Shifting Back

Shifting Back - 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. Shifting Back edited by Rob Knight Cover copyright Pluto, used with permission. The Law of the Jungle copyright © 2007 by Sean Michael; With Wings to Fly copyright © 2007 by Kara Larson; Serpents copyright © 2007 by Naomi Brooks and Angelia Sparrow; A Matter of Choice copyright © 2007 by Cat Kane; Snake Oil copyright © 2006 by BA Tortuga. All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. ISBN: 978-1-60370-186-0, 1-60370-186-9 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press electronic edition / October 2007 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. http://www.torquerepress.com

Shifting Back - 2

Table of Contents Foreword by Rob Knight - 4 The Law of the Jungle by Sean Michael - 5 With Wings to Fly by Kara Larson - 48 Serpents by Naomi Brooks and Angelia Sparrow - 78 A Matter of Choice by Cat Kane - 99 Snake Oil by BA Tortuga - 142 About our Contributors - 173

Shifting Back - 3

foreword

by rob knight

Shapeshifters have captured the imagination of readers in all genres for years now, nowhere as strongly as in erotic romance. We love the boys who have an animal inside, with all of the danger and instinct and control that comes with having to tame the beast. This year, when I thought of how to explore the animal inside, it came to me that the historical genre, the shapeshifter gets the shaft. We have fantasy, science fiction, and contemporary stories galore, but what about looking into the past? What are the difficulties inherent in being a shifter in the Middle Ages, or the Victorian Age. How does a man who has a wolf or a cougar inside deal with riding horses, who by all rights should be terrified of him? These were the questions I asked myself, and by turn asked the authors to ask their characters. From the traditional werewolf and cat people to the more exotic bird or snake, Shifting Back explores the Old West and exotic India, taking us back in time to places we can only imagine and introduces us to people we'll all fall in love with, even as they find their own romance, against all odds and with a whole lot of animal magnetism. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did, and that you'll want to re-visit these historical shapeshifters again and again. Rob Knight, October 2007

Shifting Back - 4

The Law of the Jungle by Sean Michael Marco Lorencio del Arancia Perania stood at the wheel, his feet planted on the deck as it rolled, the wind in his hair, the sun beating down on him. They had stocked up in the Americas and were making their way in the general direction of Afrika. They would take any merchant ships they met on the way, and sink any of His Majesty’s Naval Ships. It was what he did; revenge upon the English sailor who’d impregnated his mother and left her no better than a whore in the seaside Spanish village he was from. El Spada Nero was a thorn in the side of the English Navy, a fact Marco was very proud of. He raised his face to the sun, feeling the warm rays upon him, the salt in the air increasing as they left the land behind them and entered the ocean proper. She welcomed them with high waves and a good, strong wind. “Set the topsail and catch that wind!” The very same wind tore the words from him, but Rupito heard and relayed the order, his crew jumping to obey. They were watching him, though, as they worked, when they’d done. His crew was looking at him strangely. Expectantly. Marco motioned to Rupito to come to him. "What's going on?" "Capitane?" Of a similar height and age as Marco himself, Rupito had eyes of a deeper brown, his skin even darker than Marco’s own sun-kissed flesh. And the man was trying to look innocent. Marco nodded toward the deck, two of the crew turning quickly away as his eyes came to light on them. They were trying to look innocent as well. It was not a look that a band of pirates were good at, and he narrowed his eyes. "Something's going on." Rupito snorted. "We're bored, Capitane. As are you. Let me take the wheel and you can go below and have your evening meal."

Shifting Back - 5

"I still say something's going on." Brown eyes stared back at him, giving nothing away.

He shook off the feeling that something was afoot and slapped Rupito on the back. He headed

across the deck, rolling with the ship. His cabin was just belowdecks. The largest cabin on the boat, it still wasn't very roomy. It was, however, his home. More so than anywhere on land. Marco frowned as he got to the door, some strange sound coming from behind it. What had hid crew done? Very carefully, he opened the door.

The snarl stopped him in his tracks.

He drew his knife from his belt, hand closing over the black opal hilt as he peeked in. Something

rattled, hissing and growling -- a blur of ebony that near dazzled him. What in the name of God... It

was as if a pair of emeralds were lit by the sun, shining at him.

Fascinating.

He took another step forward -- he should have brought a lantern down with him, there was barely

enough light coming into the cabin from the small porthole to see by. And yet, he could see

enough.

Whiskers.

Tail.

Black as pitch, and huge.

By the sea herself... t'was a damned cat.

A large black cat in a cage.

He'd known his crew was up to something. But he would never have guessed this. It might prove a

most interesting diversion. Or a very bad thing, if pirate superstition about cats proved true.

Marco stepped in completely and closed the door, keeping the knife in his hand. Just in case. The

animal lurched, snapping at the air and wailing, the cage rattling like a sack of bones. Keeping

several feet from the cage, he crouched, putting himself on a level with the big cat, looking into the

angry, emerald eyes.

"Si, Beauty, 'tis nearly a sin to cage you."

Long, white fangs shone at him, bared, slick.

Dangerous.

Shifting Back - 6

How wonderful!

Those eyes stared at him, mesmerizing, sparkling. He reached toward the cage, wondering if the

black fur felt as soft as it looked. The cage rattled furiously, the panther fighting to attack, claws

raking at the bars.

Marco decided he could wait to find out. He was drawn to that ferocity, though, to the way the

beast fought its cage. "Have you been fed, Beauty?"

He put his head out his door and bellowed for his supper to be brought. Wee little Davy came

a'runnin', dishes rattling. "Coming, Cap'n!"

"There'd better be meat enough to feed the mad beast you've all seen fit to trap in my cabin." He

gave Davy a stern look. "Was the black cat your idea then?"

"No, sir. No, sir, not at all, but wasn't none of us wantin' to skin him and that's what them others

was gon' do with him!"

"What others, boy?" Davy was an invaluable source of information.

"Them men with the long boat and the dresses. They was wanting to kill it and Matey said it was

too fine to ruin. Like a piece of the jungle for you."

"Very poetic of Matey." Still, the man wasn't wrong. It would have been a shame to kill a beast like

the one in his cabin. "Come in, then, let's see if we can figure out how to get some food in the cage

without losing any of our fingers."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n. You want I should get a big long sword to stick the roast on?"

"Good idea, lad." He took his bowls from Davy. "Go on with you."

"Yes, Cap'n. I'll bring a blade."

Mark smacked Davy on the rear to send him on his way and put the food on his little table. He took

a bottle of rum down from the small cabinet, and poured himself out a glass, watching the big cat

the entire time. The cat seemed to do the same, eyes fastened on him.

He sat, taking a mouthful of the rum. "What shall we call you, then?"

He received a long, low growl in response, as if the damnedable beast heard him.

"Esmerelda, maybe, hmmm?" To match those amazing emerald eyes.

The cat turned tail and started pacing, giving him a glance of heavy sacs. Ah, they'd taken a male.

Shifting Back - 7

Impressive. He took another swallow of his rum, eyes held by the beast, by the way the muscles moved beneath the shining black coat. A knock on the door let him know that little Davy was back and he bid the boy to enter.

"Cap'n, there’s no sword, but Cook give me some scraps." A bowl of odds and ends were in Davy's

hands, bones and bits of this and that.

"Ah, that'll work better than trying to feed him on the end of a great big sharp sword." He took the

bowl from Davy. "Stand behind me, lad," he warned before he began to toss the ends into the cage.

Wet, ebony nostrils flared, white fangs bared as the cat scented him, scented the food.

"Coo, lookit him, Cap'n. He's a monster."

"He is, isn't he? A beautiful, sleek, dangerous monster. 'Tis quite the gift."

"What will you do with him, sir? Won't you be afeared it will come for you in the night?"

"The cage is secure, Davy." He grinned. "Exciting, isn't it? To possess something so beautiful and

so dangerous."

"Aye. Aye." Davy offered him a smile, hero-worship in those eyes.

"Have you had your rations tonight, Davy?" He went over to a basket of fruit they'd picked at their

last stop, likely where the panther had been picked up.

"No, Cap'n. I wanted to see the beast. Make sure you had all you needed."

The beast slunk over, keeping as far away from him as possible.

"Then go eat. And here." He picked up a coconut and tossed it at the boy, grinning as Davy's

reflexes kicked in and he caught it mid-air. "Don't waste the milk."

"Aye. Aye, thank you." He got a grin, Davy's front tooth gone missing after a meeting with the

bosun's fist.

He settled back in his chair and dipped his bread into the gravy to soften it, eyes returning to the cat

that paced within its cage. "You need water, too, hmm? I like my hands as they are, though..." That low, rough rowl filled the cabin, the cat agreeing with him. He chuckled and went over to the cage again, crouching in front of the beast. "How thirsty will you have to be before you allow me to put a bowl with water into your cage, hmm?" Marco swore he could feel the rage, the pure dangerous fury filling the air. Yes, that was what he'd thought. This beast might well die before such a thing would be allowed.

Shifting Back - 8

He felt a kindred spirit in this beast: a wild, untamed beast that did not do well in cages, who

wanted only to be free.

Panting, staring, he could smell the musk, the heat of the cat. It was mesmerizing. He nearly had his

hand at the cage bars, reaching to touch, before he realized what he was doing and snatched it back.

The damned beast was laughing at him.

"Laugh all you want, Gato. You're the one in the cage."

That sent the beast into a fury, body slamming against the bars again and again, making his heart

pound. Such power and passion. He had not seen its equal in so long. Not since he had defeated Captain Antonio of the Bella Princessa had he found anyone so passionate. Mmm... Antonio had been fun. Until he’d been tamed The rattan bars began to bow as the cat continued to fly at them, blood staining the cage. Marco frowned. "Stop! You'll damage yourself." The last thing he wanted to see was this

magnificent beast bloody and broken.

Howling, the cat's voice lifted, joined with his.

"Si, Beauty. If I were in a cage I'd be howling, too." Sighing he rolled back off his haunches and sat

on the floor where he was. "I'd be howling, too."

The cat slumped to the bottom of the cage, panting, staring into him. It surprised him -- he'd half

thought the cat would continue to beat itself against the cage until it passed out.

"What am I going to do with you?"

The huge black tail twitched like a whip, flicking the lock.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Si. I'm sure you'd like that. I bet I'd make a good meal for

those fine teeth of yours, too." He wondered what it would be like to tame this beast, to touch the silky fur. Said teeth were bared, just as if the cat understood his words.

"We'll figure you out, Gato." He got up and stretched, pulling off his blouse and settling back at the

little table, tugging the log book to him. He started his careful scrawl across the pages.

He heard the scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrape-scratch after only a few pages, and he looked over, the cat

carefully working one edge of the cage.

"Now, now, Beauty. I can't let you do that -- I like my throat in one piece."

Shifting Back - 9

Scrape-scratch. Scrape-scratch. Then that tail twitched. "I swear you can understand my words." "Merowl." "Can you?" He went back to the cage, crouching in front of it again, not able to hide his fascination with the beast. Those green eyes went wide, staring at him, unblinking. "Do you want some water, Beauty?" The very tip of that pink tongue slipped out. By all that was holy, the beast did understand him. He fetched his mug of water from the table. It would just fit between the bars. "I'll give it to you, but you must not take my fingers." The damnedable beast nodded. Nodded. His heart was thumping fiercely as he pushed the mug in through the bars, placing it on the floor within the cage. The cat pounced immediately, lapping and drinking, nose stuck in the cup. Marco chuckled at the sight, the long whiskers pressed between muzzle and glass. That long tail flicked and swept, moving constantly, sliding on the bottom of the cage. Again the urge came over him to touch, to slide that long tail through his hands and find out if the black fur was as soft as it looked. "Would you maul me if I let you go, Beauty?" Those eyes flashed up to him, bright and glowing, the teeth as long as his little finger. Had he gone mad? He shook his head and backed away from the cage. Mesmerized. Those eyes were mesmerizing him. Magic. Perhaps he should toss the thing overboard. Perhaps little Davy was right. Perhaps it was a monster. Cats were bad luck to a sailor, after all. He took his blanket from the bunk and draped it over the cage, feeling better for not having those eyes watching his every move. The beast went still and silent and he almost forgot the cat was there. Marco set about finishing the day's log and set his mostly uneaten food outside his door for Davy to take away. Pouring himself another run, he settled on his bunk. He almost missed the twitch of the blanket around the cage. Not like a parrot, then, for a bird would be asleep with the blanket over him. He drank the rest of his rum, the roll of the boat lulling him near to sleep.

Shifting Back - 10

The door to his cabin groaned and creaked, the night suddenly dark as pitch. He was up and out of bed in a flash, the knife beneath his pillow in his hand as he blinked, trying to see. Nothing. Nothing but black. He knew there was a candle on the table and headed for it, tripping over the edge of the cage, which skittered across the floor in a way very much not like a huge animal was in it. "Dios Madre." Knife held tight in front of him, ready to strike, he made his way toward the table with its candle. Why couldn't he see? Something brushed against his leg, something warm and smooth, almost silken. He nearly jumped out of his skin, barely managing to contain his shout. It was the beast. It had to be. But why hadn't it attacked him? The door creaked again, the beast obviously unfamiliar with the latch. He almost laughed at himself. Bollocks - he'd been bewitched. Thinking that a beast could work a latch. He hurried to the table and grabbed the flint, lighting the small candle so he could see. For a moment - a heartbeat, a single breath, the life of that first spark - he thought he saw a small, lean man, fingers raised to the latch. He lifted the candle, seeing nothing, only a tail disappearing beneath his bed. He shook his head. He'd had too much to drink. He went over to the cage and pulled away the blanket. The cage was empty, the door open. And there was a great big beast of a cat beneath his bed. Why hadn't the beast attacked him? Marco imagined he could hear the huge tail, sliding and swiping along the floor. Bending, he tried to see beneath the bunk. One paw flashed out, claws retracted, batting him painlessly. It was enough to make him back away, though. He stayed low, still trying to see, but giving the beast more room. "Why haven't you taken my throat yet, Beauty?" A low, gentle rowl answered him, soft as velvet. Oh, now. That wasn't a violent noise, not at all. Could he be asleep? Dreaming in his bunk that the beautiful black beast wasn't just waiting to kill him? "Will you come out?" That tail flashed out again, heavy and thick against his thigh. He had a feeling that meant 'no'. "Well I can't just leave you in here like this." Nor could he hope to get to sleep, knowing the dangerous, beautiful beast was loose in here with him. That tail thudded hard against the floor, the tip vibrating.

Shifting Back - 11

"You do realize there's nowhere else for you to go, do you not?" They were well into the ocean now, there would be no land anywhere to be seen. He was gifted with another long, sad meow, that big body shifting.

"Will you not come out, Beauty? Let me get a good look at you." He was excited by the air of

danger that filled the room.

One paw flicked at the blankets, green eyes staring at him a moment. So very green -- those eyes

really were like gems. "There's more water and food in it if you do."

There was a soft growl, then the big cat moved - so fast he nearly thought his mind played tricks.

From the floor to the top of the cage to his decadent bedstead and then to top of the chifforobe, the

wardrobe creaking under the weight.

Marco gasped, standing quickly and holding the candle up. Those green eyes reflected the light back at him, the cat so black, it was hard to see where it began and the wall and furniture ended. The cat settled, as if perfectly at home, perched and staring down at him. Damnation. He would need to have something to entice the beast down to him. He strode to the door and

opened it, bellowing for Davy to bring him more table scraps.

The little lad popped up from his pallet of blankets, blinking, hair askew. "Aye. Aye, Cap'n."

"Good lad."

He closed the door again and stared up into the beast's eyes. "Let's see how stubborn you are to

remain perched up there when there is food to be had."

The damnedable beast began cleaning its face, lapping at its paws. It was teasing him. He didn't

care what anyone said; this beast understood his language and was taunting him. Those long claws

popped out and the cat cleaned them, one after another, tail swinging back and forth.

"You will come down!" He would not be mocked.

Marco went back to the door and bellowed again. "Where in Isabella's damned name are you,

Davy?"

"Cook was sleepin..." The boy's eyes went wide, fastened onto the cat. "Cap'n..."

"Shh. Give me the meat and be gone. I'll not risk you, lad."

"It... should I get Matey with the net?" The bowl was handed over, the boy shaking violently.

Shifting Back - 12

"No, lad. Just go back to your bed and don't worry about the beast. I'll take care of it." He escorted the lad out and closed the door. Then he turned back to the cat. "Look what I've got here, Beauty. More food. I bet you're hungry." "Rowwwwwwwl." Oh, that was an angry sound. He had his knife out again and put the bowl on the floor, stepping away from it. "All you need to do

is come down."

The cat started rumbling, started pacing, claws clacking on the top of the wardrobe.

"Come on, Beauty, you know you want it." He licked his lips and held out the knife, and then laid it

down on his bunk. "See? It is safe." The cat stopped, blinked at him. Then over at the knife. Yes. Yes, look, Beauty. He held his hands out. "Empty. No knife. I'll not be harming you and you'll return the favor." The cat leapt, the form fine and strong and...

Human.

Human.

Lean fingers wrapped around the knife, the man's green eyes flashing at him.

It took a moment for him to react, he was so stunned by the magic in front of him. He grabbed for

the... man's wrist, grabbing it and twisting. The cat - man - snarled, pulling away and slashing with

the knife. He jumped back out of the way, nearly tripping over the cage.

The man backed toward the door, breath coming quick and light, nostrils flaring. Guttural sounds

left the man, the green eyes huge as they stared him down.

"Stop. Stop now. I've said I'll not hurt you." He spread his arms out again, showing his palms.

Those eyes were filled with a terror - he was no monk, he knew the look. Long black hair tumbled

around the thin shoulders; bruises and scars were evident on the bare skin.

"I don't know what manner of magic has been done to you, but I'll not hurt you and I may be a

scoundrel, but I'm a man of my word." He took a careful step forward.

A soft, frightened sound left the man, the knife shaking violently.

"Shh. Shh, now." He took another step forward, talking softly.

More little sounds poured from the man, husky and soft, mesmerizing.

Shifting Back - 13

"I don't understand you." He kept his arms wide, moved closer.

Emerald eyes. Pure jewel. Marco could see himself in them. He kept slowly moving, advancing on

the man, holding those eyes. He moved so carefully, sliding the knife away from the trembling

hand, not jarring the cat-man at all.

He tossed the knife back toward the bed. "There now, Beauty. That's better."

The smell the fear, sour, scared scent that filled the air. "I'm not going to hurt you." He touched one

trembling shoulder.

Those white teeth were bared, a keening sound in the air.

"Shh now, shh." He stroked the bare shoulder.

Those eyes shot down, to the bowl of food.

He nodded. "You can eat."

Marco stepped back again, picking up the bowl, offering it over.

The man seemed to dissolve, the cat appearing as quickly as it had disappeared. The bowl was

attacked, food devoured.

He frowned. This was no beast trapped out of the jungle. Well... being also a man, that was a given,

but the man, or beast had felt the lash more than once, he was sure of it.

It ate as if starved, then leapt to the top of the wardrobe again, settling with a grunt.

"I know your secret now, Beauty." Not that he entirely believed it. Perhaps he'd had too much rum

before he'd fallen asleep...

"Rowwl."

"If you came down here and were the man again, we could talk." He'd not been so fascinated with

anything in too long.

The cat gave him another long look, a twitch of the whiskers. Then the green eyes closed.

He settled himself comfortably, but didn't blow out the candle. He didn't think he'd get much sleep

this night. *** He watched.

Shifting Back - 14

The man would leave and he would see the opening work. The Cap In. Abrigo licked his lips, and blinked, the motions of the boat trying to soothe him into sleep. He fought the urge, dozing and waking, over and over, until he finally succumbed, dozing. A noise woke him. A deep rubbing sound. The man was snoring. Abrigo leapt down, leaned in and growled back, softly. Fascinating, kind man. The man snorted, shifted. Stopped snoring. Abrigo purred a bit, and settled down to watch. He could smell the hint of fear. A few moments later the rumbling noise started again. How incredibly entertaining. He purred back, stretching out alongside the man. Warm. This one was warm. The man turned toward him, the noise getting louder. He nuzzled, licked the man's cheek. Salty. That stopped the noises, but made the man smile. He stilled, watching a little more. He waited for the purring to start again, waiting for the soft, sleep sounds. He needed out. Out. The man sighed, his eyes blinking slowly open. Abrigo tilted his head, looking back. The one that

looked away first, that was the beta male. The man had brown eyes.

"Am I dreaming?" He knew those words. He knew.

"Rowl."

"No, I don't think I am, Beauty. You're far too real." The man did not look away, so sure, so strong.

"Just look at you. I've never seen eyes the color of yours. Green, si, but not like yours."

Green, like the jungle. Green. He knew green.

"Why haven't you torn my throat out yet?" One hand reached out toward him.

He sniffed at the fingers, fascinated. No man had touched him without pain. This one had.

The fingers slid over his muzzle, and up between his ear. "Dios, so soft."

He purred, sniffing. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Diego, the alpha, growling at

him for looking, needing. Always curious.

"What are you, Beauty? Not a cat, not a man. Somehow both. I don't understand." Men never

understood. This meant nothing to him. Those fingers continued to move over his fur. "Will you

change again?"

He stretched, claws digging into the soft nest the man made. This form was stronger.

"No? Pity." The man's fingers massaged his ruff.

Oh.

Shifting Back - 15

Oh.

He purred, claws rolling.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" The fingers dug in deeper.

Yes. Good. His eyes crossed, paws kneading the air. The man made another sound. Laughter. It

blew against his face. But the fingers kept moving, scratching, digging in just right. The fingers

touched a sore spot and he hissed, jumping away, hackles raised. Hurt.

The man frowned. "Que pasa, guapo? What's wrong, Beauty?"

He shifted, protecting the hurt part. Sticks. They had poked him with sticks.

"You don't want me to pet there? That's fine." The man's hand returned, patting the top of his head

again. "You're so soft; your fur draws my touch."

The soft caresses eased him, helped him relax. Petting. He liked the petting.

"So what do I have to do to talk to your other self, hmm?"

Abrigo considered this. As a man, he could maybe get out. As the cat, he was safe... He concentrated on his man-self, the cat dissolving. The man gasped, backing away slightly. "Dios! I had wondered if I had imagined that part." Reaching out for him, the man touched his shoulder. He blinked, looked at the hand on his body. Dark. The man was dark. "Look at the scars on you. Did my men do this?" "Men do. Cage men." The men who raided the jungle came with sharp sticks. "They couldn’t have known you were a man as well." "No." That was his secret. "I think maybe we'll keep that our secret, Beauty. For now it would be best if my pirates did not know that you are more than just a cat." That hand was still on his shoulder, the fingers stroking his skin like it was fur. He nodded, looking toward the door. "Out."

The man shook his head. "Not as a man. As a cat, maybe. If you promise to stay by my side, to

obey me."

Shifting Back - 16

Obey? He snorted, tossed his head. His type did not obey.

"We'll have to find you some clothes. Mine won't fit -- far too big." The man's eyes swept down

over his body, an almost purring sound coming out of the man's throat.

Abrigo tilted his head, a bit confused by the words, fascinated by the purring.

"You are as lovely a man as you are a cat." The man peered into his eyes suddenly. "Your name.

What is your name?"

"Abrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrigo."

"Abrigo?" His heart-name sounded fascinating in the man speak. Always.

"Abrigo."

"Abrigo. And I am Marco."

"Marrrrrrrrrrco." He liked that. He truly did. "Marrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrco."

The man -- Marco -- chuckled. "I like the way that sounds on your tongue, Abrigo."

He nodded, purring back at the man before standing, stretching out.

Marco stared at him. "I should get you something to wear..."

He shrugged, sliding his hands over his body. He did not wear man's clothes.

Marco swallowed loudly. "A pair of breeches at least." Marco's voice was low, rough.

"I will change." He stretched and purred, thinking of his tail, his whiskers.

"Perhaps that would be for the best. Oh! I wonder if that will ever not be amazing..." Marco licked

his lips.

He purred and rubbed against Marco's legs before leaping up to the top of the wardrobe and

settling.

"Abrigo. What am I going to do with you?"

He twitched his tail. Feed him. Let him out.

"I know what I want to do with you." The words were so quietly spoken, he almost did not hear

them.

Shifting Back - 17

"Rowl." Feed him.

"I can't understand you in this form, Beauty."

Well, what nonsense. He made perfect sense.

Marco looked out a small hole in the wall. "It'll be morning soon. Would you like to see my ship

once we have daylight? You'll have to promise to stay at my side, but if you do, won't that be a

wonder for my men to see?"

His tail twitched. He could see...

And promises were flexible as his own spine...

"Rowl."

"Is that a yes, Abrigo? I surely hope so, I'd hate to see anyone hurt -- especially you." The man

opened the door. "Davy? Run and see if cook has food on yet. And get some more scraps for the

cat."

"He didn't hurt you, Cap'n? I see..." The boy talked faster and faster and he could not listen, it made

his brain spin.

Marco finally sent the boy off and closed the door again. "You're going to have their tongues

wagging, Abrigo, although I imagine they already were. I'm still not sure what possessed them to

bring you for me."

He answered easily, telling the Marco-man about the slavers and the trappers and the kind-eyed

man that brought him and the trip to the boat.

Marco shook his head. "I don't understand your cat-language, Abrigo. You should change back to

man."

He rowled softly, tail curling around him. He was safe here, like this. Safe. Comfortable.

"Well, I suppose you can tell me later. Come down, Abrigo, sit with me. I would like to touch you

again."

He purred, considering, only hopping down when the Marco-man sat. The Marco-man smiled,

reaching for him. Curling up beside the man, he settled, allowed himself to be petted.

"So soft. It's like your fur draws my hand." His muscles jumped and rolled, shifting under that firm

touch. The Marco-man's fingers hit the wound on his shoulder, making him hiss. "Sorry, Abrigo.

The wound is in the same place on the man-you, isn't it?"

Shifting Back - 18

Of course it was. The bruise was deep, the bones sore.

"Will it heal on its own? We don't have a proper butcher aboard -- haven't since our last skirmish

with the damned King's Fleet." Marco continued to stroke and pat him, steering clear of the place

that hurt.

He rowled softly. Of course, he would heal. He was strong.

The Marco-man's hand stilled. "That sound, that particular sound is an affirmative, isn't it?"

He rowled again. Of course it was. Silly man.

Oh, but the Marco-man had a nice laugh. "I'm learning to speak cat!"

He chuffed, stretching a little. Like it was difficult.

The petting was done in long strokes now, Marco's hand sliding from his neck all the way back to

the base of his tail. "You really are a beautiful creature."

Purring happily, Abrigo preened. Beautiful. Yes. Another happy laugh sounded, the petting continuing. It was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Cap'n? I've your breakfast. And some table scraps for the cat, though cook says if we're going to need to feed him constantly, we're gonna need more supplies sooner 'n later." "Come in, lad."

Abrigo turned and leapt, settling back atop the wardrobe, staring down fiercely at the little man.

The one called Davy squeaked and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Do not worry, Davy, he won't hurt you."

He yawned lazily, making sure his teeth showed.

"I don't know, Cap'n. Those are mighty big teeth!"

Marco laughed and clapped the little man on the shoulder. "You've scraps for him and I'm sure he'd

rather eat those than you. Now leave my gruel on the table and the cat's scraps on the floor and go

find your own breakfast, lad."

"Aye, Cap'n. Aye. You... You watch yer back, eh?" Little Davy's hands were shaking.

"Don't you worry about me, lad. We have an understanding, my cat and me."

Shifting Back - 19

"An understanding? Aye, Cap'n..." The Marco-man patted the little man on the back again and sent

him out, the door closing again.

Settling in the chair at the table, Marco pointed to the bowl on the floor. "Those are for you,

Beauty."

He leapt down, growling happily. Meat.

Meat.

Meat.

The Marco-man began to eat from his bowl. It was something lumpy and grey and did not smell at

all like meat. It could not be very good because the Marco-man talked to him while eating. "Do you

ever eat in your human form?"

His tail twitched. Why would he do that? Men's teeth were dull and they had no claws.

"We should have a dinner one night. You and me and the best the cook can come up with. As long

as he still has the spices. There's no point if it's dull and boring like his morning porridge always

is."

Porridge. He leaned, sniffed, nose wrinkling.

The Marco-man chuckled. "Si, Beauty. It isn't very exciting." Still, Marco dipped a finger into the

bowl and held it out to him.

He lapped the grey mass, shaking his head. Oh. Oh, terrible. No. No. He took a strip of meat from

his bowl and added it to Marco's mess. There. Meat. Better.

"Ah, thank you, Abrigo, but I like my meat after it's had a little fire under it. You keep it." The meat

was offered back to him.

He snapped it up, purring happily. Good meat.

"We're going to have to find a port soon to keep you in fresh meat, Beauty. That should make the

crew happy as well." The Marco-man finished his bad food, and stood. "Are you ready to go see

my ship, Abrigo?"

He rowled. He could see. He could go.

"Remember you must stay at my side and cannot hurt anyone, Abrigo. It is for your own safety."

He would consider it.

Shifting Back - 20

Seriously.

Marco tapped his thigh. "Come here, Abrigo, and stay close."

He hopped down off the bed, refusing to be commanded. They had not decided who was the alpha.

"Do you want to go see the ship or not?"

"Rowl." Of course he did. He just wasn't sure about obeying.

"Well come on, then. I'm ready to get out of the cabin myself. Get some fresh sea air..."

The door opened and he followed the man, up to the stairs where the sun shone brightly, making

him snarl and growl, grabbing the back of Marco's coat. No.

No.

You do not go out in the sun.

That was a Law.

"What's wrong, Abrigo? You change your mind about seeing my ship?" The Marco-man stopped,

was frowning.

He growled, tugged harder. It was a Law.

"I don't understand you. I thought you were coming to see my ship?"

He would.

He would. In the night.

Marco shook his head and turned, heading back to the cabin. "I can't have you snarling and

growling and misbehaving like this abovedecks. My men would lose all respect for me."

Abrigo bounded back, pleased. Yes. Do not go out into the light.

"You want to change back into a man and tell me what all that was about? Or at least tell me what

you want to do, because obviously I had it wrong."

The door shut and he leapt onto the bed, settling in before considering himself as a man.

Legs.

Long legs.

Shifting Back - 21

There.

"Dios! I will never get tired of that." Marco came to sit on the edge of the bed, hand sliding on his

leg, eyes looking him up and down.

"The sun is up." Perhaps the Marco-man was broken, did not understand.

The Marco-man continued to look confused. "Yes, I know the sun is up. What has that got to do

with anything?"

"You do not go out in sun. It is Law." Silly man.

"Ah! That makes sense for the jungle, but it doesn't work that way on board ship." The Marco-

man's hand still lay on his leg, heavy and warm.

"It is Law." He purred softly, a nap calling to him.

"Jungle law -- but we're on a boat now, Beauty."

He shrugged, confused. What did that matter?

The hand on his leg began to pet, warm and stroking over his skin. "There's nothing wrong with

daylight on my ship, Abrigo. As long as you're at my side, you're safe."

"No sun." So good. He rubbed and purred happily, enjoying the touch.

"All right, all right, I get it. No sun. But I still have to go up during the day. You'll have to stay

here." The touch crept up along his thigh, the Marco-man's voice changing, growing husky.

"Mmm." He turned, rolling this way and that under that touch.

"Abrigo..." The Marco-man bent over him, bringing their lips together, pressing warm and wet

against his mouth.

He gasped, blinking, licking inside Marco's mouth, tasting. Curious.

Marco groaned. "Oh, you're a temptation, Abrigo."

"Is... is that good?"

"It is if you want me to be tempted..." Marco's hand slid toward his middle.

He tilted his head, trying to understand. That hand slid around his cock, stroking it as Marco's dark

eyes looked into his own, almost searching. He growled, hips rolling, and his legs drew up. Oh. Oh,

touching.

Shifting Back - 22

"Hot," murmured Marco. "You're hot and you taste good." Marco's lips pressed on his again, tongue sliding into his mouth. He didn't know that men wanted this, too. Like this. He hummed and pressed closer, the pleasure fierce. The Marco-man's clothes interfered, but he could still feel the heat of the man's need against his thigh. Growling a little, Abrigo tugged and tore, wanting skin. "Yes, Beauty. Yes." Marco helped, fingers leaving his skin to pull the clothes away from the Marco-man's body. Oh. Better. He nuzzled, licking and lapping at the salty skin, tongue sliding over Marco's body. "Dios, Abrigo, so eager." Marco's hands slid over his skin, tickling when they passed by his armpits, making him moan when they approached his nipples. Eager. Eager was good. Eager was just hungry. Marco's lips pressed against his, tongue slipping into his mouth, sliding against his own. Tasting. He liked tasting. Abrigo rubbed hard, his cock full and needy, liking the feel of Marco's skin. Marco's weight landed on him, pressing him down into the bunk. A surprised sound pushed out of him, and he stilled, trying to decide whether to submit or fight. "I'm not going to hurt you," murmured the Marco-man, hips moving, sliding the heat of their pricks together. The sensation made his eyes wide and his body arched, submitting to the alpha instinctively. "Yes, Abrigo, like that." Marco kept moving, pushing him into the mattress and making their pricks bump and slide together. "Yessss..." He growled, panting and begging for more. Marco's finger slid down and touched his cock, his balls. So warm and good. Abrigo panted, hips rolling, soft little sounds tearing from him. That hand slid behind his balls, stroking the skin behind them. He rowled, arching up, hips bucking away. More. More. "So hot. So very hot." Marco's fingers stroked from his balls to his ass over and over. He turned over beneath Marco, hips canting, body begging for something he didn't understand. "Abrigo. Oh. Oh, yes, Beauty." Marco's tongue slid along his spine, moving down and down, as a finger stroked over his hole. Sounds poured out of him, low and raw and rough, begging for more touches, more licks. The hot man hands grabbed his buttocks and spread them, Marco's face burying between them. The licks

Shifting Back - 23

continued then, warm and wet against his crack, his hole. He didn't know what to think, where to

look, how to breathe. Abrigo shuddered, shook with it, entire body alight.

The man's tongue slid back and forth over his hole, over and over. Then it stabbed into him. Yes!

His nails tore into the sheets, back arching like he'd been beaten. It happened again, and then again,

Marco all but eating him, hands holding his hips and beginning to pull them back on that tongue.

All of his thoughts disappeared, only his need and passion remaining.

Hands sliding on his skin, that tongue pierced him. And then suddenly it was gone. He whimpered,

moaned, scrabbling on the sheets.

"Shh. Shh. I won't leave you wanting." Something thick and hard and very hot pressed against his

hole.

He rowled, unsettled, unsure, but so very, very HOT. Marco's fingers stroked his spine, that hard

heat pushing, insisting, spreading him. Head tossing, he panted and groaned, desperate to solve this

tension within him. He was spread wider, Marco pushing deeper until he could feel the man's hips

against his asscheeks.

"Need to move, Abrigo."

"I." His chest ached, his breath caught. "I need. Please."

"Need. Yes." Marco began to move, prick sliding in and out of him.

Burned. It burned. Stretched. Ached. He shook and panted, not knowing what to do.

One of Marco's hands slid past his hips, wrapped around his prick and began to tug.

Yes.

Yes.

His body convulsed, his motions faster, harder, better.

"Si! Si, Abrigo!" Marco's movements speeded as well, slamming into him, filling him.

The burn became something bigger, something better. Something huge. And then Marco touched

something inside him, hit it, and hit it again. Seed poured from him in a rush that surprised him, made his body squeeze and tighten. Marco cried out, hips jerking the flesh inside him, and then heat sprayed, filling him so deep inside. Abrigo slumped into the sheets, shuddering hard, eyes rolling in his skull. Marco followed him down, heavy, solid on his back. He went boneless, quiet, submitting to the alpha as he was meant

Shifting Back - 24

to. His reward was sweet kisses to the back of his neck, his shoulders, and a lovely stroking along

his side and hip.

Purring, he fought to keep his form, at least until sleep took him, dragged him down into dreams.

Good man. Very good man.

*** A knock on his door woke Marco up, the cat sleeping next to him, warm and purring softly. A man could get used to a fur blanket like this one. He had to clear his throat twice before the words came out, another knock sounding in the

meantime.

"Who is it?"

"Davy, Cap'n. The crew're wondering if you're going to stay abed all day?"

"No, no. Of course not."

He sat up, blinking and shaking his head, trying to figure out how long he'd slept.

The cat lifted its head, moving only enough to leap atop the wardrobe and curl up, muzzle hidden

beneath the huge paws.

Beautiful beast.

Sexy man.

"Come on in, Davy."

He searched for his breeches, finding them hanging over the edge of the cage where they'd been

thrown. "What time is it, then?"

"Nearly dusk, Cap'n. Things are good, we're heading due south, as you asked." Little Davy's eyes

crept up to Abrigo's perch, again and again.

Dusk. Excellent. Then Abrigo would come out with him. "What do you think the men will think of

my beast?"

"That he's huge, Cap'n. So big."

"He is. A big beautiful male." He laughed happily, and patted Davy on the back. "Abrigo will not

eat you. Unless I tell him to -- spread the word."

Shifting Back - 25

"A...abrigo? Is that what you named it?" "Him. That's his name." He smiled up at the beast on top of his armoire. "Come on down, Beauty. I want to show you my empire." That long tail flicked and Abrigo stretched, long and slow, before bouncing down. "See, Davy? Isn't he beautiful?" He stroked Abrigo's head. Abrigo rowled softly, nuzzling his fingers. "Mmm..." He continued to pet the beast, Davy looking at him with wide eyes. The cat stretched for him, claws going in and out and in. Oh, his men were going to think him a magician. Chuckling, he opened the door. "Come on, then. Now we will see my ship, Abrigo." This time, Abrigo came easily, curious and clever, emerald eyes looking at everything. They wandered abovedecks as he showed off his Beauty to the crew, and showed his crew and ship to the cat. The crew was, to a man, terrified, pulling back and staring at Abrigo like the cat was some sort of demon. Their fear of Abrigo was not unwelcome; it would keep the cat safe. He climbed to the bow, standing with the wind in his face, the spray from the ocean raining on him. "Do you like my ship, Abrigo?" The cat stared, tail twitching as Abrigo looked at the endless ocean. "Rowl." "Yes," he agreed. "Just us and the ocean. There is no master here but the ones we choose for ourselves." Those emerald eyes stared up at him, the look seeming to be slightly panicked. Of course, it made sense. This dear creature knew jungle and forests, heavy cover and trees. "Fear not, Abrigo. I will not let harm come to you. And soon this place will feel like home." The big black head tilted, a questioning trill leaving the cat. "We're traveling away from your jungles, my Beauty. To the other side of the world." He scratched behind the big cat's ears. The dark ears went flat, the cat backing away. "There is nowhere to go, Abrigo." He reached for his cat. Claws clacked on the deck, a steady, high-pitched whine on the air. "Abrigo!" Surely the cat knew when he'd been taken, caged and brought on the boat that he was leaving his home. Abrigo headed for the rail, breath panting from him, wild sounds on the air. He hurried after, worried Abrigo would throw himself into the water. "There's nothing but water, Beauty. There is nowhere to go." He could feel the heavy pounding of Abrigo's heart, feel the fear. He'd known men who'd done the same, panicked when they realized they could no longer see land.

Shifting Back - 26

He knelt next to the cat, looped an arm around its neck. "You'll get used to it, Beauty." The heavy

head hit under his arm, tail twitching violently.

"I'm sorry, Abrigo, but that's how it is." He rubbed his hand over Abrigo's head. Abrigo yowled at

him, arguing, complaining. "I have no desire to see you unhappy, but you can plainly see there is

no land, and when we do come upon it, it will not be your home. Those are simple facts, Abrigo."

The muscled body pulled away, moving down the deck, at first slowly, then faster. He followed,

trying to look unconcerned. The last thing he wanted was one of his motley crew deciding Abrigo

was a danger and trying to take the big cat out. "Abrigo."

"Rrrrrowl." The cat turned, tongue out as he panted.

He knelt by the cat again, rubbing Abrigo's head, scratching his ears. "It must be a shock." The big

head bobbed, just barely, Abrigo agreeing. "I'm sorry, Beauty. Maybe we should go back to the

cabin, you can change and we can discuss it."

"Cap'n?" Davy was at his elbow, eyes wide. "Is it hurt?"

"His heart is, lad. He's used to the wild green lands we've left. And now there's no land as far as the

eye can see."

"Aye." Davy nodded. The lad knew about this; he'd come from soot-stained streets, where urchins

begged for scrap and coin.

"You have any of that penny candy left, boy?" Maybe a bit of sweet would cheer Abrigo.

"I do." Davy opened the little paper, offering it easily. Generous lad.

"Well done." He took one of the hard candies and held it out to Abrigo. "Try it, Beauty. You might

find you like it."

That pink tongue flicked out, lapping the sweet from his palm. Then the green eyes crossed in

pleasure.

He laughed, and clapped Davy on the back. "Look at that, lad."

"Does that means he likes it, Cap'n?"

"I would wager it does." Abrigo would see that life on a ship was good, like the sweet.

"Good. Good, Cap'n."

Abrigo rumbled and growled, purring softly. He rubbed the big cat's head; would the softness of

that black fur ever stop being a marvel?

Shifting Back - 27

"Would you like to pet him?" he asked the lad.

"Will he bite?"

"Let's ask him, shall we?" He turned to Abrigo. "Davy would like to pet you. Will you bite him if

he does?"

Abrigo yawned, teeth showing, long pink tongue lolling out.

"I'm pretty sure that's a no, Davy. Go on, pat him on top of his head -- he's really very soft."

Davy pressed close, hand reaching out and stroking over Abrigo's pelt. "Oh. Oh, he's warm."

"Por supuesto. And soft. And a beauty." And all his.

Abrigo stretched out long, nails scratching on the deck.

"Careful of his shoulder," Marco warned, his own hands sliding down along Abrigo's spine. The

soft fur drew his hands, made him want to touch more. He remembered the silk of Abrigo's skin when he was a man. That made him want to touch, too. "Aye, Cap'n. I'll be easy." The crew was staring, a few of them making the sign of the evil eye.

He stared each man down in turn. And then he turned his back on them and looked out at the ocean

again. Abrigo flopped down on the desk, tail wrapping around his ankle.

That was right. Abrigo wasn't going anywhere and the crew had best get used to it.

*** He paced. Back. Forth. Back. His man was out there. Out in the big water. In the sunlight. With the wide sky.

Shifting Back - 28

"Yowl!" He swatted the sheets, tearing them into shreds. The door opened some minutes later, Marco coming in. "Abrigo? Davy said you were making strange noi...ses. What have you done to my bed?" He snarled and yowled, head tossing. The Law said you did not go out in the Sun! "I don't understand cat!" He head-butted Marco, growling. That was not his problem! "You're mad at me, yes. That I understand. But why?" He stared, stunned. How could the man not know? Marco crouched in front of him, hands sliding over his muzzle, his head, scratching at his ears.

"You should become a man, Abrigo. I understand your speech then."

He nuzzled in, licking at Marco's fingers.

He could.

He... Abrigo closed his eyes, focused.

"Dios, you are simply amazing."

He blinked, licked his lips. "Marrrco."

The man smiled at him, face coming close as Marco pressed their lips together. He forgot about his

frustration, his fury, his anger, tongue sliding out to taste his man. The Marco-man moaned, tongue

tangling with his. He could hear the soft moan, feel it vibrating against his lips. He pressed close,

arms wrapping around the broad shoulders. This was right. Good. Safe. "Your skin is as soft as your fur," murmured Marco, hands sliding warmly over him. He purred and arched, twisting in Marco's touch. "So sensual." Marco pushed him over onto his back, the floor cold and hard, but the man on top of him was hot, skin supple, soft.

He groaned, lapping at Marco's lips, arching under that heat. Marco's groans were not as good as

his own purrs, but they told him nonetheless that his man was enjoying their touches, the kissing.

Shifting Back - 29

The torn sheets hung down and tickled his back, made him chuff and roll. His reaction had Marco

laughing against his skin, the man's mouth very hot against his skin.

Abrigo rumbled and played, fingers sliding down to tickle and pinch, to play. Marco jerked and slid

against him, fingers returning the touches, mouth sliding down his body. That mouth excited him,

fascinated him, made him moan and jerk and push into Marco's fingers.

"You ever had someone kiss your cock, Beauty?" Marco looked up at him, brown eyes shining

before sucking on one of his nipples.

"Kiss? No bite." No biting him there.

"Kiss, Abrigo. I've no desire to hurt you." His nipple was circle, then the other licked, sucked.

"Mmm. Kiss. Kiss is good." He liked kissing.

"Yes. This is even better than regular kisses." Marco's mouth went around his navel, tongue

flicking through it.

"I like kisses." Regular kisses. Other kisses.

Marco nodded, chin bumping against his hardness. The bristly whiskers brushed him, made him

jerk and gasp.

"Going to taste you now, Abrigo, kiss your cock." Marco bent, taking the tip of his cock into the

hot, hot mouth.

Oh.

He went stiff, breath stilled in his chest.

Hot.

Marco's tongue flicked back and forth across the tip, fingers sliding to rub his belly. Abrigo yowled

and twisted, feet thrumming on the floorboards. A chuckle vibrated against his most sensitive skin,

and Marco took a bit more into his mouth.

He needed.

He needed.

He needed.

Staring down at Marco, he howled out his pleasure.

Shifting Back - 30

"I like that sound, Beauty. Let me see if I can make you make it again." And then Marco took him inside that mouth again. So hot. So very hot. He offered up his pleasure, his joy, his sounds, over and over. Marco's head moved up and down, mouth taking more and more of him in. It was so much, so big. So big. His hands found Marco's head and he bucked up, humping, moaning desperately. Marco's fingers wrapped around his hips, helping him move, the suction around his cock very strong. He could not even warn of his climax. All he could do was jerk and sob and come. He could feel Marco's throat closing around the tip of his cock, making his pleasure last and last. Everything went quiet and heated, his heart slamming within his chest. Licking and sucking and swallowing, Marco kept him in the hot mouth until he stopped shuddering. Then his cock slipped from between Marco's lips. Abrigo purred, rolling to touch, to snuggle. Marco drew him close, cock pushing hard against his thigh as their lips pressed together. His legs parted, letting Marco in. Marco pushed two fingers into his mouth, eyes hot and wild, body moving against him. Then those fingers pressed into him, stretching. "Mate." He nodded and drew one leg up, relaxing and pleased, heated all through. The man froze, eyes on his, the fingers inside slipping away. Hot, hard, Marco's prick pushed against him now, demanding entrance. Stretched. He stretched and ached and arched and took that heavy prick deep, yowling with it. Marco stilled when he was all the way in. Bringing their foreheads together and panting. "Now, Abrigo. Dios, I must move now." Nodding, Abrigo pushed their mouths together, their tongues tangling. Kissing him, Marco began to move, that thick flesh sliding inside him, stretching him over and over. He met each thrust, hips rolling, their flesh slapping together. Their mouths parted on a gasp as Marco shifted, and then that something inside him was being hit, making everything bigger, better. His shoulders left the mattress, his entire body going tight with pleasure. Marco smiled fiercely and pushed into him harder, faster. Cock filling again, Abrigo thrashed, desperate for that sensation again and again. Marco gave it to him, sliding into him and brushing that place inside him like he was never going to stop. His man was panting as if Marco had been running through the jungle, the hand on Abrigo's hip digging in, pulling him close. Their eyes locked and pleasure flooded him, heat pouring once more from his prick. "Abrigo!" His name was a shout, Marco jerking and filling him inside with more heat. He moaned, clinging as he fought to catch his breath. Marco's gasps blew warm and soft against his skin, and even warmer and softer kisses were pressed to his shoulder, his neck.

Shifting Back - 31

"Mmm." His purrs filled the air, his tension melted away.

His man chuckled softly. "Better, Abrigo?"

"Yes. Yes. Better." He nuzzled and licked at Marco's throat.

"Did you need me so much you tore my sheets to shreds?"

"You were in the sun. That is wrong."

"I have to go into the sun, Abrigo. My crew would think something was wrong if I did not. It isn't

the same here on the ocean as it was for you in the jungle." So his man kept saying.

He didn't believe a word of it. "Dangerous."

Marco pushed his hair off his face, fingers lingering and warm on his skin. "It isn't, I swear it. You

could come up with me and see for yourself."

"No. No, it is a Law." He purred softly, pushing toward the touch.

"It's the law where you come from, not for this ship. My word is law here and I say it's perfectly

safe to go out in the sunlight."

Abrigo considered that, tried to understand how it might be true. Could a man be Law?

"Who told you that it was the law not to go out in the sunlight?"

"My Alpha."

"Well there you go -- he made the law for you where you come from, but here on this ship I'm the

alpha, so my word is law." Marco's hand landed on his buttocks and dragged him in closer, his

man's body warm.

Oh.

Oh, that was... better.

Abrigo nodded and cuddled in with a soft sigh. Especially with Marco in here, out of the sun.

"So will you come up with me later?"

"I will think about it." There. He would see how much of an Alpha Marco was.

"Well while you're thinking, no more yowling -- it scares the crew. And no more tearing my sheets,

either. There isn't an unlimited supply."

Shifting Back - 32

He yowled softly, almost pouting. He'd been worried.

"I still don't understand cat, Abrigo." Marco leaned in and kissed his mouth. "Use your man

words."

"I. I worry. I worry for you."

"Then come up with me and see. We will both be safe and then you won't worry." Marco's hands

slid along his spine, the touch easy and light, good.

"You could stay. Nap." He could nap.

"I will, but only if you'll come up with me after."

That seemed... fair. "Yes."

Later, there might not be a sun.

*** Marco still hadn't convinced Abrigo to come out on deck in the sunlight. He'd made a deal, which had backfired on him, the sun already almost gone by the time he and Abrigo had woken up. So

now he was going to try again.

They'd made love and napped, and he still had Abrigo the man with him, who he found easier to

have a conversation with. He cut up a piece of mango, offering Abrigo a slice. Abrigo purred for

him, licking and lapping at his fingers.

"Mmm..." He leaned in and licked at Abrigo's tongue and lips. "Come up with me."

Abrigo vibrated, chasing his tongue. "Up."

"Yes. And I mean up onto the deck." He winked. "Not... you know, up."

Abrigo chuffed and rolled him, licking his cheeks above his beard. He laughed, sliding his hands

through Abrigo's hair, reaching for that tongue with his own. Abrigo had bathed only hours ago, the

scent of male and soap luxurious.

"Mmm... you taste good, Beauty."

The long black hair pooled around him, heavy and sweet-smelling, silken.

"You're distracting me on purpose," he murmured, absolutely willing to be convinced he should

stay where he was instead of going up above decks.

Shifting Back - 33

"I am?" His mouth was explored, those little purrs pushing into his lips.

"Yes." It was working, too, his prick growing hard, his interest in taking Abrigo up and out into the

sunlight taking second place behind this.

"Mmm." He loved to hear Abrigo purr in any form, loved to feel it vibrate his body.

He rolled the slender body beneath him, letting Abrigo feel his weight. The way that caused Abrigo

to stretch, to go long beneath him, that long body rubbing against him. It made him hard and he started rocking, pushing down against his Beauty's body, as he looked into the impossibly green eyes. "Mmmmate." Hands traced his face, his shoulders. "Marrrrrrrrrrrco."

Dios, he loved the way Abrigo touched him, looked at him. "I want you."

"Yes. I want." Abrigo hummed, nodding, tongue sliding against his lips.

He'd never had a lover as responsive as Abrigo, a lover whose appetites matched his own.

Groaning, he captured Abrigo's questing tongue between his lips, sucking on it. Abrigo yowled and arched, cock hard against his thigh. They started rocking, the lead of the kiss passing back and forth, the passion soaring and... "Cap'n!" Davy pounded on the door.

"Cap'n, there a ship!"

"Dios!" He framed Abrigo's face. "I have to go, Beauty."

"I should come?"

He shook his head. "It could be dangerous. Out here, the sun is not the danger, other ships could

be."

Abrigo growled softly, the cat appearing with that shudder and shiver.

"It might not be safe for you up there, but if you come up, you stay close." Marco started pulling on

his breeches, his shirt.

"Rrrowl." Abrigo paced, panting, green eyes seeming to flash.

"Yes, I had a thought that you wouldn't stay down here. Come then, let's go see if we're in for a

fight or not." He grinned wildly. "We could have our first prize since leaving your lands."

Abrigo bared his teeth, nosing at the door.

Shifting Back - 34

Davy banged again. "Cap'n! Hurry!"

He flung it open. "We're coming, lad. You get your sword and stay below-decks. I expect you to

defend my cabin should they get past us. Got that, lad?"

"Aye. Aye, Cap'n. Abrigo stayin' with me?"

He looked at the big cat. "It's up to him."

And then he strode toward the stairs, letting Abrigo make up his own mind. He heard the click-

clack of Abrigo's claws on the planks, right at his heels. He went above decks, smiling. He was the king of his jungle. *** The scent of blood and burning filled his nose, the screams of men and the blasts of the huge metal firesticks disorienting him, confusing him. Abrigo crouched, taking swipes at anyone that passed by. Marco had disappeared and, with the smoke and fire and blood, Abrigo couldn't find him. Someone came at him with a sword and he snarled, claws flashing out, the blade slicing into his skin enough to sting. A loud cry split the air and the man with the sword went down under the weight of another man's body, sword clattering to the deck. Marco jumped up, the other man did not. His man backed up toward him, sword flashing once or twice. "Abrigo! Dios Madre, you're safe!"

He yowled, heading closer. His mate. Oh. He'd been lost. Scared. Worried. Confused.

Marco's free hand landed on his head, patting. It was dripping in blood. "It's all over but the killing

of a few more sailors. It was a ship of the English Navy and we have bested the evil mongrels."

Marco's voice was fierce, and there was a wildness in his eyes.

The words made no sense, but the wildness did. He knew the heat of the hunt.

"I need to make sure we got all the ones that came over. Stay close!" With another yell, Marco took

off to the right, sword raised. Abrigo followed, crouching low to the ground, muscles bunched,

everything in him screaming to run.

Marco killed two more men before the smoke began to clear. The other ship was visible on their

left, listing hard, the water around it littered with debris and men clinging to pieces of wood.

"Will we ransack her, Captain?"

Shifting Back - 35

"No, Rupito, it was a navy vessel, we've already killed most of their precious cargo. Raise the main sail -- let's catch this wind and be gone from this place." The urge to snarl and growl was huge, the blood making him ache, making him nervous as the crew got busy raising the main sail, and even before it was all the way up it caught the wind, pulling the ship away from the smoke and the confusion. Marco barked more orders, his rapid breathing slowly easing as they got farther away from the other ship. The scent of blood was still strong, even after the dead bodies were sent overboard, but Marco still stood, strong and proud, one hand on his head. Abrigo vibrated, unsure what to do, what he was seeing, what territory Marco defended. "Well done, men! We've rid the world of another ship full of His Majesty's best!"

A cheer went up among the crew.

"We'll sail for the islands and make repairs before searching for a ship that will yield a little

bounty."

Another cheer met this statement, Marco's words making his people happy.

"Rupito, you have the wheel. Have the men fetch me a bath."

"Aye, Captain."

Abrigo watched the men scatter, the hunt over. That's when he noticed the sun. Groaning, he slunk

back into the shadows.

"Abrigo! To me!" Marco strode to the front of the ship, standing in the prow, watching the waves.

He growled softly, hackles raising. He didn't want to. Marco turned, frowning at him. "Abrigo.

Here. Now."

Snarling and yowling, he expressed himself, even as he stepped closer to his Alpha.

"Yes, I know. It's been a hard day and the sun is shining. I don't care. We've fought a wonderful

battle and won. I am going to stand here and savor the victory and you are going to stand with me."

He swiped at Marco's boots, claws scoring the heavy boots.

"Abrigo!" Marco glared down at him. "Stop that. We'll be belowdecks soon enough."

"Rowl." He tossed his head, sniffing the air. Something was wrong. Something...

A man stepped forward, knife in hand ready to throw.

Shifting Back - 36

No.

No, his Alpha.

He leapt up, tackling the man. His teeth sank into the man's throat, ripping it clean, even as the

knife sank into his skin. Noise exploded around him as blood filled his mouth.

Marco's shout rang in his ears and hands pulled him away from the bad man. "Abrigo!"

Protect the Alpha.

Protect the Pride.

His eyes rolled and he yowled in pain.

"Captain, he's killed Armando."

"No, Rupito, he's saved my life. Look -- he took a knife meant for me. Help me get him back down

to my cabin!"

Marco's hands slid over his head, petting him gently. "Stay with me, Beauty."

"Rowl." He loved. His mate. His Alpha.

He was lifted, carried, the heat of the sun disappearing.

"Should we take out the knife, Captain?"

"I need bandages, first. Hot water."

His man's fingers kept touching, stroking through his fur. He leaned, licking at the fingers. Love.

"Stay with me, Beauty." Marco bent and kissed his muzzle. "Stay with me."

"Captain, it's an animal. How can y'save 'im?" He heard the words from a distance.

"This animal saved my life. Leave the water and get out." His Alpha snarled, sending the others

away.

The light faded slightly and he panted, pain beginning to overtake him.

Marco touched the knife, making him snarl and whimper. "Shh. Shh, Abrigo. I don't know if I

should pull it or not. Would it be easier if you changed?"

Shifting Back - 37

He hissed softly, heartbeat slowing in his ears. His Alpha. He could... He could be a man one more time for his Mate. It took all he was, but he changed, sobbing with the pain. "Marrrrrrco. For you." "Abrigo!" Marco's hands slid over his face, his mate bending to kiss him. "Shh, now. Easy. Easy. I can see where you've been hurt now. And I can take out the knife." Marco grabbed a handful of bandages and held them against the knife. "Marrrrco." Hurt. Oh. Hurt. Please. Alpha... Free hand stroking his face, Marco looked into his eyes. "This is going to hurt. And then I'll need to sew your flesh together. You have to be strong for me. Once it's done, you can shift if the cat is stronger for you to heal, but I can't sew the cat together." "For you." He gasped. "Protect my Alpha." "Yes, yes, Abrigo. You protected me. You saved my life, now I'm going to do my best to save yours." Marco's hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife, and he pulled it out. Pain washed over him and he screamed, the sound more animal than man. Pressing the cloth down hard over the wound, Marco spoke softly to him, nonsense and gibberish, but it was Marco's voice that soothed him, not the words themselves. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth, then it was washed away by the burn of rum, hot and spicy. More rum was poured down his throat and everything became hazy then, the pain seeming to fade. It came and it went, sometimes sharp and piercing, other times barely there. Marco's lips pressed against his, the kiss burning into him. "Abrigo. I've done what I can. You must do your best to heal now." "Heal." He licked Marco's hand once, eyes crossed. "Mate." The man fell away, leaving him panting, eyes rolling as he slipped into a restless sleep. *** Marco spent a lot of time pacing, growling. He was like a caged animal in his cabin. The irony was not wasted on him, with Abrigo's cage still sitting in the corner. Why had he kept it? He didn't need it. He took one of his chairs and attacked the cage, not caring if the chair was destroyed along with the cage. Davy knocked on the door, asking if everything was all right and he snarled at the boy, sending him away. He continued beating the cage to death, the sounds of wood and bamboo splitting so very satisfying.

Shifting Back - 38

Satisfied that the cage was totally destroyed, he yanked open the door. "Davy. Clean up this mess.

Throw it all overboard."

"Yes, sir, Cap'n sir." Davy rushed to do as he'd asked. "How's the cat today, Cap'n?"

"Still alive." It was something. At the moment it was all he had.

He paced some more once Davy finished removing the pieces of bamboo. His Beauty was hurt,

he'd had a traitor among his crew, and who knew how many others. Obviously not the whole crew

or they would have had a mutiny

"Don't let anyone in," he instructed Davy as he left the cabin to prowl above deck, making sure his crew knew that he wasn't going to let the attempt on his life keep him from the wheel, from being captain. No one came to speak to him -- no one dared. Even Rupito handed over the wheel without a word. The roll of the waves and the mist off the sea soothed him somewhat, and he bolstered as he made his way back down to his cabin several hours later. Davy stood at the door, guarding it. He patted the lad's shoulder. "Good lad. Go get yourself something from the galley."

"Thanks, Cap'n!"

Davy ran off and Marco stepped into his cabin, eyes going to the bed.

Abrigo was no longer on the bed; instead he could just see the tip of the black tail flicking from

beneath the wardrobe. Dios be thanked, that had to mean Abrigo was better if he was moving,

hiding.

Crouching, he looked beneath the wardrobe. "Come on out, Beauty, it's me."

Slitted green eyes stared at him. "Rowl."

He felt laughter building up inside him at the sound. "Listen to you."

Sitting, he patted his legs. "Come on, Beauty. Come and get some loving."

One paw slid out first, then the flat muzzle, nose twitching.

"There's my Beauty." He touched Abrigo's paw, and then the soft muzzle. "Still so soft. Your fur

was made for my fingers."

He got a low, rustling purr, the cat inching out. He patted and scratched as Abrigo slowly appeared,

Shifting Back - 39

loving on his cat. On his lover in cat form. Abrigo's muzzle settled on his thigh, the warm breath

huffing out at him.

He patted the black face. "There we go, Beauty. And how are you feeling -- are you healing?"

There had been fever, there had been blood. Now, Abrigo's eyes seemed clearer. "I was worried

that your bravery had cost you your life." He slid his hand across Abrigo's shoulders and down over

the long spine.

Abrigo licked his arm, eyes serious. He could almost hear the 'protect the Alpha'.

He pressed his face to Abrigo's fur, rubbing against it. "Yes. Thank you, Beauty."

Abrigo's tail thumped against him, the cat settling. As his hands stroked over Abrigo's body, he

realized he was much calmer now, his anger banked. Abrigo leaned harder, eyes closing. Maybe it was time to admit that he'd been more upset about Abrigo's possible death than having a mutinous crew. The huge cat was an infernal challenge - a danger, a distraction. A beautiful lover. He rubbed his cheek against the amazing fur. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered. The low

vibrations tickled his face, massaged it.

"Would it hurt you to change into your man self?" he asked.

Abrigo sighed for him, the sound soft, then his cat shuddered, shimmered, disappeared. And he was

suddenly face to face with Abrigo the man. Groaning, he pressed his lips to his lover's mouth.

Abrigo hummed, skin pale, eyes holding his. "Marrrrco."

He stroked the pale cheeks. "Are you well, Beauty?

"Hurts. But better." His hand was kissed. "You are good?"

"I'm alive -- thanks to you. I'm not very happy with my crew right now, though they all swear that

Armando acted alone. I am inclined to believe them -- a mutiny would have been better organized."

"Smelled him. Smelled wrong."

"Really? You could tell just by the smell?" Amazing.

"Bad smells." Abrigo's fingers brushed the stitched-up scar, the skin red and hot.

"I would have thought we all smell rather badly. We are brigands, after all." Marco's fingers

followed Abrigo's. "Does it hurt?"

"Not as bad. Itches. Want to bite it."

Shifting Back - 40

"No, you'd tear the stitches open if you did that. And I had a hard enough time putting them in the

first time." It was something he most definitely did not want to repeat.

"Will they come out?"

He nodded. "Hopefully soon. It'll leave a beauty of a scar."

"Beauty?" He was the beauty. Marco said.

"Yeah. An impressive scar, you know? Big."

Abrigo frowned, working through that, then one hand stroked an old scar on his cheek. "Yours."

Marco nodded, fingers following Abrigo's. "This scar was given to me on my first sea voyage. It's a

reminder that I have to look out for myself because no one will do it for me." His fingers ghosted

over Abrigo's scar. "At least not until you came along."

Abrigo purred for him, nodding. "Protect the Pride."

"And we're part of the same Pride, are we, Abrigo?" It was supposed to work much the same

aboard a ship, but there was always too many men wanting to be top dog.

The look he received was pure exasperation. "Mates."

"Mates. Hmm..." He thought about it for a moment, the word felt heavy, imbued with meaning. But

he and Abrigo made love, Abrigo had saved him and he would do the same for Abrigo should the

opportunity come up.

The word was a good one and he nodded slowly. "Yes, Beauty. Mates."

Abrigo nodded back, smiled at him, eyes closing as those fingers stroked his thigh. "Mates."

"Do cats mate for life, Abrigo?"

"My kind do." Abrigo stretched, fingers on the wound.

Marco took Abrigo's fingers and twined them with his own. "Then you'd better not scratch and tear

out the stitches, because I expect you and I to live a long life."

"Long. I like long." Abrigo held onto him, held tight.

"Yes, Beauty, I like the sound of that, too."

He pressed his lips against Abrigo's.

Shifting Back - 41

Now, if he could only assure himself that the crew didn't discover his lover's secret. *** The boat rocked, the waves crashing around and making him shudder from his spot beneath the

wardrobe.

Out. He needed out. Off the boat. In the jungle. Out.

Abrigo yowled softly, his body rolling on the floor and thumping on a chest.

Marco looked up from where he sat, doing something in a book with a big feather that was all black

on one end. "Abrigo? What are you doing?"

Oh. Feather. He focused on that, tail twitching.

"Abrigo!"

He chuffed softly, sliding across the floor again.

Marco laughed suddenly. "You're playing! You big silly beast."

Rolling onto his back, he batted the air idly, wishing he could run, eat grass. Marco pounced him

suddenly, landing half on the floor, half on him.

"Rowl!" He scrambled, careful not to hurt, to scratch.

Marco rolled with him, hands sliding along his sides, his belly, fingers digging in and giving him

good scratches. He called out for Marco, ecstatic, excited. So pleased. His mate laughed and played

with him, rolling and scratching. Playing!

He nipped Marco's shoulder carefully, then pounced away, tail lashing. Marco gave chase, the two

of them bumping into furniture, knocking the chairs over as they raced through the small cabin. He

leapt up upon the wardrobe, panting and growling happily.

"Oh, you cheat!" Marco laughed. "I can't catch you up there!"

He chuffed and nodded, one paw dangling.

Shaking his head, Marco turned away and sighed. Suddenly, his man turned, jumping up to swipe

at his paw. "Ha! Got you!"

Abrigo yowled happily, pouncing down upon the bed to spin, leap toward his Marco. They

thumped hard against the wall as Marco fell back under his onslaught.

Shifting Back - 42

"Cap'in? Is everything all right?" Davy called from behind the closed door.

He answered with a happy snarl, head-butting his mate.

Marco "ooffed" and gasped. "Yes, Davy. Abrigo is just... exercising."

He landed on Marco and started grooming the man. Marco sputtered laughed, pushing him away

from his mate's face. No, no. Grooming was good. He licked again, tongue draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaging.

"Ow! Not the face, Beauty!"

Marco pulled open his blouse. "Here."

Mmm. That smelled good. He lapped at the soft skin, the dark nipples, the flat belly.

"Abrigo. Beauty. Your man self. Please." The laughter was gone, Marco breathless.

He growled, nibbling a little before closing his eyes, focusing on long legs, smooth skin. Marco

pushed up against him as he changed, his mate's hands sliding into his hair and holding his mouth

against the warm skin.

"Marrrrrrrrrrrrco." He was much less fun as a man.

"Yes, Beauty." Marco's hips bucked, the breeches covering Marco's heat, dulling the man's smell.

He nuzzled and nibbled, pushing at the breeches. "More."

Gasping, Marco tugged the breeches down past his hips, hard prick leaping up to slap against his

belly.

"Mmm." He lapped at the tip of Marco's cock, moaning at the salt, the heat.

Marco whimpered, hips jerking, pushing that hardness against his face. Yes. Yes, Mate. Good. He

licked and sucked, cleaning each drop of liquid away. Moaning and shifting, Marco shuddered

beneath his touches, his licks.

"Please, Abrigo."

He tilted his head, confused. "Please?"

"Suck me, Beauty. Take me in your mouth."

"Oh!" He could do that. He liked that. Abrigo nodded and wrapped his lips around the hard flesh,

sucking happily.

Shifting Back - 43

"Yes! Abrigo!" Marco's hands tightened in his hair, encouraging him to bob his head up and down

on the hardness in his mouth.

Abrigo closed his eyes, sucking and pulling, swallowing around the prick in his mouth. Marco's

sounds filled the room: moans and groans, and more sweet pleas. He just gave more, took more,

loved his mate with all he was.

Marco tugged at his hair. "Abrigo! Soon!"

Swallowing hard, he nodded, demanding. Soon. He would taste.

"Yes!" It was a scream, very loud, and Marco's prick jerked in his mouth, seed spraying.

He swallowed what he could, then leaned, landing on Marco's belly.

Marco's hands slid through his hair in long sweeps, petting him. "You make me feel so good."

Abrigo nodded and hummed, purring happily. Good. Of course he did.

"We must have knocked over a bottle, Beauty. I believe I am lying in a pool of rum."

He sniffed, chuffing softly. "We need more room."

Room to run.

To play.

Marco sighed. "We do, Abrigo. And I already have the largest cabin. There is no where else on the

ship..."

Breath huffing from him, he rolled his shoulders. "Sorry, mate."

He shook his head. "It isn't your fault. The ship is my home -- you were stolen from yours. Which

is more dangerous, I wonder?"

"Dangerous?" He didn't understand. The ship wasn't dangerous.

"Yes, which has more dangers, Abrigo? Your jungle, or my ship? I don't mind the battles with other

ships -- that is why I became a pirate. To be my own man, and get back at the English dogs who

think they own the seas and everyone they find beyond them. But when one of my own people tries

to kill me..." Marco shook his head. "How do I defend against such treachery?" "I defend. I protect the Alpha." He knew this answer.

Shifting Back - 44

"You do. And I worry I'll lose you to that." Marco stroked his cheek.

If he did, he did.

A strong knock shook the cabin, the door swinging open as the latch gave way, the huge bo'sun

standing there. "Cap'n! There's a shi..."

Abrigo blinked and shifted, startled and surprised.

Marco scrambled to his feet, doing up his breeches. "A ship? Those English dogs?

The bo'sun stared. "Cap'n. Your beast. He was... I saw..."

"What? You saw what?" Marco stared at the man.

"A man. He was a man."

Marco snorted. "You've been drinking, Bo'sun."

"No. No, I swear it. I must have..."

Abrigo stared at the big man, rumbling.

"No. You did not." Marco spoke firmly.

"No. No, of course. Captain, a ship is sailing to the west."

"Abrigo, to me." Marco's hand slapped his thigh. "Navy or merchant, Bo'sun?" Marco asked,

striding from the room.

He watched for a few steps, then followed, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the sun. *** Marco had never thought the day would come that would find him leaving his ship in favor of solid land. He never would have believed he'd want something other than the deck rolling beneath his feet. But it wasn't safe anymore. Not for him, not for Abrigo. The Bo'sun catching Abrigo in his man form had been the last straw. The rumors had already started among the crew and it wouldn't be long before someone else caught Abrigo without his fur. And there had been another attempt on his life, his food poisoned. Only Abrigo's knocking the bowl from his fingers had saved him. That made one dead assassin and one still alive. That he knew about. They were passing by Cape Horn and as soon as they spied land, he and Abrigo were leaving the

Shifting Back - 45

ship. He hadn't told anyone, but he expected that his first mate Rupito would have no problem

taking over as Captain.

"Cap'n! Land!" He looked up to Davy in the crows nest and turned the wheel so they were heading

in the direction the lad pointed.

Excellent.

He was ready. He imagined Abrigo was as well.

"Rupito, take the wheel and keep us on a course to the shore. I've a mind to feel the earth beneath

my feet."

He headed down to his cabin, eager to share the news with Abrigo.

Abrigo was sleeping, paws over his nose, tail swaying lazily with the movement of the ship. There

was a small boat provisioned with enough to keep them in rum and fish and shelter that awaited

them, his chest of jewels and furs and books the thing he needed to take.

He crouched next to his Beauty, burying his fingers in the soft fur.

"Rowl." Abrigo stretched and purred, emerald eyes staring into him.

"Hola, Beauty. I have news."

The big, flat head tilted, Abrigo watching him curiously.

"We're coming up on land. A place like where you're from, with jungles." He drew it out,

anticipating Abrigo's reaction to the news. Abrigo's eyes went wide, that nose twitching, tail

lashing. He could almost hear the questions. "We're heading right for it. I'll be dropping a small

boat and rowing ashore with you."

Abrigo's motions stopped, ears going flat, body melting on the bed.

"That's a good reaction I hope, Beauty." He rubbed his cheek against Abrigo's. "We're staying, you

and I, when the ship leaves."

Abrigo jerked, blinked, then pounced him, yowling happily. Oh. Oh, yes. He laughed, arms

wrapping around the beast, any doubts he might have had fading away. His face was licked, throat

nuzzled, those happy sounds filling the air.

This was going to be his life now, Abrigo happy and his. It seemed like a fair trade-off.

He could smell the earth upon the air now, mingled with the smells of green things and salt. "Come,

Beauty. It's time to go."

Shifting Back - 46

Abrigo tugged the heavy blanket from the bed, carrying it to the door.

"Still protecting me, Abrigo?" He took the blanket and folded it, placing it in his chest. And then

they headed for the deck.

Abrigo's tail brushed his thighs as they stepped into the sunlight.

Shifting Back - 47

With Wings to Fly by Kara Larson Cai stared at the tent wall, his eyes not seeing the roughly woven wool in front of him. From the inside, it didn't look like the pavilion of a war chieftain, not even one of the Pen Draig clan. The only evidence of status was the standard that hung above Artur's empty pallet--a red dragon, wings spread, on a field of white. A little presumptuous, since Artur himself wasn't even at the camp right now. But even if he was, Myrddin wouldn't risk Artur's safety, or the surprise of their attack, by flying the long-unseen banner of the Pen Draig clan. Not since Uther's death had it flown in battle. Not since Uther's death, at the hands of the father of the man they faced now, had the Pen Draig name called the men of Gwynedd to battle. But Artur wasn't there to rally the men. Not yet. Not the true Artur. "Cai?" Myrddin's voice shook him out of his reverie. "It's time, bach." Cai nodded. He stripped off his tunic and trews, leaving them on his pallet. Artur's ring he kissed once before dropping it on top of his clothes. He shivered in the chill morning air. "Aye, cyfarwydd. I'm ready." Myrddin stood on his toes, leaning up to kiss Cai's forehead. "For luck, bach. Bring him back to us." "We won't lose another Pen Draig," Cai said, closing his eyes. "I promise." Pain lanced through his body, his very bones shifting and shrinking. His skeleton curved and bent in ways it wasn't meant to, his arms spreading, spreading until they felt as if they would break. His skin itched as feathered quills began to cover his naked limbs. As Cai opened his mouth to scream, the raucous cry of a falcon was heard. "Fly high, bach," Myrddin urged as he opened the tent flap. "Fly high and bring our boy back." *** He didn't remember a lot before Artur. He had been just a wee one when Da brought Artur home, and Da himself had been away at battle for several seasons. Mam was still alive then--sickly with the latest babe she lost, but still alive. From what he had pieced together over the years, those

Shifting Back - 48

seasons had been hard on Mam. The threat of the Sais attacking was constant, and even behind the towering wooden walls of the llys, there was still no guarantee of safety. What Cai did remember involved a lot of cowering in the dark, usually in one of the lower cellars of the main roundhouse, with Mam rocking back and forth and humming to herself. That was when the dreams began: dreams of flying high over the treetops, the feel of the wind in his face, the constant freedom to see where the thermals took him. His childish mind hadn't been able to put much meaning to it, but he knew that the dreams used to scare Mam more than anything. His nurse said he would stare off into the air for hours, making odd noises in his throat. Mam used to think she'd lost him somewhere, that some evil Sais wizard had stolen his mind. But Nurse always said it was the stress of those times, the danger and the fact that Da was missing. That even a little bach would know what his father faced, especially the son of so great a warrior as Ector of Caer Fyrddin. But then Da came home, and with him came a boy even smaller than Cai, one who was immediately placed in Cai's care as his other half. Mam died not much after, trying to give Da one more surviving son. So as Da was busy hunting down the last of the Sais, killing the last bits of rebellion from the south, Cai was given the task of watching over Artur. "You're a grown lad now," Da had said. "With responsibilities. No more of those dreams of yours. You must put away your childish things." Cai had barely been five years old. The dreams still came, so vivid and real that he sometimes got lost in them. He forgot his lessons and chores, roaming far over the mountains of Eryn and the valleys of Cymru. There were even times that he woke up in odd places--fields around the keep, hay mows and the bows of trees. It gave Da a fright the first few times it happened. The healer swore it was only sleepwalking and that Cai would outgrow it--someday. Da only sighed and shrugged. After the first few times that Da tied Cai down at night, the sleepwalking stopped. That still didn't stop the dreams. He jumped, sometimes, out of trees and off the curtain wall of the llys when he was a youngling. He was lucky for a long time in these jumps, even as Da tried to persuade him that his dreams were just that--dreams. That flying was just something that happened in his sleep. That there were no birds in their family tree. That though they had long been vassals of the house of Pen Draig, there was no dragon-blood in their veins. But Cai never listened, because the dreams were so real. He knew that underneath his skin, he wore a second one of feathers and quills. He was certain that his bones were light enough to keep him up in the air, even if Da wasn't. If it wasn't for that one fall, that one time that Artur--his one responsibility--jumped off the curtain wall with him… It was autumn and harvest was in, so a haystack conveniently (or fatefully) broke their fall. Da was so shaken after that, so quiet and still that Cai never tried it again. If it weren't for that haystack, Ector of Caer Fyrddyn would have been without an heir and a foster son. All Cai wanted to do was please Da and protect Artur. No harm could ever come to Artur, bright center of Cai's entire world.

Shifting Back - 49

So, at seven years old, Cai grew from boy to man, leaving behind his childish beliefs. He tried to shut out his dreams, forcing his body to train and work so hard during the day that he was almost too tired to dream at night. When he did dream of drifting high above the clouds, he never mentioned it to anyone--not Da, not Artur. Because while Artur meant the world to him, Cai thought that his foster brother might not understand what he saw in those dreams and how much they meant to him. Because men, warriors, didn't put stock in dreams. Life was the chain shirt you wore over tunic and trews, the sword strapped to your side, the shield on your arm. It was your brothers in arms, protecting your loved ones and your clan. It was about providing safe haven for the women to bear the young ones and raise the families that kept the clan strong, ensuring that the blood would last for another generation. So the dreams began to fade until they were naught but a childish memory. There were nights when Cai woke up to a pillow wet with tears, but he never connected it with the dreams he couldn't remember and the feelings he couldn't recall again. When Cai was nearly sixteen, and Artur as near to fourteen as they could reckon, Myrddin joined the household. Da said that Myrddin, once an adviser to the great Uther Pen Draig himself, was there to tutor him and Artur in the arts of war. Cai had his own suspicions, since there had been relative peace in the years since Uther's death. Aye, there had been petty raids amongst the clan, with no war chief of Gwynedd to rally behind, but there had been no attacks from the Sais either. Maybe his suspicions had to do with Artur, and the fact that he was a mysterious fosterling Da had brought home more than a decade before. Maybe it was the way that Myrddin spoke to Artur, fairly worshipping at Cai's foster brother's feet. Regardless, Caer Fyrddyn wasn't the same after Myrddin's arrival. It might have been different if Cai could see eye to eye with their tutor, much less without suspicion of devil worship and human sacrifice. It didn't help that Myrddin was ambivalent at best toward sword and shield--two of the things that Cai had dedicated his life to--and could barely hold a long knife to protect himself. These were the lessons that Cai excelled at, more so than any booklearning that first the priests and then Myrddin tried to force upon him. That book-learning always brought back memories of the dreams he had repressed, and the near-sacred duty Da had pressed upon him. And, while Myrddin's lessons seemed to echo the same values and morals that the priests pressed upon Cai all those years, there was something different about the trials and tales that Myrddin told them. Something that spoke of a time before the Romans, before the Christianization of the clans, before the old ways died out. That was too foreign to Cai, too much outside his realm of experience. Too closely reminiscent of those dreams he'd tried to forget. Lore said that the druids were wiped out by the Romans hundreds of years ago with the burning of Ynys Mon, thus no one wanted those pagan heretics in their Christian households. Myrddin himself was too well-learned, versed in the knowledge that Cai thought only the bards of old would have known. If there hadn't been whispers from the south of a new Saxon uprising, of a new warlord calling for what they called 'wergyld', Cai wouldn't have thought anything of Myrddin's arrival. But if Myrddin was one of those dyn hysbys, those wizards in disguise, then Cai knew Da was preparing for something--just not what.

Shifting Back - 50

Their household wasn't in line for the traditional leadership of Gwynedd. In fact, no one had held complete control over this part of Cymru since Uther Pen Draig, the terrible war lord himself, had died at the hands of Hengest twelve years before. The house of the Red Dragon was the only house to successfully unite the clans of Gwynedd in High King Emrys Wledig's name to repel the Sais army. Petty rivalries had always divided the clans, not just for grazing and land rights, but the prowess of their warriors as well. Cai himself had only vague memories of the troubles, when Saxon warriors had risen out of rebellion to pursue lands north of what Vortigern allotted them two generations prior. Da had played some vital role in those last battles, when many of the older generation of Gwynedd war leaders were lost, the Pen Draig included. Men still came to ask Da for his counsel, but Cai had never taken that too seriously. Not until Myrddin came. He and Artur had been raised as any clan chieftain's sons would be--on horseback by the time they could walk, teething on the blades of the long knives they would someday bear. They could recite the ancient kings and heroes of Cymru and even Briton for generations back, war heroes all who were meant to inspire and terrify. Even though Artur wasn't Da's blood son, just a foster son, he was still taught the same lessons as Cai. Cai hadn't minded too much, in those days before Myrddin, because Artur was his match in many ways. Cai was always taller, more solid, but Artur was quicker at everything--the sword, learning his letters, the art of war craft and strategy. Where Cai had no patience, Artur saw the possible openings that came with patience and waiting for the right opportunity. But where Cai was slow to anger and slower to forgive, Artur's passions ran as quick as fire. Da had always sworn that they made a perfect pair. But that changed with Myrddin. It all did. Where Cai struggled to memorize the long stanzas of heroes in the tales, the litanies of retinues of each war lord, Artur could rattle off their standards and their kin to five generations back. Myrddin's stories and triads always suited Artur's mind and personality more, if only for the symbolism and prophecy that had always felt wrong to Cai, almost too feminine a knowledge. Cai only did what he could in Myrddin's lessons not to fall asleep, and since they had all--Da, Myrddin and Cai himself--realized what his own shortcomings were, nothing else was expected of Cai. Just to support Artur, when, if Cai thought about it, it should have probably been the other way around. Da never spoke of Artur's father, just that he had been a noble warrior killed in the last days of battle against the Sais. Because Artur came to them at such a young age, Cai could barely imagine a world without him. While Artur was two years younger and at times the biggest nuisance that Cai knew, he still loved his foster brother dearly. Artur meant so much to him that they swore a blood oath when Artur was ten and Cai was twelve, to always serve and protect each other. Perhaps that love was too much, because as Da always said, a man should put no one before God, his clan, and his wife, but the girls never interested Cai, none being especially able to converse about weapons or warfare or feats of strength. It was always just Artur. Because it came back to Artur time and time again. Except four years later, when Myrddin came, and Cai lost the shadow and quicksilver partner that had occupied so much of his life.

Shifting Back - 51

"You shouldn't be jealous," Da said, over and over again. "It's apparent that Myrddin's teachings don't appeal to you. The old lore isn't for everyone. It isn't needed by everyone. You have your own strengths." "Like what?" Cai remembered asking, almost pleading with Da. Da rarely answered, but when he did… "Your loyalty, your strength," he said once, staring out over the curtain wall that surrounded the keep. Cai wondered sometimes what his father saw when he looked out at the rolling hills that surrounded their hall and fort. "War will come again, as it does with every generation. You and Artur will need each other then, mark my words…" So the years passed. As Myrddin had dismissed Cai almost as soon as Cai had pinned the man as an aged, effeminate weakling, Cai was exempted from Myrddin's lessons almost as soon as they began. Cai trained in the physical arts, learning sword and shield and knife and bow. Artur spent his days reading over scrolls and books so old that they appeared that they would break with one breath. He never spoke of exactly what mysteries Myrddin taught him, but sometimes at night Artur would get a glint in his blue eyes--a light that Cai didn't exactly like, as it wasn't something he could readily explain. His foster brother grew distant from him until Cai wondered if their old oath meant nothing. It wasn't to say that Cai was lonely those years. Artur still bunked down with him every night at their end of the sleeping quarters, amongst their age-mates. There were the occasional conversations at night as they huddled together on their pallets, trying to keep out the cold. But it was nothing like the confidences of when they were small. Nothing like the companionship that Cai remembered, when Artur was his constant shadow. "It happens that paths diverge," was Da's explanation. "Brothers in arms must part occasionally, but it doesn't mean that such a parting is forever." Then Da had smiled a mysterious smile. "Your fates are linked, bach. I swear it." Da didn't have to listen to years of whispers and rumors that Cai's age-mates told over arms practice or while hunting, though. Rumors that Myrddin himself was one of the druidic catamites, bent on making Artur his slave. That Myrddin was seducing Artur into his bed like one of the warriors of old. While Cai slept at Artur's side nearly every night that they were both in the llys, he still couldn't quell the images the rumors put into his mind. Myrddin wasn't so old--old as Da, aye, but not unhandsome in his own way. Like Artur, he was built small and dark, though he lacked Artur's bright blue eyes and quick smile. They were enough alike, in fact, that there had even been rumors that Myrddin himself was Artur's father, since Artur's paternity had never been disclosed among the household. So Cai found himself alienated from the one he loved best, not knowing if even druid magic could bring his beloved back to him. ***

Shifting Back - 52

"No, Artur, no. No!" "Easy, Cai." Warm hands stroked his face, his hair, calming him. "Come back to me, Cai." Cai opened his eyes, surprised to find Artur kneeling over his pallet. Artur's blue eyes were worried, his forehead creased. "What--" Cai croaked, trying to sit up. "What happened?" "A nightmare, I think," Artur said, tugging Cai's blankets closer to him. "That would be the second this sennight." Cai rubbed at his eyes, looking around them in the wavering torch light. No one else seemed to be stirring, so at least it was only Artur that he woke. "What is it?" Artur asked softly, pressing in to Cai's body. To comfort, Cai told himself. Just to comfort. "It was you…" Cai replied, trying not to lean into Artur's warmth. "You jumped, like when we were small, and I couldn't catch you." Artur's smile was visible even in the dim light of the torch in its sconce. "I would never jump without you, Cai. You know that." He shifted his weight closer, his forehead coming to rest against Cai's cheek. Cai resisted the urge to push Artur away, hoping no one was watching in the dark of the room. At eighteen and twenty, they were too old for this. If they had been alone, he might have allowed the comfort, something he thought Artur had grown out of years ago, before they took their places with the men in one of the portioned-off rooms in the main roundhouse. It was only a nightmare, and if anyone asked, he could always say it had been Artur who needed the comfort, and not him… "I thought you left me," Cai muttered into Artur's neck. "You left me alone and I couldn't find you." The wizard Myrddin had only laughed and laughed as Cai attempted to find Artur, the cackle echoing in Cai's head even now that he was awake. "You know I would never leave you. Not to fight the Sais. Not for a quest to rescue the king of Eire's daughter. Not to search for Diwrnach Wyddel's cauldron." Artur's hand tugged on Cai's blond hair. "We swore an oath, remember?" Cai pulled back. "I didn't think you remembered." His voice was quiet, ashamed. And even in the dark, he didn't want to meet Artur's eyes. "Myrddin wooed you away with his druid magic and--" "And?" Artur tipped up Cai's chin, forcing Cai to meet those blue eyes. "He did things to you," Cai said in a rush. "That's what--"

Shifting Back - 53

Artur silenced Cai with a finger to Cai's mouth. "What are you--" Cai shook his head, taking a glance again at the men that slept around them. "Not here. Tomorrow, Artur. I promise." That seemed to satisfy his foster brother. Artur lay back down on his pallet, reaching out to squeeze Cai's hand once. "Goodnight, brawd." Cai's breath almost caught in his throat. "Goodnight." *** There wasn't time for that conversation--not for many days afterward. Da and Myrddin seemed to closet themselves together more and more often, leaving Artur to practice with Cai and the rest of the men. The men jeered at first, until they realized that Artur had retained all of his old skill. "I thought you'd lost it all!" Cai panted as they danced around each other, practice swords in hand. The rest of the men had already finished, long since having returned to their quarters. Artur didn’t seem to tire as quickly as most of Cai’s opponents. It was something he relished, after all these years of bouts at only half his effort. "Never!" Artur answered with a grin. He feinted forward then came up to attack Cai from the right hand side. Cai skipped back a step, lunging in toward Artur's left. In battle, the long wooden shields that lined the smithy would protect their left sides. Now, they wore only padded leather over their tunics and trews. There was no need for their chain shirts, not with their wooden practice swords. Artur skillfully twisted away, leaping at Cai's chest. Cai's breath whooshed out of him as Artur landed his blow square-on, driving Cai to the hard ground. They hit the packed earth with a thud, Cai's shoulders and head slamming into the ground with the force of Artur's weight. He groaned in pain. "Cai? Cariad?" He felt Artur's hands touch his face gently. His foster brother's voice shook slightly. "Cai, tell me you're all right." Cai moaned again. "I'm fine, brawd. I swear it." He tried to sit up, but Artur was still sitting on his chest. "Can you move? I can't get up--" Artur rolled off to the side, slipping an arm under Cai's shoulders. "There. Is that better? Should I get Da?" Cai shook his head. "I think I'll be all right." He winced as he felt the back of his head. It was tender, but at least it wasn't sticky with blood. "You've got quite a blow there, Artur." He grinned.

Shifting Back - 54

"Aye, but it was only luck," Artur replied with the same half-grin. But the grin turned to concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" "Fine," Cai answered, a little more brusquely than he meant. Artur visibly shrank back at his harsh tone. "Artur…" His foster brother shook his head. "No, it's all right, I'll just--" As Artur turned to stand, Cai caught his wrist, pulling Artur back to him. And caught Artur's mouth firmly with his own, effectively silencing Artur. Kisses. There had been kisses before. There were kitchen maids and village girls aplenty who would open their mouths and spread their legs if you wished it, especially if they thought they might carry the child of a warrior. A warrior might not be as stable a husband as a crafter or a farmer, but for some of the women, a warrior and his wealth were preferable. While Cai had offers, he had never taken any of them seriously. Not beyond the kisses that every warrior wanted to boast after with his companions in arms. All of those kisses… None of those were Artur. None of them were his light and shadow and every completion in between. None of them were rough and clanking teeth and the taste that Cai only remembered from his dreams. This was the quickfire and passion in his blood, what drove him to work and fight. This was Artur. They broke apart. Artur stared at Cai, his great blue eyes wide with shock, with some great emotion that Cai couldn't read. Cai opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, but found that the words wouldn't come. "What--" Artur began, his breath coming in harsh gasps. "I’m sorry. I--" Cai tried to explain, hoping whatever happened hadn't driven him and Artur farther apart. Artur's mouth was attached to his again, and there was a rough tongue probing at his lips, forcing them open… Cai moaned into Artur's mouth, pulling Artur's lean body closer and closer until he could hardly tell where his body ended and Artur's began. Artur rubbed against him, rubbing until Cai felt his cock grow with the friction, swelling until he thought he would burst. They fell back, Cai's arms tightening around Artur, their mouths frantically meeting"Cai!" Cai's response was a primal scream, one that to his own ears sounded more falcon than man. His fingers ripped through Artur's leathers, wrenching deep tears into the wool and linen beneath.

Shifting Back - 55

"Cai!" This time, the shout wasn't one of release, but one of pain. Cai pulled back, staring in horror at his hands. Or what had been his hands. What were now talons, black and sharp. Like a raptor's. "Cariad?" Artur hovered inches from Cai. Cai could see blood welling up from scratches on Artur's bare shoulders and arms. Not deep scratches, but still scratches that were clearly visible through the torn jerkin and tunic. "Artur--" Cai's voice came out as half hawk-cry, half choking sob. He covered his face with his hands, surprised to find his skin covered in a soft down. "Myrddin. Get Myrddin…" Artur shook his head. "I can't leave you alone. Not like this." "Go!" Cai shouted. "Damn it, just go!" His foster brother fled, tattered leathers and tunic flapping behind him. Cai curled up in a ball on the ground, burying is face and hands in his arms. The other men were right. While Myrddin's teachings weren't harming Artur, they were turning Cai into a monster. A monster who would only hurt the one person that Cai loved most of all. What seemed like only moments later, he heard the sound of feet on the bare earth and Artur's voice calling out. "Cai! We're here, Cai." Artur's hands reached out, gently turning him over. "Easy, Cai," his foster brother whispered, prying Cai's clenched hands away from his face. "Myrddin will help." Cai slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the astonished face of Myrddin. "I won’t do it again," he whispered. "I promise." Myrddin gave him a confused look. "Do what, bach?" His voice was kinder than Cai had ever heard it, in the tone that was usually used for Artur. "I won't touch him again, I promise, cyfarwydd." He had never used Artur's name for him, having little cause to ever address Myrddin directly. The name took both the older man and Artur by surprise. "Touch who, lad? Artur?" Myrddin smiled slightly in understanding. "Yet another one of the Church's teachings that deviate from the old ways." Myrddin reached out, his worn hands resting on Cai's lightly feathered cheeks. "So many lessons here, so many beliefs to unravel…" Myrddin shook his head. "That's for another time. Now…" The man muttered something that didn't sound like Latin or even the guttural tongue of the north. Cai tried to focus on the words, but his mind could wrap around individual sounds. It all blended

Shifting Back - 56

together into some endless drone, something almost as hypnotic as those lays Myrddin always tried to have them memorize. Relax, the words seemed to say. Relax, boy… The muscles in his face went slack, the tension easing out of his body. Cai slumped over in Myrddin's grip. Myrddin's hands, warm on his cheeks, gave him a rough pat before they let go of him. "There, young Cai," the dyn hysbys said. Cai opened his eyes, surprised to see Myrddin's dark eyes smiling at him. "Tomorrow, bach. You and I must have a talk." The older man shoved Artur gently, leaning Cai's still lax body against Artur's. "You, Artur, must take your brother back to his bed. I think it best that he sleep this off." Cai couldn't help staring at Myrddin, his mind feeling just as fuzzy as his body. "Artur--" he muttered through a mouth that felt as if it were filled with flax. "Here, cariad," Artur replied in a quiet voice, his arms supporting the bulk of Cai's weight. "I'm here. Just like I said I'd be." *** The next day, Cai awoke with a headache and a dry, sour taste in his mouth. "Myrddin wants to see you at once," Artur said, his eyes shifting off to the side as if he couldn't--or wouldn't--look at Cai. Cai sighed, struggling to his feet. "Are you…are you all right?" he asked Artur, struggling into a fresh tunic and trews. Someone--probably Artur--had stripped him down to his undertunic the night before at least. Artur's blue eyes finally met his. "Aye… I just… you should see Myrddin," he stammered, sounding for all the world like a young boy. For six years they'd been under Myrddin's tutelage now, and never had Artur stumbled like that. Never. Questioning wouldn't solve anything. While Artur had always been mild in demeanor, he was fierce as a mad dog when riled. That was all Cai thought he could handle after yesterday. Whatever had happened yesterday. Without another word, he made his way to Myrddin's quarters. The druid had his own small roundhouse at the far end of the keep--for sanctity of mind, Myrddin so often said. The men of course thought it was easier to seduce young Artur that way, but Cai was beginning to think differently. Maybe the old dyn hysbys really did need the peace and quiet. Since he did seem to be more than the druidic relic that Cai thought him to originally be. Cai knocked on the wooden door to Myrddin's quarters, a thatched-roofed round cot separated off from the chieftain's roundhouse and the animal byre by a grassy patch. The cot leaned up against the inner-most curtain wall. Beyond the wooden stockade, Cai could hear the lowing of the keep's cattle. He wondered how the old wizard could stand it.

Shifting Back - 57

"Enter," came Myrddin's voice from inside. Cai entered, surprised at the ordinariness of the room. Their studies had usually taken place in the main room of Da's own roundhouse, at the same long tables that they ate at every morning and night. He'd never been invited back to Myrddin's quarters, and even when his age-mates dared him, he still never had the nerve to break in without invitation. Even before he knew Myrddin had some magic powers, he'd always suspected the man was a druid. There were stories about what the druids of old could do, dyn hysbys or not. Myrddin sat at a table in the middle of the small room, glancing through the same scrolls Cai had often seen Artur studying. Several torches lined the walls, giving the room a bit more light than Cai's quarters. There were several mysterious looking jars and pouches on shelves in the back, but nothing looked too…out of the ordinary. Not even Myrddin himself, who could have been any of the crofters and warriors that Da commanded. The old man's eyes lit on Cai. He could feel the weight of their scrutiny to the point that he shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. Myrddin stared at Cai, almost as if the older man had never seen him before. "You." Cai tried not to fidget under Myrddin's heavy gaze. "Me, cyfarwydd?" He was a man grown, not to be intimidated by his childhood tutor. "All these years…" Myrddin mused, one hand stroking his short beard. "All these years I tested Artur and I never thought to look for the gift in you." "I…I don't understand," Cai stammered. It didn't matter that he towered over Myrddin by nearly a head and a half. The man still managed to make him feel like a small child, clumsy and oafish. "Did you ever dream, bach, when you were young?" Myrddin's eyes seemed to almost bore into Cai's soul. "Dreams of running or flying, so vivid that they seemed real?" "Did Da--" Cai began, but the look on Myrddin's face stopped him. His tutor seemed…wistful. Almost fanatically so, as if everything rested on Cai's answer. "Aye, cyfarwydd. I did. At least, until I jumped off the wall and nearly killed Artur. Then Da told me not to." The end of Myrddin's mouth twitched. "Do you realize what this means, Cai?" Wordlessly, Cai shook his head. Maybe he should have paid attention to those triads. "The Romans tried their best to burn out the knowledge that Ynys Mon carried," Myrddin said. "And while the sacred groves burned, they forgot that knowledge only needs one man to remember it and pass it on." Cai's eyes widened as he slowly realized what his tutor meant. "But the derwydds--the oak seekers -I thought they all died. And the magic died with them."

Shifting Back - 58

Myrddin smiled that secretive smile of his. "Aye, the orders of druid: derwydds, ollamh, prydydd all, they were slaughtered. But the knowledge. The magic, bach. It didn't. You're living proof of that." "How--" Cai shook his head. "You're mistaken, cyfarwydd. Dreams are just--" "Have they changed, bach?" Myrddin cut in impatiently. "Have they changed of late?" Cai nodded slowly. The dreams had come back, but gone was the pastoral landscape he remembered from his childhood. "Battle. Skulking warriors. Scouts and raiding parties off the coast. The Sais rise again." "And you know they're Sais? For certain?" "I remember the last war!" Cai answered hotly. "I might have been just a boy, but I remember what the Sais look like. And the stories the men used to tell. It was the Sais that killed Artur's father." "And may very well kill Artur himself without your help." The smile returned to Myrddin's tired face. "The triads spoke of a son who would fly on the wings of a dragon. Sometimes we forget that you don't necessarily have to read a prophecy on the slant. Sometimes it can be read for what it says, without interpretation." "But there are no dragons…" Cai said slowly. "The wings don't have to be dragon wings," Myrddin answered with a triumphant look. "They need only be wings…" "I don't understand what that has to do with yesterday," Cai said. "My hands--I almost hurt Artur…" His gut twisted every time he thought about that, about the raw scratches that raked down Artur's shoulder. Myrddin stood, coming around to sit on the edge of the table. "There are old stories of shapeshifters--changers--ones who could move into animal shape at will. Yesterday, you began to shift into a bird, a falcon if I'm not mistaken." Myrddin lifted Cai's large hand, stroking his fingers. "These were talons. The proof can be readily seen on Artur's shoulder. And this" Myrddin tapped Cai's cheek. "This was feathered, bach. You have that gift." Cai stared at him. "Demon gift," he said finally. "The devil's work, just like those dreams--" He had never been particularly fervent in his beliefs--indifferent at best, since those beliefs seemed to have little to do with the life he lived and was expected to live. He went to mass as Da dragged him, automatically following the rest of the keep through the motions of the ceremony. He took for granted the saints and rituals that guided his life. It had always seemed to him that many of the saints that the church now worshipped locally resembled a good number of the heroes that Myrddin

Shifting Back - 59

taught them about in the triads and lays, but it was hard to say for sure. Harder still to question something that always been done that way. "I've told your father a hundred times to send Father Osric on his way," Cai heard Myrddin mutter. "Blasphemous old fool." Myrddin shook his head, turning his attention back to Cai. "'Tisn't the work of devils and demons, bach. It's the natural way of the world. Your Roman priests have just forgotten that." "But the Bible--" Cai started. "Have you read the Holy Book?" Cai shook his head. "Not that Father Osric would place such a relic into your filthy hands in the first place." Myrddin snorted. "Damned religious fanatics and their closed views of the world. Forgetting the mystery of it, the magic…" "Myrddin?" The older man shook his head. "Sorry, bach. Distraction…" He gave Cai a serious look. "It's not the gift in your blood that's evil, Cai. That gift comes from something far older than Christianity. Far older even than the clans in these isles. 'Tis the power of the life and the earth itself." "Not a demon gift," Cai repeated skeptically. "But why would the Church lie?" Myrddin shrugged. "Habit. Something they don't understand and don't wish to try to. Same as the other customs they've ignored over the centuries." Myrddin gave him a sideways look. "Warriors lying down with other warriors, swearing oaths to each other. That sort of thing." Cai could feel his face heat up. "I wasn't--" Myrddin's hand fell to Cai's shoulder. "I wouldn't accuse you of anything that I wasn't myself guilty of," he said gently. "Those who remember the old ways know that there are times when a man lies with a man, just as a woman might lie with a woman. Before the Romans came, it was seen as a part of life, not this sin as you were taught." "But--" The grip on Cai's shoulder tightened as Myrddin leaned in closer. "Do you love him, Cai?" Myrddin asked quietly. "Y-yes," Cai stammered. "And you know that he holds you above all else in the world," Myrddin pointed out. Again, Cai nodded, not trusting his voice. "This gift that you have, this ability--your Artur will need it in the years to come, especially as the Sais rise to power again." Myrrdin's dark eyes bored into Cai's. "Will you help him?"

Shifting Back - 60

"Aye," was all Cai could say. *** "What did the old man want?" Artur asked before arms practice. His foster brother weighed the practice staves carefully before selecting one. "Nothing," Cai answered. "Just--some tutoring he thought I might find interesting." Artur gave Cai a skeptical look. "Tutoring? You hated lessons when we were younger." "Well, maybe these ones I might find more interesting," Cai retorted hotly, grabbing his own staff. At Artur's hurt look, he reached out to his foster brother. "Art, it's nothing, aye? It just…" Cai looked around quickly. "It just had to do with yesterday." "Yesterday," Artur repeated. "The…" Artur leaned in closer, asking "the bird thing, or the…" He hesitated. "The other bit." Cai bit his lip, not sure how to respond to that. "A little bit of both." Artur's face, surprisingly, flushed. "Is he…is he…teaching you?" His voice squeaked. "Because I'm not sure he should be the one to teach you. There are probably better tutors. Maybe Da…" Cai leaned in closer, examining Artur's blushing face. "Are you--are you jealous?" he asked quietly. "Are you jealous of me? Or of Myrddin?" "I'm not!" When their other age-mates shot Artur surprised looks, Artur quieted down. "I'm not jealous," he hissed. "I'm just…worried that he might trick you into something you aren't ready for." For a moment, Cai wanted to laugh. Artur had always been protective of him, just as he had been in return, but this was the first time his foster brother had ever tried to discourage him from something. "You are jealous." Which made him wonder if it really was Cai Artur was jealous of…or Myrddin's attentions. Artur answered with a resounding whack of his staff. "Pay attention, and put up your guard. The Sais won't be so kind to you" was Artur's only response. *** Da gave him an odd look at supper that night, staring down at Cai from the head table. He kept whispering to Myrddin, who sat ever at Da's right hand. In time, that spot would be reserved for Cai, but for now, he was happy enough to take his meals with the rest of the men at the lower tables. It was enough to have the ladies of the llys, left over from his dead mam's retinue, simper at him from across the table. To have Da and any other guests glare at him--that would have been worse than Death itself.

Shifting Back - 61

While Cai could ignore the looks from the high table, he couldn't ignore the fact that Artur was avoiding him. His foster brother was engaged in a half-hearted conversation with one of their yearmates, the son of the Caer Fyrddyn smith. Bedwyr gestured wildly, using his arms to demonstrate some technique or another to Artur. Artur himself seemed unimpressed. It still hurt that Artur would forego his usual seat opposite Cai for one further down the table, as if he was ashamed of Cai's behavior. Or of his own. Cai couldn't quite tell which--or which would have hurt him more. "This seat taken?" Cai looked up to find the newest arrival, Drystan Cai thought his name was, standing at Artur's usual place. Cai shook his head. "Not tonight. Drystan, aye?" The red-haired man nodded. "My uncle is Mark of Kernow." He made a face. "I was exiled here as a sign of good faith." Drystan settled down onto the bench across from Cai. "You're Ector's eldest, aye?" "Aye, born and raised here in Gwynedd." Cai gestured toward the end of the table. "The dark one is Artur, my foster brother, and the gesturing one Bedwyr, the smithy's son." "Artur. The foundling, aye?" Drystan eyed Artur with interest. "Seems a might small. A bit pretty for a boy." Cai found that an odd comment, since Drystan leaned toward the comely side himself. Maybe not quite as tall as Cai, but close to it, and slim as Artur. His hair was dark red, like some of the men of Eire. "Your uncle married recently, didn't he? The daughter of the dux bellorum at Tara?" Rumors had come north with the traders, something about Mark's young bride and his nephew. From the blush on Drystan's pale face, Cai thought they might be more than rumors. "Yseut, aye," Drystan said, staring down at his trencher of bread. "That might be part of the reason I was sent away." Cai hid his grin by taking a long sip of ale. "Had you seen any troubles on your way up? Da won't speak formally about it, but there are rumors…" Drystan's green eyes lit up with interest. "What you call the Sais, aye? The Saxons it's said are on the rise again, and Octha, Hengest's son, calls for the blood of the Pen Draig." "But the Pen Draig died out with Uther," Cai said, perplexed. "He never took a wife." "As far as anyone knew." Drystan leaned across the table, so close that Cai could almost feel his breath. "They say that he had a woman from the clans, a woman who bore him a son, and when Uther died with his hands at Hengest's throat, the son was hidden away." "Even then the threat of blood feud?" Cai shuddered. "Octha was only fourteen at the time. Do the Saxons send their babes to war?"

Shifting Back - 62

Drystan shrugged. "Uther's woman herself was slain by some fey magic just hours after the battle ended. That's why the babe was spirited away, though no one is sure where." Cai's eyes moved down the table, focusing on Artur. While Artur appeared to be fixated on Bedwyr's fascinating conversation, Cai could see his foster brother's eyes drifting up the table toward him. After nearly sixteen years of being raised together, Cai knew Artur's every mood, and now, Artur was showing the clear signs of being bored witless--clear to him at least. Sixteen years. Artur had been a part of Caer Fyrddin almost as long as peace had reigned in Gwynedd. When they were smaller, Artur would tell stories of his Da being a great warlord who slew thousands of Sais in battle. Knowing Artur's own skill, Cai wouldn't be surprised if his foster brother were right. It was almost as if Artur were a Pen Draig come again. A lost son. "How old d'you think this boy would be now, the new Pen Draig?" Cai asked Drystan, trying to keep his voice steady. "It was nearly sixteen years ago that Uther died." Drystan shrugged. "My uncle never mentioned how long before Camlann the boy was born. He could be a page. He could be our age now. All I know is that he doesn't look like Uther. He's supposed to be dark, like his mam." "Might be a good thing, to fight under the Pen Draig banner again," Cai said nervously. Drystan at least smiled a bit wistfully at that. "Aye. To bring the glory of Cymru under one banner…that would be a fine thing indeed." *** "Who was that at supper tonight?" Artur asked casually as they washed in the bathhouse before bed. "Drystan. Mark of Kernow's nephew. Peaceweaver, for all I know." Cai ran his fingers through his damp blond hair, trying to pick the tangles out. "Why?" Artur shrugged as he pushed back his own chin-length dark hair, wet and plastered to his skull. "No reason. He looked…interesting." Cai arched an eyebrow. "Interesting? Interesting as Myrddin?" "I don't--" Artur looked around, as if to make sure they were alone. "I'm not jealous of Myrddin. I'm not jealous of whatever private tutoring the old man gives you that he isn't giving me. And I'm not jealous of whatever relationship you strike up with that pretty boy from Kernow!"

Shifting Back - 63

Before Artur could stomp off like a child, Cai grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "You're not?" he asked huskily. "Not at all?" "Not. At. All." With each word, Artur's mouth came closer and closer to Cai's. He could almost taste Artur's breath, feel Artur's lips rough against his. "He asked about you," Cai said, his mouth inches from Artur's. "He asked about the son of Uther Pen Draig." "What has that to do with me?" Artur replied, resting his forehead against Cai's. "I'm the son of Ector of Caer Fyrddin, as far as anyone cares." As Artur moved in, Cai pushed him away. "No. You're not." Before Artur could protest, Cai put a hand against Artur's mouth. "No. Listen. If you were my brother, if you were Da's son, this--this thing would be…" Artur pushed Cai's hand away. "This thing?" Artur's voice was sardonic. "We're acknowledging it now?" Cai growled at him, ignoring the last comment. "Think about it, Artur. There are rumors that, before Uther died, his sired a son. That this son was hidden away after Uther's death, because the child itself was in danger. Da brought you here not after Camlann. You could be that son." Artur turned away. Cai put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "And Myrddin--why else would a druid come to our household? Da might be important, but his sons don't rate that kind of tutelage. Not the kind that Myrddin's offering." "What kind is he offering?" Artur asked, turning around. "Magic for his prodigy?" His tone was icy. "Damn it, Artur!" Cai clenched his fists, resisting the urge to put them through his foster brother's face. "This isn't about Myrddin! It isn't about whatever he thinks I can do--because I can't--or whoever he thinks I am. It's not about shapeshifting or flying or whatever other bloody fuck issue you want to make about this. It's about you. Just as it always has been." "Always?" Artur's voice sounded small. Cai exhaled. "Always, Artur." He reached out, drawing Artur close. His foster brother's head came to just under his chin. "You're a blasted giant," Artur muttered, reaching up to grab Cai by the back of the neck. And finally, their mouths met. Always.

Shifting Back - 64

***

There was no question about taking this back to their quarters. While their small room only housed the two of them and their four other year-mates, it was still no place for this--even if Bedwyr had brought that one wench in last winter and proceeded to entertain the girl halfway into the night. There were noises you learned to avoid when you lived in such close quarters. There were also actions you chose not to act upon until you graduated to the large curtained bed that Da still slept in, in his own partitioned chamber at the far end of the roundhouse. "Where?" Artur panted as he fumbled with Cai's trews. "Not here," Cai muttered into Artur's mouth, trying to direct Artur out the low-eaved door without hurting himself. "The animals are all out to pasture now. The byre--" Artur pulled back, his nose wrinkled up in disgust. "But it smells like shite in there, and…" Cai silenced him with a hungry kiss. "Dry stores," Artur said, pushing Cai back for a moment. "Harvest isn't in yet, so they're empty…" "Dry stores," Cai repeated. "Aye." He promptly grabbed Artur around the waist, tucking Artur's slim body under his arm. When Artur began to protest, Cai only grinned at him. "Faster this way." Cai all but ran to the small storage hut. He ducked under the low doorway, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before he set Artur down. His cariad was right--the hut was empty, but for a few sacks of grain Da was saving for next spring. Come winter, this small cot would be stuffed to the thatched eaves with grains for the animals and vegetables from the gardens. But for now… Artur pounced on him, mouth fastening to whatever part of Cai was convenient--in this case, his throat. Cai swatted at Artur helplessly. "What--" At that, Artur shifted up, his mouth finding Cai's. That was better. That was… Somehow they found themselves on the floor, tunics and trews still half-clinging to their bodies. Cai thought his trews were tangled up somewhere around his boots, since he hadn't put on his house slippers yet. Artur's undertunic hung on to his body by one arm, pale flesh gleaming in what moonlight came in through the low doorway. "What?" Artur asked breathlessly, staring up at Cai with those round blue eyes. "Nothing, cariad." The endearment fell so easily from his lips. Artur had called him that for years, but Cai had always thought it just one step beyond their usual brawd--brother. But 'love', with that inflection…that was something entirely new. Entirely frightening. "Not sure what to do," Artur grunted, struggling with the tunic that still hung around Cai's neck. "Women--"

Shifting Back - 65

Cai paused, looking up at Artur. "Even if you were a woman…" he said slowly, feeling sheepish. "I

still--I haven't--"

"Aye?" Artur's face brightened. "Not for me either. That is…but…"

Cai grinned, kissing Artur again. "Less talking. We'll figure it out."

"Oh, aye," Artur moaned into his mouth.

His hands roamed over Artur's sleek skin. His fingers traced the trail of downy, dark hair from

Artur's flat belly to his groin, playing with Artur's cock. At least that was familiar. It was paler than

his own, somewhat longer and thinner, but still the same. He gripped the erect flesh in his hands,

marveling at how right it felt. At how Artur's groans and thrusts aroused him, his own cock getting

harder and harder until he almost couldn't stand it.

Cai's fingers shifted lower, gently tracing the soft, fuzzy sac below Artur's cock. Artur almost writhed with some kind of possessed frenzy. "More, cariad, please," his lover cried. Fingers traced farther back, feeling smooth skin until they came to the tight hole at the base of Artur's arse. "Aye?" he asked softly, wondering if this was the way of it. One finger probed the opening gently.

"Aye," was Artur's breathless answer.

Artur thrust against Cai's thigh and cock, rocking and writhing as a thing possessed. Cai grunted at

the friction, wanting more, wanting somethingHis finger slid deeper, tickling at the warmth. He almost couldn't concentrate as Artur's cries grew

louder and louder.

"Oh, love," Cai whispered against Artur's sweaty neck. "Artur, cariad, brother of my heart…"

His eyes squeezed shut as Artur's hand found his own cock, squeezing and tugging and grasping so

tightly that he could feel his every being flooding to the tip of his cock…and spending himself over the tight curve of Artur's hip. "Cai!" Artur cried out not long after, collapsing against Cai.

Burying his face in Artur's still damp hair, Cai couldn't help a slightly-indulgent grin. "Aye, love.

Aye."

*** When Cai reported to Myrddin's for lessons the next morning, the old man wrinkled up his nose. "I suppose you and young Artur have worked everything out then?" Myrddin asked in an ironic tone. Cai blushed, but said nothing.

Shifting Back - 66

"It's said that intercourse is the best way to relieve tensions," Myrddin continued in a casual tone, putting away whatever scrolls he had been referencing. "Further of such…explorations may indeed help you shift." "Further?" Cai's voice squeaked. "But how--" Myrddin's face broke into a rather sadistic grin. "Oh, what I could teach you, bach. But your young dragon would no doubt roast me alive if I did." Cai looked sharply at Myrddin. "So he is the Pen Draig." The old wizard nodded. "Figured that out then, did you?" Myrddin stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But if you have come to that conclusion, others must have as well…" "'Twas Drystan that mentioned it," Cai began, noting the worried look on his tutor's face. "Not Artur by name! Just that there was rumor of such a son of Uther, and that such a son might be needed…" "Drystan, eh? Mark's brother's get. Trouble for the old bastard, if I remember right." Myrddin smirked. "I may not be the only one who dabbles still in the old ways. Mark always had an obsession with philters and the like, and if the rumors are correct about young Drystan and his uncle's child bride…" The old man trailed off at Cai's blank look. "Not that any of that matters." "Cyfarwydd?" Cai couldn't help staring. "Would it be best if I returned later?" Myrddin chuckled. "Nay, lad. Don't mind an old man's meanderings." "Not old, cyfarwydd. As old as Da, but no more," Cai protested. And it was true--Myrddin couldn't be more than forty-five, himself, of the same generation as Da and Uther Pen Draig. But so many of the men their age and older had been lost in that last battle with the Sais, as they were now coming to see. "You flatter, young Cai. But now, we have other things to concentrate on. Please. Sit." Myrddin pointed to a low stool that sat before his cluttered work table. Cai obeyed, folding up his long legs as best he could to perch on the small stool. "We haven't had a shifter in the clans for years, bach, so you'll forgive me if I'm not sure how to proceed," Myrddin said frankly, pacing around the small cot. Given that the cot was barely seven lengths in diameter, the wizard's legs covered its length quite quickly. "That chanting bit--that worked the other day," Cai said helpfully. Myrddin looked thoughtful. "A trance might work… Though it was strong emotion that brought out the last shift. Maybe…" He stroked his beard again. "Follow me, bach."

Shifting Back - 67

"But where--" Cai started, running to keep up with Myrddin. The wizard led him past the inner wall of the llys, bypassing the wooden stockade for the outer earthen wall. This wall, set deep into the crown of the hill, encircled both the fields and the cluster of cots that wouldn't fit within the older curtain wall. Standing atop this, a man could see for miles and miles. Da's ancestors had chosen well when they set up Caer Fyrddin on this spot. The llys had been defended by Cai's family for generations now and had never fallen. Not even to the Sais. "Here, lad," Myrddin said, positioning himself on top of the wall. "Here?" Cai scrambled up top, peering over the edge. From where he stood, it was over fifteen lengths to the ground--if you could count the short ledge before the drop-off the ground. From the ledge itself, Cai could see the sheer cliff that cut down to the river below. He looked about, surprised that he couldn't see any sentries on watch. Mayhap Da was getting lax about enforcing the watch. Or the thirty men-at-arms who served his father were getting lazy as peace became more and more of a habit. "Aye, this should do." Myrddin scanned the skies as if he were looking for something in particular. Before Cai could ask how, Myrddin shoved him hard off the wall. Cai fell head first, the wind rushing in his face. He opened his mouth to scream as the ground got closer and closer, trying to wrap his arms around his head to take the impact. But before he could hit the groundHe soared. A sharp cry escaped his beak as warm thermals lifted him higher and higher on the wind. He lowered his right wing, turning neatly on the wingtip. Pulling his wings in tight, Cai dived for the ground, pulling up just before he crashed head-first into the earth. He screamed again as he climbed toward the sky. This was what he had dreamed of, all those years ago. This was what he remembered: the roar of the wind, the wide open skies, the freedom… "Cai!" He whirled around quickly, soaring back to where Myrddin stood. Not sure how to land, Cai untucked his legs, using his wings to brake steeply as he came down toward the wall. And promptly overshot it, landing in a tangle of arms and legs at the bottom of the outer wall. "Cai, lad? Are you all right?" Myrddin stared down at him from the top of the wall, concerned. Cai stood up shakily, staring at his still-feathered hands. He felt his face, not surprised to find it still pointed slightly in the shape of a beak. "Aye!" he tried to say, even if it came out as more of a caw. Myrddin chuckled, though Cai couldn't figure out why for the life of him. "We have some work to do, bach. But still…" The old wizard climbed down off the wall, landing neatly beside Cai. "A

Shifting Back - 68

gyrfalcon. Bird of kings. I shouldn't have expected less." One finger traced the edges of Cai's beak. "Oh, bach, there may yet be hope for Cymru…" *** It took work. It took concentration and a dedication that Cai had never given to anything, not even his weapons practice. There were falls and twisted limbs and scrapes that he could scarcely explain to Da, much less any of his year-mates. Luckily, or unluckily, the entire llys seemed more and more occupied with the impending war. Because it was inevitable now. The Sais were on the march again, and the clans of Cymru had to prepare for battle. And of course, from what Cai gleaned from talk around the tables at night, none of the clans could agree on how to fight, where to meet the Saxons, how to come together as they had. Twenty years now had passed, and in that short span of time, the clans of Gwynedd had forgotten what it was to stand together. The past generation had been spent recuperating, but now that threat was eminent once again, no one wanted to raise the rallying cry. Cai saw Da staring at Artur some nights, speculating. Artur seemed resigned to his inevitable fate, even if no word was said. As Cai studied the art of shapeshifting with Myrddin, Artur studied the arts of tactics and warfare under Da himself. Rumors flew through the llys, as they always did, but no one had the time to do more than speculate. Not now. Not with the Saxons on the march. Winter was hard. There weren't as many stolen moments as Cai would have liked, not with the call for all hands to pump the bellows in the smithy or mend chain shirts and leather leggings for battle. He tried, as much as he could, to make it worthwhile for Artur. Myrddin, for all his hemming and hawing and double-meanings, proved to be a wealth of knowledge for Cai. There were fumblings between him and Artur, and the occasional pulled muscles as they attempted to twist their bodies in ways that weren't just meant, but there were times when Cai slid into Artur's tight body, their limbs entwined with one another, that he knew a different kind of flight. Cai knew that this frenetic peace would never last. Not with Drystan commenting more and more often about Cai's absences, about Artur's mysterious meetings with other clan leaders. There was talk again of a dux bellorum--a war leader--to unite the clans, and while suspicious eyes tended to disregard the foster son of Ector of Caer Fyrddin, Drystan always seemed curious about what Artur and Cai were doing. "It's you he wants," Artur whispered one night, entwined in their pallets. Winter's chill and the lack of warmth in the round house meant doubling up together for warmth. No one seemed to notice that Cai and Artur had yet to go back to their respective beds. There were definite advantages to being so closely associated for so long. Even now, the people of Caer Fyrddin seemed to take for granted that Cai and Artur were automatically paired together. Da seemed to cast a speculative eye their way every so often, but never said anything. Maybe it was the general acceptance of Myrddin, and his slow revival of the old ways within the household. Or maybe it was just that everyone was too busy to care right now.

Shifting Back - 69

"Me? Why would he want me?" Cai protested, burrowing closer to Artur's warm body. He snuffled against the side of Artur's neck, kissing the crook of Artur's shoulder through the worn linen undertunic. "Because you're the most brawn man in the keep, you daft idiot," Artur hissed back, arching his back in pleasure, "and your fingers speak the most wonderful language…"

"What language?" Cai whispered, said fingers sneaking their way up Artur's undertunic and

wrapping around the half-erect cock they found there.

"Not--that--one--" Artur gasped against Cai's mouth.

Amidst the spring mud, the rush to plant, and the constant practice, Cai found himself the most at

peace that he had been in a long time.

But that peace could never last. Especially not when Artur was stolen away.

*** "Da?" Cai knew that look on his father's face. It was the same look Da had worn when he brought Cai the news of Mam's death.

"Cai, Artur…I have news."

Artur's hand found his, something Artur hadn't done since they were small. But Da didn't seem to

notice. His brown eyes--the same eyes as Cai--seemed unfocused, as if he didn't see the two of

them standing in front of him.

"A messenger has come. He demand Artur."

Cai gaped at Da, while Artur's hand shook slightly in his. "What? But--"

"They know, somehow." Da shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "We thought we had

hidden you so well, that no one knew, but somehow…"

"Da…is it the Sais?" Artur asked quietly, his voice calmer than Cai would have given him credit

for.

Da startled, as if he hadn't realized they were even there. "No, lad, no. It's not the Sais. It's Mark of

Kernow. He demands Artur in exchange for his nephew, Drystan."

Cai stared at Da. "Drystan? But how--"

"It's a long story, bach," Da said with a sigh. "And it goes back to Artur's mother, Ygraine…"

Shifting Back - 70

Cai exchanged a look with Artur, noting the shocked look in his lover's eyes. Artur had never said anything about his family beyond the occasional speculation when they were young. It had never seemed to matter, as Artur said time and time again, because he had all he needed at Caer Fyrddin. "Ygraine was a kinswoman of Mark, born in Tintagel. Which makes Drystan a cousin of sorts, Artur. Uther laid eyes on Ygraine when he was campaigning in the south against the Sais, and when Mark denied Uther's permission to marry Ygraine…" "He stole her away," Artur finished quietly. "He stole her away and sired me." Da nodded. "Myrddin found out somehow, one of his odd druid ways, and managed to hide Ygraine away before anything could happen to her, but by then it was too late. Uther died in battle, and Octha son of Hengest invoked wergyld." "Bloodprice," Cai translated quietly. "Bloodprice that he took out on Ygraine." "Aye. How he found her…" Da shook his head. "Artur was just a wee one then, and had been overlooked in the raid on Ygraine's hiding place. Myrddin found him before the Sais or Mark did." "And brought me here." At Artur's complacent tone, Da smiled slightly. "I gather that you had figured that out already?" Artur managed a smile back. "Cai figured it out. With some cryptic help from Drystan." "Then what do we do, Da? I thought Drystan was the peaceweaver," Cai added. "We can't hand Artur over to Mark." Not that he would ever let Da do anything like that. "Nor would we," Da soothed. "We don't necessarily need Mark's support against the Sais. There are those who think he was in league with the Saxons the first time, inciting them to rebel against Vortigern's strictures and encourage them north." Cai exchanged a glance with Artur, who shrugged. "It would make sense," Artur said slowly. "Mark's lands share a border with those that the Saxons were granted under their treaty with Vortigern. To attack Cymru, it would take a more concerted effort to rally their men north." "And if the Sais went north, it would give Mark room to expand to the south and east…" Cai added. "Kernow is naught but fishmongers and rocky coves, if what Drystan says is correct." That got a smile out of Da, if anything. "He isn't wrong about his family holdings," Da admitted. "Kernow is beautiful in its own lonely way." "What if we send scouts?" Cai said cautiously. "If we can track the Sais' movement toward Cymru…"

Shifting Back - 71

"It might work if the other clans would cooperate. The five kingdoms still fight within themselves," Da reminded him gently. "The scouts I have sent all returned, unable to break through." Artur nudged Cai ever so gently until Cai coughed. Da gave them both an odd look. "What if we don't need to go over land?" Cai said finally. *** At first Da protested: it was too great a risk for his only heir, his skills weren't that controlled yet, he had to land at some point and he still couldn't do that without crashing. There were men who still tried to catch gyrfalcons for their hunting abilities, and as additions to their own mews. Artur had his own arguments, but these weren't voiced in front of others. Artur kept these private, for those moments they had alone at night. By this time, Da had moved the two of them to their own small chamber off the back of the hall under the guise that Cai, as heir, was tired of sharing his sleeping space with his peers. There were plenty of angry faces among their year-mates at that, especially Bedwyr, who had always been a trusted friend to both of them. Cai knew it was for Artur's protection, especially if Drystan was suspect. Neither of them would deny that the benefits of privacy far outweighed the price. It was a fortnight later before Da became convinced, and only then because Myrddin swore he'd send Cai himself, without Da's leave even if Da didn't agree. Da always relented to the old wizard in the end. Cai wondered at the history there, but never vocalized his thoughts. Some things were worth not knowing about. "You've not kept falcon-shape for that long," Myrddin reminded him as he shivered, naked on top of the outer llys wall. "Don't forget yourself. If you lose yourself in animal-shape, you might not find your way back to your human one." Cai nodded. "Remember not to shift back after you've eaten," Artur added with a grin. "The Saxons won't rub your stomach when you cramp up because you haven't vomited up all those rodent bones." He dodged Cai's halfhearted blow, but the joke added a bit more brevity to the situation. "Just take care of yourself," Da said finally, clutching Cai tight. "You're the only son I have, and if I lose you--" Cai smiled slightly. "I know, Da. I know." Before he could change his mind, Cai leaned down and kissed Artur swiftly, noting the unsurprised look on his father's face. Before anyone could say anything, he threw himself into gyrfalcon shape and took flight. The days blended together into a rotation of light and dark. He flew south over Powys and Brycheiniog, skirting the high cliffs until he came to the River Wye on the border of tiny Gwent.

Shifting Back - 72

Surely enough, a mass of men were gathering there, obviously intent on marching northwest. From the look of their weapons and supplies, Cai recognized this as no peaceful mission. It seemed as if the entire Angle and Saxon forces in the south were on the march. With a cry, Cai winged back to Gwynedd as quickly as he could, stopping only to eat and rest when he needed. The hills and rivers and forests of Cymru blurred together until the familiar walls of Caer Fyrdinn finally came into sight. Instead of landing gracefully, he fell the last few lengths into the practice yard in human shape, too tired to hold falcon-shape any longer. "Cai?" A voice he recognized as Bedwyr's helped him focus his attention. His old friend didn't seem surprised somehow. "You must come." Arms wrapped a cloak around his naked body, helping him to his feet. "What--" Cai croaked, surprised that his voice actually came out sounding human. "Ector has been waiting for you, Cai," Bedwyr said, hurrying him toward the main roundhouse. "Ector and Myrddin." "Artur!" Cai cried, lurching forward. "It's Artur--" *** "We should've known," Da said slowly, staring down at his hands. "No one thought of Artur going out hunting with Drystan and the others. No one counted on Drystan striking in broad daylight. He used some infernal tricks to spirit Artur away. We just don't know how. Or where." Cai shook his head. "I didn't see anything suspicious as I flew in," he said. He pointed to the map of Brython that lay on the table in front of Da. "The Sais are camped here and here, but I didn't notice any camps west of the Wye." "Artur was captured nearly a sennight ago," Myrddin added. "We didn't notice 'til dark that Artur was gone. Mark must have learned some foul magic of his own to cover his trail." "You saw nothing out of the ordinary?" Da pressed. "Nothing at all?" "No, Da," Cai repeated impatiently. "Why haven't you marched? Why are you still here if you knew that the Sais were close?" "Because if we act now, we provoke the attack," Da explained patiently. "We waited for you in hopes that you would have some news of where Artur was, some clue…" "It is what they expect," Myrddin admitted. "Mark wants to draw Ector out, knowing that Ector is really the only strength that Gwynedd has." "Have you sent word to the other clans? If we raise the banner…" Cai said desperately. "A united Gwynedd beat them back before."

Shifting Back - 73

"For that, we need Artur." Cai shrugged. "So we give them Artur." At Da and Myrddin's blank looks, he grinned. "None of the clans know what Artur looks like, aye? Or who he is? Who would recognize Ector of Caer Fyrddin's fosterling as the heir to Uther Pen Draig?" Myrddin began to smile. "There are ways that the men of the clans have forgotten," he said thoughtfully. "Tricks of disguise that even Mark himself might not know." Da looked at both of them for a long time before sighing. "If you can find a willing volunteer…" *** It didn't take long to convince Bedwyr. While Bedwyr was more solid than Artur, his coloring was close enough that Myrddin thought it would work. All Bedwyr had to do was parade up and down in front of the tribes bearing a Pen Draig shield. According to Myrddin, few would notice the glamour that changed a smith's apprentice into the foster son that many of them had glimpsed at a distance over the years. Cai was surprised at how quickly the clans could be rallied. All it took was a few strategic messages, and soon representatives from each clan flocked to Caer Fyrddin. A forest of tents sprung up between the walls of the keep as the men arrived in numbers that Cai had never seen. There was more power to the name and memory of Pen Draig than he had suspected. While the men arrived and plotted their attack, Cai was sent out each day, searching farther and farther afield for where they might have taken Artur. The forests that skirted the hills of Gwynedd were thick and often impenetrable, and if Mark had granted Drystan some glamour power of his own… It was well-known among the men of Caer Fyrddin what an accomplished hunter Drystan was. Few could keep up with him in the forest. Fewer still could track him. None of them had the eyes of a falcon and the ability to span as large a distance as Cai. Even then, Cai found himself growing more and more worried as nothing turned up. Before long, the army, as it had become, was ready to march. Cai had no choice but to take up his place at Da's side, riding at the head of the column. Bedwyr, nearly wetting himself with nervousness, stayed constantly at Cai's side under the Caer Fyrddin banner. It had been agreed by all the clan chiefs that they would not yet unleash the long-unseen banner of Pen Draig just yet. Cai wasn't sure what Myrddin had done to the men of Caer Fyrddin, but few seemed to recall that Artur himself was actually missing. The shared view seemed to be that they marched because the Sais did, and because the banner of Pen Draig had called them once again to fight. Cai never questioned and Bedwyr himself tried not to speak unless he had to, so Myrddin's carefully-crafted illusion was carried forward a little while longer. When he could, Cai took to the skies to scout ahead, reporting back what he found each evening. He tried not to let the lack of signs bring down his spirits, but it was inevitable. As each day

Shifting Back - 74

dragged on, Cai felt like a heavy weight was growing inside his chest, tying him more and more to earth. "We'll find him, bach," Da kept saying. Cai wished he could still believe it. Every man is fallible, and as Cai's luck had it, Mark made a mistake. His nephew, while a gifted woodsman, wasn't born to the forests of Cymru as Cai and the others were. While Drystan might have known the cliffs of southern Brython, he wasn't as well-versed in the landscape of Cymru. While Drystan had driven himself and Artur toward the narrow sea separating the southern coast of Cymru's peninsula from the rest of Brython, he neglected to remember that the coasts of Cymru were just as dangerous as the ones he would have grown up with in Kernow. "He's caught at the Hafren!" Cai cried, rushing into Da's tent. "I think he underestimated the tides." Da nodded. "Drystan wouldn't have known about the spring tides in the estuary. If he's been caught…" He turned to Myrddin. "Should we send in the men?" Myrddin shook his head. "Cai has a better chance. They'll not expect him in bird-shape. And if he can sneak Artur away in the night…" Da turned to Cai again. "I'll send a small troop to shadow you. They should provide the cover that you need to free Artur." Da glanced at Myrddin. "Unless there may be some mystical trick that could turn my second son into a raptor as well…" Myrddin had the gall to laugh at that. "I've tried, Ector. If you only knew how much I had tried…" *** Myrddin came to him alone that night. Da's chosen men had already left at dusk, melting into the forest as if they were born to it. Cai would meet them at dawn, just outside Drystan's haphazard camp. "Cai?" Myrddin's voice shook him out of his reverie. "It's time, bach." Cai nodded. As he stripped down, laying Artur's ring on the empty pallet across from him, Myrddin raised an eyebrow. "Da gave it to him, after…" Cai trailed off. "Then he gave it to me." Myrddin picked up the ring, tracing the raised dragon etched into the gold. "The last I saw this, it was on Uther's finger." There was a sadness to his voice that Cai hadn't heard before, something that made him wonder… "Myrddin, were you--" He struggled for the words. "Did you love him?"

Shifting Back - 75

Without saying the name, Myrddin obviously knew who Cai meant. "Aye, bach," the older man said finally. "Aye, I did. And he loved me." "Will that--" Cai's voice cracked, for all that he was nearly twenty-two years old. "Will that happen to us?" Myrddin smiled his half-smile. "Only time can tell, bach," he said gently. Then he stood on his toes, leaning up to kiss Cai's forehead. "For luck, bach. Bring him back to us." "We won't lose another Pen Draig," Cai said, closing his eyes. "I promise." "Fly high, bach," Myrddin urged as he opened the tent flap. "Fly high and bring our boy back." Cai flew, faster and higher than he ever had. *** In the end, it was easier to steal Artur away than Cai had thought. Drystan, never a sailor, had utterly fumbled with the small boat that was supposed to take his party the rest of the way to Kernow. He had run the boat aground on one of the rocky islets that clustered around the mouth of the estuary. When the tide rushed in to the estuary, the islands became smaller and more inaccessible, mere spires of rocky crag. Drystan couldn't have been stuck for long. He and his men clung to the edges of the islet, staring in dismay as the ground beneath them began to disappear with each wave. Cai landed at the top of the islet, relieved to see Artur among the men. His lover was bound and gagged, but he seemed relatively unharmed. Even from lengths away, Cai could see Artur's eyes light up at the sight of him. He resisted the urge to fly right to his lover, wishing there was a way he could spirit Artur away himself. The curachs, small round boats of willow and leather the men had used to brave the river, drifted in and out with the tide. Someone had obviously forgotten to anchor them securely; with each wave, the curachs drifted farther and farther away. That was of no concern to Cai. Not since Da's men had curachs of their own hidden along the shoreline. Flying back to where the men were hidden, he shifted back into human-shape. Bedwyr, ever at his side now, automatically handed him tunic and trews. The men didn't seem too surprised to find him suddenly in their midst. He wondered what they had seen over these past weeks, what the rest of the clans knew now. Not that it mattered. Not with Artur in danger. It was easy enough to slip across the estuary. Drystan's men were so worried about the incoming tide that they forgot to keep watch for approaching boats. They seemed almost relieved with Cai and his men arrived. While Cai untied Artur, resisting every urge to kiss his lover senseless, Bedwyr and the others rounded up Drystan's men and put them, two by two, into the curachs and ferried them to shore. Even Drystan seemed defeated by his whole part in this.

Shifting Back - 76

"My uncle--" he started to say at one point.

"Don't you mean, 'my aunt'?" Cai asked, wrapping Drystan's wrists tightly together.

Drystan shook his head, obviously miserable. "I didn't know that it was a love philter," he said

suddenly. "It was just going to be a toast. I didn't think my uncle would try to witch his own wifeto-be…" He stared at Cai. "I'm of no use to him. Even as his heir. If you knew how many times he's tried to take my life…" "Before or after you slept with his bride?" Artur snapped.

Drystan's expression only darkened.

"I can leave you here," Cai said suddenly. "If it would give you a better chance with your uncle,

make it look like you put up an effort."

After some consideration, Drystan shook his head. "Take me back with you. There's no life for me

in Kernow. Not now."

"Not even with Yseut?" Artur asked curiously as Drystan stepped into the curach.

Drystan shrugged. "Only time will tell."

They arrived back at the camp with more fanfare than Cai expected. Apparently Bedwyr and the

other men celebrated so loudly that the sentries noticed a line of Kernow prisoners approaching the camp, led by their supposed Pen Draig. Cai left the explanations to Da and Myrddin, concerning himself only with his lover, and making sure Artur was all right. "I should be out there," Artur muttered as Cai quickly stripped him. "I should--"

"Let Bedwyr bear the burden of leadership for a bit longer," Cai murmured, kissing his way down

Artur's belly. He tickled the tip of Artur's cock with his tongue. "Or should I invite Bedwyr in here

if you would rather be out there?"

Artur moaned wordlessly in response, thrusting his cock toward Cai's mouth.

There would be battles yet to come, aye, probably battles all their lives. For now, Cai was content

with holding his lover close before letting the dragon loose over all of Cymru.

"Let me make you fly," Cai said softly, drawing Artur's hips closer. "Fly, cariad, fly…"

Shifting Back - 77

Serpents

by Naomi Brooks and Angelia Sparrow

Arqam is a curious young djinn traveling far from his Arabian home. Rakesh is a man-eating naga terrorizing the local villagers in colonial India. When Arqam is chosen as the yearly sacrifice, Rakesh finds a kindred spirit, and willing partner in sensual exploration. Of all the djinn in all the deserts of Arabia, Arqam was the most curious. He never passed a human dwelling, as he rode the night winds, without stopping to peer inside. He never passed a chest or jar, but he had to peek within. All the elder djinn said he would come to bad end and it was his grandmother's human blood making him such trouble. None of them were surprised the day he was taken. Arqam had ventured far to the east, leaving behind the sand and oases of his native Arabia, into the lush jungles of India, where the foreign white men ruled the local people. He listened to the clipped accents of the English, the soft music of the Indians. He peered into bungalows and huts, disregarding the privacy of Her Royal Majesty's Major General and the lowest of the pariahs with equal aplomb. He watched the brown women in their colorful saris and the pale ones covered and corseted and fainting in the heat. He watched the men as they worked. In time, he grew sleepy and made a hammock of vines near the outskirts of a small village. As he lolled in the steaming night, a distant cousin found him. “Arqam,” it hissed, its low guttural voice making him uneasy. “Yes?” He peered over the edge of the hammock and saw what had addressed him. Although ghuls were a sort of djinn, Arqam's people had little contact with them. They served Iblis and haunted the graveyards. His folk lived invisible in the air. Arqam looked around but saw no graves. “May I help you, cousin?” “I am Shahib, the fire that consumes the dead. Why do you wander so far away? No mind, all have heard of Arqam, how he sticks his long beautiful nose into every house and everyone's business.” The ferocious little grey thing crouched beneath his hammock. “I'd check your curiosity soon enough, pretty cousin.” Shahib's laugh was ugly and he batted at the hammock.

Shifting Back - 78

Arqam did not move from the hammock. As long as he stayed within, the protective spells would not let Shahib touch him. Shahib tried again, and the breeze of his hand's passage disturbed Arqam. Arqam looked down at the hideous creature, grey and snarling beneath him, its corded arms too long, like a hyena's front legs. “Leave, Shahib. Follow the vultures and find some carrion. You do not feast upon djinn this night.” Arqam rolled over and pretended to sleep. From below him, he heard the evil chuckling of the ghul. “A pity. It is said the djinn know more of congress than even the sensualists of India. But I do not tempt you, my pretty cousin.” Arqam feigned sleep. He felt the hammock quake where Shahib shook one tree as he departed. But he remained safe, and in time, he fell asleep. Morning woke him with rosy light and the singing of many birds. Arqam knew the ghul would not be about by day and hastened to wash and pray before going about his travels. The nearby village was a scene of some commotion, and Arqam drifted nearer to see what the noise was. He saw a large bowl in the center of the houses, and each man stepped up to draw something from it. He held it in his hand until all the men had drawn. The men looked at their prizes. Arqam moved closer and saw they were simply nuts. The young man nearest him had an X scratched on his nut. A woman in a scarlet sari flung her arms around his neck and wailed. Arqam took human form and stayed deep in the forest shadows. “The sacrifice is chosen,” announced the old man who picked up the bowl. “Ram, unless you find a substitute, you will go tonight to the old temple and to the monster.” The woman holding Ram wailed even more loudly at this. The leader looked sadly at her. “Ekanta, you may go with him if you choose. It is a sad thing to be a childless widow.” The villagers dispersed, going about their days. Ram and Ekanta stood, clutching each other, unbelieving. Arqam made sure Ram saw him before he ducked into the trees. No monster could harm him. He would simply change into air and flame or to the spotted snake that was his namesake, and be gone. He was very curious to see what sort of monster demanded sacrifices in this day and age. The last ogre he'd encountered had been over seven hundred years ago, when Saladin's troops warred in defense of Jerusalem. The last monster, save for his cousin the ghul, had not been seen for four hundred years, not since learning and science took hold in Europe and new ideas were spreading back to the lands that had sent forth algebra and libraries. Now everything was very scientific, even here in India where the British men held sway. A maneating monster would prove some diversion. Arqam slipped through the trees, holding his human shape, letting Ram give chase.

Shifting Back - 79

He let himself be caught after a long pursuit. Ram was very handsome, and Arqam smiled at him. He understood the Sanskrit as he understood all human languages. But he could speak it no more than he could speak the Arabic of his own lands. Arqam took the marked nut from Ram's hand. He closed his hand over it and tapped his chest with a smile. “You are sent to replace me as a sacrifice?” Ram asked. Arqam nodded. Ram led him back to the village to relate the tale. The villagers gathered to hear in groups of threes and fours. Arqam was amused to hear that by the fourth telling of it, Ram had had to climb a mountain and ford a river to capture him. He stayed, smiling, and let the villagers feed him. They took him to a pool where jasmine and lilies grew and told him he should bathe. Because he smiled and obeyed, but never spoke, Arqam overheard them whispering that he was a mute. As noon drew on, they led him to a great temple abandoned in the depths of the jungle. The enormous stone faces grew new beards and hair of green creepers. The crumbling facade depicted lovers of all sexes, now slightly crumbling in the moist decay. Ram kissed both of Arqam's cheeks, then tied his wrists to a pair of poles standing upright in the ground. “Thank you,” he said. “Do you have a name? Can you speak at all?” “Arqam,” he replied, the only mortal word he could manage. “Ekanta and I shall name a son Arqam in memory of you.” Ram hastened away to the village. Arqam waited, taking in everything around him: the crumbling temple, the lush vegetation, the sweet smell of the flowers. He could have turned to a puff of flame or a snake at any time and escaped his bonds, but his curiosity tethered him more firmly than the vine ropes. The jungle steamed around him, making his thin crimson pants cling to his body. He liked the physical body. It was pretty and novel. The feel of the long hair down his back, the way his muscles moved as he twisted in the ropes, the trickle of sweat down his bare chest all pleased him. Arqam glanced down and saw he had grown hard from this. And that, too, pleased him. He wished he had a hand free to see what that organ would feel like. He had to know what this great monster that so frightened the village was. If it was only Shahib, he would take his wayward cousin home with him. The bones scattered about the mouth of the temple did not speak of a scavenger that ate corpses, but of a hunter that sought and devoured live prey, so it could not be a ghul.

Shifting Back - 80

The sun crawled down to the horizon. Arqam heard steps near the mouth of the temple. A man, resplendent in black and gold that caught the setting sun, came out and looked him over. The man's gold-stitched shoes stepped lightly over the bones, making no more noise than a great hunting cat. His black robes flowed about him. His eyes burned hot above his long straight nose as he looked at Arqam, and a small smile crossed his bearded mouth. “You are not afraid, pretty one.” His voice, low and mellow, came to Arqam in the language of the djinn. “You cannot hurt me,” Arqam replied in the same language. “Nothing can.” The man smiled and ran one hand, heavy with gold and onyx rings, across Arqam's shoulders and down one side, tickling lightly over his ribs. “Do your arms not ache as you stand there?” Arqam shrugged a bit. “Not enough to try to escape.” He squirmed, his breath catching, as the stranger moved behind him and ran over-familiar hands over his chest and shoulders and then up his arms. He felt a kiss of each hand and then something like claws or teeth near his wrists and suddenly he was free and in the man's embrace. “Would you like some dinner, pretty? I am Rakesh. With whom do I dine this evening?” “Arqam.” He looked the man over as they walked to the temple. “And what will you feed me, this night?” “What do you like best, Arqam? I have fruit and rice and many other good things.” “I like the fruit here.” Arqam stared about. Glowing patches, like the gaslights he had seen in the British houses, illumined their path into the rich, brightly-lit chamber. There oil-lamps took over for the glowworms. Carpets lay thick on the floor, a small table sat low among cushions. He turned to look at Rakesh and then at the table. In the brief instant, it was laden with food of all sorts: fruit and rice, vegetables and chicken, and a large slab of raw meat at the head of the table. Rakesh released him and helped him to sit on the cushions. Arqam needed no aid, but was loath to release the beautiful monster's hand. Rakesh sat near him, at the head of the table. Arqam helped himself to some of the food. He wasn't sure how much the human body he wore required. He watched Rakesh smile, his large white teeth almost menacing. “And why is it such a terrible thing to be chosen for you?” Arqam asked as he took a bite of the mango on his plate. He looked all around the richly appointed chamber. “This is a feast no man in the village will ever see.” Rakesh laughed. "Curious little one. This is a feast that only one man a year does see." He carved a bite from the meat on his plate and licked at the blood that trickled down his knife-blade. "My

Shifting Back - 81

magic is not great but it can extend a single man into a year's food." Arqam paled, thinking the situation called for it. "And this year, I am that man." He took a drink of the fruit juice in his cup to cover his rampant curiosity. Rakesh's finger was light on the side of his face. "Indeed. But I have a great weakness. I like to play with my food." Arqam smiled at that. He had often spied on his brothers and their wives, and sometimes he had seen what male djinn did when there were no females. He had already learned that Rakesh was interested in the latter. "Show me." Rakesh leaned closer, his lips parted slightly. Arqam could smell the blood on his breath. It did not repulse him, but the dark eyes held him immobile. Rakesh's lips moved on his, a feather light touch that deepened into a caress. The taste of lightening was on Arqam's lips as well as coursing through his body. The soft, slick probe of Rakesh's tongue startled him. Rakesh moved away, smiled and came back for a more insistent kiss, his tongue moving into Arqam's mouth with easy pleasure. He tasted and sampled, and Arqam allowed it, doing the same. "You taste delightful," Rakesh whispered. Arqam, bolder now and knowing what to do, leaned in and kissed Rakesh, running his own tongue into the monster's mouth. There he learned of a different taste and smiled when they parted. "Oh sweetness," Rakesh sighed. Arqam was fiddling with the fasteners that held his robes, wondering what sort of horror lurked beneath the gold and black silks. Rakesh stroked his face and his hands, the long be-ringed fingers teasing on his skin. At a touch, Rakesh's robes fell away. He stood, slim and magnificent in the oil-lamps' rich glow. His body rippled with muscle and black hair marked him, in not quite random patches along his belly and chest. He pulled off the turban and his black hair tumbled out to his shoulders, the lamp shining on the golden tips of it. Arqam gave a soft sigh of desire. One curiosity was satisfied, but another impelled him to reach out and touch Rakesh's chest, his arms. Rakesh sniffed at him, then ran a very odd-feeling tongue over Arqam's neck. "You are not quite human, are you, pretty?" "It is so obvious?" Arqam thought he'd done a good job of blending with the humans. Rakesh licked the other side of his neck, and Arqam trembled under a tongue that felt almost forked. "Humans do not taste of smoke and flame. They taste of food and fear. What are you?"

Shifting Back - 82

Arqam merely smiled. It was always best not to give away all his secrets at once, especially to a dangerous being such as this. "You'll find out.” Rakesh tasted him again, his tongue more human feeling this time. “I am naga,” the monster said and kissed him. Arqam melted under the kiss, not knowing what was meant by that. He trailed kisses up the line of his captor's beard to whisper. “I am smoke and flame...as you said.” Rakesh laughed, a soft rich sound. “Then burn me, pretty Arqam and I shall devour you.” The bedroom was a priest's alcove in the old temple. Rakesh had altered the crumbing stone with thick furs, luxurious silk and more of the mellow brass oil lamps. His bed was a raised platform covered in fur and cloth. It felt like a den to Arqam, a perfect place for a predator to rest after a kill. Arqam hung onto Rakesh, nervous about the den, but still curious about the naga's body and about what he suspected came next. Rakesh kissed him and lowered him to the furs of the bed. “I could burn you,” Arqam said, licking his neck. Rakesh's tongue flickered across one nipple in return. “And I could still your hot flesh on your bones with a single stroke.” Arqam saw the long fangs when his lover looked up, and the forked snake's tongue slid between them to trail up his own smooth chest. “But you won't.” Arqam traced his fingers through the odd gold-streaked hair. “Because you want me first.” Rakesh rubbed his slim body with large, strong hands. “It is the same for you. You want to see if my skin is sweet to touch.” He pressed his hard cock against Arqam's thigh. “Or if I am built like my other-shape.” “Are you?” Arqam guessed he knew the other shape. “My handsome cobra.” Rakesh licked his ear, his tongue soft and human. “You will have to find out, won't you, Arqam?” “I plan to.” He pressed Arqam to lie back on the furs. “What do you know of our ways?” This lick was accompanied by a nip hard enough to leave marks. Rakesh's broad nails left a broken halo of red dents around one nipple as he toyed with it. Arqam shivered a bit at the sensations. “Nothing, except that you are feared.” He squirmed when Rakesh left teeth-marks on his chest, but was not distressed. As long as those great, poisonous fangs did not follow, he was unafraid.

Shifting Back - 83

“Then I shall teach you.” Rakesh kissed him again. “You are very beautiful. I would keep you for a long time.” “Yes, please,” Arqam whispered against his mouth. “Teach me. Keep me.” “We shall dispense with the pretense of unwillingness then. Here, there is a ritual to it where the one creating the kisses expresses a wish to stop after each step.” Rakesh smiled and flicked his forked tongue up along Arqam's sternum. He licked Arqam's navel, whispering “ah, sweet,” and then down over Arqam's flat belly. He took Arqam's shaft in his hand and opened his lips, moving the head of the cock around in his mouth, but never touching it with his tongue or teeth. Arqam looked down, confused. After a few moments of this, Raklesh covered the head with his fingers and pressed light kisses and nips down the sides of Arqam's cock. Arqam moaned a little, liking the feeling of this. He wasn't sure what Rakesh had planned next, but this felt like riding in the heart of a sandstorm. The waves of desire roiled over his body like the great winds. He felt every touch and kiss like the spicules of the sand on his skin. There was no puncture of the fangs, so Arqam gave himself to the kisses. After a light nip near the head, Rakesh kissed the head of his cock, folding hot lips around it and sucking lightly, just as he had with Arquam's mouth. Rakesh took it farther, and farther, until half of his cock was in Rakesh's mouth. Arqam loved it. His beautiful monster knew more of kissing than Arqam had learned in three thousand years. He was still young as djinn went, and his parents had only lately begun to make marriage noises. When Rakesh swallowed him up, with full suction and long tongue strokes, the fork of it caressing both sides at once, all thought of djinniyah and marriage went out of his head, blown away by the sandstorm of passion. His body felt like the stars among which he once had played tag, burning hot and bright and exploding away from each other at ridiculous speeds. His belly and stones flared and pulsed like a mirage on a hot day and he erupted, a great fountain of white heat pouring out of him and into Rakesh. Rakesh swallowed and smiled and slid up to hold him and stroke his hair. “Do your people know of such things, lovely one?” Arqam, his eyes wide and his breathing still too fast, shook his head. “No, not at all.” Rakesh smiled again and touched Arqam's cheek with his tongue. “Then I shall have to teach you. It is only one more sort of kiss, long and slow.” Arqam returned the smile. He kissed Rakesh's dry, smooth cheek. “Teach me of it all.”

Shifting Back - 84

Rakesh lay beside him, touching him gently. “Of course. Kiss me, Arqam. My mouth my throat, my body. Taste as you desire. Let me feel the fire.” Arqam did, willingly. He kissed Rakesh everywhere, curious as always of what his monster's reactions would be at the places he himself liked best. There had been a djinniyah who liked to kiss beneath the date palms when she was not leading travelers astray. There had been a djinn in the coolness of the vapors above the Red Sea. Rakesh's low hisses told Arqam he was enjoying the attention. “For knowing nothing of this, you seem to enjoy it,” he teased. “You enjoy it, too, so I continue.” Arqam ran his hot tongue over Rakesh's smooth chest, teasing the dark nipples. He liked the way the smooth little bumps got all hard and made Rakesh hiss more. “Indeed. Kiss the lingam, Arqam. See how he responds to your kisses.” Arqam traced a line with his tongue down to where Rakesh's cock stood erect, a single bead of semen at the tip like a pearl. He licked away the droplet and kissed the head and sides as Rakesh had done. Rakesh stroked his hair. “You have beautiful hair. You are very beautiful. And you kiss so sweetly.” Arqam did not try to mimic all of Rakesh's style, but concentrated on what had left him the most breathless. He took all of Rakesh's cock into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue, pressing just lightly with his teeth. Rakesh gave a low hiss and came after a bare few licks. Arqam swirled his tongue all over the cock and then kissed the tip as he rose off. Rakesh drew him up close and caressed him in ways that left little goosebumps in the wake of the clever fingers. Soon, Arqam was covered in them and shivering as each caress raised more on his back, his arms and his neck. “I think I might keep you, little flame.” “You don't want to eat me?” Arqam nipped at his neck as Rakesh had nipped his earlier. “I doubt I could. Not anymore than you could burn me.” Arqam smiled and kissed Rakesh. “No, you can't.” Rakesh gave a mock sigh. “I shall have to settle for the hinds and great deer of the forest. But I would lick you much and taste of your mouth and your skin and your seed.” Rakesh blew out the oil lamp and nestled under the fur, drawing Arqam close for warmth. The long days passed in a haze of passion and pleasure. Rakesh taught Arqam all he knew, and the djinn took no notice of the passage of time, the sultry days or the steamy nights.

Shifting Back - 85

***

District Official Alfred Jefford-Saunders ordinarily did not concern himself with local superstition. After the sepoy uprising a decade earlier, he paid a little more attention to the heathenish religion of the locals, but only to avoid another bullet in his leg. He and his men of the Imperial Civil Services, covenanted and salaried all, were doing their best to bring civilization to this continent, but it didn't seem to be rooting well, even after a century. He'd been expecting a boxwallah, the traveling peddler with a virtual Pandora's box on his head, since Madame Jefford-Saunders had been getting testy lately. He thought nothing of the local showing up on his verandah, expecting it to be only the news of the boxwallah. But the man babbled of temples and monsters and sacrifices. Pish and tosh, and Jefford-Saunders had heard it all in his twenty years in this benighted country. All he'd really worried about was getting suitable English plumbing and proper English food into this backwater district. No boxwallah came, but the exhausted man was joined by a chorus of wailing women, crowding the garden and frightening the birds. Jefford-Saunders could not ignore the the local superstitions any longer. He got the story from Lakshman, one of the villagers he knew by sight. He mentally halved the number of the dead after he heard it. The monster from the old temple, the evil temple where no one sacrificed, had come forth to raven and devour and destroy. Harsha, whom Jefford-Saunders had always thought a clever and level-headed sort, especially for a woman and an Indian, threw herself at his feet, her face clawed to ribbons by her long fingernails, her cries shrill as the coppersmith bird. “Half of us dead, my husband and babies with them. Justice, Sahib. We want justice and the monster dead!” She tore her hair again. There was no help for it and nothing else to do. Jefford-Saunders sent messengers to the garrison and took a dozen soldiers, solid British men and none of the natives. They marched into the jungle, expecting to find a few dead people, perhaps from a tiger attack. Instead, the stench as they approached the village was intolerable even after two days. For a long, bad moment, Jefford-Saunders suspected the only living villagers were still in the garden of his bungalow. Then he saw some of the men cutting trees and making pyres. Others dragged the bodies, separating them by family. The women wailed as they washed the dead for burning. A low burning anger roiled in him, boiling up from his gut and surprising him. These were his people, his responsibility. He'd have the head of whatever beast did this.

Shifting Back - 86

The villagers were more than willing to show them the way to the temple. The bones littering the walkway near the sacrifice posts were blessedly clean after the decay and stink of the village. Jefford-Saunders allowed a water break and then marched his men into the mouth of the ruin. *** Arqam woke to danger. Rakesh was already up, but no longer entirely the handsome man of the last few days. His long, black-scaled body coiled under him and the human torso rose from the scales at the waist. Arqam realized this was his lover's true form. The naga raised himself from where he flicked his tongue, tasting the air near the door and smiled at Arqam. The sinuous body flowed over the rugs to the bed and Rakesh stroked Arqam's face. “Men are coming, little fire. White men with weapons I cannot magic away have invaded the temple. I can make my escape.” He pulled aside a divan to show a hole in the masonry large enough for the giant cobra body. “But I would not leave you to their hands. I know you cannot speak to mortals.” Arqam smiled sweetly and embraced his lover. He ran his hands over the smooth muscles of Rakesh's back, feeling where the cool swell of his fine buttocks curved under the scales. Unafraid, he ran his hands over the long snake's body, loving the feel of it. He heard the men in the outer halls of the temple, their voices frightened yet resolute. Their language was more foreign than that of the village and he smelled the metal and sulfur of their weapons. “Beloved Rakesh, when we are safe, you will teach me the delights of this shape as well as your man-form.” He pulled the naga down for a kiss, letting his hands learn more of the cool dryness of Rakesh's scaled hips. Rakesh smiled, then started when Arqam changed into the spotted snake that was his namesake. “Shall we make good our escape?” he hissed, feeling the vibrations of the men's feet growing ever closer. The scales crept up Rakesh's body. He held his arms close at his sides and they fused to him, covered in scales. He swayed, a long black cobra with a human face, and flared his hood, showing the mark of Brahma on his scales. Rakesh smiled for an instant. “It seems you have a few small tricks of your own, pretty.” He completed the change, his handsome face going flat and triangular. Rakesh led the way, showing Arqam the secret tunnels he had dug to hunt in the forest. Arqam flicked his tongue when Rakesh coiled his tail around Arqam's own, a prelude to mating. There would be time later. The naga insisted Arqam go first.

Shifting Back - 87

The tread of men was heavier now, although neither of the snakes could hear it. The stink of sulfur and charcoal and metal lay heavy on their tongues. Their scales shivered under the echoing report and the smell of gunpowder choked them, even in the tunnel. Hot fire burned near Rakesh's tail as the last length vanished into the escape passage. “Damn and blast! I nearly had the old snake.” Jefford-Saunders swore, lowering his Browning. The room did not look like a monster's den, but rather an opulent bedroom. The bed was rumpled, and the room had no female touches. Two pairs of trousers, differently sized, lay near the bed, but no petticoats were in evidence. A table, laid for two, held plates and knives and wine-cups along with fruit. But this was India and things were different here. He'd seen enough to know that. Jefford-Saunders took a single golden wine cup as proof, but swore his men to secrecy. “Burn it,” he ordered. “All of it.” He knew no one would believe a tale of snakes who changed into men and back again. The soldiers set their fires and went to help the villagers clean up the dead. The tunnel grew uncomfortably hot as the fire raged behind them. The warm earth was moist and close about them, but not unpleasant. Arqam slipped along at a steady pace, sensing more than knowing that Rakesh followed. The darkness finally lightened and he saw the exit. Arqam slithered out into the damp greenery of the forest. Rakesh emerged after a moment and hissed anger, shifting rapidly back to himself. His human arms caught the grey mongoose and held it by the scruff of its neck. Arqam took human shape again and glowered. “Shahib,” he snarled. The little mongoose laughed. “I nearly had you, pretty cousin. I could have bitten and then gobbled you up from your tail.” The ghul's laugh was chilling. “You would have been delicious. Sweet and tasty cousin, just like the blood of the village children.” “Even I only took one a year,” Rakesh snapped. He twisted the mongoose's neck and the beast puffed away into smoke. He flexed his fists in frustration. “Allah permit he reform where they know how to kill his kind,” Arqam breathed. “Brahma likewise,” Rakesh added. “Why does he call you cousin?” At that, Arqam laughed. “I am the curious one and yet you are the one who stands naked in the jungle asking silly questions.” Rakesh looked indignant for a moment then laughed as well. “I am. Clothing and food and shelter. I cannot return to my temple now.” They watched the smoke rise above the trees and heard the loud crash as the stone blocks overheated and tumbled in on one another. “Useful as it is, the cobra is not a shape I like. Deaf and cold, it forces my mind into a snake's thoughts in the snake's head.” He

Shifting Back - 88

coiled his great tail and sat the human torso atop it. “I travel faster than a man so. But where shall we go?” Arqam thought only a moment. “Home. You will come home with me to Arabia. I know of a palace forgotten by the men of clay that will be perfect for us.” Rakesh kissed him, softly, lingering in the dusk. “Anywhere with you, my little fire. But can you keep up?” Arqam giggled and changed into his ordinary form, a mannikin of dancing flame that gave no smoke or heat. “This is what a djinn is, my lover. I shall ride on your shoulder, direct your paths and tell you of Arabia and my cousin and all the tales you wish to hear.” *** They traveled north and west, always west, toward distant Arabia. Arqam found that even with Rakesh's great speed, the travel was still painfully slow to one who was accustomed to riding the wind. As they stopped each dawn, Rakesh hunted birds and their eggs and the roebucks. Arqam continued to eat the fruit and nuts of the forest. The gusto with which Rakesh devoured the stillbleeding meat left him queasy sometimes. He did not mind a bit of goat, done to a spicy turn, or a lamb in a rich stew, but Rakesh, as the serpent he was, did not cook. The naga traveled hard, all through the spring nights. Arqam asked the reason for his speed and he said he did not wish to drown during the rapidly approaching monsoon season. It would rain steadily and very hard for two months, Rakesh said. Arqam did not believe it. He had never seen more than a few hours of rain. But the speed and the hunting left Rakesh too exhausted to do more than coil up and sleep by day. Arqam was disappointed at this. He wanted to use the lessons of Rakesh before he forgot them. One morning, he curled up inside of Rakesh's coils, just wanting to feel the pebbly snake-skin around him. He awoke that evening to Rakesh tickling his ear with a forked tongue. Arqam kissed his lover. “I missed our closeness, what we had in the days at the old temple,” he explained. Rakesh stroked his slim human form. “Smokeless fire. We shall have more of it, and even better things upon our arrival in your land.” Rakesh coiled the sinuous body around Arqam's legs and embraced him. One hand slid into Arqam's silken trousers. Rakesh worked his long fingers along the length of Arqam's cock, teasing him. “We shall lie together on marble terraces, you in my coils, and taste of the lingam and the thigh and the cleft. We shall couple on a great silken bed again, as men. We shall coil together in the cool shade of the garden fountain as serpents. It shall become home.”

Shifting Back - 89

Arqam sighed at the picture his lover painted and rested his head on Rakesh's shoulder, his knees going watery and soft as the rest of him quivered with arousal. He kissed Rakesh's neck and spent himself softly into the naga's hand. On the outskirts of Dehli, Arqam wished to visit the Sadar Bazaar of which he had heard many great rumors. Sadar was famous through the whole world for its iron cookware and its shoes. Rakesh, tired of traveling, readily agreed. He took a completely human shape, dressed again in the black and gold robes. “So, little fire, do you wish to accompany me as a beautiful youth or simply be the flame that dances in the opal of my turban?” Arqam took on the shape that had first tempted the naga to keep him rather than eat him. He kissed the tall man and whispered, “Let us hire a room. I crave your body and a bed.” Rakesh stroked his hair. “I can travel more slowly now that we are drawing closer to the mountains. We shall have rooms and beds as often as you like.” Arqam smiled and kept his arm around Rakesh's waist as they toured the bazaar. They moved through the crowds of the Sardar market, threading their way through the Brahman women in their saris and caste marks, the pale memshaibs corseted in their summer whites and sheltered by umbrellas held by small brown children. They kept out of the way of the uniformed British soldiers and the scabrous untouchables who crowded the place, begging alms. Both gawked freely, but tempted as Arqam was to look at everything, he held tightly to Rakesh's waist. He still nearly bounced between the booths and sun shades, blankets and stalls, peering at every new item, every new face. Rakesh watched him, smiling. Then his smiled broadened as Arqam tried saying something in the language of men. The vendors found Arqam's enthusiasm infectious. He asked, haltingly but happily, and they bubbled over with details of their wares: of how the smith had lovingly spun out each cookpot; of the grand adventures that accompanied each gem; of the great plantations where the mangoes and guava grew in the sun. As the vendors talked, they shot glances at Rakesh, who only listened and smiled. They seemed to sense he was the one who held the purse. The day grew warmer and the white men and their frail ladies mostly vanished from the bazaar. The seller, whose red hair and fair skin bespoke a milder climate than Delhi, opened his cunning little thick-walled cart and grated the ice into a cup made of a mango half. He poured sweet mango juice over it. Arqam watched the first procedure with interest and then counted the vendor's freckles during the second. He paid and handed one to Rakesh, then nibbled his own, relishing its coldness. Rakesh licked his and then drew Arqam closer. “Very nice, but I prefer something more substantial.” They walked on, eating the ices and then the mango halves. Rakesh dropped the empty peel in the path of a bullock who ate it.

Shifting Back - 90

Rakesh drew up short at the mongoose seller. The little cages full of the creatures turned to a hissing, clicking, chatter of bottle-brush tails and red eyes at his approach. Arqam petted one, but Rakesh hissed, his eyes going slit-pupiled and golden. Arqam pulled his lover down the street, the cry of tchik-tchik-tchik following them. Rakesh faked a yawn, covering his forked tongue as it slid out to test the air. His eyes went back to their human black. While Arqam fed his peel to a curious monkey, Rakesh bough two skewers heavy with chicken from a woman with a grill. She basted them one last time in a spicy yogurt sauce and smiled at the ruppees he laid on the table. Arqam ate the chicken, nibbling at it and exclaiming at the sauce. “Shall we find a room for the heat of the day, beloved?” he whispered as he tossed the skewer into the ditch. Rakesh readily agreed and led them to the grand new hotel, its enormous veranda still smelling of new wood and varnish. Boys with fans stirred the air sluggishly in the lobby. The very young blond desk clerk startled at the sight of Rakesh sweeping up to him. He snapped to attention, looking very uncomfortable in the presence of such a richly dressed native personage. Arqam saw Rakesh catch and hold the clerk's gaze. “I was not told to expect you, Your Highness,” the ensnared man mumbled. “You are forgiven. Is there a room?” “Yes, Your Highness!” The clerk handed over a key at once. “Your bill is paid. Thank you for staying with us. We are honored by your presence.” Rakesh smiled and pulled a handful of pound notes from thin air and tucked them into the clerk's hand. “We are not to be disturbed. No maids. No wine. No food trays.” The clerk nodded, still dazed. “Very good.” The local porter led them up to the room. Rakesh tipped him and locked the door behind him. Tall windows let in the breeze, and the bed's netting stirred. Arqam bounced upon the bed and smiled. Then he slunk across the floor and started poking into Rakesh's robes. “Where are you getting all that money? Our kinds have no use for it.” Rakesh's clothing vanished. For a moment, he appeared blanketed in rupees that turned to pound notes in mid air and vanished before they hit the floor. “The same way I get everything, except food, little Arqam.” He caught the prodding fingers that threatened to tickle him and brought them to his lips for a kiss, his forked tongue sliding around and between them. Rakesh stretched out on the bed, clearly tired from the journey. Arqam explored the room, trying to draw out the delicious sense of longing that teased him as well as assuage his curiosity. He'd seen the white men's buildings, and investigated them while invisible but actually being in a room was different.

Shifting Back - 91

He took off his light shoes to feel the gentle wood under his feet, different from the piled rugs of Rakesh's temple or the stone floors of his father's house. He ran his fingers over the flocked blue and cream wall paper, already starting to curl away from its paste in the sweltering heat of Delhi. Arqam peered into the wardrobe and touched the lace curtains and then the mosquito netting of the bed, working his way to where Rakesh lay. This was the greatest mystery of all and Arqam burned to solve it. They had played long at Rakesh's temple, enjoying each other's hands and mouth. Arqam had learned of sweet words and gentle kisses, and of biting and scratching in ways calculated arouse. He ran one very light finger over the scratches on Rakesh's shoulder blade, the one he called a peacock's foot, and saw the faded teeth marks on his own arm in a pattern called broken clouds. Most of all they had explored the wonders of apurashtaka. Although the sages said the mouth congress was fit only for dogs and eunuchs, Arqam found it more than pleasurable from his intact cobra. Rakesh snored lightly and did not move under Arqam's hand. Arqam smiled. His poor naga was exhausted from the travel. That was fine. They could sleep away the heat of the day. The anticipation would only make love sweeter when it came. Arqam had spied on the djinn when there were no djinnah about, had seen them at play without women. He knew there was more than what he and Rakesh had already done. He stripped to the skin and lay down beside his lover's cool body. Rakesh was always cool, like the snake he was. Arqam had, on more than one awakening, found Rakesh basking in the end of the sunshine to stir his torpid blood to motion. In his sleep, Rakesh folded his arms around Arqam, just as he coiled around him in snake form. Content, Arqam settled in to sleep. *** Arqam awoke first. The slant of the sunlight on the floor told him it was late afternoon. He stepped out into the hallway to find the facilities, and saw the desk clerk had defied and obeyed orders at the same time. A meal waited, covered by silver domes, in the hallway. Arqam peeked under the lids and then carried it back into the room, his mouth already watering. Arqam set the tray down, sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Rakesh until the naga awoke and returned it. Arqam smiled to see the bulge in the sheet below Rakesh's waist. "There's food, my love." He held a bite of the roasted chicken to Rakesh's lips and smiled when his lover took it. "I know you do not care for the meats when they are cooked, but this is what we have."

Shifting Back - 92

"It's fine." Rakesh kissed Arqam, a quick buss of his lips, and sat up to eat. "This was an excellent idea. I feel greatly restored." "Ah." Arqam gave a sweetly mysterious smile. "Are you restored enough to allow me to take my pleasures?" "Certainly." Rakesh returned the smile and looked over Arqam. Arqam wore only the red sarong he had tied on before going out into the hall. Rakesh kissed him again and untied the knot that held the cloth. Arqam let it fall and fed Rakesh a piece of papaya. Rakesh sucked on his fingers well after they were clean of juice. When he released them, Arqam tapped his nose with one damp finger. "Naughty. This is my exploration and my pleasure." "Our pleasure, little fire," Rakesh corrected him. Arqam stuck out his tongue as Rakesh shifted into his ordinary shape. He ran a hand over Rakesh's scales. "I wanted the man shape," he said, in as sulky of a tone as he could manage. He promptly spoiled the effect by laughing and kissing Rakesh again, burying his fingers in the thick, dark hair. "Just for you." Arqam watched Rakesh change back. The shifts always intrigued him. He tried to figure out the exact way Rakesh's legs fused into the great tale and where the scales began. He couldn't help but flinch when Rakesh's genitals vanished as well. Watching the long cobra body split into legs and turn from scale to skin left him shivering. He still hadn't figured out how his lover did it. "Do you become a man or a snake? Or are you always a snake and give the illusion of being a man?" he asked, licking the place where the skin began shading into scales. Rakesh gave a low, hissing laugh. "I believe I change. Is that enough? You are worse than a tailor bird for silly questions." "Then let me discover that of which I am eaten up by curiosity." Arqam ran his hand over Rakesh's flank. "I would have you, feel your body around my own." Rakesh smiled. "Now that is a splendid thing to be curious about. For all your questions, I thought you would never ask." He rolled obligingly onto his stomach. "Use the ghee from the food tray. It will smooth your entrance." Arqam heard, but he was busy kissing Rakesh's shoulders and back. He loved the taste of Rakesh's skin, the way the hard muscles felt under his tongue. He moved lower tasting the skin of the lower back and of Rakesh's waist. Lower still, he mouthed and stroked the firm swell of Rakesh's buttocks. He parted them, running a curious finger along the valley and tapping at the tight pucker.

Shifting Back - 93

"This is it, yes? Where I go in." "Yes." Rakesh breathed deeply and Arqam felt the opening relax a bit. He slipped the tip of one finger in, very slowly and not deep. "I will be slow and gentle." Arqam kissed Rakesh's neck and then his lips. "As if you were a frightened virgin of my own people." Rakesh hissed his laugh again. "I have not been a virgin for a thousand years. But," he paused and stroked Arqam's hair and face, "it has been a long time." His hand slipped lower to circle Arqam's cock. "I know you will not hurt me." He got some of the ghee on his fingers and rubbed the clarified butter over Arqam. "Never, my handsome old snake." Arqam added more ghee, to himself and Rakesh. "I shall be as a rill of water sliding over stone, or as the evening breeze off of the high mountains." Rakesh rose and flicked his forked tongue over Arqam's lips. Then he stretched out and lay quietly. "Take, then, little fire. My small spotted serpent. My fire that does not burn. I am in your hands, my Arqam." Arqam pressed the head of his cock to Rakesh's opening. The slippery ghee made the instant when Rakesh opened to him pass unnoticed and without pain. He was inside Rakesh, his beloved's body cool around him, tight and pleasant, as sweet as Rakesh's mouth, as firm as his hands. Arqam sighed in enjoyment. Below him, Rakesh hissed his own pleasure. Arqam just lay still a moment, taking in the sensations before the growing urgency in his groin compelled him to move. Rakesh sighed when he did. "Very nice. You have a talent for this, Arqam." Arqam said nothing. All his questions flew away in the face of the exquisite tightness of Rakesh's body, the taste of his lover's skin and the smell of his hair. He slid easily in and out, learning all the ways Rakesh felt around him. Here a tight grip under the head, there a cool sheath around the shaft. He took the lovemaking as slowly as he could, wanting it to last. It couldn't, of course. Like the fire he was, it grew and consumed and finally engulfed him in a wash of heat and desire at orgasm. As Arqam cooled, he kissed Ramkesh's shoulders and neck, whispering, "Thank you, beloved." Rakesh rolled onto his side once Arqam had finished and showed that he too had spent himself in pleasure. “You speak all these words: beloved, love, lover. I do not understand them.” Arqam smiled. “Love is a desire to be always with another, to please them. And I know I love you.”

Shifting Back - 94

Rakesh kissed his throat. “I would not know. I have never loved another.” Arqam looked horrified. “Not even your family?” “Families are for the warm-bloods. I was born of an egg warmed in the sun.” “My poor lover.” Arqam could not conceive of a life alone, not surrounded by parents and siblings, aunts and uncles, and more cousins than he could remember. Rakesh curled around him. “It is our way. Were you truly a serpent you would know that.” “Then I am pleased to be a djinn who is only sometimes a serpent.” Arqam slipped into his open arms and lay contented, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. "My own Rakesh," he sighed, before falling back to sleep, his head pillowed on Rakesh's shoulder. They slept the night through and well into the next day. The clerk left more food at noon and they loved the afternoon away. *** The left Delhi in the cool of the evening. Once they were out of sight of the city, Rakesh shifted. Arqam kissed him long and slow, running his hands over the smooth human skin and the sweet snake scales, marveling where they met. “When we are home, I will have you in this shape, coiled all around me.” Arqam turned into the fire and perched on Rakesh's shoulder. Now and then, as they traveled, he kissed Rakesh's neck or played in his hair. Pakistan and Iran were less friendly territory, and there were no more bazaars or hotels. There were only long days in forests and caves, spent resting for the night's travel. The forests gave way to mountains and then to lush plains. The plains grew arid and turned to desert. When a troop of Bedouins, their skin blue from the dye of their robes, their long rifles slung across their horses, galloped past, Arqam announced that they were home. It was another week, as the cobra slithered, before they saw the ruined palace. The desert presented its own problems. Days were too hot for travel and the cool nights made Rakesh's snake-body torpid and sluggish. Arqam gave no heat in his fire shape, so they were forced to travel in the few hours of the morning and evening that Rakesh could stand. When they entered the region, a desolate place of barren rocks and rare wadis and oases, Arqam took to darting ahead and back, a dancing ball of flame scouting their path. Rakesh followed. It was shortly after dawn that they found the palace. Rakesh sighed delightly, adding an extra wriggle that made Arqam giggle, at feel of the cool stone under his belly-scales. The stone was wind-scoured, but the palace itself was sound. It rose from the desert like the rocks of which it was

Shifting Back - 95

made, looking as if it had been there since before Allah shaped the subtle fire, or the primal cobra spread his hood over the sleeping Brahma and received intelligence and a man's shape. Rakesh slipped through the rooms, making approving little hisses that told Arqam he was well pleased with the find. The furnishings had long ago decayed into sand, but that was no problem. Arqam laughed at his lover's pleasure and began singing up a cleansing wind. The sand spiracles whisked out of the rooms as tiny dust devils. Arqam sang water from the deep wells and cisterns, bringing it through pipes and pumps that had not worked in centuries. It obeyed him and flowed into the fountains and basins, and filled the great bath. He lost the melody to laughter when Rakesh yelped and had to dodge a spray of water that lifted the end of his tail. His lover turned and let the water splash over his scales and skin, laughing and basking in the coolness. Arqam went to his lover under the spray and stroked his wet hair, his own curling in the dampness. He kissed Rakesh and let the water pour over them as they stood together, skin to skin, in the rapidly warming morning. “Thank you, Arqam. It's perfect,” Rakesh said. “I'll make us some furniture tonight. But now, your old pack-snake is weary and ready to sleep.” The naga disengaged. Arqam let him go. He watched Rakesh, weary from travel but saved from overheating, curl up in the coolest corner of the room. “I have much to do. You will awake to a home worthy of the journey, my love.” *** Arqam smiled at Rakesh when he awoke that afternoon. The barren ruin of a palace had been transformed. The floors were clean, and covered with rugs. The walls were scoured and hung with abstract tapestries of the humans of the region. Arqam saw Rakesh smile at the sound of the fountain playing merrily in the courtyard. Most of all, a great silken bed, piled with fur and hung around with cloth of gold, dominated the room. Rakesh uncoiled and slithered across the floor to where Arqam stood at the window. "It is perfect, little fire," he said, glancing out at the courtyard. "As are you. I want this shape," Arqam's tone brooked no argument as he stroked the place where scales and skin melded into each other. "Your true shape." Rakesh smiled even more broadly. "Yes." He coiled his tail around Arqam's ankle, which made Arqam giggle. Gently, he slid it up Arqam's body, coiling more of his length around Arqam. Arqam relaxed as Rakesh took him in his arms and kissed him. He returned it, devouring his lover's mouth, using the deepest of kisses Rakesh had taught him.

Shifting Back - 96

He had been waiting for the time to be right before asking for this. He'd wanted this shape from the instant he'd seen Rakesh's legs fuse into the long black snake's tail. Now, the solid coolness of Rakesh's heavy body lay all around him. Since cobras were not constrictors, he had no fear. Rakesh's poison couldn't harm him. He giggled again as hardness poked his knees on the way up. He ran his hand over Rakesh's belly where the skin changed to scale with no hint of manhood. He sighed with desire when the hardness, so near the tail, lay along the cleft of his buttocks. "You will be more comfortable on the bed. This...I have never done," Rakesh admitted. "You are the first to want this shape." "Would it be easier if I too became a serpent?" "No, sweet. Just as you are." Rakesh trailed his hands through Arqam's long hair and loosed his coils so that Arqam could walk to the bed. Arqam had been naked when Rakesh awoke, and now he shivered a little as he stood beside the bed. Rakesh flowed up and around him again, before toppling them both to the fur coverlet. "On your side, love," Rakesh said, giving Arqam no choice with the great body around him. Arqam lay in Rakesh's arms and kissed him as he felt the tail come up behind him. They lay together for a time, kissing and touching, Rakesh's long fingers renewing all their lessons from the temple. His tail lay along the cleft again and Arqam felt not one but two hard lingams pressing against him. "Two?" He blinked in surprise. "All snakes have two. We use but one at a time," Rakesh chuckled. "You do not spend enough time as a snake, spotted one. You have never used yours?" "No. Before you, I had never used them as a man. I am not even sure I have such parts when I change." Rakesh kissed him long, the forked tongue gentle and sensual in his mouth and over his face and neck. "One. Only one. And I will no more hurt you than you hurt me in Delhi." Arqam smiled and kissed him back. "I know. I like this. You hold me entirely, my love." He saw Rakesh's breathing had grown quicker. "You are in need and I prattle." "No more talk then, little one. Magic yourself so you can let me in. And I shall do the same." Arqam nodded and with a flick of his hand he was ready. Rakesh pressed in, the slick head pushing into Arqam's waiting body

Shifting Back - 97

He gasped, overwhelmed by sensation when Rakesh kissed him. Held in the cobra's coils, entered both ways and with Rakesh's hand encircling his own cock, Arqam rocked. He moved slowly, walking the fine line between arousal and explosion. Rakesh seemed determined to push him over. Arqam's spine felt as if it were made of lightening, each thrust of Rakesh's cock sending a bolt burning brighter and brighter, until he was sure he would burn, as hotly as he did when made of flame. Then he was burning, exploding like a dozen shooting stars under Rakesh's hand and cock and tongue. The great cobra's body flexed around him after another moment. Rakesh drove deep into him with a muffled hiss of completion. *** “There is food awaiting us in the gardens." Arqam slipped his arm around Rakesh's waist and was careful not to tread on the long tail as they passed out of the palace into the long, late light of dusk. The dead dry gardens had revivified under Arqam's magic. Grass grew and flowers bloomed. The fruit trees bore, although it was not the season. Arqam enjoyed Rakesh's wonder at the sight. "Magic," Arqam whispered to him as they slipped naked into the pool below the great fountain. "All the gardens of all the djinni look so. I cannot live without greenness and wet things to control my heat. Without them, I would become as my ghul of a cousin, a ravening fire that devours without reason." "A monster," said Rakesh, kissing him in the shadow of the waterfall. "As I was." "But no longer. You are my own love and no longer the nightmare of the village." Rakesh sighed. "I will miss the taste of manflesh, but I am happy." He drew Arqam in tightly. "To have and keep you, I would give up anything." "I love you," said Arqam. Rakesh smiled down at him. “And I you, Arqam.”

Shifting Back - 98

A Matter of Choice by Cat Kane Beneath leaden skies, the moorland stretched out in undulating hills and copses seemed to sway like an ocean swell. Wild heather danced and parted like waves, disorientating and distracting. Rain lashed the stone walls of the manor house in relentless, vicious darts, but the steadfast walls of Kirksgrave Hall had seen worse. On such an afternoon, Richard Aysgarth would have enjoyed nothing more than to take refuge behind those walls, with his books and a roaring fire. At his feet, a large black dog whined, nudging his master's boots with his nose, as if to voice his agreement with the suggestion of warmth and shelter. "Caleb." He glanced down, admonishingly. "We must wait for Keir." The dog whined once, before settling in a pitiful huddle at his master's feet. Richard glanced down, and sighed. He was of half a mind to join in. It had been just as wretched when Keir left that morning, although Richard suspected Keir appreciated the manner in which the weather matched his mood. It made his departure that much more dramatic. While he had no real concern for Keir's welfare, it would be regrettable if anything untoward happened. The horse he'd saddled that morning never gave Richard much cause for reassurance. It was a foul creature at the best of times. In Keir or Richard's presence, the animal became positively demonic. It would be entirely appropriate, he thought miserably, if the blasted creature threw its rider in a stream or a ditch, and Richard's day would end with a long trek out onto the moor to rescue Keir before the villagers found him first. Again. Lightning flashed to the north, just as movement caught his eye on the edge of the drizzly mist. Caleb whimpered, and Richard glanced at him, brow arched. "I am not relieved, not in the slightest."

Shifting Back - 99

Well. Perhaps a little. The dark moving blur became more defined as it came closer. He could make out the flailing hooves of the horse, its mane and tail whipping behind it in time to the billowing of Keir's coat. Richard shook his head. Their kind hardly became ill because of the cold or the rain, but Keir should have known better than to behave in such a careless way. The locals would ask again, and Richard could only remark on Keir's hardy constitution in the interim. Yet as Keir approached, Richard could feel his heartbeat begin to thunder quicker than those erratic hooves. Keir had the same effect on him drenched and windswept as he had in the warm glittering lamplight of the drawing room in which they'd first met. He turned back into the house before Keir drew near enough to see him. Were Keir to imagine Richard had been worried about him…well, it bore no contemplation. The boy was insufferable enough as it was. Caleb trotted dutifully after him, shaking the rainwater from a shaggy coat. From the narrow windows of the sitting room, Richard watched Keir dismount and do exactly the same, shaking the rain from golden hair. He smiled slightly to himself. Monsieur Lamarck's new theories on evolution would no doubt benefit from comparing these two ends of the spectrum. He glanced down at the befuddled Caleb as the dog settled in front of the hearth. "No doubt who would emerge as the higher being, is there?" He busied himself with appearing determinedly uninterested as he listened to the stable doors rattle in the wind, then slam shut. Eventually the front door opened. There was some shuffling as Keir disagreed with his wet coat, and a stream of curses that proved enlightening even for a creature as long lived as Richard. Richard suspected there was a great deal Keir could teach him, expanded vocabulary notwithstanding. "The fire is burning," he called, not looking up from the book he studied with enough zeal that it might appear as though he was truly reading it. "Come and dry yourself." He perfected appearing engrossed in the book even as he listened to the slow, purposeful tread of Keir's boots against the floor. Then silence. Richard refused to yield, refused to look up, staring so resolutely at the pages in front of him that the words bled into an unreadable swirl. He knew what he would see if he looked. He knew the unruly tangle of Keir's hair as it dried from the rain, knew the impassioned gleam in those blue eyes, bright and eager after the exertion, and undoubtedly ready for more of the same.

Shifting Back - 100

"Were you waiting for me?"

The amusement in Keir's voice almost turned his head. Almost. Richard glared at his book instead.

Keir needed no encouragement.

"Of course not. What ever would give you such a ridiculous--"

"You smell of rain."

He glanced up then, in spite of himself. Keir tilted his head and smiled.

"And I dare say your book is far more to your taste than any conversation with me," Keir went on,

smiled widening at Richard's scowl. "But I am reliably informed that the usual manner for reading

involves turning the page once awhile."

Richard closed the book, setting it down on the side table carefully, when he would have much

rather thrown the infernal thing into the fire.

"If you have nothing better to do than antagonize me, Keir, I am certain there are plenty of things

that require more attention than me."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Keir's hands came to rest on the arms of the chair, trapping Richard where he sat. No, not quite

trapping; they both knew Richard could break free easily enough if he so chose. Keir was banking

on Richard choosing otherwise.

Blue eyes gazed at him, until Keir leaned so close they were nothing but a haze, unfocused and

overwhelming.

"You aren't fighting?" Keir raised a brow, voice soft and close enough that each breath was a warm

caress. "Can it be you truly did miss me today?"

Richard had a rebuttal prepared, had Keir allowed him the opportunity to deliver it. Closing the

distance between them, Keir kissed him with a leisurely sweetness that brooked little argument.

Arguing would be in both their best interests, but Richard could barely find the will to muffle a

gasp against Keir's inquisitive lips.

Keir tasted of the wind and the rain, the fresh sweetness of the moors and the warm hunger that was

Keir himself. He growled low in his throat as his hands came up to rest on his shoulders, neither

holding on nor pushing away.

The reaction pleased Keir, and he was rewarded with a deepening of the kiss. For a moment,

Richard allowed himself to indulge in that.

Shifting Back - 101

He spoiled the boy, he knew. Allowed him far too many liberties. Keir leaned closer still, pushing Richard back into the chair. The kiss altered again, hungrier, fiercer, one of Keir's knees braced on the edge of the upholstered seat, keeping his legs apart. It was the same dance. He put up token resistance at Keir's kisses, if only to prove to himself that he could. Keir ignored him, cajoling not by force, even though he certainly could, but by gentleness. Neither of them deserved gentleness. Neither of them deserved any of this.

"Stop." He pushed Keir back enough that he could speak, albeit more huskily than he intended. "Do

you think your behavior today endears you enough to act this way?"

Keir tilted his head, eyes wicked. "I believe I always endear myself."

"Enough." Richard squirmed free, getting up and striding over to the mantle, staring at the fire. He

was only exchanging one heat for another, but blaming the fire sat more easily on his mind. "It will

not do, Keir. You are aware of our situation here. When you behave as you do without care to the

repercussions…"

"Were you concerned about me?"

Richard turned his head, and lied. "No."

"I dare say you were," Keir murmured, stepping up behind him, breath warm against the side of

Richard's neck. "You know I always come home safely. Like a good dog should."

Ducking from the embrace, Richard arched a brow. "Caleb is a good dog. You, on the other hand,

are an uncontrollable mongrel who fails to see the danger in his reckless behavior."

Keir just smiled. "You speak so kindly of me."

"In any event…" Richard watched him. "Did you hunt? Or simply ride around like a squire?"

Giving him a decidedly petulant look, Keir shook his head. "I didn't need to hunt."

Richard sighed. "Very well. You will accompany me now, then."

"Now? But what of the rain?"

"It gives us the advantage." Richard glanced at him, as he shooed Caleb into the kitchen, shutting

the door. "Moreso than your horses."

Keir smiled. "This forward manner is quite unlike you. I suspect today affected you more than you

say."

Shifting Back - 102

Richard scowled, aware of the flare of gold in his eyes when the richly colored sitting room turned shades of grey in sharper relief. "I suspect that you forget your place." "No…" Keir shook his head, blue eyes turning icy in color and in tone. "I know it very well. You are the one denying me that rightful position." Richard knew he would not win this discussion now. Better to try again after sating another of Keir's hungers. And his own. "Come." He inclined his head, turning for the passage again. Unbuttoning his coat and waistcoat as he walked to the front door, he left them neatly on the dark oak dresser, far enough away from Keir's still-dripping coat. Unravelling the linen folds of his cravat, he unwound it carefully. Removing his shirt, he placed the remainder of his clothes tidily with the rest. No sense in damaging perfectly adequate clothes. Perhaps he could afford monthly trips to Harrogate to purchase an entire new outfit, but it would be unseemly. Why, they would ask, did a reclusive gentleman such as himself need new clothes so regularly? Caleb barked at the closed door, and he heard Keir snarl, heard the whimper as Caleb accepted he would not be allowed to join this particular game. Not the same species, Richard reflected, stepping outside. His eyes closing, he took a deep breath, scenting no living person within miles. Not the same species at all. As much practice as he had at it, his change came quickly now; a sensation too brief to be pleasure, too drawn out to be pain. He dropped to his knees on the stone ground of the yard, feeling the fever of it dance through his blood, and the last coherent thought rued the fact that he was certain he'd landed him a puddle of rainwater, soaking the knees of his breeches with mud. Then the only thought was to endure. It began in his hands, always, fingers curling into fists, leaving him unable to move or stretch them. Then his shoulders, realigning and relocating, a sharp crack of pain that incongruously hurt only moments afterwards. Neck lowering, his spine arched and shortened, and by then it was too late to return. There was only the anticipatory dread of waiting for the agonising snap of his hips, tightening and lifting, joints reversing. It would have been intolerable, were he able to recall a time without it. Without the infernal agony as that other creature inside stretched, taking his body and realigning it to its own will, to suit its own purposes. There was only surrender. The creature would just as soon take him by force as by compliance. Occasionally, compliance -- surrender -- had a deep content sensuality to it.

Shifting Back - 103

Skin crawling as though a million ants marched just beneath it, he shivered, shaking out the itch, gasping as best he could at the heavy sensation of fur breaking through. And then it was done. He rode out the shiver, breathing hard, tasting the rain. The puddle was just as uncomfortable under paws as it had been under his knees, and he stepped back gingerly. In the muddy reflection he caught sight of golden eyes and a dark grey muzzle. All was as it should be. Behind him, Keir whimpered. It stood to reason that he refrained from the hunt when his body, even after a year, remained so unaccustomed to the changes demanded of it. He fought it, only exacerbating the pain. Richard wished he could go to the boy, lend whatever comfort or strength that he could. But he dare not. Knowing of Keir's pain and disgust was one matter, seeing it in his eyes again was quite another. So he stood, watching, waiting, willing his strength and experience to Keir until the creature before him dropped to its haunches with one last whimper, exhausted before it even began. The jet black coat had surprised him the first time, as contrary as it was to Keir's golden hair. The eyes were the same, fading to a paler ice blue. They remained closed as Richard carefully tugged away the remaining tangle of clothes with his teeth, absently licking one trembling shoulder. Keir flinched, ears flattened back, eyes snapping open. Contrary. Always so contrary… Richard nudged his nose against Keir's muzzle brusquely, ushering him to stand up. While the wind still carried no scent of humans anywhere in the vicinity, it was too much of a risk to remain here. Wolves had not been native this far south for a very long time. Explaining the presence of two of them in the front garden of Kirksgrave would have been more than a little troublesome. As soon as Keir was on his feet and reasonably steady, Richard left his side. Odd that Keir could hardly bear to be touched in this form. He glanced back at the large black wolf, staggering like a newborn foal, and allowed the guilt to flare. I did that. It was all my fault. Keir shook himself out, stretching, sniffing the air. His tail swishing, his ears perked up, twitching almost imperceptibly. At the very least, Richard decided, he had chosen a good hunter. Perhaps one even better than himself. But where Richard's skill was learned, Keir's was instinctive.

Shifting Back - 104

When he took off running, tail streaming out behind him, coat shimmering in the gloom as the muscles moved beneath it, Richard knew better than to stand and watch. A short, low growl reminded Keir of his place, and this time he was wiser than to argue. Slowing slightly, he allowed Richard to pass him as the flatter lands of the manor grounds turned and swept up into tumbling moorland. It was all black and white now, but he knew the colors and textures by heart. Mauve heather, granite rocks, muted greens the likes of which he had never seen anywhere else, one that was everchanging beneath the equally restless sky. The storm clouds were thinning, spidery golden cracks splintering through the grey. There were warmer places, he supposed. Places more temperate and comfortable. The skies above the land from which he came had been an endless blue, never changing, as monotonous as he had become after he was blessed with the wolf. Perhaps he chose this place for its far removed landscape as much as its isolation. Undulating hills spilled out in all directions, soft and rumpled like heaped bed sheets on winter mornings. The earth, softened by rain, was spongy and musky beneath their paws. He stopped as they rounded a short incline, heading up to a copse, halting so suddenly that Keir had to skid to a stop on the slippery ground, and still bumped a shoulder against Richard's rump anyway. Richard blew out a breath as Keir scrambled away immediately. I know, he wanted to say. I know that you detest this. Deer were almost as rare a sight in the vicinity as they were, and although their hunting accounted for some of their decline, it was the farmers claiming more of the land for their livestock that bore the brunt of the impact. Frankly, Richard had fewer qualms about hunting cattle or sheet than he did these creatures. But it was a matter of safety. Cows or sheep were closer to farmhouses, closer to people, and their reactions to the presence of a predator altered humans to their plight. Deer had no such alarm to raise. The three grazing in the shelter of the copse were older animals that had somehow survived that long. But they had to survive, too. Just as the farmers raised their livestock for the dinner table. It was the way of things. Warning Keir to stay back, he slunk closer, keeping low to the ground. Keir was a good hunter, but far too boisterous to succeed with these particular animals. Richard suspected Keir's hunger would make itself known, making him hasty, and the subsequent loss would be frustrating. Best he dealt with it alone.

Shifting Back - 105

Amid the trees, there was nowhere to run when Richard made his move. Narrowly avoiding their panicked kicks, he lunged, teeth latching onto the side of one of the animals. Keir's assistance would have been useful now, but as rarely as he conceded to accompany Richard on hunts at all, teaching him such techniques was futile. Wrangling the flailing deer to the ground as the other two fled, he took a hoof in his shoulder. He snarled, teeth digging in more viciously, tearing from the deer's side to clamp down on its throat instead. The remorse came as the thrill faded, as surely as the life trickled out of the deer. I apologize…if there was some other way… Keir came closer then, sitting nearby and watching with uncharacteristic patience, allowing Richard to reap the benefits and trappings of his status. Obligingly, Richard managed a few bites, before stepping back, permitting Keir to eat his fill with a cant of his head. Strangely enough, he'd lost his appetite, and in any case, Keir needed the kill far more than he did. The walk back to Kirksgrave was slower. Even when the drizzle began, Keir seemed not to notice and Richard decided not to press. Whether or not Keir wished for his presence, Richard would not run and leave his side. He merely wished he could do more. As a wolf, Keir despised the sight of him. As a man, Richard could barely look Keir in the eye. The animal would have struck a compromise a long time ago, he knew. It was the man that resisted. Yet he had a responsibility for Keir, one that was part instinct and partly of his own need and volition. Partly his own free will. Padding onward through the steady rain, listening to the shuffling footfalls of Keir behind him, Richard's thoughts went back to that night, and the eternal regret that Keir's free will had never factored in it at all. *** He'd met Keir in London. The practised tale he shared with any inquisitive villager who saw fit to question was that Keir had been coming to the end of his time working for a family in Richard's acquaintance at the time, and simply chose to exchange the bustle of the capital with quiet country life. It was partly true, if one ignored the fact Keir hadn't chosen any of this for himself. They did meet in London. Keir had been working for a well respected family, although to call the Carlyles close acquaintances would have been stretching the truth. Attending an assembly hosted

Shifting Back - 106

by said family, he'd been moved by nothing amid the dancing and chattering so much as the cherubic servant attending dutifully to his hosts and their guests. While the trip was no more than an excuse for wider hunting grounds, the pretence of attending the events of the season, mingling with the young and eligible potential ladies of Kirksgrave Hall meant that Richard rarely found himself without company, rarely had the luxury of merely watching Keir. Still, he found a way of turning that to his advantage. One of his most ardent admirers that evening, Miss Violet Winston, was a distant relation of his hosts, a rather endearingly silly -- and terribly loose-lipped -- young lady. As discreetly as he could, he inquired about the boy. Miss Winston made a face, as though the mere thought was sour. "Far be it from me to speak ill of anyone, Lord Aysgarth," she began, leaving Richard with little doubt that she intended to do just that, "but Mr. Barclay is far too disreputable a character to be associated with a man of such fine standing as yourself." The warning merely served to make Richard more curious. "He seems to be quite agreeable." "Of course! He is far too cunning a creature to behave in a disagreeable manner at such a gathering. I dare say my Aunt and Uncle would like nothing more than to remove him from their employ. After all, he is almost twenty, far too old for his position, when there are far less ill-tempered boys who could serve just as well. However, kind hearted as they are, they tolerate him." She still refrained from telling him the exact nature of the boy's perceived crimes, he noticed. The rosy tinge to her cheeks and the venom in her gaze provided the clues her words would not. "I am certain they will come to their senses in due course," he replied neutrally. "Oh, I do hope so." Miss Winston's blush turned on him instead. "Oh, and I do hope you will not think ill of me. I merely wish that a gentleman such as yourself avoid the bother that comes from Mr. Barclay's very presence." Richard smiled his most charming smile, gaze darting to Keir again when Miss Winston demurely averted her eyes. "On the contrary, Miss Winston, I am quite flattered that you would concern yourself with my welfare." She giggled a suitably self-depreciating remark, but at that moment, Keir looked up, meeting Richard's gaze, and whatever she said fell on deaf ears.

Shifting Back - 107

It would have been far too dangerous to act upon any of it. Once, in another time, another place, not a soul in the room would have deemed it odd that Richard chose Keir's company over that of a foolish young girl. But that time had long since passed, and he'd learned by now not to mourn it too deeply. It would come again, and he was hardly going anywhere. It wasn't the shame or the punishment that terrified him. More the consequences when his judge and executioner realized that it would take more than gallows to put an end to him. Despite having no pack of his own, despite being unaware of the existence of any other wolf, the instinct to protect his kind, maintain their secrets, ruled first and foremost. Keir was not of his kind, not then, but neither did the boy deserve the risk for a moment's impulse. Had he known then the fate he would inflict on Keir before the evening was over, he might have chosen the danger and the shame instead. It would certainly have prevented events taking the turn they eventually did. Miss Winston kept speaking, singing the praises of the other attendees, but Richard's attention remained with Keir. Once in a while, when it seemed safe enough to do so, the boy would glance up, catch his gaze, smile, and Richard found himself eavesdropping when Mr. Carlyle approached the boy. "Barclay." Carlyle handed Keir some documents. "Take these to Wright's place on Wycombe Street. He was supposed to attend, but as he could not I must see to it he receives these before morning." "Yes, sir." Keir nodded. "I'll see to it immediately." Richard watched, determined not to let the boy out of his sight. Miss Winston unwittingly gave him the opportunity to do just that when she gazed wistfully out of the large sash windows and sighed. "Oh, it is not the most lovely evening, Lord Aysgarth?" "Hmm?" Richard glanced outside. It seemed to be another dreary London evening to him. "Oh, yes, indeed." He paused. "Would you care to accompany me on a stroll, Miss Winston?" "Oh, I could not possibly, Lord Aysgarth!" Miss Winston exclaimed with just the appropriate level of surprise before adding, "I would have to acquire a chaperone, of course." Richard nodded, caring little if half the room accompanied them, as long as he could keep Keir in his sight. "Of course. I would expect no less, Miss Winston." After some theatrical whining to her Aunt and Uncle, a show for which Richard decided any husband Miss Winston snared would have to be both deaf and downtrodden, a maid was procured for the purpose of chaperoning, and they could depart.

Shifting Back - 108

Admittedly, once outside, the evening was pleasant, crisper and fresher than he would have thought possible of the city. The dusk skies were dry, but Miss Winston still saw fit to bring along an ostentatiously embroidered purse and a parasol. The maid followed a few steps behind, falling farther back with each passing moment, and Richard wondered if it was out of discretion, or merely to keep as far removed as possible from Miss Winston's incessant chattering. Richard made what he hoped were the appropriate noises of reply at any rare opportunity when she paused for breath. He judged his success by the fact Miss Winston did not once falter in her chatter. No doubt her family were both questioning his sanity and revelling in their good fortune at his apparent intentions. But she was not to be his mate, regardless of how much she enjoyed speaking . He would know if she was the one. Her voice faded the moment he caught Keir's scent. He was nearby, not returning from his errand, but…loitering. Waiting. He had been mulling over the least aggrieving way to send Miss Winston home when it happened. Had he not been so engrossed in thought, he might have prevented it. The thief was no more than a child, younger than Keir. Yet he was empowered and made ten feet tall by the small knife he held in a skeletally thin hand as he ducked out of an alley. "Give me that!" Miss Winston shrieked as the boy snatched the purse from her grasp. For a moment, Richard dreaded she would attempt to beat the boy with the parasol, but he was gone before she could consider it, darting off down the street. The wolf stirred, caught between the instinct to chase anything that dared run from it, and the combined worries of Miss Winston's presence, and the fact Keir seemed to be moving too. He turned, about to tell Miss Winston to leave and return immediately to her Aunt and Uncle's home, but the girl was already gone. He glanced up the street, just in time to catch the whisk of her skirts as she disappeared around the farthest corner, closely followed by the chaperone. Perhaps he might reconsider his hasty judgement, he thought wryly; perhaps she wasn't quite as foolish as had first appeared. If he hadn't paused in his gentlemanly effort, perhaps Keir would not have passed him, would not have gained time and distance on the thief. He scarcely had time to wonder why Keir was doing this as he ran after them, much to the alarm of the few others out for an evening stroll. To gain favor with his employers, or to gain favor with him? Or was it merely Keir's nature, as much as it was his own. He would never know. Keir refused to tell him.

Shifting Back - 109

Even so, Richard had the advantage -- such as it was -- of being able to track the boy by scent, a rather distressing combination of old dirt and Miss Winston's cloying perfumes. Or so he thought. He would soon come to learn that most of his advantages were negated by Keir, one way or another. They were only out of his sight for a moment. Even before he rounded the corner of a dank, foul-smelling alleyway, he knew. The dirt and perfume were joined by a scent he knew very well, yet prayed he would never have to associate with Keir. The urchin seemed as shocked as Keir and Richard, Miss Winston's purse still in one hand, the bloodied knife in the other. Richard would have killed him where he stood, but Keir turned, looked at him. Blood spilled over his fingers as he held them in vain against the wound in his stomach. Keir dropped to his knees, and the thief took Richard's utter distraction as opportunity to flee. It would not matter. He could find the boy again, later, exact punishment, glean revenge. He had dreamed all evening of touching Keir, but this had not been the scene he envisioned. He had not dreamed of shrugging off his coat as he went to Keir's side, bundling up the expensive fabric to press against the wound. Not tugging a shivering Keir into his arms, talking to him in a desperate attempt to keep him conscious. Keir -- predictably, as it would turn out – fought even the offered help, squirming and trying to speak. "Try to remain still, Mr. Barclay, or you will--" "Keir." "Pardon me?" "My name is Keir." Even wavering and spattered with blood, that smile was breathtaking. "Not Mr. Barclay." "Keir, then." Richard shook his head, exasperated, trying to press the thick fabric of his coat against the wound, trying to ignore the pangs of deep hunger that came from the scent of blood, the sticky heat of it against his fingers. A weak and immobilized prey. It would be an easy kill, a merciful one. The boy would not survive. No. He had more control than that; he refused to give in. The primal hunger lashed out at its denial, frustration manifesting in a low growl. He pulled Keir closer, hands rougher as they attempted to staunch the blood, gaze darting around the dank, deserted alleyway.

Shifting Back - 110

It should have been a better place than this; it should have been a better circumstance. "Fool! What were you thinking?" The blood continued to flow, soaking into Richard's coat as though it was the thinnest muslin. He would come to learn later, that, for the most part, Keir and thinking were rarely close acquaintances.

Keir looked up at him, blue eyes glazed and glassy, and still managed a smile.

"At least…I finally had the opportunity to speak to you."

"You ought not speak at all! Conserve your strength--"

"No use now." Keir shook his head, eyes closing, fingers still gripping tight onto Richard's sleeves.

"Rather I die looking upon you than on a chorus of angels."

He would also come to learn that it took far more than the threat of death to keep Keir from making

entirely inappropriate remarks.

"You are not going to die."

Keir ignored him. "Will you at least tell Mr and Mrs. Carlyle that I was merely trying to be of

assistance, and--" The words were sheared off by a hacking cough, and more warmth seeped wetly

through the coat.

In the days, weeks, months that followed he would re-enact the scene in his mind's eye, over and

over, until thought became reality and the true events were foggy and uncertain.

Yet one thing remained constant. He knew all along what he intended to do about the matter.

It mattered little that he knew nothing about the boy. Even now, if it was possible to claim the year

they'd spent together had taught him the slightest thing about who Keir truly was, he had no real

excuse for it.

"Do you choose to live, Keir?"

Those blue eyes barely focused on him. It was too difficult a question when he doubted Keir could

recall his own name. Yet he persisted while his own control and coherence allowed it, shaking the boy slightly, turning his face back towards his when Keir looked away. "Do you?"

Keir blinked, and later, Richard would swear something aware and determined in his gaze made the

decision for him. If he had seen the faintest glimmer of doubt, he would never have acted.

Shifting Back - 111

Ultimately, choice played no part in things. Richard supposed he could have chosen to allow the boy to die. That would be the natural way of things, the fragile way of humans. But he was neither natural nor human, and such options did not occur to him. The wolf in his soul ran free and joyous as he released it, far more pleased with his new intentions than it had been at the thought of a meal. Richard's fingers wound in Keir's hair, blood leaving red streaks against the gold, tugging his head forward, baring the nape of his neck. Keir's head lolled like a puppet, and Richard brushed aside the fear that it was already too late. The wolf danced to the forefront of his awareness, nuzzling Keir's throat, inhaling his scent. The pulse beneath the skin was slow and thready, barely there at all. He licked at the skin, tasting, The man wanted to save, the animal wanted to claim. Together they would find a compromise. Keir's body jerked at the bite, but he made no sound, not so much as a whimper as Richard withdrew his teeth, licking at the wound to ensure adequate transmission. It was nothing he had ever attempted before. His only knowledge came from the vivid memories of his own change, the things that had been done to him. He had no way of knowing if it would work the same way with Keir, a boy not even raised to accept the gift, not even prepared for it. In the subsequent months, he would come to wonder whether either of them had ever truly been prepared for such a thing. Whether any amount of time or choice or knowledge would make any difference. Keir slumped against him, still unmoving, eyes still closed, but the once thready pulse now thundered beneath the skin, fast and feverish. Perhaps the bleeding slowed, but the coat in Richard's hands was so thoroughly soaked that he could barely tell. It might not have worked. To this day, Richard remained unconvinced as to why it had, except that perhaps Keir had been intended for the gift after all. That this one had been the intended mate. At the time, he had only clung to Keir, counting each heartbeat, each breath, until he was certain Keir would not drop dead at least. Keir may have survived the bite. Whether he would survive his first change, or the knowledge of what he had become, Richard had no way of predicting. Once the street outside grew dark and quiet, and the only people present would have ignored them for reasons of their own, he roused Keir, and they ventured from the cellar. The rain sluiced through the streets, washing away the blood, slicking everything black and unidentifiable. He could not take Keir back to his rooms, and instead purchased a room in a rather disreputable inn. He settled Keir into the small, worn bed, and attempted to reassure himself once more that he had saved the boy's life. That Keir would be pleased. Grateful.

Shifting Back - 112

The moon peeked through the clouds as he went to sit by the window, where he spent the first of countless nights certain in the knowledge that Keir would never be grateful. That Keir would never forgive him for the decision he had made. *** Caleb was whining and scratching at the door when they returned to Kirksgrave, having finally managed to escape his kitchen prison. Richard growled, quieting the exuberant welcome before the mongrel could tear at the muddy bundle of clothes he had retrieved from the yard. "Caleb. Behave." Suitably chastised, Caleb slunk off to curl in front of the last embers of the sitting room fire and doze. Richard fussed with the clothes, resolutely avoiding looking in Keir's direction. Keir smiled a little to himself. Richard had always been mildly appalled by Keir's contentment in unabashed nakedness. Well, wolves wore no clothes besides their skin and fur, Keir saw no need to dispute it. Sometimes he became utterly convinced that Richard's claims of some unfathomable, impossible age were nothing but a fabrication. Richard was more a man of the times than Keir would ever be. It was just as well Richard had claimed him when he did. A few more years, a few more reckless indiscretions, and Keir would have found himself in Newgate, or worse. "Go and dry yourself. The fire should still be--" Richard's words cut off abruptly when Keir wrapped both arms around him, tugging him back against his chest. "You're cold too." He nuzzled Richard's shoulder, breath warm against the cool skin. "Am I warmer than a fire?" "Keir…" The nuzzling turned to a kiss, and the protest turned into a gasp as Richard's eyes fluttered closed, head falling back against Keir's shoulder. "I would…advise you not to…" "As expected." Keir chuckled softly, licking the juncture of Richard's throat. "You deem me careless, and reckless, and indulgent…" One hand slid up Richard's chest. "Yet how can that possibly be when you always deny me?"

Shifting Back - 113

"I do not deny you a thing." Richard's remark would have been far more intimidating had it not been accompanied by a breathless little growl, back arching against Keir's chest. "I provide you with a roof over your head, food on the table. I give you a place of sanctuary, and--" "And yet you keep yourself from me." Keir's teeth grazed the back of Richard's neck, a decidedly bold gesture for one in his position. He smiled, nipped sharply. Richard hissed a half-hearted oath, stiffening beneath Keir's touch, the clothes he held dropping to the floor. "I have nothing to give that would please you." Give me something out of desire, not of obligation. His other hand slid lower, finger cupping Richard's arousal, feeling the flush of heat as the flesh reacted to his touch. Richard reacted too, unfortunately not as favorably as his body. Spinning around in Keir's embrace, he brought his hands up to push Keir away. "Keir! Have I not told you the vital necessity for discretion when--" He pulled Richard closer again, arms wrapped tight around him, keeping him pinned and unable to do much more than squirm in a pleasing way. "I am not kissing you on the village green, am I?" Richard glared indignantly. "You are not kissing me at all!" It appeared that neither of them were certain whether that was a command or a complaint. The former, knowing Richard, but Keir chose to believe it was the latter. Richard made a sound of surprised protest as Keir kissed him again, crushing those soft lips -- and any argument they intended to make -- beneath his own. He had learned this particular game very early on. Despite the flirtations in London, once he had been changed Richard refused adamantly to lay so much as a finger on him unless Keir made it clear he had no other choice. Once absolved of that, once his own needs were removed from the equation, Richard permitted this, permitted touches and kisses. Keir should have minded, but he confessed to becoming a slave of the desire Richard sparked in him, and to wanting far too single mindedly to care that part of Richard closed himself off during each encounter. That frustration colored each of their couplings of late, tainted them with annoyance and a more savage greed. If this is all you will give me, he thought, then this is all I will take. Shifting his hips slightly, he revelled in the contradiction that was Richard's arousal sliding against his own, stiffening with heat, and the mortified blush sweeping across Richard's cheeks.

Shifting Back - 114

It was nothing to do with shame and propriety. The man that had watched him hungrily in that golden drawing room would have taken him with nary a thought spared to shame. It was merely him, Keir decided, and the fact Richard's desire for him had been only fleeting lust. That lust had declined drastically once he was cursed with this burden. The hands that had been pushing him away moved up to his shoulders, one lingering there while its mate slid up to the nape of his neck, long slender fingers tangling in his hair. Declined, but not quite extinguished. Arms wrapping tighter around Richard's waist, he gentled the kiss, allowing it to become a pleasure shared rather than punishment inflicted. Although he could not say which of them was punished most. "I could take you here." He drew back enough to nip at Richard's lips, licking the corner of his mouth. "I could have you like this." Richard's eyes slitted open, flashing gold. "You would not dare." No, he would not, but he did enjoy the looks Richard gave him at the mere threat of it. Kissing Richard again, he backed up toward the richly upholstered chaise, one of his master's most prized articles of furniture in the house, along with a monstrous mahogany armoire in his bed chamber. Richard would no doubt complain later, claim that embracing him on his beloved chaise was akin to sacrilege, but it was a price Keir deemed worth paying. Richard seemed not to mind now, knees sinking into the deep plush cushions either side of Keir's hips as they sat, cocks lining up in perfect alignment. All the tinctures and oils Richard had procured from an apothecary on his last trip to Harrogate were upstairs in that blasted armoire. If Richard instructed he stop and go fetch them, Keir suspected he would return to find his master fully dressed and claiming the moment of madness had now passed. Keir growled against the kiss, and Richard opened his eyes, puzzled, about to pull away when Keir's hands tightened on his rear, pressing him close. He swallowed Richard's gasp in another deep kiss, rocking his hips as he held the other man's body in place. He knew Richard did not want him, but the knowledge that despite himself, Richard wanted this, went a long way to soothing the ache. What had he expected? That Richard would think of him as some substitute for a wife, for the Lady of the manor? That they would lock themselves away in this forsaken place and play out a parody of the caricature scenes Keir had witnessed once in the Molly houses?

Shifting Back - 115

Foolish. His touch was a little rougher than he would have liked as he wrapped one hand around their heated arousals, stroking firmly against slick skin. Richard broke the kiss with a sound that was half growl, half whimper, fingers digging hard into Keir's shoulders. "Keir--" "Let me. Please…" He leaned closer, sucking in a breath at the new angle afforded by the flex of his hips. "Let me." The fingers relaxed their grip a fraction. He did not see the nod, just felt it in the subtle play of muscles as he kissed Richard's shoulder softly. Attaining Richard's physical release was an uncomplicated matter. Such a creature of habit, Keir had soon catalogued the ways he enjoyed being touched, the things that even stopped him speaking and arguing. And his own was an even simpler thing; if Richard felt desire, felt pleasure, then so did Keir. His hands stroked with increasing pace, until they could not match the speed of the building sensation, the mutual heat that bridged even the chasm between them for a few blessed, brief moments. The rush and fury of the hunt still held them enchanted, that was all. Later, Richard would pretend this had never happened. Until then, Keir could only hold him close and be thankful that it had. *** Keir awoke the following morning to the relentless banging and crashing of thunder. It took a few groggy moments, and the unusual sight of blue skies outside the bedroom window, to realize it was rather someone banging on the front door instead. The knocking eventually ceased, presumably when Richard answered the door. Such tasks were Keir's responsibility, but after the previous night, he decided Richard would forgive him such lax manners. He could barely roll out of bed, let alone do so quickly or decorously enough to answer doors. Getting dressed -- shirt, breeches and boots certainly counted as dressed as far as Keir was concerned -- he made his way downstairs, listening in brazenly on the conversation on the way. "It's on your prop'ty!" a thick voice said. "You 'ave to do something before it runs us all off our land!"

Shifting Back - 116

"Aye," a second voice said, more laconic than the first. "It's nowt to thee, Aysgarth, but it's taken three'a my best cattle in the past month. An' now this." Keir froze at the bottom of the stairs.

"It is not that I doubt your word, gentlemen," he heard Richard say, "merely that I have seen hide

nor hair of such a beast. Are you quite certain of what you saw?"

"Owd Nick 'imself!" the first voice cried. "Or 'is hound, at any rate."

"A big black beast," said the second voice. "Could see the whites of its eyes."

There was a silence, then Richard sighed loudly.

"Honestly, gentlemen…I would have expected more from wise men such as yourselves. Beasts?

Hounds of hell? Surely you do not believe such superstitions?"

"Ye tell that to Mr. Smith's boy! Or to old Mrs. Dugden!"

"I am, of course, deeply sorry for their losses," Richard said. "But I fail to see what you deem me

capable of doing."

"It's on thee's land! Or from end't damnation itself!"

"Ye could let us onto the land, we could find the beast."

"That would neither be possible not necessary. I do not doubt that something has committed all

these things, but I assure you there is no such creature on my property. My lad is out on the moors every day with his horses; do you think they would have been granted peace to do so if there was such an animal?" "Aye, the boy may be." The second voice seemed dubious. "But it could be in hiding." Keir could hardly leave Richard to fend for himself. Even so, his hand was shaking slightly as he

pushed open the drawing room door.

"I dare say `the boy` would have slain and skinned anything of the kind out there, were such a beast

foolish enough to cross his path."

The two visitors, local farmers by the looks of them, stared. Perhaps it was the edge to Keir's grin,

or perhaps it was the fact his shirt was still loose and rumpled. Perhaps it was the uncanny

knowledge they were in the presence of the very beast of which they spoke. Perhaps it was all of

those things.

Behind them, Richard stared too, dark eyes hard and unforgiving.

Shifting Back - 117

"Mr. Wilks and Mr. Appleby were concerned for their livestock and livelihood, Keir. Such a tone is

uncalled for."

Despite the presence of outsiders, Keir shrank back slightly at the chastisement.

"I was only saying--"

"Yes." Richard's eyes narrowed. "I dare say you were."

"On thy head be it, Aysgarth." The first man, Mr. Wilks, Keir presumed, blustered. "Next time we

lose a good milking cow, or another farmhand, then you tell us it 'ath nowt to do with you!"

They glared at him as they left, fearful and defiant all at once. Keir could not resist the grin that curved his lips, showing teeth. The intruders were leaving his territory, he could afford to be a little smug. Richard brushed past him as he returned from escorting their unwanted guests to the door. Ignoring Keir, he walked over to the settee by the window, dropping down onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. "You ought to have informed me of any accidents," he said eventually, still not looking up at Keir.

"I would rather be aware if angry farmers are coming to break down our door."

"There were no accidents--"

"Keir." Richard began, wearily.

"No. I would not attack humans. How much of a fool do you truly think I am?"

The look in Richard's eyes made Keir wonder if the question had been moot.

"As I said, Keir, accidents happen. You have been experiencing the effects of resisting the change,

have you not? Forgetfulness, holes in your memory?"

Keir looked away, as if the truth of that statement could not be seen in the set of his slumped

shoulders, the lowering of his head.

"Not at all."

Well, only once or twice, to be fair. Both times he had been fortunate enough to recapture his horse

before the animal got home without him, despite waking up on the empty moors with no

recollection of how he got there, or how much time had passed.

Richard snorted a humorless laugh. "Spare me your attempts at deceit, Keir."

Shifting Back - 118

"Deceit?" Keir's eyes narrowed, tone taking on a dangerous edge. "As if you are innocent of any

deceit yourself! No word you said to them was the truth!"

"For both our sakes."

"You make a habit of deceiving others for their own sake, don't you?"

Remorse and anger flickered gold in Richard's eyes in equal measure. When he spoke, his voice

was soft and precise. "Are you claiming I ever deceived you, Keir?"

"Not me. Does it affect you so little to stand there and denigrate their supposed superstitions when

you know very well that they speak the truth?"

"Is it the truth?" Richard looked up at him, smile bitter. "Are you a demon of Satan, Keir?"

The mantle clock chimed. A cloud passed by across the sun, casting the drawing room into shadow

for a moment, before drifting by, the rich colors of the polished wood and ornately woven rugs and

upholstery emerging again like flowers after a storm.

"I know little of precisely what I am. You saw to that. You tell me to hunt, you tell me to accept the

change, but you will tell me nothing of why? Of why we become what we are?"

"Did you ever ask? Would you even have listened?"

"And you give up so easily." Keir snarled. "You show me no more regard than you showed them!

Those fools who even think of you as their Lord!"

Richard shrugged, turning back into the house. “It suits them to believe it.”

“As it suits you to allow it.”

“Perhaps. A lesson one learns with time, Keir, is to remain as peaceable with people as possible.

Remain peaceable and they see no rational need to ask their questions.”

Keir found himself doubting that. For all Richard's eccentricities, the local villagers and farmers

were remarkably tolerant. Once a while, they would send their daughters to Kirksgrave, convinced

two young men could hardly survive alone in a manor house without so much as a maid or cook to

keep the place from falling to the ground around their ears.

Richard declined politely, and presumably the young women in question returned to their homes

with tales of the house being like nothing any gossip would suggest -- well tended and clean, for

one.

Gossip must have persisted, yet they still tolerated Richard. Still greeted him kindly in the village.

Perhaps that made little to do with the house and his good nature, and more to do with the highly

Shifting Back - 119

generous rates he charged on the land surrounding the village, or his habit of spending a significant amount in local shops rather than travel to larger towns. More deceit. They deemed it kindness and desire to see the village flourish. Richard did it out of a desire to avoid travelling unless absolutely necessary. "Do you also inflict that lesson upon me?" Keir followed him into the sitting room, the door closing behind them. Perhaps it was a mere trick of the mind, but the room felt darker, more oppressive than usual. "Do I deny you your questions?" "No, but you deny me proper answers." "I give you all the answers I am capable of providing, Keir. If you remain unhappy with that, then" "Then do you even care?" "If that is what you believe, Keir, you are quite welcome to leave and make your own way, as I am sure you were capable of at least once before." Keir considered that for a moment. He would hardly call his time in London `making his own way`; he had merely fallen into it and been lucky enough to do so with the Carlyles. He'd worked for the Carlyles for years. The family skirted the higher echelons of London society, and during the length of his employment, Keir had seen many lovely, opulent things. Until the evening he met Richard, he would have deemed himself no longer capable of appreciating those lovely things. The Carlyles often hosted assemblies and gatherings. Most of their guests were only the finest, noblest families. Keir thought he had already seen beauty, that he had already grown accustomed to poise and grace. From the moment he watched Richard walk into the room, the man seemed to exist only to prove to Keir otherwise. As dangerous as it might be, Keir could no more look away than he could stop breathing. Richard had been an exotic, foreign gemstone glittering in a bland sea of familiarity, and like any other treasure, Keir had been determined to sample it for himself. Whoever that man was, the Richard that Keir came to know after his change was far removed from him. Oh, the beauty and grace remained, Keir doubted anything could erase those, but the openness was gone. Richard shut himself off as surely as he shut himself into his rambling manor house, hid that predatory hunger as surely as he hid in the bleak wilderness of the moors.

Shifting Back - 120

Nothing Keir attempted made the slightest difference. He thought he would have to summon an answer, but Richard seemed to have forgotten the threat as immediately as he had uttered it. "Have I not made myself clear in the past, Keir?" Richard dropped into a chair by the fire, and ran a hand through his hair. "You cannot ignore the hunt. It becomes dangerous. You become dangerous." "It was an accident."

"Precisely." Dark eyes narrowed. "We cannot afford `accidents`, Keir. We cannot afford to rouse

their suspicions."

Keir recalled the way the men had looked at him as they left, and chose not to tell Richard that the

villagers suspicions were already adequately roused.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

Keir raised a brow. "Will you ever give me the opportunity to prove it?"

"You have scarcely given me reason to, Keir."

"No…" Keir smiled sadly. "I dare say I have not. In that case, perhaps you are right, I should make

my own way now. Perhaps it was a mistake to come here at all."

Richard's gaze snapped up to him, more feeling flashing in them than Keir could ever recall seeing

before. Anger, doubt, hunger, fear.

Anger won out.

"I should dearly like to see you try, Keir."

Had Richard shown even the slightest remorse at the words, Keir would have acquiesced. But the

gaze locked on his was accusing and resentful, and Keir thought it mattered little how much of that

was fuelled by misplaced guilt. He thought that perhaps this was a glimpse of Richard's honesty.

"Very well," he said softly, turning to leave the room. "If it is that dearly requested, it would be

remiss of me not to attempt to fulfil your wishes. I will not trouble you again."

He half hoped Richard would try to stop him, but not so much as a whisper came from his master,

and Keir kept walking.

Shifting Back - 121

He put on his still damp coat by the front door, tucking his shirt messily into his breeches before leaving the house and heading for the stables, to the equally unimpressed welcome given by his horses. If that was what Richard wanted of him, he decided as he saddled up the most stubborn angry stallion of all his horses, then Keir would be delighted to accommodate his wishes. He smiled wryly to himself as he urged the horse into a gallop, dashing through the gates of Kirksgrave for the last time. Perhaps he was rather adept at deceit too. *** Richard watched Keir leave in a flurry of stamping hooves and billowing coat-tails. Even the horse

seemed more purposeful this time, pleased to get away.

Leaning back in his chair, Richard closed his eyes, let his head fall back.

Accidents…

It was hardly as though he had dodged his own share of silly accidents. Young animals coming to

terms with the abilities were bound to falter now and then. They were neither sensible nor

experienced enough to differentiate between prey, gave little thought to the consequences.

He had hoped Keir would be safe here, without the temptation of living too close to humans and

their animals, each of which were a far easier kill than another wild animal.

Wild creatures had greater survival instincts.

Cattle, he could forgive. Anything else was unthinkable.

"It bit Mrs. Dugden's boy." Mr. Wilks had said. "Lad was in a deathly state when we found him."

"What has become of him?" Richard had managed to ask, already forming a plan to finish off the

job Keir had begun. If Keir had been so foolish as to leave a half-bitten human to live…Keir's

ability might have been weak, and transmission might have been unlikely, but…

"'E lasted two nights." Mr. Appleby said gravely. "Could do nowt for 'im. Died of fright, Aysgarth,

you make my words. Fright!"

Richard doubted that, but said nothing, shameful enough to be grateful that the boy had not

survived.

The hunger blinded them all. Keir would learn the importance of answering that hunger, of

allowing the creature inside freedom before it devoured him whole.

Shifting Back - 122

Were it not already too late. He glanced out of the window again. Why should Keir return? What was there for him here at Kirksgrave? He had taken his favorite horse, his favorite coat, and he had his freedom. Two of the three, Richard had provided, and the third… He'd always suspected Keir would take it regardless, sooner or later. At least Keir had enjoyed the estate, enjoyed the seclusion and space it provided. Unsurprising, when those were the precise reasons Richard purchased the manor house and the land in the first instance. It had worried him at first, removing Keir from the city life to which he'd become accustomed. Keir, at first, seemed to adjust with remarkable ease, becoming far more familiar with his new home than with his new status. "Yorkshire?" Keir had looked at him. They were still in London. It was already days after his first change, and the worst was over. The fever-brightness wasn't quite so pronounced in his eyes, and while he was still exhausted, his youth and strength accepted his body's changes with little resistance, boding well for Keir's mind following suit. All Richard knew of it was his own experience, memories of which time had done nothing to dull. It was both relief and disappointment that Keir seemed to manage the process quite adequately without his help. "I hope you have a coach and some strong horses." Richard had shaken his head, aware that the discussion could not be avoided. Mostly, he was relieved Keir hadn't seen fit to argue with the idea of coming with him. "I have neither." "Then how…?" Keir frowned, then closed his eyes. It would not be the last time Richard heard the irritated disappointment in his voice. In the year since that day, he had barely gone a day without hearing it. "You can't possibly mean--" "We frighten horses. They know when they're in the presence of predators. No coachman alive could calm them long enough to make such a long journey. Once you are stronger, we will depart." "On foot." He had resisted the urge to correct Keir. Rather on paw, than on foot. "Of course." It was easier to pass Keir off as a groom when the estate could actually boast horses. At first, Richard thought Keir took great pleasure in tormenting the animals. As time wore on, and Keir's favorite steeds began to, if not accept then at least tolerate him, it became clearer there was far more to it than that. Keir never noticed him, when Richard watched him in the stables with the horses. If he did, he would never have shown the unguarded happiness when one of the animals dared to snaffled an

Shifting Back - 123

apple core from his outstretched palm, the bitter disappointment when one of them shied away even after long, patient approaches. Yet the horses never bore the same outbursts of anger that Keir apparently reserved only for Richard. Even if the horses hadn't learned to bear him, Keir would have insisted on keeping them regardless. They were his only means, beyond long stints of shifting that still left him exhausted, that allowed him freedom from the estate. Freedom from him. Caleb trotted up to sit at his feet, chin on his paws, looking up at his master. Richard managed a small smile for him. Caleb was the only other creature who had tolerated him, even liked him, without fear or judgement. The dog was old now, finding it hard to run and dart around Kirksgrave as he used to, and Richard dreaded the day he would finally be taken. Ever since the scruffy black bundle had appeared before him on the road from the village, over a dozen years ago, Caleb has been his faithful companion. Perhaps in time, Keir could find such a thing for himself too. Were it another day, Richard might have waited. Might have loitered around the silent manor until Keir deemed him worthy of returning. Not today. Keir had made himself very clear. A part of Richard was not expecting his return at all. And perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps their wolves were too similar, too angry and wounded to co exist. It had never been his intention to grow so used to a mate. A long time had passed since he had contented himself with the reality of existing alone. It was neither curse nor penance, merely the way of things. He leaned down, patted the old dog on the head, admiring the lack of so much as a quiver in his voice. "I do not think Keir will come home this time, Caleb…" *** The horse barely reached the village before kicking up a fuss and refusing to go any farther. Keir had no complaint; he had not intended to go much farther than the tavern in the village himself, at least for the time being. He tied the horse to the hitching post outside the tavern, flinching when it almost pulled the thing out of the ground when he went to pat its nose.

Shifting Back - 124

He should give the horse a name, he supposed, but who was he to do so? The creature detested him

as much as Richard did.

The tavern should have been quiet at this time of day, or so he hoped. Evidently Wilks and Appleby

had decided to visit too after their horrific experiences at Kirksgrave. They huddled over their ale at

a table in the corner, watching him as he purchased his own drink.

All he wanted was a moment's solitude, a chance to lick his wounds and decide what to do next.

Wilks and Appleby would not give him the opportunity.

"Thee has a cheek showing ye face 'ere." Wilks stood, striding over to his table. "Ale in't fit for tha'

likes of you."

Keir kept his gaze riveted on the worn-smooth wooden table. "My money is as good as anyone's, is

it not?"

"Your money?" Appleby and Wilks shared a cruel smile. "Thee's master's money, without a doubt."

Of course it was. The clothes on his back, the horse he rose, it was all Richard's money. Keir would

need to travel far to find anyone willing to employ him after all this.

"Can a man not drink in peace?"

Wilks's voice lowered, as he leaned down to the table, breath bitter in Keir's face.

"Nowt of a man about you, is there lad?"

Keir stifled the growl. "What might you mean by that, sir?"

"Sir!" Wilks leaned back, bellowing a laugh. "Did thee hear that? The beast has been taught

manners, to blind us all to 'is evil works."

Not again. Keir shook his head.

"I believe my master made it quite clear what he thought of your superstitions. Would your time

not be better spent hunting this supposed beast of yours than here troubling me?"

Wilks sent him a crooked smile. "Ah, we'll be hunting the beast, lad, nowt to worry ye'self about there." Keir watched them leave with a shake of the head. Undoubtedly now he had even made an enemy of the innkeeper for chasing away his best customers.

Shifting Back - 125

He rectified that over the next hour or two, imbibing enough ale to keep the place in business for the rest of the year. Outside, his horse stomped and whinnying, until it eventually fell silent, or until Keir forgot to listen. Curse Richard and his blasted gift! He was hardly drunk! Keir could no longer enjoy even the simplest pleasures. No…not curse him at all… He would have to return, sooner or later. It would be a wound indeed to his pride, but he vowed only to do so on the condition that Richard finally speak to him, tell him what misdeed he must have committed to change his master's opinion of his so drastically. The answer was there, yet elusive. Surely Richard had not listened to Keir's hot-headed talk when he spoke of despising the gift he had received? Surely Richard was a more intelligent man than that. A commotion outside drew his attention from his thoughts. He looked out of the small window in time to see that his horse had somehow escaped its tethers, kicked over the trough, and was galloping off down the street. Perfect. Simply perfect… Perhaps the ale had taken some effect, he reflected, feeling his head light and swaying as he stood too quickly. He shook it off. There would be hell to pay if he failed to catch the animal and it did some damage. No doubt it would be deemed a Satanic horse, a demonic beast, just like him. He opened the tavern door to find Wilks and Appleby there, flanked by several other farmers Keir did not recognize. Not a single one of them went unarmed. "What the--?" Something hard and heavy connected with the back of his head. It seemed even the innkeeper saw fit to believe myth and rumor too, even if the source of such rumor had spent a good fortune in his establishment. As the world went dark, the last thing he saw was Wilks's malicious grin, more bloodthirsty and demonic than any beast. *** It was mid afternoon when Richard realized he would have to leave Kirksgrave momentarily, and would have to forsake the vigil he denied he was holding for Keir's return.

Shifting Back - 126

Keir might have been gone, but he and Caleb and the house itself remained. He still needed supplies and provisions. The argument with Keir had distracted him, and it was late afternoon by the time he reached the village, long shadows and silence his only companions. Fortunately, Mrs. Daly's shop would remain open as long as the local populace might require it. "Good day, Mrs. Daly." He nodded at the gnarled woman behind the counter as he stepped into the

dusty shop, expecting her usual good natured smile.

She stared at him instead as though he were Old Nick himself.

"Oh! Lord Aysgarth!" The smile appeared, but it was fretful. "Good…good afternoon, sir!"

Richard frowned, but thought little more of it. Humans in their advanced years were always a rather

strange breed. At least it was what he told himself each time one of them remarked that he had not appeared to age a day since he came to Kirksgrave. He had already outlived many of his old neighbors. Soon enough the time would come to move on, before they realized that indeed, he had been here a score of years and not aged a day. He had been browsing the displays, contemplating purchasing something as a treat should Keir decide to return, when Mrs Daly's son came stampeding through into the shop from the backrooms. Mrs. Daly looked stricken as her son's voice preceded him.

"They got 'im, Ma! Wilks says he's caught the beast. Said the fool just walked right into't tavern and

let 'imself be caught. Appleby chased 'is 'orse away so he 'ad nowt to do but…"

Eventually noticing their sole customer, the younger Daly's words trailed off.

"Aysgarth."

"Oh, please, do not stop on my account." Richard shook his head. "Please, continue to tell me

precisely what your ludicrous beliefs have seen fit to do to my groom."

"Your..? Oh, no, you must have mis'eard me, sir, I din't mean--"

The words were choked off this time, as Richard closed the distance between them, one hand

outstretched, pinning Daly back against the shop door frame by the throat.

"Then I shall ask again." Letting go, the other hand reached out, grabbing Daly by the coat front,

almost hauling him off his feet. His voice remained low. "Where is he?"

"I…" Daly struggled, eyes widening as his best effort could do no more than force Richard's grasp

to falter slightly. "The tavern."

Richard nodded, letting go. Daly almost tripped as he stumbled back.

Shifting Back - 127

Daly and his mother could only watch, wide eyed, as Richard left the shop, turning not for the tavern in the middle of the village, but back in the direction in which he came. Back towards Kirksgrave. There was only one choice left now. He was barely outside the village when panicked neighing thundered up behind him. Keir's horse, riderless and anxious even before it caught sight of Richard. The poor thing must miss you too, Keir. It never fought as he caught its loose dragging reins, mounting in one fluid movement and pointing the rearing head in the direction of Kirksgrave. He needed the horse's speed now more than he desired to spare it any terror. And indeed the horse was notably fast. He blamed the sheer speed of the journey, and the wind stinging his eyes, on the tears streaking the corners of his eyes.

Caleb ambled up to greet him as he opened the door, shuffling about his feet, aware of his master's

distress.

Distress…is that what this dread could be termed? This fatal awareness that unless he acted, all he

had striven to keep secret would be in ruins.

And Keir…they would surely kill him, and should they realize Keir's capacity for healing wounds

in a short time, then they would hardly subject him to a quick merciful death.

Could he live with that? With the knowledge he had sat back and done nothing?

He had driven Keir to leave. It was his responsibility to bring him home safely.

He dropped to his knees on the stone floor. Caleb whined, licking his face. Richard's hands

tightened in the dog's fur, face buried against Caleb's neck.

A black beast, they had said. A large black beast.

Caleb whined again, as Richard pulled back slightly, looking into the dark doe eyes of the old dog,

the only animal that had ever trusted him, seeing the same unconditional faith there as had always

been.

Was this what it would take to give Keir the same courtesy?

Keir would have come home, eventually. Now he might not have the chance.

Shifting Back - 128

His fingers tightened in Caleb's fur, as another stray tear that could neither be blamed on the wind

nor the fear trickled its way down his cheek.

"I am sorry…"

*** Time ceased to have meaning after a while. Yet it could not have been that long since his humiliating capture. The ale was still swirling in the back of his mind, and not enough time could have passed for his bruises and wounds to heal, or his captors would have their proof that indeed the devil resided within his soul. "'Ow is it done?" Wilks yanked him to his knees by the hair. Keir could not even recall falling down. "What are thee and that `master` thee has?" "I have no idea what you're wittering about--"

"You'll answer!" A boot connected with his stomach, old bruises singing with agony as they

greeted a new acquaintance.

Keir coughed past the pain, twisting around as best he could to glare at Wilks.

"My master will have your hides for this, mark my words."

Laughter roared around the tavern, and Keir's blood ran cold. Daly came up to him, crouching in

front of him just out of lunging distance and smiling a maliciously triumphant smile.

"He knows, boy. Thee's master returned home without a whit as to your troubles. Saw it with my own eyes, I did." No…no, Richard would never simply leave Keir here. Even as he thought it, he recalled the last conversation they had, recalled the anger in Richard's eyes.

Was this `making his own way`? Was it his responsibility now to extricate himself from this mess?

He will not come for me… They knew the moment his head dropped that they had won. That their superstitions and beliefs had triumphed. Keir prepared himself for another blow. It never came. The tavern door swung open, chill night air carrying with it the unmistakable scents of wolf and blood. Richard…

Shifting Back - 129

Keir growled, fighting against his captors. It was unacceptable to be seen like this. While he knew nothing he could do now would ever improve Richard's opinion of him, he remained determined to salvage whatever was left. Somewhere in the struggle, he became aware that it was neither his nor his master's blood he could smell, but the wolf was unconcerned with such details. Blood was blood. But the wolf remained caged, his master's power suffocating his own, as though denying him the culmination of the act. "I advise you to unhand my servant, sir." The baying crowd silenced to a hush, and parted like a barley field in a North Sea storm as Richard stepped farther into the room. The rain left his hair and coat slicked black and glossy, and Keir had not noticed the equally dark and wet bundle his master carried until Richard let it drop to the floor. It fell with an uneven tumble, hitting the flagstones with a wet, lurching sound. Wilks and the rest of the men around him stepped back. Keir stared at the bundle on the floor, mind assimilating what his heart refused to see. The rainwater dripped off matted black fur, pooling in red-tinged puddles against the grey floor. Caleb. No… He stared at Richard, unable to form a sound. His master paid him no heed. "That, gentlemen, is your `beast`." Richard spat, tone as bitter as Keir could ever recall. It lacked

even the faintest trace of the weary resignation his master usually reserved for dealing with him.

The men watched him, wary. Wilks bent down, tentatively giving the bundle of fur a darted poke.

"That's--"

"My own hunting dog, sir." Richard nodded, expression devoid of emotion. "My remorse at the

knowledge that I kept such a creature in my home without realising its true nature is incalculable. As you can see, once I learned the truth, I took matters into my own hands. Such an animal, once it develops a taste for the kill, can never be kept safely." Not once as he spoke did Richard's gaze turn to Keir. Yet Keir was certain the words weren't

intended for Caleb at all.

He was that irredeemable creature.

Shifting Back - 130

As the villagers gathered hesitantly around the dead dog, Richard watched them with barely concealed disgust. "You and your superstitions. Are you satisfied, that your horrendous beast is nothing more than a mongrel? Would you behave far worse that a pack of hounds, attack an innocent boy, because of your blasted superstitions?" Keir flinched at the term innocent. "But, Lord Aysgarth, he was…" Appleby stared nervously at Keir, doubts chasing away the frenzied fervor that had clouded their eyes. He was no longer convinced by his beliefs, no longer unshaken and persuaded by talk of devils and demons. It was such a look that Keir almost felt human once more. That was the extent of his master's power, he thought. Not the power of the wolf, the power to blind these people's fanciful truths with dispassionate, logical lies. A very human ability, all told. "Release him this instant." Richard didn't wait for the order to be fulfilled, striding over, fingers clamping hard around Keir's upper arm, hauling him to his unsteady feet. "Apologize at once." Keir began to speak, before realising the command was not his to obey. "The creature is dead." Richard went on. "There is no need for fear or ridiculous beliefs. The boy may be loud and foolish, but he is no danger to any of you, you have my word." One by one, the villagers' bowed their heads, murmurs of apology rising like the quiet invocation of a prayer to a rather ambivalent god. They were apologizing to Richard, not to him, but Keir didn't care. All he wanted was to leave. He could not stay here, looking at their faces, looking at Caleb's still, lifeless body. "Very well." Richard nodded. One hand still dragging Keir along toward the door, the other waved at the body. Keir thought he saw the smallest tremble. "Do with it as you see fit." No-one protested as they left. The murmur grew louder as they drew farther away from the tavern, but Keir decided not to listen. For once, he recognized that drawing attention to himself would only cause Richard more trouble. Harder to convince the crowd that he was neither demon nor beast when the bruises they'd inflicted were already gone. He wondered if Richard chose to listen, chose to know the dog's final fate. But his master's face remained in shadow, and he made no attempt to slow his pace or acknowledge that Keir was scrabbling just to keep up. A mile out of the village, the crescent moon cut through a gash in the purple storm clouds, illuminating Richard's face for a moment, and Keir dared find his voice.

Shifting Back - 131

"That…that was Caleb."

"Yes," Richard agreed softly. "It was."

"Why?" Keir stopped walking. Richard continued on for a pace or two, before slowing, shoulders

drooping in a sigh.

"Would you rather I allowed them to kill you?" He glanced back, running one hand through his

hair, drying untidily. "He has been a loyal, faithful, trusting servant all these years, and he was so until the end. Far more so than you have even been." Keir bit back an angry snort. "You believe I'm not faithful, or loyal? That I have no trust in you?" A growl escaped, despite his efforts to the contrary. "When everything I do is for you."

Richard stared at him, before glancing away.

"I will take no responsibility for your reckless kills, Keir. You choose to do those things for your

own reasons."

Before realizing the insolence of his actions, Keir strode up to his master, reaching out, turning

Richard back to face him. Dark eyes glinted gold in the gloom, flickering a warning. Keir ignored

it, chin raised.

"As you choose not to see, your attention, good or bad, is worth any price I have to pay. My

existence and your part in it clearly trouble you more than you can stand, and now you have every

justification. End it. Rather I die by your hand than theirs."

The clouds cleared from the moon again, and the light it cast upon Richard's face made Keir's

breath catch, forced him to take a step back.

"End it…" Richard barked a laugh, a humorless rumbling sound. "You believe I would sacrifice my most faithful servant only to kill you? That would have been far more efficiently achieved by leaving you to your fair and just fate." "Then why?"

"You are my responsibility."

"You mean I am your burden."

Richard looked at him, and Keir was in no doubt that both terms were one and the same in his

master's opinion.

If it had ever been in his nature to drop to his knees and beg, Keir would have done so.

Shifting Back - 132

"Tell me what to do. Not about the transformations, not about the hunting, not about the secrecy. Tell me what I should do to ease your pain." Richard looked away. "I am in no pain, Keir."

Keir stared, unable to find the words to disagree. Words weren't required, not when everything in

Richard's voice, his averted gaze, his stance, contradicted the statement.

After a moment, Richard turned, continuing to walk.

"Let's go home, Keir. Before the rain starts."

Any attempt at conversation dwindled. Even if Keir had known what to say, he doubted Richard

would listen to a word of it.

Lamplight glowed in the kitchen windows of the house as they approached. In any other

circumstance, Keir would have been amused. It was so very like his master to have the foresight to

light lamps for their safe return even as he sacrificed his beloved dog for Keir's sake.

Rain began falling as they reached the door. The fire in the sitting room hearth had died down to

little more than embers.

For the briefest of moments, Keir paused to wonder why Caleb wasn't there to greet his master with

his usual boisterous enthusiasm.

He could never atone for the lengths to which he'd forced Richard to go, not even if he lived twice

as long as his master already had.

Richard, for his part, seemed content to behave as though Keir wasn't even there. Kneeling in front

of the fire, he prodded at it half-heartedly with the poker until the embers stirred back to life. Even

the flames were lacklustre, as if they had neither the energy nor the heart to give any more effort.

Richard continued to stare at them, as though persistence alone would act as fuel.

"Should I leave?"

"Hm?" Richard looked up absently from the fire. "As you wish, Keir. There are no duties that

cannot wait until morning, and you have had a tiring day…"

"No. I meant leave here."

Richard stared at the fire again, expression blank. Eventually, when Keir was ready to ask again,

certain his master hadn't heard him at all, he spoke.

"As you wish, Keir. Would you rather leave?"

"Would you rather I did?"

Shifting Back - 133

"Please, Keir. I am in no mood for play. Answer me."

Please. His master begging of him, when it ought to have been Keir on his knees, pleading

forgiveness, pleading permission to remain.

"No."

Richard glanced at him, thoughtful, then nodded.

"In that case, go to bed. You need rest."

*** For a brief moment, he truly believed Keir would do as he was told. He should have known better. Keir got as far as the door before turning around, eyes blazing. "Does it absolve your guilt, allowing me to stay, tolerating me when truly you damn my very presence? Does it make you feel less troubled for what you did to me?"

"Keir…"

"No. You'll answer me!" Keir strode toward him, and it did not occur to Richard to step back. "If

you believe you're so very indebted to me, then you'll answer me!"

Hands on Richard's shoulders, Keir pushed him back onto the rug in front of the fireplace. Had Keir

paused in his tirade for a moment, Richard would have felt the need to mention how inappropriate such contact was. "For your sin, for your weakness, for your selfishness, you allow this? You tolerate this? Without a care as to wanting? Without a care as to how it might be if you stopped hating us both?"

Richard turned his head. "You should not want any of this. It was forced upon you."

Keir let out a breath, sounding suddenly weary. He let his forehead droop against Richard's

shoulder. "You saved my life. Twice. I see that as force I can accept. You should also accept it. Whatever debt you believe you owe has been repaid in full, a hundred times over." "Keir…"

"Is that what you believe?" Keir asked softly, raising his head. "That my behavior was driven by a

need to increase your troubles?"

"Perhaps."

Shifting Back - 134

Keir was silent for a moment, and Richard wondered if the admission had wounded him more than

he imagined.

"You regret your decision, don't you?" Keir asked.

Richard turned his head, looked up at him. "I regret not allowing you a choice in the matter."

"That aside…"

It was a time for honesty now. He had made his sacrifice to keep Keir with him; it would be an

abhorrent waste if he allowed it to slip through his fingers.

He spared a thought to how matters could have been if he had done so from the beginning, and then

allowed it to fade. He had dwelled on the past too long. It was the reason for his troubles now.

"Perhaps I could have chosen more wisely for my first changed mate." He began carefully, feeling

Keir tense. "Perhaps I could have chosen a more docile companion, certainly one less wilful, one

less troublesome." One hand absently stroked Keir's hair. "Yet it was those things that drew me to

you in the first instance. I cannot regret choosing you. Only the means by which it came about."

Keir leaned up on one elbow, gaze inscrutable.

"Do you believe there would ever have been a time when I would have refused the opportunity to

be with you? In any capacity, under any circumstances?"

It was statement of loyalty he had always longed for, and yet Richard could barely find his voice,

merely managing to nod instead.

Keir's eyes narrowed.

"When, then? When would I have refused, if only you had asked? Why would I do such a thing

when I have spent the best part of the past year trying to win your attention, why would I have refused it were it offered willingly?" "I inflicted this curse on you."

"I am the one ungrateful enough to term it a curse!" Keir took him by the wrists, pinning him back

against the rug once more. "You call it a gift, and you are right to do so!"

"Why, Keir? Why are you so willing to forgive my mistakes when I have been so unforgiving of

your own?"

"Mine have been self inflicted, and deserving nothing but scorn." Keir shook his head dismissively.

"You saved my life."

"That is hardly reason enough to stay with me."

Shifting Back - 135

"No," Keir agreed, "it might not be. But this is." For a second the kiss did not even cut through the haze, head spinning with the lingering thrill of the admission. When it did, Richard broke the contact for a moment, fists clenched in Keir's shirt, keeping him at a distance. "Why…?" Keir gazed at him, eyes and tone gentle. "I belong at your side." "Because of instinct, and obligation, and--" "Yes, I dare say those too." Keir brushed another kiss to his lips. "But for the most part I belong at your side because I have belonged to you since the first moment you looked at me. I was waiting that night to beg with you to allow me to return with you to where ever you might go." Reaching up with one trembling hand, Richard touched Keir's cheek, as bewildered by the words as he was delighted with them. "Are you certain, Keir? If there is a fraction of doubt then--" Keir raised a brow, tugging him close again. "It seems I will need to make more of an effort to convince you that I am more than certain." Lips curving into a slight smile, Richard's hands tangled tightly in Keir's hair, pulling his head back down into the kiss. The kiss was as purposeful a dance as any hunt had ever been, every move of his lips and tongue against Keir's chosen to yield the best results. Fingers still winding in his mate's hair, Richard bit back a moan as Keir rubbed against him, legs parting, allowing the body above to press against his own more fully. "If…" Keir's voice was more growl than word. "If we wish to continue this, I suggest a bed. I wish to take my time with you." Richard stared up at Keir for a moment, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with gasps of much needed air, lips slightly parted. When Keir pulled away, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to assist Richard up, he ignored it, getting up on his own, but not moving too far away, remaining within touching distance. There was still the matter of their status to think of, after all. Still a little breathless he looked at Keir with a slow smile, a slight nod. "I wish to continue this." Keir took Richard's hand, bringing it up to his lips in a soft kiss. He did not once let go as they went upstairs, not a word passing between them until they stood in the twilight shadows of Richard's bed chamber.

Shifting Back - 136

"Would you rather I tend to myself first?" Keir looked shy for a brief moment. "I know they must have made me look quite unsightly, and…" Richard reached out, tilting Keir's face back toward his. "You could never be unsightly to me." Keir chuckled, turning his head, tongue darting out to lick at Richard's palm. Sucking in a breath at the warm wet sweep of Keir's tongue, Richard shook his head, a smile crossing his lips as he took a half-step forward, fingers winding in Keir's hair, lips nipping, nearly-rough, along his jaw, voice a murmur. "Much as I value fastidiousness, I value efficiency even more..." He grazed the skin beneath his lips with his teeth lightly, glancing up at Keir. "Cleaning up now would be a waste, would you not agree?" The chuckle became a laugh this time, and Richard wondered how he would have managed without hearing it, should Keir have chosen to leave. "I could not agree more," Keir growled softly, backing Richard up toward the edge of the bed, pushing aside a drape that had worked itself free, tumbling him back onto the rumpled sheets. He could not bite back the answer to that growl, to the consuming sensation of having the Keir's body pressing his own down onto the bed. Still not quite surrendering to the kiss, his own lips and tongue still putting up a slight challenge for dominance, he raked his free hand down Keir's back, tugging up his shirt, nails scoring along the sweat-damp skin. He rocked his hips against Keir in response, gasping as he felt heated erections brush across each other through the barrier of cloth. He could not just submit, it was neither befitting his position or his nature, but the dominating confidence in those almost painful kisses made his head spin, would not allow him to think. Like the thrill of the hunt, but more intense. The look in Keir's eyes reminded him of that too. He arched up against Keir, thighs either side of the other man's hips. Keir nipped the side of his neck, hips thrusting against the cradle of Richard's thighs. The low, soft cry was past his lips before he could stop it, hips arching up sharply into the touch, his fingers digging hard into Keir's back, scratching down the skin, leaving faint red lines in its wake. Hands sliding beneath the waist of Keir's breeches, he raked his nails hard over the curve of his buttocks, reaching down to unfasten the laces, and shove the garment haphazardly to Keir's thighs. Keir chuckled against his skin. "You scratch like a cat, wolf." Hips still rocking against Keir's hand, he took a moment to understand the words though haze of desire. A haze that was severely clouding his mind now; rational, sensible thinking seemed more difficult that he could ever remember.

Shifting Back - 137

There was just the heat, the want. He tried not to shiver at the vibrations of Keir's voice against his skin, managed to quell it a little. He voice sounded hoarse when he spoke, almost a gasp. "Do you want me to stop?" Keir watched him, distracting him with a smile as he reached down, palm curving warmly against Richard's arousal, teeth grazing a nipple with a playful bite. "No." His body strained forward as if following Keir's touch, a moan on his lips, the bite sending waves of sensation through his chest, his skin. He dragged his nails bluntly back up to Keir's shoulders, then slid them between their bodies, fingers stroking down Keir's chest, finding the tightened nubs of his nipples, pinching slightly, circling them with his fingertips. After a moment, Keir gently brushed his hands away, setting to the task of undressing him instead. Richard allowed it, luxuriating at the attention, until Keir laughed abruptly. "I always did think I should have made a good valet for you. Although undressing you is far less troublesome than dressing you. I've seen the way you choose cravats." "Were you to dress me, I would be afraid to step outside for fear of the world laughing." "Hmm. I shall have you know my taste is impeccable." Keir looked up at him, licked his lips. "I chose you, did I not?" "I believe you will find I chose you." "Mere details." Keir shrugged, lowering his head, and Richard found it difficult to breathe at the first touch of lips and tongue against his arousal, much less speak. He almost rose off the bed as that mouth wrapped around him, a silent cry on his lips, eyes wide. Sitting halfway up, he lowered himself back onto his elbows, breath quickening, heartbeat hammering in his veins as he watched Keir's full, kiss-swollen lips moving along his shaft. The sheer beauty of what he was seeing making him even harder, making his breathing harsher. The strange instinct to reach down and brush his fingertips across Keir's cheek drifted across his mind, and he yielded to it, with tremulous fingers. Keir looked up at him then, eyes bright, vibrant blue with desire. The eye contact sent a jolt of fire scalding through Richard, pooling at the point his body met Keir's. A fine sheen of sweat glistening across his body, he ran one hand down his chest, over his stomach, fingers brushing around the base of his own shaft, bumping against Keir's lips.

Shifting Back - 138

The lick that brushed his fingers startled him at first. Biting his lower lip, just hard enough to hurt, just enough to give him back a sliver of self control, all that escaped his lips was a nearimperceptible gasp. He felt the loss keenly when Keir let him go long enough to retrieve one of the vials of scented oil from the armoire. Richard chuckled. He had a suspicion trips to the apothecary would become more frequent in the near future. Keir kissed his smile, hands working out of Richard's sight, a mystery until they touched him again, cool and slick. One hand snaked its way beneath him, determinedly seeking out the tight entrance hidden there, making short work of coaxing and oiling it into allowing his fingers entry. He fell back against the bed at that, trying to drive his hips down hard onto those questing fingers, a bitten-off cry in the back of his throat, teeth sinking into his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. One hand clenching tight in the bed sheets, the other wound firmly in Keir's hair, incoherent words just a mumble on his lips. "You are truly beautiful when you are happy." Keir licked his throat. "Then," Richard took a shaky breath, "I shall endeavor to be happier in future." Keir smiled, murmuring against his lips before kissing him again. "And I shall endeavor to make certain of it." He was only dimly aware of the kiss ending, of Keir's hands on his hips, turning him. Acting on nothing but instinct now, he grasped the sheets, taking the weight on his forearms as Keir parted his knees, hands running up the inside of his thighs to his raised hips. Were he paying the slightest rational attention, he would surely have been mortified at his wantonness. But now there was no room for anything apart from those fingertips, and the feverish moistened tip of Keir's arousal against him. Thrusting his hips back again, he tried to press the head inside, a nearly frustrated whimper in his throat when he realized the body pinning his to the bed would not allow him to move quite far enough. Keir's teeth nipped the back of his neck, and Richard could feel the smile. "I always believed you desired me." Richard buried his face against his arms, horrified at the blush that stained his cheeks. "And if I do?" The nip turned into a kiss, as Keir positioned himself, pressing inside with a slow thrust until his thighs met Richard's raised hips.

Shifting Back - 139

"Then I dare say it makes me rather happy." Even if Keir had given him opportunity to reply, Richard didn't think he could have formed the words. The mingled pleasure and pain shot up his spine like a vine made of cold fire. It hit his brain hard enough to leave him dizzy before pooling back down at the base of his spine, little licks of electric chill snaking through his body to his own erection, the flesh hardening even further, the sensation almost unbearable. He could not keep quiet, not completely, the soft breathy moans his only concession to the sensations crackling along his nerves. Every touch of Keir's lips and hands felt like sparks of fire against his over-sensitive skin, his legs widening reflexively as he pushed back, trying to drive the already mind-numbing thrusts even deeper, trying to gain any friction between his own arousal and the bed sheets, or Keir's hands. Keir bit down harder on his shoulder, words muffled. "Do it. Come for me." Something stubborn and rebellious within him reared its head at that command, wanting to disobey simply because it was expected of him. But he could not, would not have been able to do anything except comply with the order even if his life had depended upon it. Hips bucking sharply against the hand that gripped him, unsure whether to thrust forward or back, trying to do both, his logic and sense were drowned out by the primal demands of his body. Helplessly surrendering to Keir in that moment, his hands reached back for anything to touch, anything to hold on to, the heat spreading across his skin from the touch like a coy blush. His eyes squeezed shut, head flung back, lips parted in a broken cry that he could no more muffle than he could stop the sweet cold pleasure sweeping him under as his climax engulfed him. Strange that it felt so safe to do so, that Keir's embrace was as secure a fortress for his heart as Kirksgrave was for their secrets. He felt his mate attain his own release with a growl of his name, Keir's arms tightening around him as though they would never let go. Should that not be the intention, Richard thought with a smile, he would be gravely disappointed. Momentarily boneless, he remained silent, just catching his breath, and surreptitiously ensuring every limb still worked, waiting until his heartbeat ceased thundering so hard that it threatened to shatter his ribs. Sitting up when he could trust himself not to wince or shiver at the sensation, he glanced over his shoulder at Keir, a slight smile gracing his lips. "Perhaps those accusations of your being a demonic beast were more accurate than it appeared at first glance…"

Shifting Back - 140

The arched brow did not quite fit with the lazy, sated expression on Keir's face. "If I am a beast, might I remind you that it was you who made me such." Tucking himself up at Keir's side, cheek against his mate's shoulder, Richard allowed himself the indulgence of a smile. "Perhaps I would be quite proud of that." Keir stroked his hair. "Truly?" No more remorse, no more regret. Keir would remain at his side for a very long time to come, there would be plenty of opportunity to atone, in any number of ways that would bring them both happiness. Richard closed his eyes, and for a brief second, swore he could see a large black animal in his mind's eye, racing across the moors, chasing the wind and just as free. "Yes." He smiled. "Truly."

Shifting Back - 141

Snake Oil

by BA Tortuga

They jingled as they headed into town, four wagons with copper bells on the corners jangling like a tinker's cart. Dark shapes huddled inside the barred carts, hiding away from the sun, from the biting flies that swarmed around, from the constantly moving whip that lashed the cages, the mules, the single, bony horse. The solid wagon had a trio of ravens caged on the front, the huge black birds quiet and still as they swayed. The wind caught the edge of the carpet rolled and tied to the top of one of the cages, the fringes fluttering wildly before the whole thing unfurled, slapping against the side of the cage, the bear inside not even lifting his huge head. "Doctor Diavolo's Circus of Madness," it read. "Wondrous monsters from the Wilds to Astound." Screaming faces and clawed hands shone out into the noonday heat, the canvas beginning to fade, to fray. It sure didn't look like much to Haskell. Nothing scary, at any rate. Bears and birds. In fact, he felt damned sorry for the poor creatures, his heart pounding with growing rage. Nothing wild should be caged that way, whether by choice or by chance. He knew all about cages of choice, but this... This was so much worse. Stepping down off the boardwalk that ran along the storefronts of the tiny main street of Cinch, Colorado, Haskell made his way past the wagon train, staring in at the animals, checking on the security of the cages. Bears, birds, wolves and... He tilted his head, nostrils flaring under the shadow of his hat. He knew that scent. Staring hard into the dark recesses of the last cage, Haskell moved closer, his guise of a casual walk across the street gone. There was a cat there, a big cat, just the black tip of tail showing, but that tail had a white spot. A scar.

Shifting Back - 142

A scar shaped like the moon, carved in by the very tip of Granny's knife.

Truett.

No. No, there was no way.

His hand hit the first bar of the cage, fingers wrapping around it, a low growl coming from deep in

his chest.

One bright yellow eye popped open, rolling, staring at him a moment before closing.

They'd been running in the snow, he remembered that. Running and chasing a white hare, the

promise of blood and food right there when the shot rang out, Truett's body flipped in the air from

the force of it.

He'd thought Truett was dead. A trophy on some hunting lodge wall, or a skin for a rich man's coat.

To see him now...

"Truett."

Nothing.

Not a twitch.

Not a growl.

"You want to see the show, Mister? I'm setting up right outside of town. I'll take 'em out, let you give 'em a close look for a nickel." Oily. Whoever this was that had his Truett in a cage smelled oily.

His teeth tried to bare, but Haskell kept it in, knowing he'd need access. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to see

the show. They do anything... special?"

"Ah. You've heard of my show..." The greasy man leaned closer, one gold tooth glinting in the

sunlight. "For a dime, you'll see."

"I've got me a dime. Tell me when to be there." He'd kill the slimy bastard and take his Truett back.

See if he didn't.

"I'll send the women and children away at dusk. You be there then with your money; you'll see

magic."

One of the birds cawed and the whip flashed out, jarring the cage.

Shifting Back - 143

Haskell's hands clenched, his own claws trying to come out. "I'll see you after sundown then, sir. Good day." He had to walk away. For now. He would come back for Truett, though. There was no other option. *** Hot. Something on the air tickled his nose, woke him from a good dream. Running. Running in the clouds, the moon on his skin. Running in the clouds, the moon on his skin. Water pouring. Water. He opened one eye, a man standing there, staring. Oh. Oh, nothing real. Just a man.

He sighed, put a paw over his nose. Someone waiting for him. Someone fine and furred with eyes

like the moon.

Someone real to run with him. His eye closed, the sound of the whip on the bars making his skin shiver. *** Haskell went to the little circle of wagons after sundown, his dime burning a hole in his pocket. Truett. His Truett. He still couldn't fathom it, thought just maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, because he sure as hell had seen Truett dying in the snow. His whole body itched, wanting to change, wanting to hunt, even if it wasn't time. He'd do more good to Truett as a man, at any rate, and he smoothed his face into something calm and watchful as he made his way to the circle of light thrown by the lead wagon.

Shifting Back - 144

About ten men stood around, the gold-toothed Dr. Diavolo holding one of the ravens up by the wing. "I keep the big ones asleep, but this beauty, she stays awake." As the moonlight hit the dark feathers, the bird shimmered, faded, leaving a weeping, thin Indian gal dangling naked from one hand. The crowd gasped as she twisted, trying to hide herself. Stifling his cry, Haskell stepped back, looking away. Oh. Oh, that poor... Truett. Bile rose in his throat. This was what the man was going to do with Truett. "Put your money in the box, dear sir. Don't worry, the animals are all sleeping well." There was a wolf, Truett - all laid out under cover. The bear was still caged, head tossing with the moon, growling. Haskell could feel the urge to shift on him, in a few days he wouldn't be able to resist it even a bit. Dropping his dime in the box with numb fingers, Haskell stared at Truett, willing his love to see him, to know him, but those yellow eyes stayed closed. "They're sleeping. They can't wake. Don't be scairt, son." Diavolo staked the gal to the ground and strode over, reaching down to grab Truett's tail, lift his hind end up and let him slam to the ground. "See?" The only thing that kept him from leaping and tearing the man's throat out was the two big men who stepped forward, frowning at Truett like they needed to make sure he was really out. "He's a fine specimen," Haskell said, his voice torn and rough. "He is. Takes some work, that one. I trapped his ass two-three winters ago." "How do you keep them docile?" One of the men nudged Truett with his toe. "Keep 'em lean. Keep 'em hungry. Keep 'em on some brew that I make to keep them quiet." Truett's tail was grabbed again, his mate dragged out into the faint moonlight. In a moment, he saw what he'd never thought to see again - lean and scarred, bruised and still, but it was his Truett. A low sound escaped him, the wail trying to get out. Oh, True. Look at him. Alive. He was the most beautiful thing Haskell had ever seen. "It's quite stunning, is it not? My own personal magic." "Magic... Seems like they're the magical ones," he snapped. "You're just the snake oil salesman." "Without me, they're only animals." The wolf was dragged out next, an ancient man limp and quiet beside Truett.

Shifting Back - 145

Haskell would have to kill the poor beast. There was no way the wolf could run with them. They needed to move fast, though none of the animals were in any shape to go far all at one time. "What about the bear?" One of the men headed over, kicking up dust. "And the other birds?" "She can't change. She's got a cub in her belly." Oh, sweet Jesus. "The crows, though, they sleep hard." The ravens was fished out and thrown over near the gal, a desperate wail pouring from her as she struggled to reach them - one young as her and one older, stronger, face pointed and proud. That one had the desire and the will to get free. Haskell knew it, and only had it emphasized when one clear, amber colored eye opened and met his. Yes, this one would help him. "What sort of trick is this, now? You have mirrors or something?" An old farmer spit on the ground, gnarly hands reaching down, lifting the girl's face. The girl shrank back, a low chittering noise coming from her, and Haskell felt his own body shimmer, trying to change. Damn it, he would end up in a cage with Truett, if he wasn't careful. The male looked at him again, shaking as the changeling fought not to move, to pounce. Damn it all, Haskell wanted to rip the ’magician’ apart, but he had to wait, had to find the right time. He had to have patience. "No mirrors, all magic. I tell you, I got a way with these beasts." "Uh-huh. Well, it's something, that's for sure," a little man in a boiled wool coat and bowler hat said. "I've seen enough. Good night to you." "Same here. This ain't holy, mister. You stay away from my stables, won't you?" A tall, lanky cowboy shook his head, turned on his heels. There were some who stayed, fascinated in the way that men are when they see something they can't explain, horrified and curious. Haskell just felt sick. The oily little Diavolo man let people look their fill, then started trying to auction the little gal off for a few minutes behind the carts. It suited Haskell to the bone, that none of the men he called neighbors would do it. It meant he had fewer people to kill. Watching carefully, Haskell memorized how the snake oil feller locked the cages, how he handled each of the animal men, what each of them looked like. The bigger raven stared at him, a pure desperation in the lean face, the man near begging in for help. Licking his lips, Haskell nodded, just slightly, trying to let the poor caged creature know that he would be back, that he wouldn't let any of them rot behind those bars.

Shifting Back - 146

The little gal was last, shoved into the shadow, poor wings wrapped. "Guess the show's over, huh?" Shoving his hands in his pockets, Haskell gave Truett one last look, longing for some sort of twitch. Something. "That's it. When the cub's born, we'll have a hunt, but not until then and I'll have moved on." A hunt. That was too much to take. Haskell snapped, leaping at the little devil man, his hands curled into claws, a low roar escaping him. The little man stepped back, hand scrabbling for the six-shooter at his waist. He'd've got to it too, if it weren't for that little gal, sharp beak flashing as she threw herself over. She caught Diavolo's collar from behind, the man forgetting himself and falling back against the cage. That little gal screeched and held on, and Haskell slapped the gun out of the man's hand, his own fingers closing around that oily neck. Blows landed on him, dull and thudding, doing nothing but making him more furious. "What do you want, you bastard!" "I want you to die." The words came out more like growls, barely human now, the moon whispering at him to hold on, to stay human. "You took my mate!" "I ain't got no gals but the bear and the bird!" Staring right into those dark eyes as they started to glaze over, Haskell nodded, leaning harder against the man's windpipe. "Who said my mate was a woman?" The blows against him got weaker and weaker, the acrid scent of death and fear sharp and satisfying. He waited until the light died completely in those eyes, until the man sagged and went gray and yellow, his life draining out in a terrible rush. Haskell had killed many times during the hunt, but he had never killed a man. Bright eyes stared at him, the lean girl shaking, standing there on unsteady feet. The big raven, already caged, was cawing furiously, wings bashing at the cage. "Hush. Hush now," Haskell whispered. "You've got to hush up so we can leave this place." How was he going to get a pregnant bear and all the rest out of... They'd have to hook up the wagons. The girl went over, fighting her change like anything as she got the birdcage open. The huge raven flopped down, strutting over into the moonlight and morphed into the Indian, them black eyes glittering at him. "Go." Yeah. Yeah, that was the plan. He didn't have his saddlebags, his spurs. They was in the room at Miss Lacey's.

Shifting Back - 147

"We'll go. We have to take the wagons, make them people think he's moved on. I... I need my things." He needed Truett, but he knew right now that True was safe enough, could wait just a bit. Didn't make it any easier. The man nodded, pointed to the covered wagon. "There are clothes in there. He gives us bad medicine." "I'll help you. I will." He went to the wagon and pulled the flaps aside, the stench making his eyes water. Living among men sometimes did that, made him wonder how they could foul things and stay among them. "Here. Find what you need. I'll come back before the moon moves. Stay and help me move the others?" "I will. We will stay until the medicine is gone from my wife's brother." The other raven never moved, never twitched. He reached out, his hand falling on the raven-man's shoulder. "We'll go where it's still wild. You'll fly again." Then before the urge to go and try to wake Truett got too strong, Haskell turned to make his way back to town, to gather his things and leave like a thief in the night. Or like a killer. If it brought Truett back to him, though, it was worth any price he might pay. *** The wagons had been mostly hooked up when Haskell got back, and now they were on their way, the big Indian sitting on the seat of the second wagon, Haskell on the lead. They stole away before the sun came up, the bells from the wagons left in the sand. Truett hadn't even stirred. What if he was permanently damaged? What if Haskell couldn't get him back? The gal was moving from one cage to another, chittering and hanging on the side. She was wearing buckskins and kept pushing up into the big man's arms, holding tight. He understood that. He surely did. How long had it been since they'd been able to do that, just hold on to each other? Checking the sky, Haskell sighed. They just weren't making enough time. They'd taken Diavolo with them, but they'd have to find a place to bury the feller before he started to stink much worse. The gal came running up beside him, leapt up and stared at him. "Taima say to stop now. Taima say the others will hurt for the fire-bad medicine."

Shifting Back - 148

"Where are we gonna stop? We need water and someplace to cover up..." It was too damned exposed. They needed a den. "I look. I find." He got smile and then the doeskin fluttered to the floorboards of the cart. She fluttered, preened a bit, smoothing out her flight feathers before she cried out, flying free. Oh. Oh, look at her go. Haskell actually smiled for the first time in the whole night. That was... Well, that was worth it, wasn't it? Taima stood in the cart, calling to her, crying out happily. Bless her. Haskell cheered a little, too, but he couldn't help looking back at the last wagon where Truett slept like he really was dead. Taima looked at him, nodded once, so serious. All he could do was keep heading for the horizon, slapping the reins against the big mules' backs. They were solid, steady animals, built to be calm and plodding, but not making great speed. He heard the cawing coming from the west, the dark body circling over and over. The big man grunted, pointed, and gave him a nod. They turned, the wagons sluggish and maddening, and Haskell wanted to scream. Wouldn't do any good. They'd just have to make good with what they had. There was an overhang, a wide-mouthed cave hidden by the scrub brush. Safe from passers-by, protected from the weather - it would work. They'd have to figure what to do with the wagons, but they had time for that if they stopped now. Nodding, Haskell pulled up, stopping their little train. Taima climbed down, peering in at the others, working each cage open. They'd have to drag the bear in together, and Haskell hoped to hell when she woke up that she didn't go crazy. They wasn't gonna have room in there. The gal came up, wrapped in her clothes. "Nita. She sleeps light. Is good. No..." She waved her hands, looking for a word. "No... man now. No. Mamma." "Well, as long as she ain't gonna eat me." He smiled at the little thing, finding her chittering and flitting charming, especially after seeing her so damned pitiful before. Taima spoke to her, low and guttural, waving those hands and going to town. He waited, then she turned to him. "He say it hurts. To wake from the bad medicine. He say it bad." His respect for the big raven grew in leaps and bounds. The man had to've gone through horrors while waking up from the medicine, whatever it was, but he'd bet Diavolo had never even known. "Tell him he is the strongest man I've ever known."

Shifting Back - 149

"He has great medicine, my husband. Great medicine." One hand landed on her shoulder and she leaned back into the lee of the big man's body. Haskell glanced away, feeling like an intruder. Then he sighed, his head snapping back up so he could nod. "Let's get to work." The man nodded and the three of them set to work. The little gal started setting up camp, the big raven grabbed Diavolo, an evil smile on the lean face. Haskell started cleaning out whatever they could use, letting Taima do what he would. That was the way of natural law. He circled the wagons, digging around for whatever food he could find. Oats, berries, a scattering of dried meat and jars and jars of a foul-smelling green liquid. The very scent of it made his stomach roll. Waving at the little girl, he motioned to the jars. "Will we need this to help bring the others up slow?" She looked at it with wide eyes. "Bad medicine. Nita, Tala - they have one bowl." She motioned to the bear, the wolf. "Tocho, he have three." Swallowing hard, he asked, "Truett?" "Tru...?" She chirped, tilted her head. "Tocho." "Three. Oh, Lord." His True. What if... Shaking his head, he stopped that thought from coming on back. He had work to do, and if Truett was well out, he'd have more time to do it before he had to help through the shakes and sickness. "Tocho, he... he fight. Taima say he a warrior." "Yes. Yes, he is." Truett had been the best hunter Haskell had ever seen, not near as human as Haskell was, not near as lazy. "I ask Taima. I ask how much to wake him from the dreams." "Thank you." That would help. If he knew. Wiping sweat from his brow, Haskell checked the light, the urgency on him to get this done. She nodded, started building a fire, the random whistles starting up. Soon a huge raven flew in, flapping his wings and calling out in a fierce, wild triumph. How could he blame the man? Haskell turned away, giving the ravens time to groom and preen a little, knowing they needed it. Finally the work was mostly done and it was time to move the others. The other raven was beginning to twitch and shift, as was the mamma bear. The wolf-man, though, he wasn't moving a bit and True? Well, that bastard just snored away.

Shifting Back - 150

Ass. Stubborn, beautiful ass.

"We need to get the rest into the cave," he finally said, turning to meet the big raven-man's eyes.

Taima grunted, muttered and jabbered at the gal, who turned to look at him. "The Tala, he will not

wake. He is old. Taima say to let him go."

"We can't just let him rot. I'll care for him until the end." Damn it, he didn't free them all for

nothing. They'd start with the bear, though.

The bear growled as the cage was opened, blinking at him dazedly, huge teeth bared.

"Shhh. Hush now, lady bear. Not gonna hurt you. We've got you a den..." Slowly, carefully, he

pulled the door wide.

Those huge pretty eyes caught him and Haskell could swear he saw tears, there. Jesus forgive him,

how could someone do this?

"Come on, honey. Can you understand me? Taima and I can help you. No more green juice..." He

moved up close, feeling small next to her, feeling a little tingly-worried.

She growled softly, rolling up to her feet. Good lord, look at that belly. She swayed, but she

walked, bouncing between him and Taima, heavy fur hot against them. She smelled like bear, only

not. She didn't have the deep, earthy scent of the den; more of a sour, captive smell. They'd fix that.

"Aponi." The big man called and the raven-gal answered, arms filled with grasses. Oh, smart.

They got the big girl settled, got her in the cave and resting, and one huge paw touched his leg for a

moment, the contact gentle as could be. Yeah, mamma. Yeah, it was gonna be just fi... The other raven-man started groaning, flailing a bit, flopping around on the ground. The others went to help him, so Haskell moved to the wolf, the thin, frail body all but making him cry. Damn it all to hell. He wouldn't leave the poor fellar behind. He could count each rib, each bone and the dear thing never shifting, never woke a bit. Setting the wolf on the opposite side from the lady bear, Haskell finally allowed himself to go to Truett. Finally.

His mate was there, curled up, paws over his nose, looking like Haskell remembered. Stopping, he

just stared. His heart pounded in his chest, but Haskell opened the cage after bit, stepping right to

Truett's side, his hand brushing the rough fur.

Skinny. Quiet. Still.

But it was his Truett, nose to tail.

Shifting Back - 151

So fine. He'd thought he'd lost this one forever, and to see Truett alive... Lord. He tested the weight, trying to see if he could lift True himself. One eye popped open, a low warning growl vibrating against his hands. Haskell chuffed a little, making the low, soothing noises that they all knew from the time they were born. There was no hope that True would know him yet, not if he was drugged to the gills, but he ought to know another of his kind. The growl faded into a purr immediately, Truett going boneless. "That's it, lover. Just like that." Haskell repositioned those big paws, watching claws slide in and out when he touched the pads. That purr got louder, and louder still, True damn near singing to him. Someone still loved that, still pushed against his touch like a kitten. That reassured him as nothing else had, and he pulled those big paws up on his shoulders, lifting True right up of the ground. Those heavy paws wrapped around his shoulders and held on, Truett panting against his throat. "I've got you, True. Taking you to the cave where you can sleep and get well and all..." It wasn't no trouble to carry Truett at all. Oh. Oh, was that a lick? That quick, hot, rough little sensation? Shivering, smiling, he pulled True inside the cave, getting them in the shade, in the dark quiet that smelled like bear and wolf, instead of caged despair. The night was falling, the mamma bear groaning softly, the raven tossing and fluttering, flopping about. He couldn't believe so much time had passed. His belly rumbled, telling him he'd eaten nothing all day. There was some hard tack biscuit, some dried meat, some old wormy apples. Nothing fancy, nothing fresh, but it was food. He laid True down nice and easy, then went to get the food, intent on sharing it with his motley band of misfits until they could hunt fresh. Apona was a busy little thing - eager to help and chatty, so happy to be free that it was damn near painful. He found himself smiling at her antics, jumping around and squawking like the little bird she was. Lord, Taima must have the patience of a saint. "You want some biscuit, honey?" She nodded quickly and stole it from his hand, nearly flying back into Taima's arms. He smiled again, suddenly so tired that he drooped, his shoulders slumping. All he wanted to do

Shifting Back - 152

was to curl up with True, nose to tail, and sleep. True was right there, snoring, waiting on him. Oh,

sweet God. He could nap with True.

"I need..." He waved a hand. "I'm sorry. I have to rest."

Neither bird made note of him, really, all caught up in each other.

They would wake him if they needed him, he was sure. Hell, he'd bet they'd slept so long with the

medicine that they were afraid to close their eyes. Dropping to his knees, Haskell crawled to

Truett's side, chuffing so he didn't alarm his mate a bit.

Truett stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-etched out, claws exposed and rolling dough. Smiling, Haskell dug his hand into the heavy fur at True's neck, feeling at home for the first time in a long while. Feeling like he could sleep. He could feel that strong, steady heartbeat, drawing him into dreams, drawing him down into soft fur, a cold wet nose.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift away, let himself drown in the scent and feel of someone he

thought he'd lost forever.

*** Running. He was running. The cloud had fallen to the ground, hiding the ground, the trees, but True knew there were there. Hiding him. Protecting him. True ducked his head, kept running, kept chirping and yelping, calling for... He stumbled, calling out, suddenly scared by the clouds all around him. A low, soft growl called back to him, the voice of it surrounding him, loving him. Calming him. Oh. Oh, he knew... Somehow. Somehow he knew. He growled back, nostrils sniffing so hard they ached. The scent was so familiar, so much better than the trees and the dirt that he didn't know. True tried to see, tried so hard to look through the clouds, begging the owner of that purr, that scent, to come to him. He would swear that someone rubbed against his cheek, scenting him, giving him what he needed, but his eyes couldn't see.

Shifting Back - 153

True whimpered, pulling away, unsure whether this was danger, was bad.

"Shhhh..." The strange hiss became a low rumble again, a small chuff sounding like safe and home.

He called, doing his best to make sure the Other heard him, stayed. He was so tired.

So alone.

"Love. Truett. Sleep now. Heal." Yes, heal. Not sleep the dead sleep of the sick. He needed to heal.

He blinked, panting. Just a touch scared.

The growl took him by surprise, the strength of it telling him this one was strong, that this one

could take care of him. He let the sound soothe him, let it ease him down into the softness of the clouds. He rested, telling his story with growls and chirps - telling of the fear, the pain, the sour taste of the air and how something inside him was missing. The sounds came back to him like they came on the wind, telling him that this one knew what was

missing, that he could find it again.

Truett hoped the Other was right.

*** When Haskell woke up, the barest traces of dawn were streaking the sky outside their little cave, and he was the only one stirring. He knew the ravens had kept watch most of the night, had heard them in and out of his dreams. His dreams had also shown him his lover, Truett, running through a dark tunnel of clouds, trees and rocks closing in. He'd tried to tell True he was there, that all would be well. He only hoped it was the truth.

Steeping away from the cave, Haskell stretched, his hands pushing the air. Then he went to check

the wagons, just to be sure no one had found them.

Quiet and still, the promise of fall on the air, it felt good to walk in the sun, wander. The old wolf watched him, unmoving, barely breathing. Poor old man. Those eyes were watery and dull, but still open, still aware. Haskell went to see if he could coax the old wolf into drinking some water. He held the heavy head up and the wolf lapped a few times before sighing, sliding back down into unconsciousness.

"Taima says our brother is lost." Aponi carried a still, black form, tears on her cheeks. "He says

Tala will follow."

Shifting Back - 154

Bile rose in his throat, but it was the way of things. The weak died. At least they had died out from under the control of that man, Diavolo. "I am sorry for Taima and his brother and for you. What can I do to help?" "You help. You... To die free is more than to live in cage. Your Tocho? He live?" "Yes." True's heart was strong. He could only hope the mind would be, too, once the terrible drug wore off. "Your Taima is a strong one." She nodded, fingers stroking black feathers. "He has strong medicine." "He does. Is there... Is there something you need to," Haskell trailed off, trying to find the words to ask if the ravens needed help burying Taima's brother. "We will go. You will stay with the others?" Yeah. Yeah, he could. Mamma bear was up and moving better, her big old head swaying back and forth. "I will. You have my word." Like he would leave True. The old wolf would need someone to hold vigil, too. It was his due, not to die without a pack. She nodded, kissed his cheek. "It hurts, to be so lost. I... Taima will help." "Thank you." Stretching his sore back a bit more, Haskell patted her shoulder before going back to check on True, unable to stay away. True was dreaming away, running and whining, too-thin muscles working. Sweet love. Haskell dropped to his knees, his hands rubbing down Truett's back, trying to ease the bad dreams. True stopped, head tilted, a lost growl splitting the air. It was all need and loss, a call for him. Trilling right back, Haskell pushed against that sweet body he'd missed so much. He rubbed them together, just scenting, nothing more, wishing he could change now. True's paws wrapped around him, dragging him close, cheeks sliding on his, the scent of his mate sudden and strong. Oh. Oh, he could have cried. Haskell moaned and growled instead. They rolled, Truett all but covering him, hiding his frail human form. It made Haskell smile instead of tear up. True growled and started grooming him, the motions instinctive, immediate, his lover's need to comfort innate. Laughing when Truett hit a ticklish spot, Haskell rubbed his hands up and down that lean back, feeling the pull and play of True's muscles. There were scars and places on True's ribs that had been broken, been healed. On the soft, fuzzy belly, he could feel the round scar from the bullet, the skin puckered and hard. The only thing that stopped his cry of rage was the fact that True sounded happy, his purrs loud and strong. Those claws just barely threatened when he thought about moving, the 'no' clear as glass.

Shifting Back - 155

Wrapping his arms and legs around Truett's body, Haskell stayed right where he was, his smile

impossible to lose now. How he'd missed their long sleeps in their den, their long cuddles.

Truett's tongue slid along his throat, down into his shirt, cleaning his skin, the big body vibrating

with the purrs. His own chest began to rumble, his purrs pouring out, singing their song of hunting

and loving and sleeping.

He could feel it - how that relaxed True, eased things. Now if he could just sing the song of them as

men... It might be too early for that, though. He ought to be glad to have what he did.

Truett's ear was pressed to his chest, the soft-soft fur there warm as True listened to him. He

stroked the back of True's head, rumbling and humming, his human voice not quite as deep as his

cat, but close. It worked, and it told him somewhere True knew him.

True's tail curled around his leg, the dark tip tapping him, the rhythm familiar as breathing.

Smiling, Haskell let himself sink into sleep again, listening to Truett snore, listening to the tiny

sounds of the wolf and the huge exhalations of the bear.

It wasn't home, but it was closer than he'd been in too damn long.

*** Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. He yowled as his muscles seized, tearing at whatever he could reach, body shaking as he slammed into the dirt, first one side, then the other.

There were no more dreams.

No more clouds.

Only darkness.

Railing against it, he fought, snapping and snarling, dust on his tongue. Cool water flowed into his

mouth, all but choking hi as he lapped at it, trying to get some relief. He growled and sputtered,

desperate for more even as his belly clenched tight.

A low purr broke through the pain, touching something deep inside him, easing a need that

squeezed him like a fist.

Shifting Back - 156

Help me! He knew that sound - knew it meant home and care and hope and light and he screamed

so that it wouldn't miss him, wouldn't leave him behind.

"Hush, love. Hush. You'll be better soon." He knew those sounds, too, though they were harder to

understand.

He stilled, panting, chirping as he struggled to make himself know. Right here. He was right here.

Don't leave.

"I'm not gonna go anywhere." Slowly he became aware of someone touching him, cutting through

the pain, through the haze, even if for a moment.

He opened his eyes, blinking slow, a shape forming for him. Pale, almost like a heat shimmer, the

man looked almost not like a man. Men were bad, but this one held him like a lover.

He growled, sniffed hard. Good. This was good.

A low rumble was his answer, the hands holding him loosening enough to stroke his ears, down his

back. The touch eased him, his muscles unlocking for a moment, eyes crossing with the pleasure of

it. Here. He was here.

"Yes. Here." A soft cheek rubbed his, and the scent made him growl with joy, settling more pieces

of him into place.

Here. He fought the urge to close his eyes, tongue slipping and sliding over that skin, the flavor

familiar.

Right.

The sound that came to him next was wild as the mountain wind, happy and free. His sound. He

knew it. Deep down.

Yes. He answered, agreeing with all he was. He was lost, but that sound? That was home.

His body still ached, the grinding pain trying to tear him apart, but with that body and that voice to

focus on, he might win against it.

Maybe.

If he didn't, he was safe. That voice, that voice would care for him.

*** They fought all night and half the day.

Shifting Back - 157

Poor Truett was so sick that Haskell thought he might die, screaming with the pain. It made Haskell

hurt, too.

When Truett finally calmed, finally slipped into an exhausted sleep, Haskell sat with his hand on

Truett's ribs, feeling for himself that his lover was breathing.

They'd lost the old wolf hours ago, leaving them with two birds and a bear that was wide as the

broad side of a barn. Taima came over, a bowl of something in his hands. Shit, but it smelled foul.

"What is it?" Haskell asked, amazed at the cracked quality of his voice.

"Good." It was handed over, pushed into his hands.

"Smells bad." That was about all he could say. Nasty.

"Good." His shoulder was nudged again, the bowl brought to his lips.

Trying not to breathe in the scent, Haskell took a sip. The little gal said Taima had big medicine.

He should at least try.

It burned all the way down, but it didn't try to come back up. The heat just burned away the tired and the scared, left him gasping and blinking and staring at True. "You. Gracious." That was... It made him feel up to the task ahead. "Strong medicine."

"Good." Taima patted his shoulder, nodded, when wandered back to Aponi to stroke and smooth

the long, shiny hair.

Yes. Well.

Haskell stood, feeling up to it for the first time in a day, and stretched, going outside to do his

business. Then he came back to check on True, feeling like he had to be close.

True's eyes were open, staring at him, and for a second he panicked, terrified that he'd lost his mate

and had missed it. Then True blinked.

"Oh. Oh, True. Hello, love." He smiled, crouching down, reaching out.

True's nostrils flared, a deep sound leaving the long body.

"Better. You're so much better." Chuffing a little, he let True hear his cat voice, his real voice.

That made True's eyes go wide, feet scrambling on the dust as True tried to get to him. Speaking

wasn't working, but purring was, and he pulled True close, stroking the rough fur.

Shifting Back - 158

Sounds just poured over him. Lord, lord. His True'd always been a chatterbox, even since the start, and now wasn't no different. The sounds didn't make much sense, all scrambled like True's head right now. Still, True knew him, somewhere, knew Haskell was his. That he was safe. Thank God. True head-butted him, cheeks sliding on his chin, his jaw, his shoulders. Sweet. Oh, so sweet. He rubbed along that lean body, sharing scent, soothing himself, too. They needed to reconnect, and as the bad medicine rubbed off, he would bring True back to himself. True rolled against him, licking and nuzzling. That purr called to him, so good he could damn near scream with it. His True. This was HIS True. Strength flowed through him. True would be well enough to move soon, and they could take the lady bear and get far away from the wagons and the last town that had seen them all in cages. True explored him, batted at him, then just wrapped around him - paws and tail, strong back legs and held on tight. Laughing, chirruping, Haskell held on in return, loving on his sweet True, so relieved he thought he might never stop smiling. It would be all right. It would have to. *** He woke in the dark, but it was a true darkness, a nighttime. Something Real and Right and he rolled to his feet, swaying a bit. He stumbled away from fire, the light. He knew that fire meant humans. He knew humans meant pain. Quietly. Quietly. A low, rough sound came from behind him, a long form unfolding itself and becoming a man. The sound was not a man sound, though. It confused him and he moved away. Part of him screamed to go back to those sounds; part of him begged him to escape. "True?" His ears swiveled back and forth. The man had never sounded... kind. He backed up, watching. He called out, curious, something inside him eager to hear more of those noises. "Truett, come back. I can't... I can't see you in the dark like this." The man moved, coming away from the fire, and little purrs poured out, sounds the man who had kept him couldn't make. Not ever. He moved closer, fascinated. Tall, lean... He sniffed, purring. That smell was good. Real. The tall form came near, hands reaching out to touch him, and it didn't hurt at all. Not one bit. No roughness, no meanness. This was the one. This was the one that found him in the clouds. He growled, pressing close, calling out his pleasure,

Shifting Back - 159

his thanks. Kneeling, the man stroked him, praised him, little chuffing sounds puffing against his cheek. Oh, he knew this scent. Knew it deep down. His. This one was his. He let himself go boneless, rubbing against smooth skin and spreading his scent. Where is your tail? Your whiskers? He could scent the cat, hear it, so close. The tip of his tail got pulled, the man teasing him, a game he remembered from before. There was a before, he knew there was. He blinked and pounced, searching for the tail, for that delicious, familiar scent. There was no tail. No ears and no whiskers. The scent was there, though. The deep, rich odor that meant love and home. He growled and purred and fussed, teeth on the too-smooth skin. Poor thing. Lost his fur. He nosed the cloth aside, chuffing when he found a patch of fur. Laughter fell around him before the poor thing moved away and pulled the cloth off, all of it thumping in front of his paws. Then the man came back, and that was almost right. Oh. Mate. Mate. "Yes. Love. Oh, True." The words, the almost made sense. They sounded like something he should understand, had heard before. He stopped, nose against that hip, breathing in deep. His. His Mate. The sounds and touches drew him back, back to their little spot near the fire where it was almost too warm for him, but just right for the unfurry man. He stretched out alongside the man, growling softly when the others came too close. His. "Sleep, True. Heal." Those words made less sense, but he could almost trace the shape of them in the air with his tail, so it didn't matter. He nuzzled in, nose in the center of the man's back, so that he'd know if the man moved. Good. Nap. *** When Haskell woke up the next time, the little gal, Aponi, was tugging at his hair, the only thing sticking out from under True. She shook him hard, skittering back when Truett snarled at her, swiping out with one big paw. Haskell shushed his lover, wiggling free. "What is it?" "Horses." She bared her teeth at True, cawing at him. "Coming."

Shifting Back - 160

His heart set up a pounding, and Haskell bounced to his feet, casting about wildly for his clothes.

They were nowhere near his change, so he'd have to do this as a man.

Truett was up, bristling, looking back and forth like he couldn't decide who to attack. A low,

warning growl had True looking at him, head down, tail lashing. He didn't have time to worry

whether his lover would eat the raven.

Then True's nostrils flared, ears turning toward the dust, the sound of the horses, and his hackles

raised.

"Yeah..." He just... damn it. "Where's Taima?"

"Flying." Apona pointed to the sky. "Seeing."

"All right. All right. We have to move the lady here back more, away from the front of the cave.

Anything you can scrounge from the lead wagon, you need to get now."

"You want to save mules or no?"

"If we can." Not that the mules would stay in the cave with them... Damn it. He just couldn't think.

He'd been living in town among men too long.

She nodded and headed off, leaving him with Truett. Damn it, he could use some goddamn help.

"Jesus, True. I need you." Muttering, Haskell went to the lady bear and started pushing at her,

trying to get her to move from the spot she'd chosen.

Truett growled, snapping and swatting at the big old momma. Well, okay. Okay, that worked.

She pushed to her feet, a deep, growling groan escaping her, and Haskell felt damned guilty for it,

but she had to move. True herded her, and Haskell went to help Aponi.

Food and fuel, blankets, pots - lord, that gal could move.

They stacked everything they could in the cave, including two rifles with ammunition. Then

Haskell checked on their visitors.

Two men on horseback, from what he could tell, the rifle shots proving they were armed.

"Taima!" Aponi cried, shaking as the huge black bird circled.

"He'll be all right. He'll be fine." If the big raven got shot that little girl would go plumb crazy. "I

need to load the rifles. I'll need your help."

"Yes. Yes. I shoot." Oh, he bet she could.

Shifting Back - 161

"Then come on." They made tracks back to the cave, dodging the pings of shots that were getting too close for comfort. True was snarling and growling, pacing back and forth, panting.

"Hush, True. Save your energy for fighting." He didn't know if Truett understood him, but he

couldn't wait to see. He grabbed a rifle and started loading it, hoping it was in working order.

True snarled, sniffing hard, then going to mark the brush at the edge of the cave. Aponi stared at

him, eyes black as night. "We do not let them take us. We die first."

"No one's gonna die in here. They'll go before we do." No damned way.

"Good. But if no, you kill me. No more cages."

"I will." He looked her right in the eye, nodding, knowing Taima would do it first. "I promise."

"Good. Now, we fight."

The huge black raven landed, the dust flying. Then, suddenly, Taima appeared, strong and furious.

He'd never seen a man with so much control.

True yowled, scrambling back toward the brush.

Oh, True, he thought. If only you could do the same. I need you. Instead of saying it aloud, Haskell

cocked the rifle, nodding at Taima. "Ready?"

Taima nodded, tugging on a pair of breeches and grabbing a sling.

"Let's go see who came to visit," Haskell said, stepping up to the mouth of the cave. Time to send a

message that no more men should come for them.

"Ho there! You have something that belongs to me!" Two men rode up, one the spitting image of

Diavolo.

"I don't think so, Mister." Haskell spit in the dirt, growling out the words before Taima could say a

thing. "You'd best get."

A gun barrel was pointed right at him. "I ain't leaving without my property. The wagon train and

the animals. Now."

"We're gonna have to agree to disagree." He could move faster than this man thought, and God

knew, Taima could fly.

Shifting Back - 162

"I don't think you understand, son." The gun was cocked, dark eyes staring him down. The other guy spurred his horse, coming around and Aponi drew down on him. He bared his teeth, wanting to rip the man's throat out, feel his blood, hot and sour. "I'm not sure you do. No one is going back in the cage." A low, steady growl sounded from somewhere behind him. Truett. Stalking. Furious. Yes. Yes, love. You know. It was good to know Truett was back there, that he was aware enough to see what was happening. So much better than the drug sleep. "I'd hate to have to kill you, son. We'll start with the girl, though. Daniel said she screamed real pretty." The gun swung over toward Aponi. A hard cry came from Taima, the man distracting Diavolo's twin just enough for them all to move, to start the chain of events that would either set them free or kill them all. Aponi fired first, even as Truett sprang, teeth and claws bared, jumping right for the horses. The pair of horses bucked wildly, hooves slashing at the air as True attacked. Haskell shot for the first man, going wide because of True. He couldn't hit True. Somewhere, the lady bear was roaring, but he couldn't mind that either. He was too damned busy ducking. Aponi moved closer, crouching before Taima, both cawing and squalling, frightening the horses even more, sending Diavolo's twin crashing to the ground. Everything went to hell then. Haskell felt it, right before it came on him, the animal tearing out, and he called to True without thinking, dropping to his knees. True's roar was triumphant, glorious, promising him the hunt of his life. His skin crackled with energy, his whole body trying to turn inside out, and the horses screamed even louder, scrambling away. The mules broke out of the cave, bucking and kicking, adding to the noise and confusion. Shots and blood, squawking and screaming, and above it all came the steady, happy growls, True reveling in the carnage. Not that he could blame the... Oh. Better. Haskell's clothes fell away, and he leaped at the Diavolo man thing at the same time as True, their hunting skills well matched. True took the ankles and he took the throat, teeth and claws slashing equally. They took the man down like they would a deer, holding him there until he stopped struggling. Until the breath left him. He could hear the fading screams of the other, almost hidden beneath the cries and flapping wings of the crows. It didn't matter. True was staring at him, eyes alight.

Shifting Back - 163

His True. His True knew him, now. Knew who he was. Not just instinctively, but in every way. Knew his real name. True leapt at him, licking his muzzle, vocalizing happily. Mate! Mate! True led him from the carnage, into a protected lee of the rock. His ears were cleaned, his body explored, his tail purred over. Yes. His very own whiskers, his very own tail. He spared a thought for Taima and Aponi, but he could hear them, knew they were alive, so he spent his time cleaning Truett, loving on him. True vibrated against him, his mate was purring so hard. Their tails twined together as they groomed and licked, assuring each other all was right. Then they curled together, both of them purring. Oh, he knew there was no time for a nap, but it had been so long, surely they could bask a few moments. True lapped his jaw, then settled, boneless and easy against him. Yes. Basking.

Loving.

Mates.

*** Mate! He watched the huge male sleep, admiring the long tail, the thick whiskers. Healthy. Male. Whole. His. The black tip of his mate's tail twitched and he stared, following it with his eyes, nose wrinkling. Oh. Oh, look at that. Look at that move. Oh. True's muscles bunched up, whiskers vibrating. Look. At. His. Mate. POUNCE. He bit the end of the dark tail, chuffing happily and rolling over in the dust. A low roar sounded,

Shifting Back - 164

his one springing up and leaping on him, teeth closing on his shoulder before bouncing off, those

yellow eyes wide and suddenly happy.

Oh! Chasing! He yelped and gave chase, claws digging into the dirt, happier than he could ever

remember.

They romped, his long, heavy love running fast and furious, turning on him a few times, just to nip

his nose and his ear.

He tired sooner than he wanted, panting and slowing, but still so happy.

Hunting.

They needed hunting.

Moving close, his mate rubbed cheeks with him, pushing him down to rest before stretching out ext

to him. Somewhere, he could hear birds calling, could smell bear, but it didn't matter.

He purred so hard it ached, nose-to-nose with his own one. Good. He'd thought his mate was lost.

Grooming his whiskers, his one purred back for him, the sound deeper than his, rougher. Right.

That tail curled about his, stroking him, soothing him.

Yes. Yes. They should nap.

Nap and then hunt.

Nap, then hunt, then play.

*** Two moons had passed since the men had come for them. Taima and Aponi had helped him burn the wagons and bury the men, had helped the bear birth her cub. He'd spent two nights as a man during the last two months. Two nights.

Haskell was happy as could be that Truett knew him as a cat. He'd thought his lover would never

remember him. But now... Well. Now Haskell was afraid that True would never become human again. It wouldn't be the end of the world, but still. Him and True had fun as men - eating and loving and chatting and talking.

He missed that.

Rolling to his feet, Haskell padded to the opening of their den. They'd moved far away from where

Shifting Back - 165

they'd burned the wagons, traveling for days before they broke off with Taima and Aponi and the bear. True hadn't understood the birds. He'd kept trying to eat them. True woke, rolling onto his back and stretching, eyes watching him. Purring, he walked back to rub noses, inviting his love to come and play outside. They had a large territory now, room to run. True rolled up, following him easily, loping out into the fading light. He watched his lover explore, searching for lizards or little birds, following wherever his nose led him. It made Haskell happy to see, made him wander after, batting at the waving tail. Every so often True would turn, lap at his muzzle, purring so hard the rocks under their feet vibrated. Mate. Now, if he could just make True understand the shift... He would, somehow. It had just been too long. Too much. The moon was coming up full, that would make it easier, make it almost impossible for True not to feel the need to change. Maybe this time True wouldn't sleep through it. Maybe this time he'd change without thinking, and Haskell could explain... Wait. Damn it, where had True disappeared to? He heard the whoosh a half-heartbeat before True pounced him, rolling him over and over in the dirt. Growling, paddling in the dirt with his feet, Haskell scrambled out from under his one, running, bouncing through the rocks. They romped and played, scrambling until the moon came up, the white light upon him. It was easy, at times like this, to slide between one form and the other. Haskell let the cat go, becoming the man. He stood naked before True, staring into those golden eyes. True stared, wide-eyed. Shocked. Come on. Come on, love. You can do this.Kneeling, he reached out, fingers sliding out to touch True's whiskers. "Oh, love. I miss you." True's breath came fast, then faster, the look in the pale eyes so scared and so curious. "Come to me, True. You remember your Haskell. You remember lemon candies? I still have some in my bag." They had a few human things tucked away thanks to Taima. True pushed closer, shivering, muscles rolling and rocking under his hands. Oh. Oh, hell yes. That's it. Just like that. "Oh, love. Mate. Come on, love." He stroked that heavy body, loving on True, encouraging. The heavy pelt began to dissolve, True calling for him, claws becoming fingers, heavy muscles becoming lean.

Shifting Back - 166

Tears stung his eyes, and he clutched True to him, feeling smooth skin rubbing against his. "Oh.

Oh, True."

"H...h...hask..." Lips - soft, warm lips were on his shoulder.

"Yes. Yes, True. Your Haskell." He wanted to scream his joy to the night. "Oh, look at you."

"Been... I thought." Those eyes looked right into him, seeing him. "I been asleep a long time."

"A long while. You're here now, though." He leaned down, because he just damned well had to,

and took a kiss, tasting that sweet mouth for the first time in too long. Truett mighta been sleeping

for a long time, but that kiss? That kiss was wide awake.

He cupped the back of True's head, fingers sinking into the thick hair, tilting so he could get more. True moaned into his lips, prob'ly still chattering away somehow, even as they rubbed together. Bless him, they kissed for a long while, just leaning each other again, before Haskell pushed True back, looking over that too-skinny body to check for changes. There were scars now - the round bullet, slashes and tears that were long-healed. The little dark mole on True's belly was still there, though, just like always. Stroking it, Haskell hummed, the sound more cat than man. "I love you, True." He needed to say it, just in case. "Love. I dreamed about you. I thought you were gone."

"No. Hell, I thought you were dead, lover." He hugged again, tighter this time, needing the contact.

"I was." True's hands wrapped around him, hands sliding down his spine.

"Not now. I've got you." The moon went behind a cloud, and Haskell held his breath, terrified that

True would slide right back into the cat.

True shivered, but stayed with him, kissing him so hard his knees buckled. "You do. You found

me."

"I had almost given up." Truth was, he had given up. The world was a strange and wonderful place.

True pushed against him, licking his mouth, hands sliding up his arms. "You found me."

"I did. I'll never let you go again." He wasn't a young fool anymore. He would follow True to the

ends of the earth.

True laughed for him, hands sliding over his skin. "No. Never again. No cages."

He felt True's shudder.

Shifting Back - 167

"No. Just us." His hands started moving over True with more intent now; he was unable to stop himself. He'd missed the chattering and all, but he'd missed the touching, too. "Hask." His lover felt right, warm and solid against him. "Mine." They stumbled, hanging on so hard to each other that they weren't sure where they were. Haskell finally just dragged Truett back to their den, sinking to the ground with him. Truett's laugh pushed into his lips, his mate's cock heavy and full against his belly. Hot. Oh. Love. He grasped Truett's cock, hand sliding up and down, feeling its weight, its heat. True fit him like no one else had, ever. Those pretty eyes went wide, wild, hot as the noonday sun. "More." Demanding man. Of course, after so long... He grinned wildly, pulling harder, loving the soft skin over the hardness, loving how True moaned for him. True yowled, bucking up under his touch, nails digging into his shoulders. He was fascinated by the way the flat belly rippled, the muscles standing out as his True humped his hand. He wanted True's completion, wanted to see and smell and... Oh. Bending almost double, he put his mouth right there, right at the head of True's prick. "Haskell!" Heat flooded his lips, the eager cock now slick and salty. Moaning, he sucked harder, closing his eyes and letting himself feel it. Oh, he couldn't believe he had this again. True twisted and shifted, moving so that hungry mouth could wrap around his cock, the suction sure and strong, enough to make him yowl. His body arched like a bow, his lips moving around True, his fingers sliding along those lean thighs, all the way up between to cup the fuzzy balls. He could feel True's cries, vibrating around his cock, down around his balls. The long hands tugged at him, pulled him deeper and deeper into that hungry mouth. They became a circle of pleasure, sucking and licking, deep purrs reverberating around their den. They rocked, both of them groaning, sucking, trying to out do the other with need. Lightly furred thighs framed his face, so soft, so warm, surrounding him with Truett's scent. Haskell felt his release rising up his spine, True's mouth pulling it out of him, and he slid his fingers back beyond True's balls, tapping the tight hole. He knew that drove Truett mad. True's muscles went tight, hard all around him, the growl around his cock so damn sweet. All he could do was let go and find his pleasure, his prick throbbing hard in Truett's mouth. He shot until he wanted to scream, but he wanted True with him, so he didn't let go. When the flavor hit his mouth - strong and bitter and familiar and his - he growled, entire body shaking as True came for him. Love. Mate. His. That was what he'd needed ever since they found each other again.

Shifting Back - 168

True's tongue slid along his cock, cleaning him lazily. "Hask."

"Mmm. Truett..." He nuzzled in, scenting them, the tightness in his belly easing. Slipping around,

he curled his arms about True and squeezed. "Missed you."

"I. I'm sorry I didn't come around. I was..." Truett shrugged, looking a tad confused. "Sleeping."

"You were resting. Building strength." How could True think Haskell would blame him? "You

know what I want?"

Truett hummed softly, rocking him a bit. "Mmm?"

"Cornbread and coffee. When you're ready, we'll go into town. But not until you're ready." They

could survive on their hunt until then, and on foraging.

"Soon, Hask. Soon. I... I can feel the cat, right under my skin."

"Then we'll let him come. As long as I know you'll come back to me. I need this." He'd always been

more of the alpha, but he'd always been more the man, too. It was like no matter what he was,

Haskell was rooted deeply in either.

"You're mine. You find me, when I get lost." Truett hummed, nuzzling his throat, growling softly.

"I do. I always will."

No matter what it took, he'd find his True. Even if it took stealing a wagon train and hooking up

with the weirdest pair of birds he'd ever seen.

Hell, True had the rest of their lives to make it worth his while. *** They headed up into the mountains. The mule had their supplies of coffee and meal and sugar, the

beast's tack jingling with every step.

Truett was doing his best not to kill it.

They'd both managed for three days in the town before he was itching and Haskell was growling

and it was time for them to run and go be them again.

Truett sniffed and wandered, pulling the confining coat tight around him. Snows were coming.

Heavy snows, he could smell them.

Haskell pulled the mule along, humming some ridiculous song, growling every so often as the mule

tried to balk. It made a fine tune. Lalala grrrr.

Shifting Back - 169

He headed back to Hask, licked one stubbled cheek and bared his teeth at the mule. "Home soon."

"Almost there." Smiling, nodding, Haskell kissed his mouth, distracting him from the damned

mule. "Think what we can do with the new blankets."

"Mmm. And the pans." Haskell liked pans. It was cute.

"Well, I was thinking blankets first." They'd stayed in town in a bed, and that had been nice, but he

would be glad to get back to their den. Of course, their den was more of a cabin, built into the side

of a mountain...

"I would like to make a nest for us. Somewhere soft. Somewhere to spread for you." The words

made Hask growl a little.

He could smell the deep musk suddenly, could smell how Haskell wanted him. Of course, so could the mule, who shied away. It didn't stop him from playing, though, whispering promises about the games they might could play, wrapped in blankets together, weathering the winter. "Mmm. Wicked love." They started up the last incline, their little cabin in sight, and both of them looked up when the deep caw of a raven sounded overhead.

True grinned as Haskell waved and smiled. Taima. They nested close by. Close enough that no one

would steal any of them. Ever again.

Even their lady bear had brought her cub, now old enough to fend for itself, to their mountain. They needed someone to watch over them when they slept in the winter, and between him and Hask and the big birds, they had plenty of watch. He chuffed, nudging Hask toward the cave. Toward their lair. Smiling, Haskell made the rest of the climb, pulling that damned mule. Then he unloaded and

turned the mule out. When they went to town next time they would get a donkey.

He found the blankets and tossed them into the nest they'd made. The place was warm. Cozy.

Theirs. It smelled of smoke and sex and the green wood Haskell whittled.

It smelled of home.

Haskell finally came inside, shaking the first snowflakes off his golden hair. "It's going to be raw,

love. If we boil some water I can have my coffee."

Haskell would hoard the precious supplies, using only what they needed, occasionally what they

craved.

"I like kissing you after coffee."

Shifting Back - 170

"Oh, good." Hask smiled for him, coming to touch him, hands sliding along his arms to catch his hands. Hask had touched a lot before. Now he seemed to need it even more. "Yours." He knew it, balls to bones. "Here."

"Yes. Mine." Abandoning the water and the supplies, Haskell pulled him down on the blankets,

pushing close to kiss him.

They wrapped together, arms and legs and tongues twining together as they rubbed and rocked, touching each other. Haskell felt good against him, right. Well, almost right. There was too much cloth barring his way. He tugged the shirt, just barely remembering not to tear it. Last time Hask had pouted for three days. Haskell rewarded him with a kiss, tugging at buttons and snaps, helping to get them bare. A low growl sounded as his pants resisted, but Haskell was always more patient than he was, and didn't rip them. He twisted and stretched, licking at every bit of skin that came into view.

His.

This bit was his and that bit was his and...

So good.

"Mmm. True. More." There was warm skin under there, a sharp contrast to their faces and hands,

and the scent of his mate was strong.

"More." He licked one hip, then the tip of Hask's cock. "You'll take me, now?"

"I will." Those hips flexed, Hask pushing up toward his mouth. "Get me wet, love."

"Mmmhmm." He nodded, dropping his mouth over that heavy prick like he'd been hunting it,

sucking hard, tongue sliding on the shaft.

Hask's moan echoed through their den, the scent of his mate stronger, heavier now. That prick

rubbed along his tongue, sliding to the back of his throat. He opened up, swallowing and humming,

taking his Hask in and in.

"True! Soon. I need to... Soon. Stop, love." Tugging at his hair, Haskell pulled him up, got him face

to face to kiss him hard and deep. He groaned, straddling Haskell's hips and rubbing. Need. He

needed.

"Yes." Licking two fingers, Hask reached behind him, pushing inside his body for a few quick

strokes. Then he was being lifted, pulled, that still wet prick pushing where the fingers had been.

Shifting Back - 171

He cried out into the air as he pushed back, Haskell filling him right on up. Growling, Haskell pushed up, cock sliding inside him hard and deep, even as his one bit into the flesh of his shoulder. That bite had him shaking, moaning, needing even more. Snarling, he threw his head back, offering his throat, his belly, his vulnerable parts. Licking along his neck, Hask bit there, too, leaving stinging little marks all the way down. That cock spread him, opened him, made him want to scream his pleasure. "Yours. Yours. Hask." Words just bubbled out of him, rough and raw and desperate. "Mine. Every inch. Never losing you again." No. No, Haskell had never even let him out of sight when they'd gone to town. "Never." They'd run and hunt and whittle and love. They'd be free. Haskell growled, the sound low and deep and dangerous and hot, then bit him hard, prick jerking wildly inside True's body. The bite was all he needed, seed spraying from him, covering Haskell's belly, scenting the air. They rolled together, laughing and purring, spreading their scent all over their new blankets, the simple joy of being together all they needed. "Love you, True," Haskell said. "Are you ready for the moon?" He licked the tip of Haskell's nose. "Yes. We'll run. You and me." "Yes." No more cages. No more bad men. Just him and Haskell and the ravens and the moon. It was good to be the man these days. It was even better to be the cat.

Shifting Back - 172

About Our Contributors Naomi Brooks Naomi Brooks is a shipping and receiving clerk who takes most of her inspiration from her young, all-male co-workers. She's written since age nine when she won a short story contest at school. Her personal life is filled with family, good friends, online role playing games, and a cat. Cat Kane Cat Kane is a creative writing graduate whose first memory involves writing a story about a little plastic cow. The little cow has since been replaced by pretty boys and their passions, but the premise stays the same. Writing excluded, her loves are felines and peanut butter, though not at the same time, and she owes her tenuous hold on sanity to her best friend. As well as Torquere Press, she has had work published in Aesthetica and Riot Angel magazine. Rob Knight Who is this Rob Knight guy, you might well ask. Good question. I am a writer. An editor. I am a connoisseur of fine gay fiction, both erotica and mainstream. Lately I've bent my talents toward assembling anthologies for the e-publishing venture Torquere Press. In the past I've worked for newspapers and publishers, websites and magazine distributors. Why gay fiction? Well, it appeals to me on a lot of levels. Aside from the purely physical that is. Though that's a big part of it. There's still a certain amount of subversion to writing and editing gay fiction, an underground excitement. An element of the taboo. And it's an area of literature that deserves more discussion and recognition. The relationships in gay fiction are rich and deep. They resonate with emotions that everyone feels at some point or another, but the intensity is just that much more. Of course, on a purely shallow level, I like men kissing. Kara Larson A career student and wannabe medievalist, Kara would like to be a bard when she grows up. She'd settle for J.R.R. Tolkien, though. Speaker of dead languages and purveyor of useless knowledge,

Shifting Back - 173

Kara has been living with an epic world in her head since she was eight years old, and might even write about it someday. Sean Michael Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago." A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys. Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark. Angelia Sparrow Angel is a regular contributor to Torquere Press and has several single shots as well as anthology stories. She's a truck driver who uses her loading and down time to scribble. BA Tortuga B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of research. Mixing the natural born southern propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut. With characters ranging from supernatural demons to modern-day cowboys, alternative illustrated men to Victorian dandies, the addiction to history and atmosphere is everpresent, and laced through with sensual pleasure.

Shifting Back - 174