the fact that her muzzle was wider, and rather oddly formed, her features resembled those of Mule Deer, or Whitetail.

She studied him with copper flecked grey eyes.

"What now Rrruune?"

He jumped. He couldn't help it. Even her voice was different, low and deep. It resonated pleasingly, neither too high nor too coarse. She would make a great Singer, if she lived.

"I . . ." he looked at her blankly. What to say? I'm sorry Mac, but you're a freak, and there are those who will be hunting you soon, so goodbye? Yeah right.

On an impulse, he feinted at her, fingerclaws reaching out. Immediately, she stepped forward, head twisting to the side, bringing her rack to bear. Her hands spread wide in readiness. She snarled, and what he saw made his tail creep close to his legs. Now he knew why her muzzle was strangely formed. Hidden behind the velvet furred lips was a set of teeth and a jaw configuration that had never belonged to a Deer. The canines stood out from the rest of her relatively flat teeth. They were long and straight, large fangs seen only in Beastmen whose form took after hunters.

She took in his expression and relaxed, stepping back. His yellow eyes didn't blink, but the nictitating membranes flickered at their corners, giving away his distress.

"So, what was that all about?"

He struggled to raise his ears from their half flattened position.

"Oh, um, I was just . . . I just had to see what you'd do is all."

She nodded slowly.

"My guess is that any other Deer would have first backed up. An instinctive urge to run being the normal defense."

He swallowed, "Yeah. But you -- you stepped into a charge with no hesitation." She sighed, walked over to the wall, and flipped on the light. It flooded over her, startling Rrruune all over again. She did her best to ignore his response, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"I think you had better explain to me what that means, what I am, and why both Arayna and you are having this reaction."

"Arayna is not handling it so well. There will be many others like her."

Rrruune grabbed a chair from the kitchen and dropped onto it. His chest heaved as he finally let the fact that she was as gentle and calm as ever sink in.

"First off, you are a Warrior born, something no Deer has ever been. They can be great fighters, and earn their way into the Warrior ranks, but the Deer have always been the peacemakers among us. They negotiated the treaties and truces back in Merrr's time, when the humans still looked at us with fear. They stopped a war, and are respected because of it. Beastmen who hold to the ideal that each species is meant for a certain place in society will see you as a threat. Others will just see you as a . . . well, a perversion of nature."

Rrruune looked down uneasily.

"The last time anything like this happened, it was a Wildcat named Tonrrup."

Her large ears flicked up in surprise.

"Tonrrup?!" The stomach twisting reaction to that name was the same for both Races of Man.

"He wasn't like any of the other Wildcats, just as you aren't like the other Deer. He hunted people, Mac -- human and Beastman alike. And he didn't die in that fire." Rrruune lifted his head and looked at his friend.

"He was brought down by a coalition of Beastmen. A lone Feline hunter, and a pack of Wolves. They tracked him down and killed him. Since then, the Hunters have been kept, organized, and held in reserve. Packs, Prides, and Solitary Hunters are the best fighters and trackers any of the species has. They are sworn to kill any that pose such a threat again."

"But I'm not a danger! I have no intention of hurting, much less killing anyone!"

She tossed her head agitatedly and got up to pace. Her tail was half raised, partially showing its white flag as she realized she might be in serious trouble.

She turned a wary eye on Rrruune.

"They're coming for me, aren't they?"

His shoulders hunched, and he looked down.

"I told Arayna to wait until I'd seen you, but I don't think she did. She was horrified." Her sleek furred hide twitched, and she whirled around. She yanked things from her closet, swept the dresser top clean, started piling things into a duffel, her movements jerky. She wrenched open a drawer, and rummaged through its contents.

"What are you doing? Mac?"

He stood and got as close as he dared. She tossed her head as her nostrils flared, eyes white rimmed in panic.

"I'm not going to sit here until your 'Hunters' find me. I'm leaving. I'll go . . . somewhere! I'm not going to let anyone kill me!!" She wheeled around to face him.

"Will you help me?"

He met her stormy gaze, and past the swirling confusion and anger, fear sparked and trembled. This was his friend. Of that he had no longer had a doubt. Ears forward, whiskers spread, he nodded. He strode over and threw his own closet open.

"Of course I'll help you. First thing is, don't pack your old clothes. Not only will they not fit anymore, but they have your scent. Here, take this bag, I just bought it, and haven't used it yet. Take any of my things that will fit you."

He threw open his closet and they went through it together. He gave her all his money, and showed her how to carry it in the hidden pockets of the Beastman clothes. She put the Clanshat crest in there too, running a long finger regretfully over its broken chain. Time pressed on them, and finally she was ready. They crept out the door and took the back ways, behind dark buildings and closed offices. Rrruune loped alongside and gave her last minute advice, holding one of her jackets and her clothes filled old duffel.

"I suggest sticking to the cities. It's easy to get lost there. You'll have a four day advantage, because your lack of a real scent will make it hard for them to track you. Try not to smile, or show your teeth. Your voice could pass if you keep it low, but it'd be safer not to talk. The way you look, they'll assume you're male. If a Hunter finds you, you will have to fight. Use the weapons Gaia gave you, and if possible, take them by surprise. You're new to your instincts, but they'll take care of you. Listen to them. They can save your life."

They paused once off campus, in the middle of a busy sidewalk, and Rrruune held up the jacket.

"I'm going to lay a false trail for them, and that'll keep 'em busy for a while, but they'll catch me. You have to be far away by then. Understand?"

She nodded.

"Thank you Rrruune. I'll see you again."

Her voice and eyes carried a promise, and she gripped his furred hand with her own. Rrruune marvelled at the tough softness of the new skin on her palm and fingers, at the sleek fur that sprouted again at her knuckles. He clasped the hand with both of his own, feeling the slight prick of blunt nails on his pads. They would never be a match for his own set of fingerclaws, but they would smart if used. Cunning irritants. He dropped his jaw in a smile.

"We'll twist their tails between us."

Rrruune turned his back to bound through the crowded fairway. She shouldered her bag, shook her head with its new weight, and began her run.

Torches flickered as they gathered, deep inside a natural cave. The setting was purposeful, to remind those who came that it was Gaia's service they did. She was in the earth beneath their feet, in the stone all around them, and in the air they breathed, heavy with the scent of water and mineral. But this night was different somehow, the presence hard to sense. The Hunters paused often in their trek, seeking reassurance from the hanging stalagmites, and the slow drip of water echoing and ringing off the walls. They travelled steadily deeper, then scaled a liquid fall of rock. The eerily smooth and flowing stone was unclimbable by humans without equipment, and posed a serious challenge to those who attempted its face now. When they all sat in the high chamber, listening to the wind as it wailed through cracks in the unseen roof, the fire was lit. The flame jumped, throwing jittery shadows on the walls and illuminating the features of those waiting in a loose circle, impassive, watchful. When the silence was judged complete, the oldest among them rose. The Lioness, her tawny muzzle gone hoary with age, looked at each of the assembled members. She held up a thick fingered hand for attention. Her voice rolled as slowly and implacably as the stone.

"There has come another. We must decide what to do."

She motioned to a Wolf, huge and brindle furred, who stood and nodded to the Lioness. She resumed her seat. The Wolf began to speak.

"There are those who believe Gaia has a counterpart, a dark creator who moves to thwart the Goddess in her natural work. Whether that is true or not, I don't know. But there has been another, taken by the Change, who was formed wrong. This time it is a Deer. A young female. As a human, she was a great friend to one of us, a credit to her kind and ours. It is both sad and terrible that such a one would be twisted in this fashion. Clearly, the Hunters are needed. But there are two trails before us. We should hesitate to rush along one before first scouting the other."

Heads nodded and ears moved to catch every soft, growling word.

"Once before the solution was obvious. But we have none of the knowledge we had then. From all accounts, Hart is a person of good character. We should consider then bringing her in alive. Maybe whatever corrupted her Change did not corrupt her soul. We should not assume that she is a danger and kill her out of hand. She could be brought and confined, observed, and that way determine for sure the actions we take are the right ones."

He looked around the circle. Some met his eyes, some did not, according to their own instincts' code. A fiery chestnut gaze met his own, and the Wolf felt his nape bristle slightly, his ears barely twitch back.

"I would speak, Aleksander," the grey Wolf said, allowing his fang tips to show.

Aleksander raised his muzzle and kept his tail high, ears standing tall.

"As you wish Rorrgh," he said, mottled lips sliding back to show his own sharp teeth.

Rorrgh stood, his own bushy tail lifted. He waited until the heavier muscled Wolf sat down, then let all eyes gather on him. He prowled his small space, black hindclaws scrabbling against the rock. The narrow muzzle stabbed down as he fixed a snarling glare on everyone.

"Tonrrup!" he snapped.

Fur bristled and teeth were bared. Ears flattened and hands flexed, digging fingerclaws into palms. Several Beastmen turned their heads and spat.

"We all know what he did, what he was. Why do we climb this rock shelf? To serve. We stand between life and the abyss. Creatures like Tonrrup should never be allowed to live. We know what they do. They kill! And do not care what they are killing. The consequences of letting such a brute run free are disastrous. We need only look at Tonrrup's achievements to get an idea. The danger to ourselves and those who do not know what Hart is, is too great not to act immediately. We must kill her and be done with it. Is it not our mission? Our whole purpose? To what end would capturing her go? To see if she is sane, if she can be trusted? How long would such a condition last? Could we ever be really sure of her? Tonrrup was fine until two days after his Change. How long will Hart appear so? How long is enough time to keep her watched? A week? A month? A year? We are Hunters, and we are sworn to kill in Gaia's name to keep the balance. We must remember our oaths."

He sat back down, fingering the sigil on his tunic. Other hands traced the same symbol, fingerclaws catching at the glistening verdant threads. A low muttering spread through the cavern as they waited for the Hunt Leader's decision. Quiet arguments and debates rolled around, the passion in those voices no less for their low volume. Moments laden with thought plodded by, and the Hunters immediately hushed as the Lioness once again took her place. Her rounded ears flicked once.

"When you return to those who wait, tell them that Hart is to be caught, and brought to me alive. I will decide what is to be done then."

Rorrgh leaped to his hindpaws, furious. "Unacceptable!"

She turned vibrant gold eyes on the Wolf, and lashed her tail. Her low growl echoed in the abrupt stillness. Rorrgh's proud stance swiftly altered; his head dipped, and his tail now brushed the floor. He even went so far as to back off a few steps, ears submissively turned down.

"I ask your pardon Huntress. But may we at least defend ourselves if Hart attacks?"

The Hunt Leader looked at him steadily, and finally nodded.

"Of course. If your lives or the lives of others are in immediate danger, you may use lethal force if, and only if, no other action will prevent tragedy."

Rorrgh bowed and sat down. The Lioness surveyed the others.

"Are there any other concerns? No? Then let us depart."

The trip back was always faster then the almost ceremonial procession to the meeting chamber. That night many ran, some bounding on all fours. Torches were forgotten, unneeded as paws raced over the well known cave floor.

Aleksander loped, hands and hindpaws pumping in an easy rhythm. He dropped his jaw, tongue lolling as he sped through the dark. His stride faltered as a heavy presence dropped next to him. He couldn't see who it was in the cloaking blackness, but only a Feline would have made such a leap. He recognized her scent immediately.

"Huntress . . ." he stammered.

"Run with me Aleksander," the Lioness said, "I would speak to you about Rorrgh."

"I apologize for his offensive actions. I thought I'd taught him better."

She gave a dismissing snort, and abandoned all formality.

"Listen Alek, I don't care about that. But I smell trouble. There's a challenge coming here, trust me. How badly is your Pack divided?"

"Grrrff. Nearly in half. I cannot guarantee that Hart will be taken alive if his faction gets to her first. There will be a dozen witnesses that would say she posed too great a threat to be brought in."

"What has he got against you? He used to practically hang on your tail when he was younger."

They burst out of the cave and into the woods. The Hunters scattered in all directions, heading for their homes and those who waited for the Council's word. Alek and the Lioness coursed along the path, drawing lungfulls of fresh night air.

"You wouldn't believe it Hannah. As soon as he found out that the Changed often keep their human names, he went crazy. It had never occurred to him that my name meant I had once been human, instead of born a Beastman like him. He treated it like a personal betrayal! Started cursing Tonrrup and Changed Beastmen before running off. Never mind that Tonrrup took a Beastman name before starting his rampage. I don't know what it was all about, and I doubt anyone else does either. Ever since, he's been doing his best to force a challenge over leadership of the Pack."

"Hrrrrr. I know the reason. His father was one of Tonrrup's victims. This was well before you had come, so there was no way you could've known."

She dropped her lower jaw to pant. This run was longer then she liked, and keeping a pace she couldn't have sustained for much longer even in her youth. Alek automatically checked his stride, slowing.

"Tonrrup killed his father?! No wonder Rorrgh acted like that tonight. I'd never seen him even look at you wrong, much less burst out like that. And then he backed down! That's something I've never have believed if I hadn't seen it."

She grunted. "I have something of a special place is his world, no matter how warped its view."

Alek looked over at his old friend questioningly. Her expression was grave, the starlight making her tawny fur look pale as frost. She kept her face cast towards the trail and grudgingly said the next words.

"He forgets my name is Hannah Michaels, because I am the one that dealt the killing blow to Tonrrup. Even a cub can understand that you respect the instrument of your revenge."

They finally approached the small corner of land held by Alek's Pack. Hannah pulled up and stood. She gripped his shoulder with a hand.

"Find Hart first, Alek. We cannot count on the Solitaries, they will act according to their beliefs, and we don't know what those are. Our only surety is your Pack and the Prides. And keep an eye out for that grey whelp, I don't trust him. Good luck my friend."

He bowed. With a curt nod, she dropped back to all fours and trotted away. He stood and listened to the familiar sound of Hannah's departure, her voice a soft hnnk hnnk hnnk as her paws hit the ground, then hurried to organize his Pack.

The Hunters spread out over the area Hart had disappeared into, a bare twelve hours after the call first went out from Arayna's dorm. Most of that was travel time, getting from the Beastman wilderness land grants to the college town on the coast. Hunters based in the nearby cities, suburbs, and rural areas met the ones from the forest communities and spread out on the trail. By late afternoon, they'd caught a Tiger, calling himself Rrruune, trying to lead them wrong with a jacket that bore Hart's scent. He was not cooperative, saying that he'd told her about them, and warning the Wolves who held him that she'd packed up and was already on the run. They backtracked his trail, and followed the scent to a bus terminal, leaving the foolish Tiger behind. The Hunters divided, some staying in the area, and the rest fanning out on the possible routes, eagerly tailing the buses.

She left her home by train, and headed south, into the more populous areas. She lurked in the shadows of the city, not speaking, trying not to draw too much attention. She sat in the alley hideaway she'd claimed, eating the lunch hastily bought at Burger King. She looked past the shacks' plastic and cardboard walls, and ducked her head, hastily tearing a mouthful out of the hamburger. She chewed rapidly, already in the habit of worrying that someone might see her teeth.

She grunted softly and stared listlessly at her broken reflection. The everpresent puddle under the crude chair provided a mirror of sorts, and it startled her each time she peeled back her lips for a look. For some reason she had to keep sneaking glances at them. Assuring herself once again that no one was about, she opened her mouth to scrutinize the image of her enlarged canines. Not teeth, and not fangs, really. Wolf teeth, like horses have maybe? Naah. Too developed. She worried one with her long mobile tongue. And why trouble myself about it? Who cares what they should be called. But not having a word bothered her. She knew eventually someone, somewhere, would see them, and for some reason, when she was faced with the question "What the hell are those?" she wanted to be able to answer. She pricked her ears as leaves skittered across the pavement. Tsk tsk, tsktsktsk. The dry rattle of the leaves rippled through the quiet alley.

Tusk. Yes, there's the word.

She mouthed it noiselessly, testing.

"Tusks," she said aloud. The sound fit, and the feel of it settled against her lips. She nodded to herself, and resumed her meal. Footfalls brought her ears up again, and she froze, listening. Black skinned nostrils flared in an attempt to scent the intruder, but instead, a rough voice sang out.

"Oh, I'm a little acorn round, lying on the cold cold ground. Everybody steps on me, that is why I'm cracked you see. I'm a nut, click click, I'm a nut, click click, I'm a nut, I'm a nut, I'm a nut, click click."

The ridiculous song wrung an amused snort from her, and the voice cut off. She kept still, but whoever it was stomped right up to the barricading cardboard.

"Hey you! This is my spot! Scram! Hell, leave for a few days and what happens? Everybody tries to muscle in. I said get your fanny outa there! Or I'll come in and help it out!"

She flattened her ears and started unfolding her bulk from the compact ball she'd succeeded in curling up into. As she stepped out from behind the boxes, the antiqued man glared up at her with no fear whatsoever. A faded brown trenchcoat shifted over layers of tattered clothes, and his stubby digits with their stained and thickened nails protruded from woolen gloves without fingers. Tousled silver-white hair seemed perfectly natural above wild, bushy eyebrows, which guarded pale green eyes. His granite sandpaper stubble seemed no more then three days old, and most of the exposed skin was windchapped to a fine shade of red. She stepped out of the shelter carefully, her hooves rasping against the concrete. His cool gaze absorbed the fact that a very large Beastman had invaded his home. The Deer looked to be a young male, and though his grey slilkit was a bit dusty, his loose green tunic rumpled, they appeared almost new. The broad muzzle and head that towered above his own were massive, and the odd grey eyes were sparked with bronze. Solid antlers branched out, heavy and black, the russet tinted mahogany fur dense and shiny with health. A hand that dwarfed his own rested possessively on one of the crates, the nails, stunted claws really, at each fingertip were thick and slightly pointed. The muscles rippled in the buck's hind legs and neck as he moved forward, nostrils flaring wide as he tried to catch the human's scent. The man looked up at the formidable challenger and scratched his chin, fingernails scraping against the tailings of beard.

"Hmmph. Who're you? Ain't seen you around. No wonder you took my spot. Too green to know better. Well, don't just stand there, move your furry hide! Beings as you were ignorant, I'll let you take yer stuff. But hurry up!"

She looked at the man incredulously, then shifted her gaze from him to the pile of cardboard and back. It was too good a place to give up. She'd not found one so large or unfrequented that could be had for less trouble. She turned back to the impatiently waiting human, touched her flat, muscled chest, and pointed to the ground. He blinked, and she repeated the motion, more forcefully. I stay.

"Eh? What's the matter then? Cat got yer tongue?"

He chortled at his own wit, and her ears flicked back.

"So, fancy this place do you? Well I don't like roommates, so beat it."

She swiveled an ear forward and pointed at him, then herself, then to the shelter. The offer of sharing was clear.

"I told you I don't like company," he squinted up at her, "You deaf as well as mute?"

She sighed and entered the shelter, then brought out the half eaten burger and her fries. She proffered some of the latter. His eyes fairly lit up, and he rubbed his hands together.

"Well m'boy, now you're talking. I do believe I could accept being a landlord, yesiree. Today's rent will be those and the sandwich. Welcome to my home."

She handed the food over and re-entered the shack, where she moved her duffel and the thin blanket she'd been using to one side. After hastily cobbling together a chair from an old box and some rags, she leaned against the side of the building and let her eyelids drift shut.

"Hey boy, wake up, we got work to do."

She opened unbelieving eyes as a scrap of brown paper was thrust under her nose, along with a stub of a pencil.

"Don't just stare at it fuzzy, write your name down. Gotta figure out what to call you," he said gruffly.

She took both items, and with only a momentary hesitation, scribbled down Mac Hart.

"Mac huh? You don't look like a Mac. Hart'll do it though. Alright Hart, name's Ed Mitchell. Call me Mitch, everyone does."

Hart raised a furred brow.

"Oh, yeah. Well, when people are yelling for Mitch, that's me."

She shrugged and nodded her acceptance.

"Now that introductions is over with, haul your carcass up. I got rounds to make and you're gonna help me."

She negated that with a toss of her head.

"What? Why not? Listen, what I say goes, and right now that means you're going."

Hart's answer was abrupt. A finger pointed to a large grey eye, then touched her chest, and her head shook an emphatic no. Then she crossed her arms and snorted, ears half flattened.

Mitch grunted.

"Well don't worry about that. Where we're going, nobody but my friends will see you. And if I tell them you're a ghost, they'll keep their mouths shut. Now come on, I ain't got all day."

Hart threw her palm up in a helpless lead on gesture and got to her hooves.

"No no no no no! Look hornhead, you're too obvious. If you don't want to get noticed, skulking around is not what you want to do. That'll get you caught before you've taken three steps. Now watch, you gotta swagger a bit. Act like you own the place. Nobody'll give you a second glance."

Mitch demonstrated to the hoots and jeers of his fellow vagabonds. Hart studied the group of older men and women, and gazed about at the tattered world they'd built in what used to be a factory. Piles of boxes and rags were scattered, filling every corner and marking out individual domains. From what he'd said, Hart gathered that this group of Mitch's friends had the duty of keeping watch over the communities' belongings, while they went about the daily business of trying to survive. They shared this job with the other residents, who took their turns in a cycle of protection. It was a ragtag band, and as good a bunch of friends as she'd seen in a long time. It had a definite safe feel, and she tried to relax.

"Now, you try it Hart. Just like I showed you."

She gave him a doubtful look, but did her best to copy his attitude, taking bold strides and holding her tail high proudly.

"Well, better anyway. Hold your head up now, ah, that's it. Puff out your chest, yeah! Now you got it."

I feel ridiculous, she thought, as the chuckles started coming. She hastily sat down and became absorbed in trying to count how many mice she could hear rustling under the floor.

"So, what are you Hart?" said a woman called Grace.

She looked up, startled, at the question. Was she found out so soon? Despite the innocent tone of the question, she tensed, prepared to take the escape path she'd planned earlier. She was ready to bolt when Mitch spoke up.

"Haven't told him about that yet. He's still getting used to the idea of being here."

The elderly woman nodded slowly. Hart tried to keep her sigh of relief quiet, and looked curiously at Mitch. He grinned at the others and sat down, completing the loose circle.

"See, all of us are different. We're not just everyday homeless, no way. We've been all over. Grace here is what you call a loafer. Just dawdles around wherever she goes. Rosa's a pilgrim, always going one place or another, but always coming back. Creole's a rover. That means . . ."

"That means I can speak for myself, no?" The ready smile and merry brown eyes took the sting from the words. "All rover is, is man who goes place to place, staying awhile, mebbe good long time, then picking up and movin on."

Hart took in everything, something tickling the back of her mind. A small wiry man spoke next, his skin tanned light brown, like a loaf of bread, and wrapped in various shades of ragged brown clothing.

"I'm the resident hobo. I've hopped trains or used my feet to go somewhere, trading work for room and board. Have a set route, and make the circuit."

Joseph, Mitch's best friend, pushed the blond hair from his eyes.

"Guess that makes me the gypsy, eh? I perform for my living, however meager. A little magic, a little juggling, whatever makes 'em toss some change."

Hart began listening with only half an ear as the conversation shifted to other things. The tickling grew to a tingle that ran up her spine and neck. It was a prickly, uncomfortable feeling; she wanted to kick, to stretch her legs in a run, to toss her head and charge. She scratched the suddenly bristly fur on the back of her neck absently, not sure what to make of it. Abruptly Mitch looked up, and motioned for silence. All talk immediately ceased. Mitch waited for a moment, head cocked, then swore softly.

"Damn it! I've gotten too old for this, can't hear a thing. Can anyone else?"

The others tried, and shook their heads. Seeing the confusion on Hart's face, Grace motioned for her to lower her head, then leaned over and whispered in a large ear.

"Somehow he always knows when there's trouble. He's trying to figure out if it's close."

Blast! This is stupid! I can't even tell when I might be in danger! Hart fumed. Alerted now, she raised her head, ears swiveling, trying to sort through the city sounds, loud even here, away from all the main traffic and bustle. She snorted and rose, motioning Mitch to follow. He moved with a silence that surprised her, and she watched her own footing closely as she led him outside of the building. They crept through quiet and empty side streets and peered around a dumpster.

Mitch's breath hissed out between clenched teeth, and he spoke in a furious whisper,

"Those people are ours!"

Hart felt a sinking in her stomach as she took in the scene.

The gang of five humans included two Beastmen, a Hyena and a Lynx. The Hyena was obviously young, its spotted fur more of a grey then tan. The thickfurred Lynx, though small, his tufted ears reaching only to Hart's chest, was full grown, and moved with supreme assurance. He menaced the three older humans, demanding all their money.

"Wait here! Watch them. I'll be back.," Mitch said quietly, and before Hart could turn around, he was gone. Nervous, she returned her gaze to the dead end alley.

"C'mon old man, we know you got cash. You too lady, hand it over. Wouldn't want you or your pal to get hurt now," the Feline sneered. His cronies snickered and fingered their makeshift weapons of pipe and wood. The elders fumbled about for their carefully hoarded money, secreted in the pockets and corners of their many layers of clothes.

"C'mon, c'mon! Hurry up. I ain't got all day. I have an important business meeting to go to."

The thugs all cackled at their leader's snide humor. The trapped threesome glared at the Lynx, who took exception. His hand flashed out, and the youngest of them, his hair streaked with white, went reeling into the wall. The others grabbed him as the Lynx snarled, teeth bared.

"Next time I use my claws. Fork the money over now!!"

Their eyes widened in shock, and a split second before the alarmed cries of his gang reached him, he turned. A brown fist struck his jaw with enough force to knock him to the ground. He rolled and came back up to his paws as a massive black hoof came down hard on the spot he'd been. He rubbed the side of his face and spat with fury at the Deer, then threw out his other hand to wave his buddies back. This Deer was his.

"You're meat, buck," he growled as his pelt fluffed, short tail jerking spasmodically back and forth. The jeers and shouted encouragements of the gang covered the approach of Mitch and his friends.

Hart circled warily, unsure how to get out of this mess now that she'd stuck her hoof in. A sudden commotion drew their attention, and as he saw most of his people get taken down from behind, the Lynx yowled in outrage. He sprang at Hart, who was still looking at Mitch's band in surprise. He landed on top of her, and she hit the earth with a grunt. He managed to get one good slash in with his fingerclaws, and she squealed as her neck and muzzle were scored. She grabbed his wrists in her hands and looked up into his contorted face. Her hooves churned futilely, his shorter frame beyond their reach, while she felt the prick of hindclaws against her lower body. She started to panic. If he ripped into her there, she could be crippled! The muscles in her neck bulged and tightened as she turned her head slightly to the right, then whipped it to the left. There was a loud smack and a sickening hollow 'thok' as her antlers connected; the Lynx sprang away, howling with pain, hands cradling his face. Using the same maneuver that he had, she rolled to her hooves and crouched, hands held at the ready. Her heart pounding, she watched as the gangly Hyena looked from her to the Lynx, and started advancing, black haired mouth agape to display fearsome teeth. His stiff hair was raised and his tail rigid. Hart inhaled and tried to calm down -- it was taking all she had not to bare her own teeth and charge. The urge to rake her nails across his snout, to escalate the fight and make him change his challenging posture was strong. But she knew she couldn't afford to let those powerful jaws get a grip on her anywhere. She bristled, the fur on her nape standing up in a ridge, ears flat. The Hyena hesitated. Deer can't bristle . . . can they? Resolve wavering, he stepped forward once more. Hart growled. The Hyena was startled, but he came on anyway. Hart made an exasperated sound. She did not want another fight. Instincts or no, she couldn't risk getting seriously injured while Hunters were after her. She straightened, and deliberately pulled back her lips in a snarl that left no doubt in the Hyena's mind as to what he should do. Tail creeping between his hind legs, he cowered and uttered the gibbering, laughing sound that signaled when one of his kind were utterly terrified. He grabbed up the Lynx, who huddled on the ground, blood soaking through tawny hands, and dragged the Feline away, his horrified gaze never leaving Hart. Seeing their leader towed off, the gang members who still could, ran, hauling their fellows none too gently along. Hart leaned against the wall and panted, mouth open and still showing the formidable tusks that had so frightened the Hyena.

The weighty silence brought her ears up first, and she raised her eyes. Mitch and his friends, armed with broom handles and baseball bats, all stood, watching her. Hart clamped her mouth shut and tensed, ready to leap in any direction. Her nostrils flared and her breathing quickened again as she pushed away from the wall and prepared to defend herself.

Mitch shook himself and stepped forward, dropping the confiscated pipe he held. It rang out as it hit the concrete, a clear peal of sound. He raised his hands, palms out. "Easy there, Hart. None of us are going to try anything."

She relaxed a little, but remained alert. She surveyed the group and stamped a cloven hoof warningly, her actions speaking for her. Darn right you won't. Her false bravado didn't fool Mitch.

"Come on back with us. You need those scratches looked after. They'll get infected if you don't take care of them. Just take it easy and come back . . ."

Mitch kept on talking until the whirling fire in the Deer's eyes had settled, and grey was once again the dominant color. The buck's ears moved forward again, and finally he nodded, moving cautiously behind the group as it walked back. Mitch made sure to walk beside Hart, and once back in the building, hustled to get the things he needed to patch the Deer up.

She sat down and held still while he prodded at the cuts, and washed away the blood that had crusted in her fur. She squirmed a bit and made a protesting noise when he grabbed ahold of her muzzle and held it firmly to get at the five parallel marks across the bridge of her nose. He sprayed some of the precious antiseptic on the wounds, but when he moved to set bandages, she caught his hand and shook her head. He grunted but left them alone and sat down.

"So, that's why you smell like a whole countryside," Joseph remarked.

Her ears flicked in surprise. Joseph merely smiled.

"You may not have your own scent yet, but in a city where those smells are long gone, it's quite noticeable, even to us humans."

Idiot, Hart cursed herself, I have to think of these things, or I'm dead for sure! Those Hunters won't allow me to learn from my mistakes.

Mitch harrumphed.

"You know boy, it would have been easier if you'd just waited until we reached you. Then your secret would still be your own. We were only a few paces behind you when that tail of yours flipped up and you rushed out to take on that hairball."

Hart started and twitched her tail. She hadn't even been aware of it. I should probably warn them about the Hunters. And about this 'boy' business . . .

"Listen," she rumbled to wide eyes and surprised faces,"I am female, for one. And I'm afraid I've put you all in danger. Those two Beastmen will be calling in friends, and they will be on my trail very soon. I don't know what kind of people they will be, so maybe you had better scatter for a few days. In any case, watch yourselves. Once that Lynx heals he'll probably be back. He didn't exactly strike me as the type who'd take a hint and go elsewhere."

Heads nodded all around, and Hart got up.

"Thank you, for everything." She turned to Mitch, "Now, could you please take me back to the shelter? All those twists and turns to get here confounded my sense of direction."

"Sure, sure. No problem. Just follow me."

Mitch waved to his friends and Hart nodded politely.

After a few blocks, she stopped him.

"Actually, I know how to get back. What I wanted to ask was if you'd do me a favor."

Mitch mulled it over for a second.

"What do I get out of it?"

Hart gave a faint smile, the corners of her velvet lips turning up slightly, her jaw dropping open just enough to show her normal front teeth.

"A new set of sweatpants and shirt."

"What's the favor?"

"Is there a weapons shop around here? For those who like to play weekend hunter?" His wrinkled face scrunched up in thought. "Ayah. There is. Not too far away either. Why? You can't get a gun, the waiting period . . ."

"I know. I don't want a gun. I need a bow and some arrows, and a quiver to carry them in. I also need you to pick up some camping equipment."

Mitch snorted, "You think that won't be a tad bit noticeable? Someone like me doesn't just come across cash like that readily, and those things are expensive."

"That's why we're checking into the hotel down the street, where you'll get cleaned up while I get the money and buy you some clothes. After that, no one will think twice about selling you anything. But if we're going to do it, we have to hurry. I don't have much time. Agreed?"

Mitch grumbled a bit. "Oh alright. I suppose I owe you something. You paid the rent after all, and haven't even gotten to sleep there but one night. Let's go."

Hart took a cab out of town that night, then hitchhiked her way back north. She managed to catch a ride with some vacationers heading for Oregon. They let her off where she asked, on the side of the road at the base of a mountain. She thanked them and shouldered the hiker's packframe which held all her things. The fourth day of her flight ended as she curled up in her new sleeping bag under the spreading canopy of an immense maple.

Hart blinked disbelievingly at the tree stump, fitted another arrow and let it slip free. That one thunked into place right beside the other, in the center of the huge log. She continued to shoot until the large supply of arrows were all gone. Then she stared at the stump for a bit longer before retrieving her arrows, which made a perfect circle, and three rows of straight, even lines. Returning to her camp, she carefully repacked the bow, the like of which she had never touched before, and returned the arrows to the thick leather quiver. She moved mechanically, stringing up her food and belongings in the tree's branches until nothing of hers remained on the ground for curious animals to ravage. Then she stood for a moment, splay-hoofed, and let the streaming panic well up. It choked her until she gasped for breath, her heart racing. Her breath came faster as she stared at the bow, neatly inside its case, and the quiver hanging next to it. Her tail raised as her fear grew, and she trembled as she tried to understand.

Why? How?! What am I? Echoes flitted through her mind, You are a Warrior born, something no Deer has ever been . . . perversion of nature . . . Look hornhead, you're too obvious . . .

Her own doubts crowded her skull until she threw back her head and howled to drown them out, then whirled and fled into the woods.

Her breath rasped in her throat, burning. She ran wild, hooves pounding against the earth. She thundered on, plunging through branches and easily leaping collapsed trees. Her own heartbeat chased her, its alien rhythm a hounding song. Everything flashed by as she ran with blind speed, mouth yawning open to drag in cool air. Then she was falling, twisting and grabbing for the soft ground as she toppled over the side of a bank. She righted herself in time for her hooves to submerge in icy water. Her momentum carried, and her hooves fouled against stones. She stumbled once, twice, and fell into the shallow stream. She pulled herself to the opposite shore and lay in the water, staring at the sand until her head stopped whirling. Her panting eased and she shut her eyes, ears sagging to half-mast. A low growl and the slight crunch of paws on sand made her look up, and she stared into the fierce yellow eyes of a mountain lion.

She held very still. The tawny cat half crouched before her, black tipped tail flicking. The water dripped from Hart's jaw, and her ears lowered in fear as she watched the enormous cougar. The pair stayed that way, frozen, with only the slight movement of the golden tail marking time. She began to tremble as the water leeched the warmth from her body. And still the cat made no move, just sat and watched, waiting, only the tips of its fangs showing. She had no chance from this position, any attempt to get up and the cat would have her. Waiting, waiting . . . the cougar never relaxed, never looked elsewhere. Hart was getting desperate. The feeling was gone in her tail, and her hind legs were now too chilled to function properly. She tried to slowly raise herself on her hands, and the cat tensed, fangs flashing in a snarl. Hart stopped, and sank back into the shallows. The mountain lion returned to its watchful pose. Flick, flick, flick. The hours rolled by like boulders up a hill. The shivering intensified. Her arms and legs no longer responded. They were a numb deadweight, holding her down. At least they don't feel cold anymore . . . her head started to droop. Shadows crept in at the edges of her vision as the cougar rose and moved forward. She bared her teeth weakly, but the blackness won as her head splashed down into the water. The last thing she was aware of were the jaws closing on her nape, strong and oddly gentle, pulling her from the stream.

Oh, warm again! A soothing hum-rumble surrounded her. Rrruune! Safe . . . that sound . . . a purr? Roo couldn't purr. Even as she dragged herself toward wakefulness, she burrowed deeper into the warm softness about her. The wild tang to the unfamiliar scent finally registered, and as her memory rushed back, her eyes sprang open, pupils dilating in sudden fear. She was lying on her side against a thick mat of leaves, the cougar partially sprawled over her, paws negligently dangling across her chest. She kicked once, head straining backwards, eyes rolling in fear. The cougar sat there and purred, its weight quietly restraining her.

Hart eventually calmed down and looked at the large cat, sighing wearily.

"If I was the kind, I'd say the universe is out to get me."

The cougar stuck its muzzle in Hart's face, stiff whiskers prickling, and proceeded to wash the immobilized Deer's cheek She urffed.

"Okay, okay. You're friendly, I get it. Now get off me, will you?"

The big cat yawned in her face and stood, taking the time to stretch before moving enough for Hart to stand. She brushed loam and dry leaves from her fur and clothes, swung her neck low and shook, dust rising from her pelt to float through sunbeams. Her skin twitched under caked mud and began to itch. She looked at the cougar, who sat, tail curled around its dusky haunches. For some reason, she felt she should explain what she planned to do.

"I'm going back to the stream. I have to wash this off."

The cougar got up and padded off in that direction, pausing and glancing back when Hart didn't move. The tail twitched impatiently. Hart closed her mouth and shook again, this time to drive away the feeling that she was about to take a dive into a very deep pit. She scratched her chin and joined the cougar in going back to the stream. After rinsing off her slilkit and hanging it on a branch, she waded out into a deeper pool and hurriedly cleansed the dirt from her fur. She washed her vest and wrung it out, then wrapped the slilkit around her waist, threw the vest over her shoulder, and started back for her campsite. The cougar trotted beside her, heavy paws swinging, flowing across the ground noiselessly.

It took some time to get back to her clearing, and Hart marveled at the amount of ground she had covered in that short-lived burst. She'd never really had the chance to run all out and test her newfound strength.

As she pushed her way past the last of the screening bushes to reach her camp, she halted and stared. The cougar shoved past her and joined the company of animals present in the clearing. Hart set her hooves wide. Hands planted firmly on her hips, she took it all in. Her tail twitched and she raised her gaze to the late afternoon sky.

"Okay, this is a bit much!!"

Tongues lolled as the wolf pack regarded her, and the small fox gave a sharp bark that sounded equally amused. The cougar flicked an ear and looked inscrutable, and the eight point mule deer buck snorted and dipped his head. The pair of mountain quail shook their wings, and Hart looked at the assembly with disbelief. She plopped down on a log and watched as the group drew together for a wordless exchange. When it was over, all the animals except the quail and the cougar disappeared into the forest. The quail hopped up on the log and looked curiously at Hart, tiny black eyes alight with energy and life. The cougar paused before her. Looking into the wise glowing eyes, Hart felt a pressure in her mind, like something straining to push through a barrier.

You learn. We teach. Follow. Hart inhaled in surprise. The cougar didn't communicate with words or thoughts, but rather a sense of the concept, which were easy to link to words in her mind. Air runners first. The cougar, satisfied, turned to go.

"Wait! What do I learn?" Hart's voice was strained, showing her confusion.

The pressure came again, briefly. Watch. Then the big cat was gone. She looked back down at the two small birds, both of which she could have held in one hand. They cocked their heads sideways to look up at her and emitted high pitched calls. Their mind presences were light, airy as hollow bones, almost too delicate to hear. Watch. Listen. Follow. See. They jumped softly down to the ground and pattered off. Hart stumbled to her hooves, and attempted to move more quietly when they piped their disapproval. They led her to a nearby patch of thick bush, where a distinct call brought five tiny pieces of leaves to life. Hart shifted uneasily under the weight of seven pairs of eyes. The tan and black-spotted quail chicks blinked up at her, alongside their parents. You chick. Learn with them. Then they hopped and scuttled off into the trees, chicks following in a quick line.

"Incompetents!!" Rorrgh swiped the bag from the other Wolf's grasp. Clothes spilled out onto the blacktop. The would-be Pack Leader snarled, lips puckered to show his fangs in the beginnings of a fury that made the others back off warily.

"That Tiger! Hart was forewarned, and he helped her! Now the trail has disappeared, and we have no clue as to where she's gone."

He growled and paced, rubbing one ear out of habit. He squelched his anger ruthlessly. It would accomplish nothing to snap at his people, and what they needed now was action. He whirled and started pointing to the Pack members under his leadership.

"Okay, Reghf and Yiiprrg, go back to the college and question that Tiger. You probably won't get anything out of him, but Hart may try and contact her friends. Awrouw, go to the familys' house and monitor them. The rest of you, go into the surrounding areas in pairs. If you get a sniff of anything, one of you report to me while the other keeps an eye on the situation. You and you, stay with me. We'll be doing wide sweeps to try and pick up anything that's been missed. Go, and may Gaia direct your paws."

The Wolves bowed their heads and uttered a guttural "Hrrrou", then loped away on their respective tasks.

Hart woke just before dawn. After laying quietly, the now familiar sounds of birds beginning to move, and the small rustlings of night things scurrying for hole-homes told her sunrise was approaching. She cracked open one cloud grey orb and watched the wind move in the tree branches, leaves dark against the barely lightened sky. With a mental sigh, she heaved herself out of a bed of grass, shaking the bits of stem and twig from her pelt as her broad muzzle opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. A chorus of reproachful peeps sounded from the bushes nearby. Hart flicked an ear and ignored them, running her fingers through the thick fur on her nape. She yawned again, oddly formed snout opening wider then a Deer's should, and giving the watching quail another good look at her canines. The chime of high peeps sounded again, and she snorted, giving another shake to rouse herself.

"I know, I know. Fine. Meet at the meadow?"

Her only answer was a weary cheep from the adult quail. Hart grabbed her slilkit and wrapped it around her waist, this time averting her face when another yawn tugged at her lips. It upset the quail terribly to see her teeth. Too predatory for their tastes. She moved away, even in her early morning languor using what she'd learned. She moved lighter on her hooves now, making no more noise then a true deer. Her eyes, ears, and nose constantly moved, aware, alert. She sorted, identified, and cataloged various scents, sounds, and objects without ever realizing she had done so. Over the course of weeks, the quail had imparted their lesson. Hart had learned to be aware of the forest around her -- its life and movement were now a source of unending information. She made her way to a spot she now frequented, a rocky ledge that dropped off into a sheer cliff. It gave her an unobstructed view of the horizon, and the rising sun. She settled on the edge, legs dangling above the sheer drop. As always, she craned her neck forward to gaze beneath her hooves at the dangerously empty air. Her nostrils flared as the momentary impulse to leap, to feel the wind press against her as she fell, to get a glimpse of what flying must be like, stole through her. It was a passing urge, one too deep and weak to ever be acted upon, the flash of imagination's wandering.

Hart withdrew from the edge, and took her normal position on a small boulder a foot or so from the precipice's smooth-cut lip. Fur slightly fluffed to keep out the cool morning breeze, she watched the play of light and color among the clouds and against the sky with turgid grey eyes, mind churning. The sun climbed, and when it was so high that most of the colors had gone, faded into a pale blue, and the clouds were no longer rimmed in gold light, she uncurled her legs and stood. After a mighty stretch, Hart turned and soundlessly made her way back into the shade of the trees, thoughts doggedly following.

Silently she wandered, idly munching on this tree or that bush. She hadn't been allowed to return to her campsite, and the other lesson absorbed in that time was what she could and couldn't eat. Her thoughts turned to breakfast and the quail, who were probably impatiently waiting for her at the nearest meadow, and she gradually wound her way to that area. Emerging from the trees into an open mini-grassland, the Deer looked about and murmured quietly, surprised. The small birds weren't there, so while she waited, she grazed, walking slowly in the grass, pulling the tender crests off with deft fingers. She ate while scanning for the arrival of her tiny overseers.

Hart was neither surprised or concerned when the quail failed to appear, and the fox did. It looked at her, then turned and trotted off through the grass. She merely followed.

Hart grunted in aggravation as the fox's sharp teeth closed on her fetlock in a painful nip. She flattened her ears and lifted her hoof in the threat of a kick. The flash of red darted away, yipping a scolding. Accompanying the sharp yaps were the fox's thoughts.

Foolish cub! Quiet, quiet walk!

Hart shook her antlered head and hissed through clenched teeth, "I am being quiet!"

Soft enough for eaten. Eaters must be silent!

Hart snorted and began again, the game of catching the fox unawares already old. But as her days with the fox passed, her mood lightened. He spoke to her more often then the quail, his thoughts a stream of quicksilver that never lasted more then a heartbeat or two. And even if most of her days there was no communication other then the range of barks he was capable of, it was still more then the quail had done, and she was grateful for it.

Watch.

With that one thought, the fox bounded out into the meadow, chasing his tail and going into fits of energetic pouncing in pursuit of his own furry brush. Hart looked at his antics blankly for a minute, then a tiny motion caught her eye. A shrew, as curious as Hart, crept out of the cover it had dived into at the fox's appearance. The fox continued his mad whirling, and Hart's ears came forward as she saw that her teacher was inching ever so slowly closer to the rodent with each crazed leap. It took several minutes, but the fox finally leapt high and came down, his jaws snapping shut around his prey. The shrew had time for little more then a startled squeak before it became a meal. Hart sat back in the shade at the meadows edge and considered. The dog fox trotted over to her, tongue lolling.

Catch a paw of small eaten. Bring to den by darkfall.

"Me? What do I want with mice?"

The fox barked again in annoyance. Hart had noticed that he did not particularly like to say more then two things in the space of a few minutes. It made him irritable.

Stickhead not notice own teeth? Need eat more then grass and leaf. Get sick if no meat.

The Deer's head moved back, chin dipping toward her chest and bringing her rack forward. The gratefulness that he spoke to her at all had passed, and she had become tired of the fox's insults.

"Mice will not feed me. In case your sight is going, I am much bigger then you."

The fox growled. Hart glared back, ears half flattened. He yapped sharply, white fangs bared.

Size no matter! Catch enough of little eaten, save life! Live through cold times on small meats. Even for large beast, skill is must! Front paws of eaten now, before dark.

With a final snap, the fox trotted off, shaking his head as if he had a burr in one ear. Hart snorted and moved off in search of another fairly open place. Any chance of catching her assigned prey here was finished with all the noise the argument had made. She growled to herself. Ten mice! She wondered if she could just 'misunderstand'. It had taken her a long time to sort out what the fox meant sometimes. Like his method of counting. A paw of this, a paw of that, front paws meant the number of fingers on both hands . . .

She sighed and shook her head. Ten small rodents before night. Harder for her to do because of her size, but easier because she didn't look like a predator. About even odds, really. Reaching a likely spot, she concentrated on remembering all she could from watching the fox when he hunted. She'd get him his mice, and he was welcome to them. After all, he didn't say they had to be dead. She bared her teeth in a grin as she contemplated what would happen when she showed him the rodents, then promptly let them go free. She chuckled and began to move slowly through the grass.

Rorrgh heard the door to his hotel room open, and assuming it was his assistant, he didn't turn around, but kept on looking at the holo of one of his Hunters as she finished her report.

"And in addition to the withdrawal of all Hart's funds at an ATM, we have the Lynx's story."

"Excellent job. We're on our way." Rorrgh closed the vidphone with a snap, fangs bared in a fierce grin.

"We have the scent again! Call in the teams, we're going to Bakersfield. There's been a sighting!"

"Good news. It's lucky for you I happened to come over then, and save you the trouble of trying to find me to share this information," a voice drawled lazily.

Rorrgh spun around, bristling in surprise. Aleksander stood there, flanked by two other Hunters and Rorrgh's own aide, a slim youngster who huddled to the side of the doorway.

"I'm sorry sir, they demanded to see you right away . . ."

Rorrgh clenched his teeth in anger, but he understood the youngling's actions. One did not say no to the Pack Leader. He nodded curtly and the cub scrambled off. The grey Wolf gazed challengingly at Alek before dipping into a shallow bow with barely concealed hostility.

"Leader Aleksander, welcome. Of course, I was planning to contact you immediately with the news. Please, come in. How may I be of service?"

Alek's lip lifted in response to the sarcasm, and he replied in kind.

"I'm sure. Since you've offered, I'll accompany you to the city, and merge my teams with yours to increase their strength and range. We will run together, and show those other Hunters what my Pack can do."

And I'll keep my eye on you at all times, you leanfaced son of a hare, Alek thought.

Rorrgh stiffened, but could do nothing but bow again.

"I am honored, Leader."

Alek nodded and turned away, motioning for one of his escorts to stay behind.

"Kuy here will help you in all things, and act as liaison. She will handle the details while I gather the rest of the Pack. See you soon, Rorrgh."

As he turned his back on his rival, Alek could not quite suppress the feeling of satisfaction that hemstitching his opponent brought.

Rorrgh seethed with fury. Outmaneuvered by that stinking Changed! Yet he couldn't even show the tiniest bit of emotion before the spy Aleksander had left behind, so he fumed quietly, bottling his anger. But it was hard, oh so hard. He wanted nothing more then to howl his challenge for the world to hear, to leap on Aleksander and with tooth and claw prove he was the rightful Leader! But not yet, oh no, not yet. The split was too severe. If -- no -- when, Aleksander lost, the Pack would be torn apart, and those who followed the present Leader would leave to form a new Pack. This was unacceptable. So he must wait until Aleksander stumbled, and only then would a challenge be accepted by all. The time was fast approaching, though, so . . . Patience, patience. He turned his attention to Kuy, recalling what he knew of her. Stocky and dark-furred, she was a capable Hunter, very practical and even-tempered. She was also Aleksander's Chief Warrior, but that meant little except in traditional circles. A glorified secretary and coordinator, similar to his aide. Like all Wolves, he knew those in his Pack. They were counted as family, even though there often wasn't the slightest bit of blood between them. He knew her, but not well. As in any family, there were members more distant then others.

"Greetings packsister. Welcome," Rorrgh bowed indifferently, the greeting of an equal. Kuy returned the bow, ears flickering slightly.

"Good day packbrother. Shall we begin?"

He flung a hand out to encompass the side of the room that held all his maps and equipment.

"By all means, let's get to it."

Rrruune shook with fury and crumpled the letter in one hand. Arayna's ears folded back in shock. Rrruune was the most amiable and slow to anger person she had ever known. Those who knew him, humans and Beastmen alike, would joke that the first snowflake would fall in hell before he ever lost control. But the white Tigress wasn't so sure anymore. She had never seen Rrruune so angry. His thick orange and black fur rose in a stiff ridge along his back, fangs were bared in a grimace, and the Tiger's yellow eyes were slits of rage. Rounded ears flattened tight to the heavy skull, he snarled as he flung the crushed ball of paper away. The menacing growl continued as he paced, each stiff-legged step accompanied by the scrape of splayed hindclaws against the floor of the kitchen. The scent of his anger was nearly overpowering, and Arayna fought to keep from crouching. With effort, she made her own black-striped fur lie flat.

"Rrruune, what is it? What's wrong?"

But the male Tiger was so incensed, that all he could do was roar. A sweep of his tail towards the crumpled paper ball was all the permission Arayna waited for. She bent down and scooped it up, smoothing out the crinkles as best she could. Her blue eyes flitted along the page, and she hissed softly with surprise and concern. It was from Rrruune's clan, written by the Matriarch's aide no less. It was short and terse, the distinctive handwriting equally abrupt.

Rrruune Merrrson,
You will return to clan ground immediately, where the Matriarch will receive you to discuss the situation and the actions to be taken to restore the clan's honor.

There was no signature, only a stamp of the clan crest, a further insult, showing just how far the Matriarch considered Rrruune fallen.

"Knowing Mmearrrra, she oversaw the drafting of that letter to the last period!" Rrruune spat.

Arayna swallowed nervously.

"They can't hold you responsible for what . . . what Macenna became! Why would they summon you now, like this?"

"Probably because I helped her escape."

Rrruune's voice was suddenly weary, and he slumped into the same chair, where, ages ago it seemed, he had smiled across at his best friend as they joked over a meal.

He barely cast a glance at her when Arayna hissed.

"I told you that would bring trouble!"

"And I told you to wait for me to see her! If you hadn't called the Hunters, I wouldn't've had to do that!"

Rrruune's low growl and the taut lashing of two tails filled and stretched the silence. Finally, with an irate kick at his chair, he stalked over to his closet and began packing. After a moment, Arayna started helping. Rrruune paused long enough to gently lick her cheek.

"What will you do?" Her voice was soft.

He thrust a slilkit savagely into his carry-all, his anger still burning.

"If Mmearrrra thinks I'm going to roll on my back, she's dead wrong. The 'honor of the clan' needs a new keeper if this is what she calls a stain. And I'm not going to let her weasel out of her debt. Mac is clan, and remains so. I intend to see that the line of Merrr remembers that."

Aleksander leaned back in his chair, and looked at the short Feline with disgust. The dust colored Lynx was horribly scarred; one pale green eye was closed, while the other glittered coldly. The once-deep puncture and slash marks over his face were still pink-skinned, newly healed. His fur was matted and his clothes were dirty, and he leaned forward to bare yellowed fangs.

"That freak," he spat the word as he motioned to his wounds, "Did this to me. Yeah, I seen it. Sprang on me for no reason. Thought I was a goner for sure, but I gave it a handful of claws right across its ugly snout. Was only a scratch though. Musta taken it by surprise, because it ran off. That was close to a month ago. If I'da known you was lookin', I woulda called you in, but I wasn't exactly in a condition to be movin' around a lot."

The brindle furred Wolf wrinkled his muzzle in a grimace even as Rorrgh leaned closer to the Lynx. Alek looked at the grey Wolf disbelievingly. Surely even Rorrgh couldn't believe that! The stench of the lie, and the liar, filled his nose and made him sneeze.

Yet Rorrgh was shaking the Cat's hand, and blathering on about bravery and duty. Alek growled and snorted with contempt, brushing Rorrgh aside. Bristling, he shoved his muzzle in the Lynx's face and bared his own teeth.

"Right. Now let's have the truth, you scavenger. All of it!"

Rorrgh leaped up.

"Leader, I must protest, this Feline has helped us. Just because you do not wish to hear --Awp!"

Rorrgh yelped as Alek whirled, catching the younger Wolf by the scruff and shoving his nose into the now-cowering Lynx's neck.

"No Rorrgh, it is you who doesn't wish to hear. This slug has lied, and you don't even pay attention to your senses. Maybe by getting closer you will smell it. If you cannot even read what is before you, screaming its presence, you won't be the Leader you think."

With a snarl, the other Wolf tore loose, glaring pure hatred at Aleksander. He hated even more the fact that the Changed was right, and he swiped a hand along his muzzle to remove the reek of the oily furred, lying Feline. He sat stiffly while Aleksander extracted the tale from the Lynx, cuffing the Cat now and again to loosen more of the truth from its tongue. The hotel room had become an examining room, and by the end even Rorrgh was ready to kick the Lynx out and spit on his shadow. Neither could keep their fangs covered, nor their disgust from showing. Alek motioned to one of his guardsmen.

"Kuy, take this to the police, were he can help them by identifying his gang. Then track down the Hyena and deliver them both to the Council of Elders. Until Hart is brought in, we can't hand them over to the humans. But I'm sure the Council will think of something appropriate."

Kuy nodded, and herded the thoroughly cowed Feline out the door with a well-placed nip and a drawn sword. Rorrgh watched, and still irritated by his treatment, sniped at the only thing he could.

"A sword? Isn't that a bit medieval? The Warriors should use a stunner. They are much more efficient, and can't be used against their owner. Weapons like that sword are things of the ancient past."

Aleksander said nothing, but looked pointedly around the room with its state of the art equipment for finding, tracking, extrapolating, and instant communication. Rorrgh's eyes followed, until they came back to Alek's face. The older Wolf flicked an ear and spoke softly.

"You search diligently, using all that technology has to offer. You find the trail, with the aid of these marvelous things. But I smelled the truth."

Alek grunted and motioned to his guard, which accompanied him out the door. Rorrgh was left to sink his fingerclaws into the tabletop with frustration.

Hart's shoulder met the trunk of a tree, and the air was shoved noisily from her lungs by the impact. She had little time to recover, however, as the stag lunged forward again, bringing his heavy antlers to bear. She dodged, or more accurately, fell, out of the way of the attack, her legs folding as she threw herself to the ground. The huge buck reared up, his slim forehooves driving for her body. She rolled desperately -- and as he came down, the deer's head was lowered, aimed. Once his hooves hit the ground, he surged towards her. His rack gouged Hart's shoulder painfully, and she cried out as she was pinned against another tree. She lay as still as possible, breath hissing from between clenched teeth. The pressure was not quite enough to break the skin, but it was coming dangerously close. Her nostrils were flared, each panting breath pinching her chest and shoulder even more as the unmoving deer kept her there.

"Enough!" Hart's storm grey eyes swirled with copper streaks and pinpoints of red, the pain and her own frustrated anger nearly tipping her into retaliating, regardless of the fact that she would surely injure herself.

The buck recognized the abrupt scent change. It was as he had been warned. This antlered she was capable of the wild fury. He snorted and backed away, raising his head to watch as Hart got stiffly to her hooves. Spine rigid with suppressed rage, hands balled into fists, she turned her back on him and started walking away. When she was out of sight, the stag turned, intent on doing some foraging. A tawny shape flowed out of the shadows and padded boldly up to the buck. He tossed his head to display his impressively branched rack. The cougar yawned, showing gleaming white fangs. These two were no friends, despite the truce that lay between them for now.

A mistake has been made. She is not ready for this. The cougar's eyes glittered in the shade.

He snorted. I do not understand this two-legged kin. She is more mysterious than the true two-leggers. I teach this she-fawn to fight, to survive. It was given to me to do so. If there were no danger, no hurt, she would not learn. It is no less then the young who bear new antlers go through in their growth time. This strange kin is ignorant, foolish. She does not follow the path. She ignores the balance!

You are a long time away from those days. Do you forget? Always such learning is with littermates, not herdmasters. She almost Hunted. We cannot allow that so soon. She will run wild. As for the balance, she will know it. She does not have to tread the path we do. She is free. She will have to choose it, and so see clearer then any of us.

Both animals shifted, uncomfortable with this new awareness that let them think such things. The cougar flattened its ears.

Enough. I dislike this. It is the many-hunters' time. After that, she will return to you. I shall inform the pack. They will find her.

The deer stamped assent. The large cat moved off at a trot. The stag made his way back into the parts of the forest that he counted as his.

Hart stretched her legs into a run, letting her pent up energy push her along. It burned inside, heating the breath that rasped by clenched teeth.

Even though she had moved into a new region when the buck had come for her, some nine days ago, she had not given up her territory by the cliff. She went there now, no longer attempting to conceal the fact that she hurt. Her good arm cradled the wounded shoulder, while the other curled at her side. Head lowered, she burst from the treeline, leaves swirling to earth with the force of her passing. Once in the clear, she braked, speed and anger played out. Hart blinked and was still, each panting breath drawing in the cold mountain air. She tried to convince herself that the throbbing chill where hot anger had been was no more than the result of breathing.

Hart sat down on her rock and looked moodily at the striking view. Finally, she shrugged off her vest and inspected the shoulder. The russet hint in her fur was overwhelmed by the darker stain of dried blood. Two prongs of the buck's antlers had managed to pierce her hide after all, just above and below her collar bone. The entire area was tender, and as she probed it with her fingertips, she knew there was deep bruising underneath the fur. Blood began to seep from the wound afresh. She grunted and let her hand fall away. There didn't seem much point in tending to the injury. Hart stared out over the land, feeling the sun's heat soak into her skin, trapped by the dark hair of her pelt.

She shivered despite the warmth and closed her eyes. Who am I? I feel so alone. What am I doing here? I miss your smile Roo, your laughter. Mom, why did this happen? I used to be a regular person. I only thought about school, about family and friends. I used to worry about grades and my job. What happened to those days? I can't remember them very well anymore. She hugged herself and rocked slowly back and forth, breath catching in her throat. Why did I run? To live? Is this living? It's getting harder to think . . . to remember that I have a past, to imagine a future. What am I . . .

A chorus of wolf howls rose, and she heard it, and knew it was meant for her. But she did not move, just sat in the light and let her thoughts chase themselves like dust motes in a sunbeam. She did not hear, she did not see. It was twilight before a sharp bark and many anxious whines roused her from her stupor. Slowly, so slowly, she turned her head. There, at the boundary between trees and clearing, stood a wolf. It paced the line and whined again, pausing, one paw held aloft uncertainly. She gazed at it, then felt a wash of gratitude. This one understood. She rewarded the wolf the only way she could, by waving her ears and inviting the canine in. The wolf, a large silver and black female, padded over and sat down, watching the Deer await the night. The stars were bright overhead, nearly ripe moon shedding more than enough light for creatures such as they to see by, before either moved again. At last, the wolf gently nosed Hart's torn shoulder, and carefully began to clean it. Hart still stared off into the distance, only dimly aware of the warm soothing tongue against her aching flesh.

That done, the wolf faced her, and Hart looked into the luminescent eyes wordlessly.

Come packfriend. Sing with us to lighten your spirit. Howl with us to ease your mind. Outsider no more. Join the pack, wild sister.

The wolf pointed nose to sky and started the howling. From nearby, the rest of the pack responded. Their voices, so close, roused Hart. She threw back her antlered head and poured out her heart into the night air, wailing her song. The wolves took it, and joined it, and added their own. You are of us, their howl cried, and no longer alone.

The stars, the forest, the pack, and the valley below were treated to the first Lay of a newborn Singer.

Aleksander motioned his visitor to a chair and waved his guards out. The massive Lion sat down, his muscles rippling under the golden fur. The cool blue eyes were placid, confident. His brown and black mane fell long about his shoulders, radiating out from about his face. He wore no tunic or vest, only the short tracker's loincloth that allowed for either two-footed travel or running on all fours. Alek smoothed his own slilkit's panels and cocked his ears forward to listen.

"The hunt continues. Of the humans that you say consorted with the Hart, there is no sign, but neither have any of the Solitaries had any luck. They also keep searching."

The Lion's rounded ears flicked back, and his long tail lashed once.

"She hid her trail well, this creature," he rumbled grudgingly.

Alek nodded, and fingered a lower fang absently.

"Yes, indeed. How long have we been chasing our tails here, two months? Three? Daily reports from all sides of nothing, not a hair, not a sniff. I begin to think we are on a fool's errand, hunting ghosts."

"The Huntress sends her sympathies. Even she did not think a newly Changed could outpace the Hunters for so long. This Hart has been helped."

Alek glanced at the Lion.

"I care no more for the scattered rumors that she is Gaia's favored then I did for the conclusion that she was Gaia's damned when this whole thing started. I intend to see her brought before the Hunters' Council and the Hunt Leader, as I swore."

The Lion dipped his heavy head in acknowledgment, and rose.

"Then I shall not bore you with the detailed report of how we have turned up a great amount of nothing. Good day, Pack Leader."

"Send my respects to the Huntress. Good day Pridesman."

Her place in the pack was an odd one. Treated as a young wolf, taken along to watch hunts, given pup-sitting duty, and watched over like one herself; Hart nevertheless did not act as one of the lowest ranked members. Her size made it impossible to discipline her as they would one of their own, but she tried to observe the hierarchy as she understood it. The silver and black she-wolf who had invited Hart to sing was the second half of the pack's alpha pair. She and her mate, a wiry, rangy male all different shades of grey, white, and brown, led the others. The pack consisted of the lead pair, one other full-grown from a long ago litter, and two sets of pups: the yearlings and this season's whelps. The youngest pups, not long out of the den, were watched by the half-growns and lower ranked adult. Hart took her turn as well, and it was a bizarre sight.

The den was on a hill, surrounded by open grassland. The older wolf sat at the crest and kept watch, while the yearlings played hunting games and the pups clustered around a dozing Hart. The Beastman lay on the ground, hooves stretched out, neck curled, and head resting on crossed arms. The pups never tired of playing with her. They tumbled about the snoozing Deer quite happily, climbing and slipping and yipping in puppy glee. Hart opened an eye and rolled it back to look at one pup, who was trying to get tiny teeth around the base of an antler. She flicked the corresponding ear and batted it on the rear, startling a high pitched ki-yiii from the puppy, that caused it to lose its balance. She watched it bounce harmlessly on the grass, where its littermates decided to spring on it in a new game.

Both eyes snapped open and she raised her head, ears pricked, as a summons floated through the air, borne by a howl.

Horned one, not-yet-hunters, come!

Hart got to her hooves and looked at the yearlings, then trotted off, leading them to where their elders waited.

The wolves gathered and Hart turned to go back to the den. The lead male barred her way.

They hunt. You will as well.

Hart shook her head, and tried to step around. The wolf growled and leaped into her path yet again.

You will hunt with us.

She tossed her head and snorted, then tried to step by on the other side. This time both male and female moved to cut her off. She fell back a pace, ears sideways.

You will hunt. It is time. The female's thoughts.

Hart stamped.

"No."

Her voice was hoarse, guttural from disuse. She had not spoken since coming to the pack, and aside from her first Song, had only opened her mouth to eat and howl with the wolves. The sound of it startled her.

The pair seemed confused.

Why do you refuse?

Hart spoke slowly, her speech coming like the creak of a rusty gate.

"I'm not like you, I'm not a wolf! I can't kill something that looks like what I would see reflected in a still pool."

The leaders looked at each other, and the knowledge passed between them. They looked again at Hart, who stood, tattered clothes hanging off her now gaunt frame. Her fur was thick, but the outline of bone and tough muscle was all too visible in many places. Her face was thin, cheeks hollow, and eyes beginning to dull and sink. Her strength from the plants she was eating sustained her, but it was obvious she needed something more. She needed meat.

Then run with the pups, help them. You do not have to kill, but do your portion. As one of us, you must. All have to do their part if the pack is to survive.

Hart flicked one ear forward. Could she do that? Just ride herd on the chosen prey, let the others do the killing? Watching the wolves had been bad enough, and it had taken her a long time to get used to it.

At last, she nodded slowly, and the wolves began to move.

Their quarry was a group of mule deer. The wolves moved in on a doe and her fawn, a good sized male a few months old, and large enough to feed the pack for a couple of days. It was the smallest of the young, born later then the rest. Easy meat for the older pups' first kill, provided they had learned their lessons.

The first leg was on. The lead male and a pup sprang out at the pair, setting the entire herd to flight. The wolves kept at the deers' heels, taking every chance to try and fasten on the swift fawn, and avoiding the doe when she tried to defend him. They harried the deer on, now joined by two more yearlings, the first pair dropping back for a rest while the fresh ones kept the targets running. Tongues swang from gaping mouths, and the drum of paws and hooves hung in the expectant air. The ground was a blur of green and gold as the doe wheeled. A flash of hoof and an angry snort, then a yelp from a pup as the kick struck home. The young wolf rolled and came up a little bloody and limping, out of the chase, but lucky to be alive.

Hart watched them approach from the cover of trees, and trembled in anticipation. The deer thundered up, and she and the lead female now took their place in the hunt. They flowed out of hiding and ran behind the doe, who strained to keep herself between the wolves and her fawn. The pack leapt at her flank, snapping and growling. She shied, opening a path to her young. The wolves and Hart surged ahead as the doe bleated once in desperation, kicking and swerving as best she could.

Hart ran. Her breath came hot and fast as she pounded along, gaining ground with each step. Her blood rushed, carrying a strange exhilaration. The long arms pumped as her head strained forward, nostrils flaring. Her own hooves beat an ominous double tattoo as powerful hind legs moved, finding the deers' rhythm and beginning to match it. Soon she would close with her victim. Her vision tunneled, blacking out at the sides, the fleeing youngster filling her view. The wind, laden with the prey's scent, blew against her nose. Before she knew it, she was alongside the young deer, keeping pace with every twist and turn. The wolves yelped with each leap. The fawn rolled a white rimmed eye at the terror that chased it.

Ears flattened, lips pulled back to bare rending fangs like the wolves', the Beastman Deer no longer had any semblance of civility or intelligence. Her eyes glittered a fierce copper, shot through with red. She snarled once, revealing the predatory tusks, and the long neck twisted down as she struck, thrilling to her first taste of blood.

The prey's heartbeat filled her ears, and with a joyous feral howl she sank her teeth into the soft neck. The fawn squealed and faltered. Blunt nails drove into the shoulder, anchoring the hands' grip. She dug her hooves in, and with a jerk of her neck forced him to the ground. Blood filled her mouth as the wolves piled in to help. The doe moaned once more, then abandoned her young to outrun the wolves still worrying her.

Under her jaws, she felt the fawn shudder and lie still. She ripped her teeth from the limp form and snapped at a nearby wolf. It leaped back with a surprised yip. Fur bristling, she pawed at the carcass, her own muzzle getting bloodied to the hilt as she plunged in to rip her share of the meat. The pack fed.

Hart first was aware of breathing. The dry smell of dust and sun-heated grass. Then the sounds . . . soft rustlings of the breeze through the grass, the puff of sleeping wolves' breath, the birds' chatter, and her own slow, steady heartbeat. She resisted the gradual awakening, sensing vaguely that she would have to do something, something she didn't want to, if she let herself wake up. It felt nice to sleep, to float here in the warm dark with the comfortable feeling of a full belly. Hart stirred reluctantly, broken thoughts intruding on her peace. Full . . . the wolves . . . the hunt . . . what happened with the hunt?

She forced her eyes open, and staggered up, feeling very peculiar. She took no note of the pack curled nearby, or of the two lead wolves who rose and followed her as she stumbled towards the stream. Falling to her knees at an eddy pool, one hand reached out to scoop up some liquid. Her muzzle fur felt stiff, and so did a good deal of the hair on her chest and arms. She looked down at the dancing water and studied her reflection. Her muzzle, her chest, and her hands were covered with something that made the fur spike, turned it black. It was sticky and slightly damp. Brain still unusually sluggish, Hart let the water flow over her hand, and saw the first tendrils of red start to wash free. The grey eyes blinked, and then she remembered.

Hart turned her head to the side and was violently sick.

That done, she threw herself away from the mess and quivered. Bright water fell skyward as the Deer drove into the pool and scrubbed at her fur, sobbing. Even when all the blood was gone, she clawed at her muzzle, at her chest. She tugged futilely when her arms were seized and she was half dragged out of the water by the wolves.

You do no good by denying yourself.

The male looked at the spot where Hart had just been and wrinkled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace.

And even less by undoing what instinct does to help you.

Hart drew into herself, dripping wet and cold. The wolves pressed close to lend her their soggy warmth. The female nudged her.

If you do not eat right, it will happen again. It is called Hunting. Very few Beastmen have it, and fewer still ever experience it. If you let it, it can help you. You can call the Hunt state to you, but it can also overwhelm you, as it did during the chase. And not just because of bad eating habits.

Hart ghosted a nod, and made a strangled sound, an attempt to laugh. She knew what it was. The male licked one shaking ear.

You will learn to control it, in time. For now, you just need to get some meat into your stomach.

Please . . . a moment, just, leave me alone.

The wolves' ears flattened in shock. Hart had never spoken like that before. They had been told she couldn't. In their surprise, they backed off and left her -- a miserable figure sitting beside the stream in the deepening evening.

The water glistened. A sudden wind tossed back the reeds and thick-stemmed water plants.

"Haven't you moped here long enough? Come now, I know for a fact you are not squeamish, so what is all this about?"

The voice seemed familiar, somehow. Warm and chiding, the tone reminded her of her mother, her father, her grandma, of many people in her family. It sounded like her teacher, like her friends. It reminded her of Rrruune, of Arayna, and even Mmearrrra.

"Macenna Hart, I know you can hear me. Have your manners slipped so much you won't even look up?"

Her name. Someone knew her name. She sniffed to get a scent, but all that hung in the air were the smells of nature about her. She raised her head from its resting place on furred arms. The form before her shimmered like the water. It finally settled into a woman, earth-brown skin and long black hair veined with silver. Deep green eyes that held a sadness, and a joy, and a fierce determination measured her. A granite colored wrap, like a sarong, fell gracefully about her motherly figure. She knelt next to Hart, and the lady's gaze seemed to pierce to the Deer's core, to see the horror, the anger, and the pain -- the helplessness, the despair, and how very lost she felt.

"Oh, I know. It is a bit much for one person to take in all at once. Even I do not know how this will play out. But, you are young, strong, and your heart is good. You seemed the best choice at the time. You had already proved yourself as a human, would the Change really have made a difference? I have given you what I thought you would need, but it seems I was too hasty. Your time here must seem like forever to you, but it is nothing. Just the barest essentials for what lies ahead. You should rest now. I will do what I can."

The strange speech had little meaning for Hart. But she watched as the woman placed a hand on her wide forehead and rubbed gently. A warmth spread from the touch and the massive, antlered head drooped, the soul-weary Deer tumbling into dreamless sleep -- a brief, but badly needed respite from her own thoughts.

With dawn's light, she did not go sit upon her rock, but instead looked on herself, on her reflection in the water. The black pronged antlers still clutched for sky. She still stood on legs both furred and bent as no human's ever would. She looked at hands, tipped with nails more akin to claws then the ornamental fingernails she herself had once had. Her palm and fingers were covered with skin that was a wild sable, a shade darker then her mahogany fur, which sprouted at her knuckles. Against her tongue she felt the slickness of her enlarged canines. There wasn't another like her, certainly not among humans, and not among the Beastmen. It was very likely that there never would be. Her grey eyes sparked angrily.

Alright. Alone then.

She turned on a heel and stalked off to rejoin the pack, and pay a visit to her original camping site. There was something she needed to get.

The mule deer stag waited. The antlered she was coming. When Hart stepped into the clearing, resting her hunting gear on the ground, the buck tossed his head. The she was strong again, no longer thin.

Are you ready to finish your training? Can you handle learning to fight?

Hart bared her teeth and snorted. More then ready. I am tired of seeing my own blood. It is time for someone else to bleed.

Even with the cougar's warning, it still shocked him that this two-legged doe spoke now as they did. He feigned indifference and stamped.

Come on then.

The clash of antlers exploded in the air.

Rrruune looked out the window at the Beastmen settlement. To human eyes, the houses looked as if they had grown like mushrooms from the ground. The outside walls rose in a dome and nestled comfortably between clumps of trees and open fields green with wild growth. Very few of the large redwoods had been cut down, and there was always plenty of space between each house. It was standard practice, as most Beastmen tended to be a little territorial. Only one story of the houses rested aboveground; under the earth, carefully excavated to avoid disturbing too many tree roots, were other rooms and chambers. Outside, paths were clear of overhanging branches, the grasses and wildflowers neatly trimmed, but very few were paved. Instead, the soil was even and free of obstacles, packed firm by the tromping of many paws. Some tracks were lined with wooden planks. These led from the sheltered porches of the houses, and met with larger pathways to pour into a huge main street, which ran past Rrruune's home into the heart of clan ground. Visible from the window, this was a cluster of old-style buildings: more like human constructs, but the form and history were uniquely Beastman. These dated from Merrr's time, and they were his designs. They were located just inside the front border, past a screening wall of trees. The Corridor, as it was known, was all the land before these trees, a wide path and the beginning of clan ground. It led to the Commons, where every species of Beastman mixed freely. The Corridor was heavily guarded, marked by lit torches, and Tiger patrols roamed the area. Those who sought to enter had to pass between two Sentries, stating their business, what they intended, and providing proof that they had the authority to set foot inside the border. Very few not of the clan could get past those Sentries. Their presence was not just for ceremonial purposes. The clan of Merrr were the most territorial of any Beastman group, patrolling their perimeters tirelessly, even though the land on the western boundary merely housed other Tigers. The homes of the Merrr clan fanned out from and around the old buildings, where the business of the clan was done. It was there that decisions were made, matters settled, grievances heard, and actions taken. It was there that Mmearrrra, Matriarch of the Clan, sat and presided over all. She would be there now, hearing complaints, or ruling on a dispute, or deciding someone's fate.

Rrruune's white-furred lips peeled back to show his fangs as he hissed. His tail flicked as a low growl rolled through his throat.

"Rrruune, come away from the window. Looking at the Center will only make you angrier."

He turned his head to look at the figure who sat curled in a Beastman chair, reading. The Tigress yawned, showing white teeth as sharp as his own. The white around her muzzle had begun to silver, and her black-striped orange fur was no longer as dark as it had been, but as she rose and moved over to her son, blue onpi-slilkit's panels waving gently about her strong hind legs, her pawsteps were as soft with power as ever. He met her hazel eyes, unable to keep the snarl from his voice.

"I've been here a month and a half. A month and a half that I have been kept waiting, put off and shoved aside in spite of the fact I was ordered to come immediately. I cannot even speak Macenna's name outside of this house, so any support I might've gathered on her behalf is as good as gone! No one outside Mmearrrra or I even know what Mac became, all because that arrogant pompous lackwit has more tail then brains! May birds shit on her high-held nose!"

Rrruune punched the sofa cushion and leaped up, fur abristle and tail lashing. Ahraae watched Rrruune, then uttered a cross between a sigh and an exasperated growl.

"Rrruune! She is the Matriarch, for Gaia's sake, and you should not talk about her so!" Ahraae paused while her son managed to look vaguely ashamed, then dropped her jaw in a Feline smile. "Even if it is true."

An amused rumble lower then either of them could manage floated up from the stairwell. They turned as the imposing form of a mature male Tiger rose from the earth-den levels of the house. He was taller then Rrruune by a handspan, and much more solidly muscled. His beige trackers' loincloth rustled around legs and hindpaws whose corded tendons spoke of strength. His neck was wide, his ruff thick and bushy. His chest was visibly deeper, even through the loose white tunic, and his baritone voice when he spoke was a gentle, sonorous thunder.

"True or not my love, it will get him in trouble. Not even the most clever-tongued kit would dare that blatant an insult." The languid orange eyes held a look that meant one in particular had better not try, and the long heavy tail swished once for emphasis.

Rrruune's black-tipped ears flattened.

"Dad, I will not let this go."

Rrruune's slighter frame did not mean he was still a kit, and he intended to remind his father of that.

Ahraae saw Rrruune's expression sour even more, and tried to avert the impending argument.

"Bartholamew..."

The big Tiger laughed and moved over to hug his mate, the silver in his own muzzle and ruff now flashing in counterpoint to Ahraae's.

"I didn't mean it that way. But son, you have to remember to pick your battles. The time isn't right yet, and you won't help Macenna by getting yourself in deeper trouble than you are."

Bartholamew moved over and laid a huge hand on Rrruune's shoulder.

"Just relax. The longer it takes, the better off you are. Time is your ally, not Mmearrrra's, whatever she thinks. But she's going to win if you let yourself go."

He peered at his son, a trace of concern clouding his features.

"This is the first time since -- then -- that you've been back. Without Macenna along, are you doing alright? I have some culling to do among the herds, if you need to work off some tension."

"The cattle or the venison herd?"

Bartholamew's furred brow rose.

"The cattle, why do you ask?"

Rrruune's fan of whiskers laid back along his muzzle in wry humor.

"I just don't feel like hunting deer right now."

The dream came again, catching at her mind with sharp claws. She once again raced after the fawn, hooves pounding, heartbeat loud in her ears, the smell of crushed grass in her nose, thoughts screaming.

No! Stop, stop, turn away! You can't kill, I can't kill . . . please . . . Her voice, barely recognizable, wailed a cry of exaltation even as she tried to stop, willed her dream-self to fall back. The fawn turned to face the death-blow, and it altered to her own image, tusked and antlered, as the blood sprayed. The mouth opened in a soundless cry as it fell. In death it became a human form, long dark hair and brown eyes, the face she had seen in a mirror for most of her life. Suddenly her consciousness shifted, tearing free and whirling through the air, confronting herself. An empty eyed monster stood on knife sharp hooves, fur running with blood, spittle dripping from the huge fangs. Ragged pennants of skin hung from the crooked antlers, and it smiled at her. Mirror, mirror, her own voice chanted . . .

"NO!!"

Hart sat up with a gasp, heart galloping in her chest. She took deep, ragged lungfulls of the cold night air. A dark shape loomed up before her, antlered and familiar, and she had to stifle a scream until she recognized the stag. His tone was demanding.

You cry out in sleep for every night since return. What is it? You sick?

No, not sick.

What then? You kick and struggle like one who has eaten the fool-plant, and the noises you make can be heard from far away. Every night, she-fawn, you mewl and cry, wake to bellow, then sleep to start again. What hunts you?

Nothing. It's nothing. She missed the wolves. When she'd dreamed, they'd curled warmly around her, and soothed her until the shaking stopped.

Something. You smell as one who just escaped the scream-leaper's claws. All shivery with fear.

He nudged her roughly, but not without concern.

Speak. I teach you to fight. How can I tell you what to do when you won't tell what enemy stalks?

You know what happened when I was with the wolves?

He snorted.

Yes. What is your problem?

How to say? I can't explain it to you.

Then show. Give me picture.

Picture?

The stag blew wearily.

Like this.

An image unfolded in her head, complete in scents and feelings, of the stag in a practice session with herself that they'd had that afternoon. It was odd, seeing herself through his eyes. It lasted just a moment, then was gone. She thought a minute.

There is blood and killing in it.

I have seen much of death and killing in my time. I am likely to see more.

Okay . . . She gathered the memory of the dream, in its entirety, and thrust it at the stag. He half reared as the events played themselves out against his eyes.

Hart studied her hooves, not looking at the buck. His voice, when it came, was as gruff as it had ever been, but his eyes were softer as he looked on her bowed head.

Why do you see yourself that way?

I killed. I killed the fawn. He was like you, like me. I'm abnormal, a freak. What creature kills its own to feed on?

A great many things, mostly small. But you are not as I am. You are not the same as the fawn. You are different.

I'm a Deer who kills.

You are a new creature. You are like the scream-leaper, the brush-tail, the many-hunters. They are necessary to the balance. You are also like me, like the distant kin, and like the two-leggers. All meet in you. Deny one, and you deny each. Acknowledge all, and you are whole.

The stag folded his legs and lay down next to Hart's bed, to her surprise. He had always slept apart from her, rousing her with the dawn to start another day of sparring.

Sleep now, she-fawn.

Hart found she was very tired, and fell asleep quickly. The buck lay beside her, his large form warming the space between them. For the first time since after the hunt, she did not fight the dream all night, and slept easy.

She sped along, bow grasped firmly in one hand. As she sprang over bush and pounded along through the long, open grass, a flock of ptarmigan burst from cover, and Hart eyed them regretfully. Arrows were not the way to hunt those birds. Even ducks were not proper marks, but they moved and were large enough, and made good eating. She needed the practice. Shooting fancy patterns in a tree was one thing, she had discovered, being fast and accurate on a moving target was another.

The cougar watched from the shade. The Deer's ruddy coat gleamed with health, and she was tough and hardened now. The cat doubted it could catch her unawares again, as it had on their first meeting. But that strength of body meant the mountain lion was nearly out of time.

The mule deer came up to the predator's side and also watched Hart. His thoughts came, gruffly proud.

She is ready. It is your time, scream-leaper.

With that, the buck turned and stalked off. The cat was not sorry to see his dark shape swallowed by the woods. The cougar watched Hart some more, before its musings were interrupted. From a distance rose the stag's voice, booming out across the region. His farewell bugle caught both the cougar and Hart by surprise as it resounded from the trees. The cat scratched behind one ear before padding out to where Hart waited, halted in midstride. Ears pricked, she saw the mountain lion approach and knew what the cry had meant.

She tipped her head rearward, throat swelling, and bugled back. Her strange voice was an eerie echo of the wild sound, but unmistakably the call of one forest warrior to another. The cougar snorted, knowing the old buck would probably be terribly pleased with himself.

Hart then turned her attention to the tawny cat. The Deer's eyes were hooded, ears half-flattened.

So, you again. Finally, I meet the mastermind of these 'lessons'.

The cougar grimaced, black lips pulled back to expose white teeth. Speak in the way of your kind, two-legger.

I have no kind. I am the only one. So, maybe this is how my breed speaks. Since I am alone, I decide.

Yellow eyes flashed at the challenging words. I am not the leader. I am just the guide. I, like others, do this because asked.

I don't suppose you can tell me who.

Not for me to say.

Can you answer me one thing, at least? Why, when we first met, didn't you just communicate with me like you do now? Like you did later that day? Why did you have to attack me?

The cougar shook its head irritably and pawed at one ear.

Yes! I will tell, but speak with mouth, not in head!

"Very well."

The mountain lion visibly sighed with relief. Hart raised a brow. An odd shine had come into the cougar's eyes, a strange light like she had seen once . . . somewhere . . . it made her think of water, for some reason. Hart actually fell back a step when the mind-voice came again, clearer, stronger, and more like human speech then ever before.

None of us are intended to talk with your kind. We do not 'think' as you or the other two-leggers do. It is only through special gifts that any of us can, in any way. I have been given more then most, because my task is greater. The others would not even begin to understand what I am about to say, much less give the right scent of it to you. But there are limits. As soon as this time is over, we all go back to the way we were, the way we are meant to be. Also, it takes a measure of strength for us to break through your mind's natural defenses. It is tiring. To even reach you that first day, I had to somehow wear down those defenses. Fitness of body does not always have an effect on strength of mind, but when the mind is in chaos, it is all that stands in the way. By weakening your body in the stream, I opened the way. I should have spoken when you woke, but I underestimated you. By the time we had reached the others, you were already recovering. It was more difficult to make myself heard.

Hart's ears had come full about, and her stance echoed her curiosity. Her tail was raised and she leaned forward, weapons at her side, one hand rubbing her jaw thoughtfully.

"So, is that why the quail never spoke past the first day? My, defenses, as you call them, had already cut the line?"

Yes, the . . . line . . . was too shielded for them to use. As the days passed and your body grew weaker from not eating all you needed, it became easier. By the time the brush-tail had begun his task, it was possible to reach you, but not easy. He could not keep up the contact for very long without strain. When you were with the pack, you were weakest, and they had no problems. Then you began speaking as we do. It was unexpected. During your time with the herdmaster, you were worked hard, your body tired out, and your thoughts still caught at each other in tangles. Now, you are healthy again, although not fully whole. Nevertheless, that strength is also in your mind, and none of us now would be able to bear your voice for long. It pains us, makes us weak.

The light glimmered out, and the cougar's mind-presence returned to its former pattern. Panting now, it rolled on its side and dropped head to paws, plainly exhausted.

No more now. I rest. You finish hunting.

Dismissed and questions answered for the time being, Hart flicked her ears and trotted off.

Aleksander walked down the street, absently taking in the small shops and scattered people who walked this forgotten, out of the way corner of Bakersfield. It was a pleasant enough place, so unlike the rest of the sprawling, mechanized city, and the inhabitants kept that information to themselves, intending to keep it that way. Shadows from sidewalk trees played over Alek's brindled fur, the leaves' whisper akin to his own steps, pads and hindclaws husking over the concrete. The Wolf wore a brown huri-slilkit, made for both four and two footed travel; standard attire when hunting. Most of the Pack wore one now, and many of the Solitaries did as well. Kuy was an exception. The dark furred she-Wolf was clad in a warrior's onpi-slilkit, a one piece tunic that extended and lengthened right into the familiar panels of cloth at her waist. It was belted at the middle, where her sword rested, along with other Warrior gear. She was silent most times, and this was no different. Alek would have preferred to do without guards at all, but Kuy insisted on the honor guard, and at times like these, at least one armed escort. He had fought with her long and hard, but the Chief Warrior had not given an inch. His remark that she was more tradition-bound then he, had been answered with the tart observation that those who led always thought they needed no protection, and battles like this had been going on for eons. And it was always the leader who started it. He had been unable to answer that.

Alek shook his head. He knew his thoughts wandered, just because he was tired of puzzling on his immediate problem. He shook his head and growled, muttering under his breath.

"How the blazes can a recently Changed Beastman with no training vanish so completely? How can all the Hunters be so completely helpless! How does a Deer leave a trail all the way to this city, fight a Lynx, scare a Hyena, help a bunch of humans, then just disappear? It defies belief."

"If I may, Pack Leader, I have a thought. May I speak?"

Alek darted a surprised gaze at Kuy. He had been talking to himself, an often enough occurrence and normally ignored. His tail lifted in curiosity and he gestured for her to continue.

Her gaze never wavering from the watchful sweep, the Warrior began.

"You and the others are fine Hunters, but you are thinking too much of the hunt. The prey you are seeking can think, and no training does not mean no mind. We know already that Macenna was a clever and spirited human-"

"Her name is Macenna?"

"Yes. You did not know this?"

"I knew her last name. It is what she is most commonly called. Since I am only concerned with her capture, what need did I have of her given name?"

Kuy snorted, ears twisting to the side.

"Do not feel too badly. The others have done no better."

Alek's ears folded back in surprise.

"A Change does not alter much of a person, certainly you know that. If she was a strong and quick-thinking human, surely she would be the same as a Deer, however different from those we know. Despite the account of her saving those humans, you still think of her as an animal to be tracked down. Understandable, because Tonrrup, our only guide, operated purely on the instinctive level. He never thought past the selection of his victims. Even then, it was the sort of cunning and viciousness you would find in a rabid beast that has not completely lost all sense of self-preservation. But Macenna has shown that she thinks, she plans. Once her secret was out, here, she would have most assuredly left, probably on foot or some other way that would allow her to pass relatively unnoticed. The question then becomes, where did she go? She would know from her Tiger friend that she only had a day more of scentless protection left. Where would you run to lose yourself? How far could you get by either walking or perhaps stowing away on a large vehicle? We cannot even discount the fact the she may have been able to pass as normal, and caught a ride out of the area.

"There are two things we must do. First, we use all Rorrgh's fancy equipment to see what region is most likely, based on what we know about her human form. And we start Hunting like we mean it, treating Macenna Hart as the worthy adversary she has turned out to be."

Alek blinked. This was the most he had ever heard the stocky Warrior say. It also made a lot of sense.

"Kuy, if you ever think you might know the answer to any of my other problems, do not hesitate to tell me. Let's get back to the hotel."

"Yes, Leader."

Hart leaped from one rock to the next, surefooted and steady, until she reached the cougar's lair. The sounds of the cubs inside brought her ears around. The mountain lion flowed out of the tumble of sheltering rocks and gave her tawny shoulder a lick.

Ready?

"I'm ready. What are we doing?"

You have learned to use your senses, to defend yourself and to hunt. You know how to work in a group, how the hunting pack thinks. Now it is time you knew the way of the solitary hunter who cares for herself, and perhaps has other responsibilities.

The cat glanced back at her den, then looked at Hart.

You are alone. There is no pack of your kind to run with you, to help you when you need it. You must be able to rely on yourself.

Hart nodded. The cougar started making her way down the rocky slope.

Come.

Hart paused.

"Wait. What about your kittens?"

They will be safe.

"Are you sure?"

This is the only time I have been. Come!

Hart shrugged and followed.

They had been roaming the woods for hours. The cougar had made three attempts to catch prey already, without success. She complained briefly that there wasn't even the scent of carrion. Hart wrinkled her muzzle in disgust.

"You would eat a dead thing? I mean, even if it's a few days old?"

Yes. May be only thing between hunger and full belly. In lean times, it mean you live to see the growing again. Or it mean life for cubs.

The Deer shook her head as her pelt twitched with repugnance.

Look. A hunter does what she has to. That is all there is. You survive by eating old meat, you win. You lose, you dead. No need to worry anymore. A hunter does what she has to.

The Deer's broad, leaf-shaped ears moved forward in acknowledgment of the reprimand.

"This has gone on too long! Just how much time do you think we can keep this a secret?" Rorrgh yelped.

Aleksander leaned back in his chair and sighed, feeling the headache awake and stretch out its tendrils in his brain. He rubbed his forehead with one clawed hand and entertained a brief fantasy involving Rorrgh's tongue and the knots he had learned as a human boyscout. But he couldn't quite remember the knots, and thinking of it only made his head start to pound harder. The narrow-muzzled grey Wolf didn't seem to notice, however, because he kept on going at the same volume.

"How long can we keep this from the humans? Don't you think they will find out? What are we going to tell them? They will want to catch her themselves, and instead of doing the right thing, they'd probably drug her, put her on display in a glass jar. Never mind our own people. Of course they know about the Hunters, but what will they say when they find out that there is another Tonrrup? And that we have been able to do nothing!"

While Rorrgh had been ranting, one of Kuy's Warriors had slipped in, and reported quietly to her. The black ears went flat and she gave a curt nod, dismissing him. She moved up to the Pack Leader's side.

"It is a moot point, Rorrgh. Leader, I am afraid I have bad news."

The compact she-Wolf leaned over to flip on the room's holovision set. On all the major stations, tape was being run of Macenna Hart's family. Her mother was denouncing her once daughter, and an artist's rendering of what Macenna looked like now hovered in one corner at all times.

"- is possible? Do we have another Tonrrup on our hands? So far there have been no deaths or attacks attributable to Hart, but there is no way of knowing at this time. It is strongly suggested all people, human and Beastman, travel in groups and avoid dark or out of the way places. Be alert at all times. If you see a Beastman matching this description, do not approach them, instead, call the authorities. Hart is to be considered extremely dangerous -"

The holosketch of Hart swelled to fill the screen. Kuy snorted in disgust. Somehow, the artist had managed to put a look of menace into the features, exaggerating the length of the fangs. A black and white holo image, with much guessed at, the picture would be of no help. She bared her teeth.

"Half the Deer population is going to be dragged into a police station because someone panics."

Aleksander sighed. His job had just gotten much harder.

Rorrgh turned on the fatigued Wolf.

"There, you see? I have been saying this would happen."

Alek's voice was weary.

"No, Rorrgh, you have been screaming that it would happen for over a week now. Did you think I hadn't realized it? That the humans would find out was inevitable. I wondered that Hart's family kept silent this long. The original plan was to have taken care of Hart before this, so that either she had disappeared, or she had been introduced to the world as an odd, but viable member of the Beastman community."

He stretched out his hind legs, feeling like one who had spent an entire day pounding the trail. Gaia help me, give me strength. A break at least!

"You have failed, Aleksander."

Rorrgh's tone was intense, near triumphant. He balanced on the tips of his hindpaws as if about to leap, chestnut eyes bright with eagerness.

Alek flattened his ears.

"Not now, Rorrgh. I have not done with the running quite yet."

Rorrgh battled his instincts, who screamed that now was the time to challenge. His opponent was tired, mentally worn by the drawbacks his hunt had suffered. This made the older Wolf a tempting target. It evened the odds. Rorrgh's tail lifted, the fur of his nape beginning to rise. Alek was in his prime, more solidly built then he. Now was the moment . . .

Enough of this! The black-furred Warrior's ears snapped back. Kuy snarled and stepped up, hand flashing through the air.

The grey Wolf reeled as a powerful blow struck him behind the ears. Shaking his head like a befuddled cow, he looked at Kuy in disbelief. Alek was looking at her in much the same way.

"Get you gone, pup. We have work that needs doing. If you are not going to help, get out of the way."

The grey Wolf blinked, then backed off. Kuy was right, it was the wrong time. He did not appreciate the manner in which she had pointed this out, but that was as he'd come to expect from Kuy -- all Warrior, direct and blunt as ever. He allowed his jaw to drop in a smile, tongue lolling, to let her know he had taken no offense, and bowed to Aleksander before turning his back and leaving.

Kuy gave a satisfied nod and resumed her place behind the Pack Leader's right shoulder. Alek looked up from his chair, twisting his head to stare at her. After a few minutes of this, Kuy moved her ears ahead a fraction, expression bland as ever. The other Warriors in the room were doing their best to keep from laughing, with little success.

"You cuffed him!"

"Yes, Leader."

Aleksander was astounded.

"You reduced a potential challenge situation to a spat between pups!"

"Yes, Leader."

"What are you, his aunt?"

"No, Leader."

The other three Warriors were laughing openly now. Kuy glanced back, a promise of heavy drilling in her eyes. Their smiling faces held the answer -- they didn't care.

"And he took it!"

"Yes, Leader."

"You don't care at all about Pack politics, do you?"

"No, Leader."

"Amazing." Aleksander stared at Kuy some more.

"Leader?"

"Yes Kuy?"

"Doesn't your neck hurt?"

"It's starting to."

"Then perhaps you'd better turn around again?"

"Yes, Kuy."

Alek did as he was bid and buried his nose in the reports of his Hunters, smothering a chuckle as he heard Kuy barking at her Warriors to straighten up, or by Gaia, she'd start chewing ears!

She leaned against the rough stone, feeling the trapped heat of the day emanating from the rock. She rested her head against the outcropping, gazing at the night sky. Her antlers made slight rasping noises whenever the Deer shifted. A lazy purr escaped the cougar, who reclined at the den's mouth.

I never noticed how beautiful the darklights were.

"Darklights?"

Those, up there. Scattered across the dark like a pawful of sand. A beyond telling of hunter's eyes, glowing.

"Oh, the stars. Yes, they are."

The mountain lion yawned.

Next light, you must go. My time is done. There will be no others. It is finished.

Hart lowered her gaze.

"I know. But I don't know where I should go. There's no place for me."

You will find a territory.

"I had gotten rather used to this one."

The cat growled. This is not for you. I mean what I say. Tomorrow, I will leave. You cannot be here when I return.

"Why?"

I will once more be as I have always been. If you are here, I will attack you to protect my cubs. My part is over, and I will not recognize you.

There was silence for a time, broken only by the sounds of night creatures going about their routines.

"Why did you do this? What made you take on this burden?"

None of us were made to do anything. We were asked, offered gifts to do this favor.

"Gifts? What gifts? By whom?"

So full of questions! But I will tell you what I can. I cannot name the One who did this. I have said that before. Another will be able to. As for the gifts, each of us was given one thing. The air-runners asked that they stay a pair all their lives. They will die together. When is as much a mystery as it ever was. The brush-tail wanted a mate. This coming season, a she will wander his way. The many-hunters asked that the pack survive, in this land where so few packs do. The pups will live to adulthood, and carry on. The herdmaster asked for a death that fits his life. He will live a long time, king until his death, which will also take the life of his killer. I asked that my final season be without worry. My cubs, if I have any at that time, will be fine and healthy when they leave me, and I will not go hungry. I will not die thin or ill. Since I will no longer think as I do now, I will live that season happy, not knowing it is my last.

The cougar yawned, that speech having worn her out. She bumped her head against Hart affectionately.

Sleep well, my antlered one. You are cub-no-more. It is time to strike out on your own.

Hart threw an arm across the dusky shoulders in a hug.

"Good night, my friend. Thanks."

There came no other sound but that of the cat's body settling in the den, and her deep purr as she soothed all her cubs to sleep.

Hart shifted her pack and eyed the town, debating whether or not to risk going in for food supplies. She had been heading deeper and deeper into wilderness, just wandering really, with no sense of direction or purpose. The brown ears flicked back, and the Deer turned for the woods. She found she had no desire to be among either Beastmen or humans. She could hunt up what she needed. Hart stretched her hind legs into an easy jog, hooves thumping dully against the soil. Her only concern was putting distance behind her. Sun and shadow took turns as they moved over her brown fur, dappling her reclaimed knapsack and change of clothes -- a tan, unornamented loincloth of Rrruune's. The backpack jounced against longer, thicker fur entirely capable of keeping her warm without the aid of a tabard or vest, and the flat, powerful muscles of her chest worked against the nylon straps.

The land had changed, the trees through which she moved were chiefly pines, their scent burying most others. The layers of needles on the ground muffled her hoofbeats, and her ears turned to catch all sounds.

She halted after hours of running, shrugging off the pack and drinking from her canteen. She rubbed at her sweat-marked pelt with dry grass, and sat down in the shade of a pine, backbone resting against its rough bark. She sipped from her canteen again, enjoying the sensation of cool water trickling down her long throat.

"Greetings Macenna."

Hart blinked and tensed, the only outward sign of her shock. She had neither heard nor smelled anyone approach, and they knew her name! She casually put the cap on her waterbag, and set it aside to see what she was dealing with.

The small woman seemed very familiar, from her silvering black hair and wise green eyes to her tanned bare feet. She wore a blue and white dress, very loose and flowing. Hart inclined her head, voice low and measured.

"Greetings."

"I see you are doing well. Your time in the wilds has done you good."

"How did you know about . . . Who are you?"

"I am called Gaia."

Hart mulled that over.

"Earth-mother, nature goddess. The Earth itself, given form and spirit. The Beastman deity."

The woman smiled.

"You make it sound so dry and mythical. Is it so hard to find I really exist?"

Hart raised a brow.

"I don't believe you do."

"Macenna, I started your Change, made the alterations to separate you from the other Deer. I was the one who gave the animals their tasks and their gifts. It is through me that all Beastmen came about, from the first and until the last."

"I am not disputing that. Anything that knows about all that has happened to me had to have a hand in it. I simply do not believe in you."

"Most Beastmen find belief remarkably easy, even right. Their faith gives them strength and peace, a solidarity that humans are sadly lacking."

"As you should know, I am not like other Beastmen."

Hart rose, towering over the woman, aware that it mattered not at all. She kept her distance, for the being facing her radiated a quiet, unmistakable power that set her instincts to screaming and her fur on end. Nevertheless, Hart's anger woke, beginning a slow burn. Her ears flattened.

"Even assuming you are who you say, you can hardly expect me to be thankful. I had a life, a faith of my own. I may not be the most devout, and I certainly do not always agree or follow all my religion's tenets, but I believe. You may be an angel, a demon, a spirit, or something else entirely, but I don't accept that you are a goddess who rules over Beastmen alone. I don't believe that with my Change, I am suddenly under your sway."

Her broad muzzle lifted, nostrils flaring as she tossed her head.

"Surely you can't expect me to bow down to a thing that has all but ruined any chance I had for a life. My plans, my goals, they're all gone now. All I can do is live out here, and hope no one will find me."

The boundless green eyes flashed. Hart saw the wind kick powerfully, saw the trees bend their arms, the grass nod on the ground -- but somehow it flowed around her, not even putting a hair out of place. The goddess's voice carried a hint of asperity.

"Is that all? Will your heart be contented with the hermit's life? The ones who trail you will not be put off forever."

The woman sighed with the suddenly gentle breeze.

"It is never my way to command. You would have Changed in any case. Did you think your own soul had nothing to do with it? I merely took an active role, guiding your Change to this form, for the most part. But I ask you, please consider. I have done all this because I need a Warrior who knows when peace is needed, and a peacemaker who knows when to fight. It is already settled. Your Change is long complete, and not even I can undo it. But it is your choice in the end. All I can do is give you some information that you probably have already guessed at, and answer any questions you have."

Hart crossed her arms and looked steadily at the apparition before her. Oh, I've got questions alright.

"The Hunters still flounder about, searching for your trail. They will not do so for much longer, however, and there are those who would see you dead. The humans know too, and the danger with them is just as great. Also, your friend Rrruune is back on his clan's estate, summoned there by his Matriarch. It is not looking well for him."

She forgot her questions upon hearing her friend's name. Hart reared back and roared! Teeth bared, she snarled and started gathering her gear. Her grey eyes whirled with copper streams. Reckless anger surged.

"Bad enough to take my life, are you senseless enough to take his too?!"

Gaia raised a brow at the tall figure.

"It is not my doing. I do not control the actions of people. Free will is as important to me as to your god."

"Mmearrrra! That bigoted, self-righteous . . ." Hart sputtered, unable to think of a word bad enough, "She never liked me, probably hated the fact that I got the Clanshat as a human. Now she thinks she can bring down Rrruune because of it!"

"If you continue traveling in this direction for a week, you will reach Beastman lands. You know your way from there. This route is all wilderness, my domain. Please, consider my offer. It is because of events like this that I need you."

"Rrruune is my friend. And I have a score to settle with Mmearrrra. That's a lot different then taking on the world."

"A step at a time, my fierce-hearted Deer."

Hart blinked and the woman was gone. The Deer snorted and tugged her pack onto her shoulders once again. She moved at a fast run, hooves beating out the miles.

She didn't slow from the furious pace until hours had passed, and her coat was darkened with sweat. Even then she held herself to a lope, the churning in her stomach driving her on.

I must be crazy. What am I doing going back into clan ground? Rrruune, I hope you're alright! What am I thinking?! I'm going straight into the Hunters' hands! All this time of trying to stay lost, and I'm headed into their den. I must be crazy. The Commons is swarming with Beastmen, not to mention the private territories all over the place. And the Houses! One look and they'll know. It's impossible to fool that many Beastmen. No more passing off my black antlers as a fashion trend. And the Sentries! Rrruune, what will he do? . . . I've changed, I know it.

"I know it."

Caught up in her thoughts, which were already slowing from their first panicked rush, she did not hear herself speak aloud -- or the way her voice had a hard note of determination running through it.

Hart slipped one hand into the pocket concealed inside the waist of the tracking loincloth she wore, and fingered the broken chain that hid there. She crouched on the lee of a hill near Beastman wilderness lands. With a grim smile, she opened her pack, and took out the black huri-slilkit and loose-fitting leather tunic carefully selected for their anonymous look and flexibility. She transferred all her valuables to those pockets, and set the outfit aside. Removing some food, the bow, and quiver from her pack, Hart gathered stones and built a cairn over it, arranging branches to mask its presence. Using some of her water to wash up, Hart cleaned the travel dust from her face and neck, wiping down her arms and torso with a damp rag. Then, taking out a couple bags of dry brown dust, she soaked it in water and diligently mixed up some thick, clinging mud. Using a small mirror, she applied a thin layer to every inch of her raven antlers, dabbing patiently.

After a quick meal and inspecting her reflection, Hart slipped on the huri-slilkit, buttoned up the tunic, slung bow and quiver over a shoulder and trotted down the path to the Commons.

It was night as the Deer slipped into the crowd, one among many. Lights and laughter, voices raised in conversation, even song, surrounded her. Beastmen of all varieties swirled about. Felines of every description, Wolves, Hyenas, Wild Dogs, a few scattered Dingos as well as Roos; many different Antelopes, Bison, Deer of every breed -- so many people! The air of the Commons was permeated with food smells and the loud boisterous presence of the inhabitants. No humans, although they were certainly welcome and quite a few came on weekends.

Act as if you own the place. Keeping her expression neutral, Hart strolled past the shops and apartmentlike dwellings that prevailed in the open lanes of the Commons. Her bow and quiver drew some curious looks, but it wasn't unheard of for Deer to master a weaponskill. Hart just prayed that no one would try to talk to her about it. Maybe I should have left it in the backpack. But she wasn't really sorry. She felt a bit safer with the full quiver lying ready along her shoulders. A shop caught her eye then, the display window holding slilkits, shirts, leggings . . . and cloaks. A hooded cloak to hide her features, and smooth her passage would be worth stopping for. She walked in, a bell hung on the door chiming merrily. A Whitetail doe glanced up from the counter, upper lip lifting to show her front teeth in a smile. Her ears perked as she took in the form of what appeared to be a tall, exotic-looking buck.

"Can I help you?"

Hart's stomach sank. Immediately wishing she had not come in, she gave a polite nod and kept her voice low, careful to keep her tusks covered.

"I'd like a cloak please, hooded, if you have one that will get around these."

One hand motioned to the disguised antlers. Hart immediately berated herself for the action. Fool! If she notices the dry mud, in this bright light . . .

The doe gave a throaty chuckle.

"They do get in the way sometimes don't they? I always feel sorry for you males when it rains -- forever having to get your head wet."

Hart, at a loss, bobbed agreeably. The doe came out from around the counter and passed close to the visitor, glancing up with half lidded blue eyes. More than a foot shorter, with lighter fur and white markings, the Whitetail smiled again.

"But, as it happens, we do have cloaks for antlered folk, such as yourself. Right over here. Do you know your size?"

"Uh, no."

"Tsk. Males. You never do." The Whitetail's voice was light and teasing, and it filled Hart with dread. The ruddy Deer felt like bolting, but that would bring more trouble. Better to wait this out, buy the cloak and get away without being too memorable.

The clerk ran an appraising eye over Hart.

"Well, you are a tall one. Broad shoulders, barrel chest, and a nice long neck too. I'd say you were a BD-A 12."

Hart felt the blood rush to her face, and was just as glad the fur hid her embarrassed blush. This was not going well.

The doe produced a dark green cloak with an extended, deep hood, and showed off the fasteners which would allow an antlered Beastman to use it.

"See? The top has been sliced, so you have this flap, but just run your finger along the seal and it closes right up. You might get some leakage around the antler base; they have yet to solve that particular problem. It is a hole after all, but at least your neck and face will be dry."

Hart hesitated for a moment. The doe sidled up even closer on the pretext of displaying the material.

"It's an excellent choice."

Which means it's expensive. The Whitetail brushed her arm against Hart's tunic. The grey-eyed Deer began to sweat anxiously. I don't care! Just get the thing and go!

"I'll take it."

Hart took a relieved breath once safely outside the shop. She slung the cloak over her shoulders, leaving the hood down, and hurried on. That's one thing I hadn't thought of. Hart snorted at the memory, hearing again her voice betraying an indecent haste to be elsewhere. No wrapping please, I'll just wear it out. On a fine night like this? I don't have far to go. Thank you. She slowed and resumed a more leisurely pace when the near panic subsided, again moving with the crowd, letting it carry her toward Merrr land. Her ears flicked forward. There, just a little farther ahead. This was near the edge of the Commons, and the crowd had thinned, though the street-glows shone as bright.

Eyes fixed on her goal, she didn't notice when a young female Antelope stepped waveringly from the doorway of a bar. They collided, a soft "oof "escaping Hart as the Pronghorn's downturned nose and small antlers dug into her ribs. Each stumbled back, muttering apologies. The small Beastman blinked tearfilled eyes and stared at the Deer, who with the accidental contact, had gotten her scent -- plainly miserable, equal parts fury, hurt, and confusion. Hart cursed mentally, but asked anyway.

"Are you alright?"

The Pronghorn opened her muzzle to speak, but was interrupted by a truly horrendous bellow.

"Get 'way from my girlfr'end! Go find one o'your own species."

An exceptionally large Pronghorn buck stumbled belligerently up to Hart. He was tall for an Antelope, the top of his head just reaching Hart's chin, his black forked antlers jutting up to her eye level. Startled, Hart bent her neck to get a better look. He snorted in her face, and her nostrils clamped shut at the strong odor of sugar root ale mixed with beer. Hart shot a pitying glance at the female Pronghorn.

"Do you need a hand?"

The sandy furred Antelope squared her delicate jaw.

"Thank you sir, but I think I'll go home now."

Hart nodded and tried to step around the drunken male. He managed to get in her way again.

"I saw you lookin at 'er! Teach you!"

He dropped his head and lunged. Fending off his hands with her own, Hart automatically lowered her own antlers to catch his, neck flowing downward. A twist of her head made sure the spiked antlers caught and scraped along her own branched points. Off balance, she let the Antelope propel her backwards a few steps, his rack clattering against hers. Motion flickered in her peripheral vision as passersby paused and gathered to see what was going on. Dammit! The Deer planted her hooves and threw the male off easily, but bits of dirt, dry and fine, had fallen into both of their eyes. Now cracked and rubbed away in several places, the delicate coat of dry brown mud revealed the antler beneath, black as the night sky. The sudden dark spots drew gasps and curious murmurs before someone else shouted out the truth.

"It's Hart! It's the new Tonrrup!"

Hart didn't wait for the cry to be taken up. She shoved past the confounded Pronghorn and ran, the howl rising behind her. In a heartbeat, the boundary of the Commons flashed by, and she could see her destination.

The torches marking the Gate and Corridor of clan ground burned, casting their light and shadows across two hulking forms. Hart pounded nearer, the outcry following telling her that the Beastmen in the Commons had recovered from their shock and taken up pursuit. She was over halfway to the Sentries, who crouched, huge spears cast aside and stunners drawn. Hart plowed to a halt before them, one hand digging in her slilkit's pocket.

"I demand clan-right! Let me pass!"

One burly Tiger gaped, the other Sentry sneered.

"I don't know what you've been drinking, but you are not clan, hoof-walker. Whatever trouble you've caused, insanity is no excuse."

"I don't have time for this! I am Macenna Hart, friend and clan-sister to Rrruune Merrrson. Do I have to give you blood? Here! My Clanshat crest, broken when I Changed! Now let me pass!"

She thrust the Clanshat and its snapped chain under the Sentry's nose, bristling and baring her fangs so there could be no doubt. Now both Sentries gawked, pupils dilated wide and ears half-flattened. Hart glanced back. The crowd would be on her in seconds.

"Clan-right, you shortwhiskered idiot! Let me by and call reinforcements before you're overrun!"

She pushed by them and ran down the Corridor. One at least retained enough wit to see the approaching rabble and fumble for the horn on his belt. One blast, and the patrols which roamed near, hidden, would spring to their aid. The note pealed out as Hart sped into the screen of trees.

By the time the crowd swarmed at the Gate, there were over twenty very large, well trained, implacably stubborn and armed Tiger Warriors guarding the boundary. None of them cared at all that they were harboring a monster and protecting a murderer, an accident of nature, Gaia's damned. They were of the Clan of Merrr, and this was their land. It would not be invaded again, by anyone. Ever.

She ran down the main path, beyond the dark Center buildings. Those of the clan who were out paused to stare, but did not attempt to stop her. The strange Deer had passed the Sentries, therefore had the right to be there. She galloped unerringly to one domed house, the windows glowing like home, and pounded on the door. The wood hummed.

"Rrruune!"

Two whiskered faces popped into the window, surprise written over both. Hart distractedly recognized Ahraae and B'rrikl, Rrruune's mother and older sister. The Deer hammered the door again, rattling its hinges. As soon as she had passed the Sentries, only one thing had dominated her thoughts -- her friend. She desperately wanted to see him, the only one who would look at her and just see Macenna. She bellowed again.

"Rrruune!"

The door was yanked open, and there he was, wide eyed and bristling with amazement.

Suddenly unsure, Hart retreated a step.

"Roo, I . . ."

The Tiger lunged forward and crushed his best friend in a tight hug.

"I thought I'd never see you again!"

Hart returned the hug, just as fiercely.

"Neither did I, for a while."

She was drawn inside, and immediately encircled by Bartholemew, Ahraae, and B'rrikl.

Hart swallowed nervously. Uncertain of her position, she used the formal titles of people with whom she'd once been on a first name basis. She inclined her head to Rrruune's parents.

"Nice to see you again Mahiir Merrrson'I, Masys Merrr'Imar. Greetings B'rrikl."

The older Tigers glanced at each other, curious, but remained calmly polite. B'rrikl, not nearly as skilled at keeping her feelings hidden, stared at Hart with ear flattened suspicion, realization slowly creeping in. Bartholemew stepped forward.

"Welcome. Have we met before, young buck? And you'll pardon me if I ask by what magic you qualified to pass the Sentries, and why you were doing your best to knock my door off its hinges?"

Rrruune drew a breath, but B'rrikl beat him.

"Dad! Don't you ever watch holovision? That's . . . that's Hart!"

The patent refusal to speak her name was beginning to wear thin, but she set her teeth and settled for an even reply.

"Still making news am I? Shouldn't be surprised I guess. B'rrikl, I'm still me, not a bloodthirsty killer, and I won't hurt you or anyone else. As for how I got by the Sentries, well, I just showed them this."

The broken silver chain dangled from long brown fingers, the crest turning slowly in the light. Her lips twisted in a sardonic grin.

"That and the bloodthirsty mob shouting for my hide convinced them."

Rrruune chuffed, alarmed.

"Mob?"

The fur on one russet shoulder twitched in a shrug.

"I was found out right before I left the Commons. My disguise -" a wave to the antlers, now only vaguely spotted with brown. "- didn't last long. I ran for the Gate."

Hart reached up and slipped the cloak off. B'rrikl hissed as it fell away to reveal the bow and full quiver. Even Rrruune was taken aback. These the Deer removed as well, setting them down by the door. When she straightened, she looked into B'rrikl's slitted eyes. The Tigress had advanced, placing herself between Hart and Rrruune, forcing him back by his parents.

"Why do you bring weapons into this house? Why did you hide them?"

Hart flattened her own ears in response.

"For my own protection, and I'm sorry for not declaring them, but I've been a little busy! People trying to kill you tends to make you cautious!"

B'rrikl bared her fangs and snarled.

"Still the same arrogant, callow Hart. You presumed upon my family once, and now you're doing so again. Bringing trouble for me and mine."

Rrruune's tail lashed, and he was primed for a charge when a heavy pawhand clamped down on his shoulder. He looked at his father in shocked outrage, but subsided under the orange glare. His tail continued to lash and his eyes narrowed as he saw his mother wore the same neutral expression. They were allowing this to happen, allowing B'rrikl to do and say those things to see if Macenna was telling the truth, to see that she wasn't dangerous. A growl began in his chest, too deep to be heard. Traitors.

Bartholemew felt the vibrations, and dug his fingerclaws firmly into his son's shoulder. Rrruune's muscles were wire-taut, but he did not move. Assured, Bartholemew watched Hart and his daughter.

Squared off against B'rrikl, the grey-eyed Deer bared her own teeth, satisfied when the sight made the Tigress falter.

"As I recall, I helped your family. Not that you would know. You hardly showed a whisker during that difficult time. You were too busy sniffing after Mmearrrra's crumbs in the Center. You're starting to sound more and more like that cold-blooded, freeze-dried fishwort."

"Watch yourself, mutant," B'rrikl sneered. "That is the Matriarch you speak of, and you will show the proper respect!"

"I will not! Mmearrrra neither deserves that respect nor has she earned it! She's going after your own brother for no reason, and what've you done to help him! That's the reason I'm here, what about you? Spying for that senile prune?"

rrrRRRRAAAWRR!!! B'rrikl leaped for Hart, tail lashing and teeth bared. Fingerclaws led the way as six and a half feet of substantially built Feline launched herself at the cornered Deer. Rrruune strained against his father's hand, then let his jaw drop, stunned.

Brows lowered, Hart moved faster then he would have believed, brown hands snapping out to catch hold of one striped arm. A neat sidestep, a twist, and B'rrikl was slammed up against the wall by her own momentum. She was kept there by Hart, who gripped the arm and held it tightly high. The Tigress couldn't turn or move, all her weight thrown irretrievably forward. B'rrikl hissed and spat, struggling futilely. Hart bent her neck, muzzle close to a flattened ear so only the Tigress would hear.

"Such language, and in your family's house." The quiet voice hardened. "Now, promise you won't try attacking me again, and I'll let you go without breaking your arm."

B'rrikl continued to fight against the hold, and Hart's tail raised in annoyance. The Deer tightened her grip, nails digging into the skin under the fur as she put even more pressure on the arm. After a few more painful seconds, the Tigress angrily surrendered.

"Agreed." The word grudgingly slipped free of clenched fangs.

Hart released her and stepped back. B'rrikl spun around and glared, bristling, then ghosted a nod to her parents, furious gaze never leaving the Deer.

"Excuse me, Mom, Dad. I have to go now." She bared her teeth as she left.

Hart's nose twitched, the acrid scent of rage and aggression clogging her nostrils. Most of it swirled out the door with the departing Tigress.

Rrruune wrenched free at last. Glaring at the older Tigers, he moved to his friend's side.

"C'mon Mac, let's go. It seems we're not welcome here."

"Roo, where would we go?"

"Anywhere. We definitely shouldn't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Mac! Let's just go!"

Hart looked at Rrruune, all bristled fur and half-bared fangs, then at Ahraae, who was scowling, and Bartholemew, who was calm and blankfaced. At their son's words, some of their dispassion seemed to slip away, and Bartholemew even took a few steps towards Rrruune. But the younger Tiger was having none of it.

Rrruune grabbed Hart's arm, fingerclaws closing a little too firmly around the slick brown fur, and hauled her out the door. He plunged headlong into the night, and she let herself be towed along for a few minutes before deliberately slowing the pace.

"Where are we going?"

"The Commons. We can get rooms in one of the Bachelor Houses."

"Roo, I was just chased out of the Commons. We can't go there."

He stopped, ears flicking.

"Maybe . . . maybe with your cloak-" He fell silent as she heaved a sigh.

"Roo, I'm only here for a while, to make sure Mmearrrra doesn't make your life in the clan a living hell. I came to help you, not make things worse. After that, I'm as good as gone. But until then, I have to stay on clan ground. It's the only place I can be relatively safe. We have to remain with your parents. B'rrikl will hardly welcome us into her home. I'm sure they were just shocked. After all, I don't exactly look like myself."

Rrruune whirled abruptly. Throwing a hand out to indicate the path, he snarled with righteous fury.

"They were seeing if you told the truth or not. They let B'rrikl get away with all that for no reason. They were testing you!"

"Well of course it was a test!"

The frustration contained in those words floored him. His ears snapped forward and his weight shifted to his pads. Whiskers spread, he gawked at her.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew!"

Her low-pitched voice gentled.

"How could I not?"

"Then why? Why defend them? Why stay there?"

"I know the reason they did it. Besides, I'm a bit tired of sleeping on the ground. A real bed under a roof, food that I didn't have to kill, or harvest and eat raw, sounds really good right now. Even if I have to be tolerated by those that used to accept me as one of theirs."

"I don't like it," he snapped, ears sideways.

"And you think I do? I said I understood it, not that it didn't bother me! I hate the fact that I'm reduced to slinking around the outskirts. I can't walk down the street without being chased!"

She took a steadying breath and backed off, making her fur lie flat.

"Look. You're the only friend I have left. I intend to help you out of the mess I got you in."

Rrruune snorted derisively, tail flicking.

"What was I supposed to do, let them kill you? It wasn't right. It still isn't. I couldn't have done anything else and you know it."

She let a quick smile chase across her features.

"I know, Roo. C'mon. Let's go back. We can talk about what we're going to do to Mmearrrra."

They slowly headed back to Rrruune's house, the companiable silence of close friends blanketing them. Hart took the time to look up at the stars as she walked. Her friend, familiar ground, sounds of people all around, the wide sky stretched out overhead . . . It felt almost like she was human again.

"Mac?"

"Hmmm?"

"You look exactly like yourself. You always will."

Hart smiled.

"Thanks Rrruune."

Bartholemew looked up as his son re-entered the house. His heart leaped -- Thought I'd lost you for a moment, cub. Rrruune fired a smoldering glare at his father. Inwardly Bartholemew winced. Ouch. Not his idea to come back then. Hart's? She had always been a voice of reason, sometimes the only one Rrruune would listen to. He shifted his gaze, but instead of the familiar, laughing brown eyes he expected, he met a pair of weary grey ones. They caught him, prickling his conscience.

"Come on Mac, you can sleep in the spare room. I'll just fix it up for you. Think you can wait a few minutes? The air vent hasn't been opened since you were here last."

The Deer never looked away, just held Bartholemew trapped.

"I can wait Rrruune. Go ahead. I'll be fine."

Was that truly the voice that had been spined with steel just moments ago? That had threatened to break his daughter's arm? It was so soft, so quiet, almost musical. A Singer?

"Alright Mac, if you're sure. I'll be back in a minute."

Rrruune moved downstairs, into the earth-den levels of the house.

Hart turned to face Bartholemew squarely.

"Mahiir Merrrson'I. If I may ask, where is the Masys?"

Bartholemew grimaced at the polite formality.

"Ahraae went to check on B'rrikl. I stayed in case Rrruune came back. I'm sorry we were -- lacking, in our hospitality."

"I apologize for inflicting my presence on your household. I came to help Rrruune. I'll only be here until tomorrow evening. After that, I'm sure I can find another place to stay."

The words which could have been biting were not -- merely infused with the same sad exhaustion mirrored in her eyes, in every graceful movement.

Ahraae strode through the door, and lifted her lip at seeing Hart.

"My daughter has strained muscles in her arm. She can't pick up anything and won't be able to go quad for a couple of days."

"My apologies Masys Merrr'Imar. I -"

Ahraae sprang at Hart, hand flashing back. Bartholemew expected his wife to get the same treatment as their cub had, but Hart made no move to protect herself. The slap connected with a thud, and the Deer's head was rocked hard to the side.

"Ahraae!"

Bartholemew grabbed his mate before she could strike again.

"Mac!"

Rrruune was immediately by his friend, having seen from the stairwell. Hart waved him off before he could look at her face. He looked at Ahraae, features twisted in confusion. Surely his mother of all people would understand?

"Mom?! Why did you do that?"

"B'rrikl was hurt."

"Mom! B'rrikl attacked, her! A sprained arm is nothing!"

"Son," Bartholemew rumbled, "B'rrikl is our cub, your sister. You can't expect us to not be angry over her treatment. She's our daughter."

"You seem to forget, so let me remind you," Rrruune snarled, heedless of the restraining hand Hart laid on his shoulder, "You let it happen! This is your daughter too! Mac is family now. My sister. Every bit as much your child as I am. That was the promise you made. As soon as she set hoof in this house, she should have been welcomed, made to feel like she was among clan. Instead, you've let her be pushed around, insulted, and now you've even hit her for defending herself! And we all saw how she moved, she allowed it! Her part was to respect you as she would her own family, and that gave you the right to discipline her." The bitterness of the words made both Ahraae and Bartholemew recoil.

"Rrruune, enough."

Hart physically imposed herself between her friend and his parents.

"You're too angry right now. Leave it alone. You need to calm down."

She raised her head and faced Bartholemew and Ahraae.

"As soon as possible, I will find other lodgings. I'm sorry."

Hart shouldered Rrruune toward the steps.

"I'm tired, Roo, where is the room again? It was like a maze down there last time. I was always getting lost . . ."

Her voice faded as Rrruune let himself be herded down the earthen stairs.

A pounding on his door woke Aleksander, and he groaned, curling into a tighter ball, tail moving up to cover his face. When the knocking came again, he tried pulling the blankets over his head. Yet again the knocks, and a voice calling. He growled and threw back the covers, snatching a slilkit from where it hung on a chair. Wrapping it around his waist, he threw open the door, eyes squinting from the light.

"Whoever you are, it'd better be important, or I'll mount your tail on my wall next to your head."

"Indeed. It is most important, Leader."

"Kuy? Do you know what time it is? Goddess above, don't you ever sleep?"

Kuy coughed and thrust something warm into Alek's hands.

"Here. If you were awake at all, you'd see I look worse then you, so take this. You need it more then I do."

"Humor? Conversation? From you Kuy? It must be late."

The Chief Warrior sighed and looked at Aleksander, his brindle fur mussed and sticking every which way, nearly closed eyes, and wrinkled slilkit.

"It's very early, actually. Drink it Leader. I'll get another and come back. You should be coherent by then."

Alek would have said something, but she was already gone. He switched his attention to the contents of the mug in his hands and the scent of coffee drowned all thoughts from his mind. He took a gulp and choked; evidently Kuy liked her coffee black and very strong, with the consistency of sludge. It did have the desired effect though.

Kuy came back with another cup of the steaming drink and sat down. Mostly awake now, he saw that she hadn't been joking. Her black pelt was rumpled and her clothes as hastily put on as his.

"So, what's this about? What's happened?"

"Hart has surfaced. I just got the report. She was sighted earlier this evening at Redwood Terrque."

"Redwood!"

"Yes. She was crossing through the Commons when she was exposed. A mob went after her."

"I see. What did she do?"

"What would any of us do? She ran. Right to the Gate of Merrr territory. She managed to reach it and they let her in. None of the people chasing her made it across. The Sentries called for backup and the border was swarming with Tigers by the time the fastest reached it. There were some injuries when they tried to overpower the patrols, but none too serious."

"What's the word from the Matriarch?"

"None yet. This just happened early this evening. So far, the Tigers pace their land in strength but will answer no questions. You know the Merrrs. Claws out and tight-lipped. They'll take a while, probably wait until morning to deal with Hart. That Matriarch of theirs never deals with things right away."

"So we have time."

"Very little. By the time someone thought to contact us, most of the uproar had died down. At least physically. But you can bet someone will tip off the humans. There'll be reporters streaming to the Terrque and that means trouble. Especially with Merrr's clan." "Right. Gather the Pack. We're going home to finish this. At least we won't be out chasing our tails anymore."

"Hmmph. We'll see."

Ducking her head, Hart followed Rrruune down tunnels lit by glow-lamps. When he easily dropped to all fours to pass through a contraction in the tunnel, Hart reluctantly followed suit.

"I think that's the one thing I envy you Rrruune. Deer just aren't built to go quad with any comfort."

He glanced over a furred shoulder and let his jaw drop open in a smile. He had to admit, she looked peculiar, with her tall back legs elevating her hindquarters above her shoulders, and her long neck swinging up in a curve.

"You didn't have that problem before."

She gave him a wry smile.

"I wasn't quite this tall before."

He chuckled.

"Well, come on. Hippity-hop this way."

He started forward again and flicked his tail in a follow-me gesture. Hart snorted and muttered good-naturedly.

"Hippity-hop. If we were out where I could run, I'd show you hippity-hop."

The tunnel widened again and they stood. Rrruune pushed open the door to the underground room and stepped aside.

"I'll be right back."

Hart nodded and moved past him into the room. It was just as she remembered, a rounded, white-walled chamber echoing the shape of the house itself. A futon piled with cushions was in one corner, snug against the wall, a neatly folded heap of blankets beside it. There was a chair, a small table, and a dresser. No mirror, thank God. She palmed the controls on the wall, and the glow-sphere set in the ceiling cast a gentle, white light over everything. She flopped on the bed with a sigh. A small laugh escaped her. I used to hate sleeping on this thing. There was never enough padding. Feels like a king sized mattress compared with leaves and grass. I could fall asleep right now.

Rrruune padded back in, holding a plain white box. She pulled herself into a sitting position, ears forward. The Tiger set the box down on the table, and Hart joined him, looking over his shoulder curiously. After turning on the lamp, he reached for the Deer's head. Startled, she jerked away. Rrruune raised a furred brow, his tone mild.

"Let me see your face."

Embarrassed, she held still, and let him grasp her muzzle. He angled it to the light and parted the brown fur with his fingertips, carefully using the wicked black fingerclaws to gently brush the hairs back. He inspected the scratches left by his mother.

"Mmm. Well, not too bad. Just puncture wounds from the tips and a small exit trail. She got you mostly with her palm then. It might be sore, but I'll put some salve on it and you should be fine."

His lips tightened over his fangs as he applied the ointment.

"I still can't believe she hit you."

"Rrruune . . ."

He shook his head.

"I don't care what you say, Mac, it was wrong."

She pulled free.

"I didn't come to cause trouble for you with your family Roo, and if that's what I'm doing, I'll leave right now."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Are you insane? This is your home, your clan."

"And you are my friend."

"That's right, I'm a friend, not kin! And don't give me the stuff about the Clanshat. We both know that's gone. Don't throw your family away over me."

He sighed and ran a hand through his ruff.

"It's not just you Mac. Things haven't been right between me and my parents for a long time. To tell you the truth, I wondered why they ever spoke for you. Oh sure they liked you and were grateful and all, but I don't think they'd have done it if I hadn't asked. It was almost like they were trying to pacify me. We act like everything's okay, but it's not. And I know they love me, but I just don't understand them. I could have sworn they would have welcomed you, that you would have had a place here, but I was wrong about that too. I've been thinking of leaving the clan."

"Hmm."

Rrruune dropped onto the bed. Hart settled on the opposite side, and was silent while Rrruune spoke.

"It wasn't so bad while I was at school. Out of sight, as they say. I didn't think about them too much, between work, school, and Arayna."

He rested his head on thick-furred arms, eyes staring intensely inward. Macenna sat quietly, ears forward, attention entirely focused on her friend. She spoke now and then, trying to give as much help as she could. But Rrruune talked, and she stayed up into the early morning, and listened.

A grumbling snarl made the Tiger Sentry crouch, ears lowered. The gnarled hand waved a dissmissal, loose sleeves swallowing orange and black furred arms still muscular for their obvious age. Mmearrrra leaned forward and her tail patted the floor irritably. "Ewiisuu, have Bartholemew's whelp and that Hart creature brought before me in the morning, after firstmeal."

"Yes Matriarch."

The thin Tiger bowed, and escorted the Sentry out of the house.

In the dark of her home, Mmearrrra bared rounded fangs, hindclaws flickering out.

"It is time to settle this for good."

It was nearly dawn, and Hart was tired. She would have liked nothing more then to curl up on the futon and sleep, but she had given her word to Bartholemew that she would move out. Rrruune had stayed late, only going back to his room when he had run out of words. While she didn't mind, it had taken the last of the reserves she'd burned in coming to the Terrque. She tossed her cloak over her shoulder, and headed up the tunnel.

Hart shook out the mass of green material and settled its shielding warmth around herself. She picked up her weapons which still waited by the door, and glanced out the window at the brightening world. Night was almost done. She had to get moving.

"There is a shack out on the far end of the winter cattle range. The herd is still in the spring pastures, so no one will bother you. It's for the lookout, so it has working glows and facilities. You can probably stay there for a while."

Hart glanced back at Bartholemew.

"Thank you, Mahiir Merrrson'I."

He nodded. The black antlers dipped respectfully, then she turned to leave.

Bartholemew gritted his teeth, and called out, halting her in the doorway.

"What about my son? Will he be going with you?"

The new day was coming fast. She turned her head to the side.

"Rrruune is asleep. After I take care of a few things, he can find me at the shack. I did not tell him to follow me, but I doubt he will stay away. I'll do my best, but he is his own person."

"He listens to you."

"No, sir. I listen to him."

Hart crouched near the far border. It would take some doing to get past the patrols, and even more to go unseen by those who waited beyond them. She raised her head, breath fogging in the frigid predawn air. Easy, easy.

When the Tigers passed, she glided by and moved quickly into the trees. Although the dark could give her better cover, the patrol would have been too alert. With approaching sunrise, they, like the others she'd have to avoid, would relax just enough for her to weave through their lines. Something about the gradual brightening of day put the minds of people at ease, as if nothing could happen now that the darkness was banished once again. Then, once the sun was up, they would remind themselves that bad things did happen, they could be taken by surprise, and they would be on guard again. Still, there was that deep, ancient feeling of release, of joy, buried by the rational mind, arising stubbornly at the moment of transition.

She intended to take advantage of that. Swirled with copper streams, her eyes saw the gray before daybreak as when shadows appeared, and vigilance waned -- and she could slip through the cracks. There was no joy in her heart, no thrilling of the soul, only a cold beginning with a colder resolve.

The cloaked Deer slipped in among the Beastmen who lined the borders. His camping equipment went unnoticed, just one more come to camp at the edges and make sure the monstrosity didn't escape. Humans and Beastmen alike crowded the line, a zone of no-man's-land extending out from Merrr territory a good ten feet. The Deer took four steps into the clearing and the gathering quieted. Another two and there was silence. One more and ugly snarls erupted from the brush on the other side. As the hooded Deer moved on, the plants and leaves shook wildly as unseen Tigers converged on the area.

"Halt! Go no farther hoof-walker, or we'll be roasting your carcass for our lunch!"

Growls and other threats sounded, yet the foolish Deer kept going. Finally a spear was hurled into the earth, quivering upright before him. He ignored it. An arrow was shot into his path, buzzing its menace as it vibrated, and the unmistakeable whine of several hand-stunners cycling up to active mode whizzed along the treeline. Now the buck stopped, and hurled a small, sparkling object into the brush. After a few seconds, the growls abruptly ceased, and an angry Tigress emerged. She stalked up to the buck, something clenched firmly in her closed fist.

"How did you get this?! Who are you?"

In the expectant hush, even a whisper could be heard clearly, so although the buck kept his voice low, the waiting ears picked up every word.

"I had to get my belongings. I'm back now."

The orange tail lashed as the patrol leader raked her gaze over the hooded Deer. She couldn't see inside the volumnous hood, and she bared her teeth.

"Show me your face."

The Deer stiffened.

"Do you want to be attacked?"

"I need proof."

One ebon hoof stamped in annoyance.

"I already gave it to you."

"You expect me to believe you made it past my patrol, out to where you hid your gear, and all those people, not once, but twice?"

The Deer extended a hand, palm open.

"Scratch me then. If you get my bloodscent, that should convince you. Hurry!"

Mutters were already starting. "Made it past who? Us?"

Now the Tigress looked away, embarrassment marring her features.

"That will prove nothing, I'm afraid. The shur'kirrw, the blood offering, was never given to the rest of the clan."

The buck began cursing with a proficiency that made ears on both sides of the border prick in admiration. The Tigress winced.

One brown hand tore back the hood, the seals around the antlers popping free. The Tigress took one look at the snarling visage, impossible fangs bared, and shoved the Deer for the trees as the crowd's mumurs turned to shouts.

"Run!"

The pair darted into the heavy growth as stunbeams lanced out, dropping those who forgot the hidden Warriors and raced toward the exposed Hart.

As the patrol leader hustled her charge deeper into clan ground, Hart turned.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper."

The Tigress shook her bristly head.

"Don't be. I'd've done the same. It's the Matriarch's decision that made the easy way impossible. The shame is ours, not yours."

They pulled up and paused, listening. The noise of stunner discharges were waning.

"I can go on my own from here. Thanks."

The Tigress nodded and leaped away, back to her post. Hart continued on, weaving around private territories and homes.

So, Mmearrrra didn't fulfill her part of the ritual. That's interesting to know.

The grey-eyed Deer pondered the bit of information as she made her way to her new home.

Once there she unpacked, making the small, neat building and its stored contents hers, then grabbing a quick bite to eat from her supplies. As she cleaned her bowl of the grain mash she'd fixed, Hart turned on the portable holovision set to see what they were saying.

Rrruune was about to knock on the door when he heard something shatter.

"Mac? You there? Everything alright?"

He pushed into the house, looking for his friend. She was standing before the holoset listening to the news. Even now, he felt a twinge of surprise at her appearance, and buried it guiltily.

"Mac?"

He saw the shards of a broken bowl around her hooves, and the stiff way she was standing. The stricken look on her face drew his attention, and he followed her gaze to the holocast. It was the same old thing they'd been broadcasting, except now footage of the boundaries of Merrr land interspersed the speculation and running tape of the Hart family.

Rrruune hastened to her side, voice low.

"Mac? Mac! What is it? What's wrong?"

The reply was so quiet he missed it at first.

"What? What did you say? Come on, you're scaring me."

The Deer blinked slowly.

"She lied to me."

"Who lied? Mac! Snap out of it!"

"I'm . . . I'm tired Roo. I'm going to sleep now. Just, just for a while. Okay?"

He backed off in surprise. Her voice had actually broken on the last word, and he could only nod.

"Okay Mac, okay. I'll be here."

He watched as his friend shuffled over and wrapped herself in a sleeping bag. She curled up on the thin futon bed kept in the house, and Rrruune turned off the H.V. before sitting down to keep watch.

Hart turned and kicked in her sleep, grunting in anguish. The blankets twisted around her as she fought and cried out. She once again raced after the fawn, hooves pounding, heartbeat loud in her ears . . . Suddenly her consciousness shifted, tearing free and whirling through the air, confronting herself. Ragged pennants of skin hung from the crooked antlers, and it smiled at her. Mirror, mirror, her own voice chanted. Even as she struggled, bodiless, the antlers thickened, branching out and weaving together to form a jail of hard points. They constricted around her, tighter, cutting off her breath until they wove her back into the dark reflection. She opened her eyes and saw her mother, arms wide.

"Mom," she choked, and tried to go to her. But the woman's face twisted, and she slapped her.

"You're not my daughter! What have you done to Macenna? You killed my girl!"

"Mom, it's me! It's me!"

She fell on her knees, hand outstretched.

"Wake up! Macenna, come on, you've got to wake up!"

Rrruune shook his friend harder. Her eyes shot open, and she sat up with a muffled shout. She looked around wildly, gasping for air.

Rrruune let go.

"You were having a nightmare.You okay?"

The Deer buried her face in her hands. She had been free with the cougar and herdmaster, but since leaving them, the dream had started up again. It came less frequently now, but still haunted her. This though -- this was worse than it had ever been.

"My God, what have I become?"

Rrruune hunkered down before the futon, gingerly touching her shoulder. She was shaking!

"I couldn't wake you. What is it?"

"A dream. Just a dream."

"Not just a dream. Mac, I'm your friend. Tell me."

She shook her head, arms crossed as if she could physically hold herself together.

"I can't. I . . ."

Her throat closed, choking off the words.The tears slipped free on their own, and she wept, the sobs tearing loose from deep within her chest. It hurt, but she no longer had the strength to keep it inside.

Rrruune wrapped her in his thick arms, rocking her gently and letting her press her face against the side of his neck. The hot tears soaked into his ruff as she clutched him tightly. He tried to absorb her pain, as she had once done for him, holding her until the tremors slowly abated. The heaving of her shoulders subsided, and she pulled away, swiping at her eyes and the damp tracks in her fur.

"First time you've done that since the Change, isn't it."

She gave him a wobbly smile and nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks Rrruune."

"Don't worry about it. Now, tell me what finally broke that iron stubbornness of yours. We both know you hate to cry."

Voice hoarse with control, she told him every detail of the dream, about the Hunting, and the latest addition to the nightmare.

"It's because of the newscast. I'd never -- never heard any of it. I didn't know what my family was saying. But I think I could've handled it if my mother hadn't lied to me. She was there, with Arayna after my Change. Arayna ran out, but she stayed for a while. She told me it didn't matter, I was still her daughter. She knew me, knew I was fine, just different. She said . . . that they'd always be there for me, if I needed them."

"And even this family let you down. Aw, Mac. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She smiled wanly and bent her neck, rubbing her nape wearily.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Besides, I knew coming here would mean trouble, I just didn't know how much. I've probably hurt your situation more than helped. And with everything else I've managed to do, I think our parents are probably right. I am a monster."

"Macenna! You are not! Gaia doesn't make monsters."

She threw back her head and laughed bitterly. The action exposed her large canines and unsettled the Tiger.

"Gaia couldn't even get me right! She said 'I merely took an active role, guiding your Change to this form, for the most part.' Does that sound to you like She knew what She was doing?! Invoke Her all you want, I know what your faith means to you, but don't put Her name and mine in the same sentence."

Rrruune gaped. Hart tossed the blanket aside and moved over to the holovision, where she began to carefully gather the shards of her bowl and clean the floor.

"You -- met -- Gaia? You talked to Her? She talked to you?!"

"Yes."

He scrambled to his hindpaws and swung her around, searching her face.

"If it was anyone but you . . . Well? What did She look like? What did She say?"

Hart snorted.

"She was a little woman, long black hair with silver running through it like water. Green eyes. Nice voice. Smelled like a summer day in the woods. She talked to me about the Change and a mission and you."

"What did you do?"

"I questioned Her sanity."

"You did WHAT?!"

"Easy Roo, no need to yell."

"Tell me I just heard you wrong. Tell me I did not hear you say you told Gaia off!"

"I didn't tell Her off. I didn't get that far."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Hart gave him a verbatim account of the encounter in a fatigued monotone. Rrruune sat there staring at his friend for a long time afterward, whiskers spread in astonishment.

"I don't know whether to laugh or cuff you. Brushing off the Mother of us all -- I just can't picture it. It's probably the closest thing to blasphemy we have."

"Hmm. When do you think Mmearrrra will let the likes of me in the Center? I came here for your sake, not mine. We need to get this straightened out, so you still have a place to call home. When I leave-"

"I'm going with you."

He swiveled his black-tipped ears back, the white spots flaring, a set look on his face. She drew breath to protest, but he spoke again.

"This is something I've thought about, and I've made my decision. I've been here over four months now, so you can't say I haven't taken the time. Yes, clan means a great deal to me. It does to any of Merrr's line. But it isn't the beginning and end of my life. Merrr dared to stand up, to speak and act against something that he saw as wrong. Can I be any less? 'You can live with an injustice, but you can't carry yourself proudly.' Merrr said that."

"Merrr was a poet. Three things happens to poets. They die and become famous, they die and nobody notices, or no one knows they're a poet and they do something else that people remember them for. And there's a big difference between the choice he made and the one you're making. He stood up for something right, yes, but it was something many people believed in. Who's in this with you? What are you standing for with this?"

"Honor. Justice."

"Pride. Obstinacy."

"You."

Her jaw snapped closed. She looked hard at her friend.

"Don't leave the clan for me."

Arayna activated the ringing vidphone. The hiss of an audio transmission emerged from the speakers, but the screen stayed dark. Her ears flicked forward in puzzlement.

"Hello?"

"Arayna Collins?"

The strange voice was low. Female?

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"You must come to Redwood Terrque. Rrruune Merrrson is talking of leaving his clan."

"What?! Who is this?"

"A friend. Come quickly."

"Wait! How can I get inside Merrr territory? There's no way!"

"Contact Ahraae Merrr'Imar. Tell her you're worried about Rrruune, that you believe he's thinking of leaving the clan. Do not tell her where you got this information. Say instead that some of his words and actions led you to that conclusion. Move quickly. There is no time to lose."

The line went silent, and the white Tigress chewed a clawtip, tail switching as her mind churned. Finally, she reached out and punched in the number Rrruune had left. Forcing her ears forward and her pelt smooth, she gazed at the screen, which flashed to life with the face of Rrruune's mother.

"Greetings Masys Merrr'Imar, this is Arayna. May I speak with you for a moment? It's about Rrruune . . ."

The knock at the door surprised him, and when he answered, Rrruune had to fight to keep his ears lifted and his teeth covered. He bowed stiffly to the tall figure dressed in the formal red and gold of the Center.

"Ewiisuu. Greetings, Matriarch's Aide. What can I do for you?"

To his astonishment, the older Tiger dropped his jaw in a wry smile.

"You have been gone a long time, Bartholemew's son. I have not been Matriarch's Aide for many seasons. Your sister holds that honored position, although obviously, I'm still in the Center's employ -- sent trotting hither and yon, or writing letters that B'rrikl feels beneath her."

Rrruune blinked, then grinned.

"I see. Won't you come in?"

The slender Tiger held up a hand.

"Thanks, but no. I've been sent here on business, I'm afraid. I'm to escort you and our clan-sister to the Matriarch."

Rrruune grunted.

"Macenna isn't here. She went out and didn't say where she was going, or when she'd be back."

"Then I guess it's just the two of us."

"I'm not making a move without Mac. We both need to be there when Mmearrrra starts making trouble."

"I understand, but you'll still need to come, to tell her that, if nothing else."

Rrruune nodded.

"Let's go then."

He shut the door behind him and started down the trail. Ewiisuu paced alongside.

"Now, if I may, I have several suggestions on how to convey that sentiment in a way that won't result in a matriarchal clawing."

Two striped tails curled in amusement.

Hart sighed and hitched into a tighter ball, enjoying the relaxing warmth of the sun, the soft wshhk of the meadow plants in the breeze, and the scent of heated soil and grass. She'd broken off the argument and gone to run an errand before finding this quiet spot, and at last escaping into a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now she was content to doze and gather her strength. One grey eye was half open, watching the lazy movement of the flowers, the ripple of the green mesmerizing. Cresting each wave were bright flags, late wildflowers giving their last glory to ride the ocean of grass.

At first, she wasn't even aware of humming. The tune slipped out as she lay there, gradually unfolding and building in volume. It caught her up -- nothing seemed more natural than singing, so she opened her mouth and did so. No real words, but the melody dipped and swayed with the blossoms, at first sedate and cool, then picking up to match the bobbing of the flowers, light and active.

In a copse of trees nearby, the meditating Tigress flicked an ear, mildly irritated that someone was intruding on her peace. She concentrated on shutting out the distraction, trying again to reach that elusive state where Gaia spoke, where heart and mind and soul touched, and Songs were born. But the surroundings were a key part of reaching that place, and the noise grew harder to ignore, more insistent. With a muted growl, Lezah opened her eyes, tail beginning to twitch. Oh, blast it. I wasn't having any luck anyhow. Now, what cub's game is this? The Tigress raised her muzzle and scented the air, pale, stiff whiskers fanning out. She rose, brushing leaf litter and dust from her clothes, then froze as she recognized the Lay for what it was. Surprise held her motionless for a moment, and then Lezah very quietly left the grove and stepped out into the meadow, where she could hear clearly. The Tigress scanned the long grass, but saw no one. She closed her eyes and listened to the Lay, and what it was saying. A strange thing, happy and sad in turns. She frowned. It was meant for more than one person. Gaia! I've been hunting you inside myself all day, and you're out here, nipping at my tail for attention! Lezah's ears pricked as her Part came to her, a gift from the Goddess, and she lifted her own voice. It lilted, fitting well beside the other, and now the Song's complexity came out; one Singer dancing with the windblown meadow, the other weaving in and around, the lower counter melody speaking of so much more -- a smiling hour of sun during a lull in the rain, despite the knowledge that soon the rain will begin again. Lezah's Part told of the simple joy taken in the moment, the genuine appreciation and happiness conjured by the smallest of things.

The Tigress' head rose as the hidden Singer's voice twined round hers, switching parts and coming together, diverging, then harmonizing. Now the Song was joyous and somber, now entirely intoxicated with life. The Singers held one last note, then let the music die away, the sounds of wind and trees filling the sweet void as naturally as the Song had. Lezah took a deep breath and dropped her jaw in a smile, pale yellow eyes once more searching the sea of long grass.

"A fine first Lay! Come out, youngling. I'd like to meet the newest Singer of the clan."

As soon as the final tone had faded, Hart had frozen in her hiding place. She remained quiet and unmoving, with the eerie stillness only a Deer was capable of. Once the stranger had started singing with her, Hart had kept going, something inside unwilling to break the music's flow. And then the song had changed, reached out and included the other person, and it had seemed only right. Now she crouched, hide twitching fitfully as she tried to figure out what to do. She flattened one ear as the Tigress called again and started to approach. Hart wanted to bolt, to run. After everything else, she'd only sought a little peace. Her spirit shivered inside, too raw, tender and exposed. Just run. They'll be too surprised to catch you. Run!

Her muscles bunched as she tensed, prepared to flee. The Tigress was getting closer.

" . . . of the game, cub. Come now, stand up. I'll sniff you out soon enough if you don't. I won't harm you, you know that. It's a gift! You have a lovely voice."

Run! Hart squared her jaw as a now familiar feeling of weariness washed through her. Can I sneak out? This grass is tall enough to cover me if I go quad. But she knew she would lose that race. Tigers could switch to all fours effortlessly, and she, like every other Deer, was awkward and slow on anything but two legs. The Tigress would have her in a heartbeat. No. I will not run. I will not be hunted merely because I wanted to sing.

Lezah fell back, ears flattening in shock as the form of a large Deer erupted from the stand of wildflowers before her. Powerful hind legs carried the other Beastman safely out of reach, to land facing the Tigress. Lezah took in the broad strength of the Deer's tall frame, the dark brown fur that carried a hint of red, the rack of ebon antlers, and stormy grey eyes. She was clad simply in an open vest and slilkit, black hooves braced wide and hands at the ready. The five tines of her antlers were tipped forward as the lighter-furred neck arched. Leaf-shaped ears swiveled back defensively, and there was a tightness about her jaw that made the Tigress back off a few steps.

Black-skinned nostrils flared, and Lezah gathered her wits as the Deer tried to scent her.

"You?! A Singer?"

Hart straightened, cool dignity settling around her once more. She bowed her head to the smaller, older woman. The Tiger was clad in a flowing sari dyed with desert sunset colors, and her banded pelt was almost entirely grey and silver. Hart was surprised. The voice had sounded much younger than the owner actually was. Sterling bracelets adorned each arm, a string of wooden beads and varied stones against the Tigress' throat.

"Greetings Elder. Yes, I was singing. I apologize for disturbing you. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you alone."

She dipped her head and turned to withdraw. Is there no refuge for me anywhere?

"No! Oh no child, please. Wait just a moment."

Hart swung about in utter shock, ears forward and chin raised. Had those kind words been for her? That suddenly anxious and worried look because of her?

The Tigress reached out, crooning a purr. "Easy, easy. I won't hurt you."

She approaching slowly, as if moving towards an injured creature. Seeing the Deer's nostrils flare and the nearly imperceptible shiver of her pelt, Lezah locked her gaze on the grey eyes. They shone dark, depths for once unguarded. She is wounded. Poor cub . . .

"Please, come. Talk with me. You really don't know what you are?"

A strangled sound emerged from the long throat of the Deer. Lezah wasn't sure if it was laughter or disbelief.

"Please." Lezah repeated her request, holding out a hand to the Deer, the other stretched away to point back to the grove. Hart hesitated.

I really should go. I have to get back to Rrruune. I have a lot of planning to do.

Nevertheless, Hart found herself allowing the Tigress to take her arm and lead her into the copse.

Lezah drew the reluctant Deer into the circle of trees and sat her down on one of the rocks at the center, taking her place on one just opposite. She watched as Hart settled, taking note of her posture and how she leaned away, one cloven hoof in contact with the ground at all times. She's gotten used to running. The Tigress hitched back some, so that she wasn't quite as close.

"Is that better?"

The Deer looked startled.

"Um, yes. Thank you."

"Now, what do you know of Singers?"

Hart's ears swiveled forward.

"Nothing. Why?"

The Tigress nodded sagely.

"It is a part of Beastman life not normally shared with humans. They tend not to understand it. Humans have so many different faiths, different gods, and different ways of communing with them, that it is nearly impossible for them to understand how we all have the same one. Gaia, our creator, our Goddess, speaks to us through Singers. One cannot be a Singer without being blessed by Her. A Lay or Song is not just something to please the ears and lighten the spirit. Music, a gift of all peoples, is our Mother's voice. Many Singers may share a Song, and each will have their Part, given to them by Her. They know when and what to Sing, because She tells them. The Chorus is made up of all the Singers in the area, like the Terrque. The Chorus never preaches. We simply Sing, and for those who wish to hear, to dance or weep, we are there. And so is She. When a new Singer is born among us, it is a time of joy. A new voice, a new heart, and new eyes help us to change, grow new, as well as keep the Songs of the past alive. It is a great honor to be so chosen, and I am happy to be the first to welcome you."

Lezah tried hard to keep the surprise from showing in her voice. As soon as she'd begun to explain, the Deer's reaction had been a mixed one, to say the least. One ear had flattened aggressively, while the other stayed forward. And she'd tensed, nails scraping over stone even as she leaned closer without knowing. Once the flow of words stopped, Hart had shaken her head, the other ear snapping backwards and her arms crossing.

"Elder, no disrespect, but if that is so, then I am most definitely not what you call a Singer. Your goddess and I aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment, and the only place the music comes from is here, and here."

Hart held a clenched fist against her chest, then her temple.

"It is my own, and nobody else's."

Lezah sat back and considered for a moment, green eyes slitted.

"Young doe, you are a Singer, though a unique one, I scent that already. You must be presented to the Chorus."

The Deer bowed her head. Lezah said it was tradition, and Hart didn't feel like fighting anyone else. She had enough enemies to keep her for many years. She nodded resignedly to the plans the Tigress made, only stipulating that this presentation was to take place a full day after her meetings with Mmearrrra were over. Lezah agreed, and got up to leave, touching Hart gently on the cheek as she went.

The Deer remained, ears pricked in startlement. The older Tigress had reached out without thinking, without hesitation. Hart knew most Beastmen were very tactile, and had seen hugs, rubs, and friendly touches exchanged often and freely among them. But only Rrruune had reached out like that, and even he kept physical contact to a minimum.

Hart's long neck twisted, swinging the black antlers in a frustrated arc as she leaped, all the muscles in her legs tightening and firing at once, lifting her into the air. The abortive lunge did little to relieve the vexation, so she planted her hooves, raised her head to the sky, and bellowed. Her legs itched to run, but she knew if she did, the sleep she'd gotten would do her no good, for once she started, she might never stop.

Hart sank down on the grass, and looked at the blue expanse above her. On her reformed knees, she clasped inhuman hands together, and for the first time, she prayed.

Oh God . . . why? Can't you help me, please?

As ever, there was no reply. But she felt alone, something she never had before. Her head dropped, and she sighed before getting to her hooves. Her gaze ran over the dark brown skin of her palm and fingers, the thick black stubs of her nails, the slick fur that covered the back of her large hands.

Time to put my faith in these, I suppose. Got to remember, I'm here for Rrruune. It's time I started what I came for, and went to see Mmearrrra.

Shaking herself, the Deer strode off through the meadow, grey eyes shuttered once more.

The top of the great fall of smooth rock echoed with the sounds of voices. As the fire threw its light over the Hunters in their cave, it also sent shadows darting and twisting about over faces and bodies -- an intangible but pervasive chaos.

The Lioness watched and listened, and with a sigh, she got to her feet. The other Pride representative left off his arguement, and Aleksander hushed those present from his Pack, but most Hunters did not notice, and the talking continued. The Huntress growled, and her tail began to lash when still no attention was paid.

I am getting too old for this kind of nonsense. Her rounded ears flattened, and she took a deep breath before opening her mouth and giving a roar that echoed in the cavern, magnified by the chamber walls. The volume made everyone wince and turn their ears back, but they settled down immediately, taking their seats. The elder Feline pulled one side of her lips back to bare a fang in disgust, whiskers flattening against the hoary muzzle. Her tone rang with contempt.

"That is something I have to do to quiet my grandcubs. Are you Hunters no better?"

The lead Solitary representative, a Jaguar, rose and bowed deeply.

"You have our apologies, Huntress. It shall not happen again."

Others bowed and offered similar assurances. The Lioness nodded curtly, tail still switching in irritation. Golden eyes swept those assembled.

"The Hunt has failed. None of us was able to capture the Deer, and she has run to the one place our hands cannot reach her, though she is practically within our jaws. What's worse, now the humans have come, and we will not be able to hide much longer. Hunters! What say you?"

The heavy, brindle-furred Wolf got to his paws as the Lioness sat down. She acknowledged him with a nod.

Aleksander gathered his thoughts before speaking, looking at each present in turn.

"I am a Hunter, and we all know what that means. We all took the same oath, and we all leaped to action when the call went out. If the Hunt continues, I and my Pack stand ready to take the trail once again, and fulfill that oath. But I question whether or not this Hunt should go on. Our purpose is to protect, not murder or harrass. We are supposed to be a safeguard, a preventative measure to save the lives of humans and Beastmen. We don't want any of the carnage that Tonrrup caused to happen ever again. But what are we doing? There has been no report of any attacks by Hart not made in self-defense, or the defense of others -- no violence begun by her, no deaths, no injuries at her hands. She has evaded us, and run to the only shelter that could protect her. The Merrrs themselves would turn on her if she was a threat. We have harried an innocent until she cannot even show herself without fearing for her life. I wonder, if at last, we have done something worthy of Tonrrup. When we Changed open our eyes for the first time as Beastmen, it is a time of joy for all. We are welcomed into a new world, and our families have grown. For some of us, it is the only family we'll have. Newly Changed are children, no matter their age."

He fell silent as others nodded, quiet conceding the fact. The Beastmen who had been born as they were now, shifted, understanding in a vague way. In the shadows, Rorrgh bared his teeth, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out his angry denials. He could barely stand to listen as Aleksander went on.

"None of us has ever had such a welcome into the world as Hart has. Even Tonrrup was greeted warmly. What has all this made of Hart, I have to wonder. I say call off the Hunt. Halt the damage now. When she was new-formed and there was doubt, that was the time to act. We should have brought her before the Hunt Council right away, and determined her fate. But time has passed. Our fears have not been realized. She has earned her freedom by right of survival."

As Aleksander sat, the Lioness recognized a Cheetah. The willowy male bobbed his head and took the floor. The black of his tearlines drew the gaze to his startling green eyes, as somber as his expression. He traced the sigil of the Hunters he wore with a spotted hand, an action at once affirming and regretful. Others automatically echoed the motion. Long tail swaying, he raised his head.

"I speak for many of the Solitaries. We no longer agree with the validity of this Hunt. I personally have tracked down and spoken with some of the humans that Hart rescued -- from one of our own, I might add -- at risk to her life. Their stubbornness and determination to protect her astounded me, and when they finally agreed to tell me about those events, I became even more amazed. I am Changed myself, and you others, you remember the period of adjustment, of learning what you could do, harnassing your new strength and speed, and abilities. Hart had yet to master her new body before being thrust into a situation where she desperately needed those skills. The Lynx was stupid, and Hart was lucky, because from all accounts, she couldn't fight worth a damn. The Lynx had her pinned and would have gutted the Deer if instinct hadn't saved her. But it wasn't instinct that made her go out and challenge that Feline, it was common decency. I, for one, am relieved Gaia gave her antlers, or she and those humans would surely be dead. Hart's life, and her freedom, were never ours to take. We are Gaia's children, and only She decides when we lay down. Hart still walks, despite being Hunted by the best of us. The Solitaries who asked me to speak for them here in Council, as well as for myself, are no longer going to trace the Deer. We retire from the Hunt."

Shock rippled through the Council. The Lioness raised a hand for silence. The Cheetah approached the Hunt Leader and handed her a scroll. She accepted it gravely, and he bowed, golden face and narrow muzzle highlighted by the flame as he backed away.

"That is a list of those who wish to withdraw, and their personal marks."

'Fraid that's all so far! Let me know what you think, and any suggestions or questions you have, or if anything isn't quite clear. Thanks for taking the time to look and read! Anna Smith aka Kaz

� 1997 kazanthi@geocities.com