Moon Chilled (3 page)

My wolf gave me the sense that I had been foolish to waste my energy reserves on my run. I even agreed with her. My wolf was right, or she would have been in that we'd only had fresh kills to rely on for our food. But there was a grocery store, and I had a little money for canned foods. Or I could always steal them, if I got desperate enough. Revolting as my wolf thought that idea was, I knew that we'd survived on food out of cans before. It hadn't been for very long, and I'd felt weak after more than a month of it. But, though hunting came naturally to my kind, I hadn't been allowed to practice those skills as a child and even the basics had been a learning experience for me. Like everything else in my life after leaving the pack, hunting had come quickly to me. As had stealing when money was as scarce as prey. Survival was my only option, and I knew that I could, and would, do whatever was necessary to achieve it.

Chapter Two

Shae

It took me a good half hour to find the man's barn, likely because everything looked the same with so much snow on it, but eventually I did manage to find a building that looked similar to the picture of the barn posted on the flyer. Only that picture was obviously taken years before, as the barn I currently stood beside was in serious need of some new boards and a few dozen nails. I approached from the south as the wind was blowing at my back. I was not hunting, and the horses in the corral attached to the barn needed to know that as I came toward them. Like many little girls, I'd loved horses growing up. Even now that I knew I could never come within five feet of one of the beautiful animals, I still found their beauty to be nearly overwhelming and envied the people that were able to ride them as this man and his family must.

The scent of hay and leather was almost comforting as I stood watching the nearest horse. My wolf was cautious, as suspicious as she was of all humans. I didn't share her concerns and wished my wolf spirit inside of me would find a nice place in the back of my mind to fall asleep for a little while. True, humans could be dangerous, and we'd met our fair share of them over the years at bus stations and in back alleys in the few times we'd ventured into the city. But that was when I'd been a child, lost and alone in a world I'd never experienced before. I'd been frightened then, afraid of everything, including my own shadow. And my wolf had been my comforter, my protector, my sense of strength in the quiet of the night when I'd had nothing to protect me from the wind and the only meal I could find were the rats that ran across my bare feet.

However, now that I was grown, I knew that there was only one true monster in this world, and he was nowhere near here. I'd made sure of that. Moving closer to the little house, away from the shelter of the forest that I could have easily backed into and blended in with, I tried to look and act like a human. Sure, I looked the part well enough. But there were differences, however subtle they were. They were still there, and I had to be cautious and mindful of them at all times. The people of this little town likely thought a young woman living all alone in a hunting cabin deep in the woods was strange to begin with. I didn't need them coming after me with pitchforks and torches.

I ignored the horses that lifted their heads and snorted at me. I was a predator, regardless of my human clothing, and they were prey, even though she'd never hunted one of them and in truth had no interest in doing so. I'd fallen in love with horses from the first time I'd been allowed to watch movies with my favorite horse heroes in them. They raced across deserts and carried men into battle, and in the quiet of the night when the TV had been turned off I went to my boxes of books, all with the same horse theme, and dove into their worlds. That had been before coming to the pack, back when my parents had both been alive, back when I'd been simply a werewolf child with a family to call my own and my biggest problem had been not getting the cereal I wanted for breakfast. I'd spent many nights reading about horses and wishing I could ride them. But unlike most children, I'd never grown out of my obsession. That I'd never been less than five feet from one didn't really matter to me; I still adored them and wished that I could ride one, just once.

"Easy," I said to one of the closest horses. He was a fuzzy, stout gelding with a heavy winter blanket on. I knew that was what people said to frightened horses, and had I been human, maybe it would have worked. But I wasn't, and the horse's wide, frightened eyes only grew bigger until it looked like there was no more room left for his pupils. He turned to face me with steam came out from his quivering nostrils. He looked cold and I pitied him, even with his heavy winter coat and blanket on.

I heard footsteps and the slamming of a door before I ever saw a man come out of the house to my right. He walked toward me, his boots sounding heavy as they crunched through the snow. His strides were long, and his face, what I could see of it under the thick ski mask he wore, looked twisted in anger. But there was concern in his old eyes. Whether it was for himself, his horses, or the woman and young children I could hear inside, I didn't know.

"You there!" he called, once he was close enough that he probably thought I could hear him. I had first heard him inside, though, just as I could also hear the TV playing and the laughter of his children as they sat around it singing along to the show's theme song. "What are you doing near my horses?"

He had a shotgun in his hand. It hung loosely at his side; easy to use from that position. Though even if he had it up and pointed directly at me I doubt he could have killed me with it. I'm a bit faster than a normal human's aim when I really want to be. I knew that humans were fast with their guns, especially up here where they had to use them to defend their homes and livestock from predators much more dangerous than I am. But I was fast too, and I was fairly confident of my ability to get to cover and hide before he could kill me. If he got lucky, though, a gunshot would hurt. It wouldn't likely kill me, but I was in no way immortal, and I did not feel like taking the time to stitch myself up again. The last time hadn't gone so well for me, and the puffy, red scar hurt sometimes.

I had to say something, anything more than
please don't shoot me
, but nothing came to mind. I stood there in the snow staring at him and attempting to judge his next movements so that I could act accordingly. "I was saying hello; this one was frightened. I didn't want him to spook and hurt himself if he slipped on the ice," I answered him honestly after a long stretch of silence.

I imagined what the man could see with his human eyes when he looked at me and wondered which version of myself I wanted to show him. I gave him what I considered my human look, battling back my wolf in me until she was contented to simply look through my eyes rather than be evident in them. I was a young woman of barely twenty with long, dark brown hair, and though I had muscles to spare, they were hidden under a jacket. I wasn't tall or big, and I'd been told that I looked even younger than I was.

In short, I wasn't all that impressive but hoped he'd see past that if I decided to offer my help to him. I hadn't yet decided on that matter. I understood the man's thought process in going for his gun, since I was a stranger to most of the people in this little town, but I hoped he didn't think that I was a threat to him. I preferred to be a stranger to them all; fewer connections meant that I could leave instantly if I needed to with only my landlord to miss me. And I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about a possible employer holding a gun on me, even if he wasn't pointing it directly at me.

He shook his head, seeming to come back to himself. The gun shook in his hand, and I considered bolting but decided against it. For the moment at least I'd stay. "You can't be here. Go on, get."

The corners of my mouth pulled down into a frown as I stood there considering him and his demands. An icy wind blew around me as it swept through the valley. "I came for the job." I fished the torn piece of paper with his number on it from her pocket and held it out for him to see. I didn't move toward him, though, as I saw his hand tighten on the butt of the gun.

He didn't come closer, but he did stare at me and the piece of paper in my outstretched hand. After a moment or two, his gaze softened, and he relaxed the hand around his gun to the point where I almost thought it might slip through his fingers. "It's freezing out here. And aren't you a bit young for work like this? It's hard labor and I won't pay much. Not my fault if you get hurt out here." His voice had gone from angry, to mildly curious, to completely distrustful.

I smiled, though not too much. Big smiles were scary to humans and a challenge to people like me. I'd learned that early on. My kind liked their tight little smiles and subtle signs of affection. I couldn't remember a time when I'd ever seen two werewolves run to each other and do the strange flying hug thing I saw in the movies I watched. Research for fitting in, I called them. So I gave him a tiny smile and shifted my weight. My wolf could hold still for hours. Humans weren't like that. I had to remember to move, to fidget. It made me look more like them, and that was the whole point to this, wasn't it? His concern was more for himself than for me, and I knew that. But I still smiled anyway because I thought it was what was expected of me.

"If you give me a chance I'll make it worth your while," I offered in flat, even tones. I wasn't afraid of work, of getting dirty, or of the possibility of becoming hurt while doing this job. My wolf came forward and protested that idea. She wasn't afraid of a little pain either, but she wouldn't go seeking it, and right then she was adamant about simply disappearing into the woods and forgetting all about the cabin and rent altogether. Her way would be much simpler. But I was a werewolf, a child born of two worlds, and I had to figure out the line for myself sometimes.

He hesitated, though he did seem to consider it for a moment but then started to shake his head. Before he could, I stopped him with an offer I hoped he couldn't refuse. I hated to do it, especially because I knew I deserved, and was worth, more. But there weren't all that many options, especially in the winter months, and though I hadn't been sure of offering to work for him, I knew that rent had to be paid, so I made up my mind. I could be picky during the spring, fall, and summer. This time of year, things were tight for everyone and money was scarce. I hoped he didn't see how desperate I was. "I'll take two dollars less per hour than your offered pay."

That seemed to change his mind in a hurry; his brows lifted into his tattered ball cap and he rocked back on his heels a bit. He looked toward the house behind him. I looked too and saw the outline of a woman through the drawn, checkered yellow curtains. "Because you're a girl?" he asked me, as if that wasn't already the obvious reason for my lower offer.

I pushed the instant thought of Maiki to the back of my mind. If she'd been here I would have had a different thought process, a different reason for doing this. But she wasn't; there was just me here as I tried to make this broken life work for myself.

More like I was desperate, but I wasn't about to let him know that. Letting him believe what he wanted to, I simply nodded. My work, if he let me show it to him, I knew would prove my worth. And I preferred actions to words so much more anyway, regardless of the situation. Actions just made sense in a way that words simply never had to me. Besides, looking desperate only brought pity. Or, in my experience, it brought out the predator in people that would only try to take advantage of me. Neither option really appealed to me on such a frosty afternoon.

"What's your name?" he asked me, his voice still hard and distrusting. One of the horses snorted and pawed at the ground as if irritated, but if it was by the cold, the snow getting into his eyes, or by my presence, I didn't really know.

"Shae Lobo," I replied, the name falling easily off my lips after so many years of using it. The first name was correct, but the last was a whole different matter.

He cocked his head to the side, and the gun slipped a few inches in his hand until the point, the end I wanted to stay as far away from as possible, wasn’t trained on me. "Like a wolf?"

I shrugged and made sure to keep his gaze. Looking away was akin to lying to some of these humans. "Just my name." Not many people connected my chosen last name with what it meant, though the translation wasn't exactly rare. I tried not to look surprised that he'd figured it out. After all, it meant nothing. It was just a name like any other. And I knew that I'd never hunted on his property. I was careful about where I went when I was a wolf, and horses, like dogs, were too good of a warning system for me to walk close to them without being discovered.

After a long moment in which he stared at me and I tried not to let the attention get to me, he nodded and took a step back, appearing to be satisfied with our exchange. "You'll find wood stacked in the barn along with a hammer and a coffee can of nails. The outside of the barn is nearly done, but the inside needs to be completely redone. It's been stripped, though, so just line the boards up like they already are in the empty stalls and hammer them in. The horses come in at sunset so you'll have to stop then. You sure you know what you're doing here? If you screw it up, you won't be paid." His voice had gone hard again, and I bristled, my head lowering.

My wolf didn't like the insult to us either, and if she'd been out, her ears would have been back. I could picture her like that, from the few times I'd seen her reflection in the clear waters of the stream that ran past the cabin in the summer. She was a deep charcoal gray, the kind of color found only after everything else in the fire had burned down and only ash and crumbled bits of dying embers were left. Our eyes were the same, though, the same odd shade of a deep, rich amber that was not normally found in humans but fairly common in wolves.

I smirked and worked to calm my wolf before she could get upset within my mind. She was not to teach this man a lesson about underestimating us. We weren't insulted by his questions; we forgave him for his ignorance and would move on. My wolf, stubborn beast that she was, took a bit longer to convince than I did. I simply understood that showing this man what I could do would be a better threat to his narrow little worldview than shifting and biting him would be. "I do," I told him. He didn't look convinced, but after a long moment in which he continued to stare at me, he turned around and gave me his back. It wasn't a smart thing to do to a predator, but I didn't have the urge to chase him and hunt him down. If he'd been a weak, injured deer that was running from me, I wouldn't have resisted. That would have been a good, merciful kill, and I would have made it neat and clean.