The Midwife's Moon (2 page)

And that other was
wolf
.

The beast sprang forth to consciousness, reveling in the moonlight. She held back the howl that wanted to burst from her then a familiar scent on the hard ground caught the beast and the woman’s full attention.
That ratfink, vile-betrayer Joseph.
Growling low as she put her nose to the ground, she followed his trail at a jog. She would find him and demand an answer.

The new power flowed through, feeling hot, then cold, then hot again, like white lava flowing over frozen tundra. As one layer cooled, she became aware of another. The stride of the wolf was different from a human’s. She wobbled in much the same way she’d seen a new fawn do during her child years. That movie had turned her into a vegetarian and what a mess it had caused her mother.

Bambi
didn’t sound half-bad right now. Her mind balked, but her mouth watered at the thought of eating deer. She slowed her jog. When contemplating becoming a werewolf with her lover, she hadn’t considered the alteration in her eating wants if she changed.

After a small stutter in her walk, she had to stop for a second and clench her muscles. Then she put her butt in the air, pushed backward on her hind legs, and stretched her forelegs.
What a glorious stretch!
Her body felt so alive—every molecule seeing, smelling, tasting, for the first time.

Joseph’s scent was strong on the ground as if he used the same path many times. She caught a whiff of his more personal scent more than once.
Ew.
She left a quick overspray everywhere she caught whiff of his territorial markings. The foliage became thicker the farther she went. The aroma of evergreens strong in her nose. Pine Sol just didn’t compare to the real thing. A couple of times, she nearly forgot her chosen path as she sniffed an interesting scent that a part of her said would be fun and maybe even tasty.

The padding on her feet sent signals to her brain she was slow to identify.
Right, front, left, back.
How in heaven’s name could she keep track of so many legs moving at once? The ground beneath her paws was cool under the canopy of branches and soft with hundreds of layers of fallen needles. So many new sensations, including the realization her muscles hurt from the unaccustomed exercise.

Lisa slowed as her body began to show signs of fatigue—lethargic muscles—but she was determined to find Joseph and confront him. She ignored her labored breathing, the sore on her paw from a sharp stick, and kept going. Before long, she limped but didn’t stop. Her mind became focused on finding Joseph, and not even the smell of food could tempt her away.

Deeper into the green woods she tracked, her wolf telling her she didn’t need to worry. She would find her way home the same way she came. The silvery moon peeked through the tree branches as if to watch over her new child of the night. She discovered a newfound comfort in the darkness, a sense of safety she wouldn’t have felt in her human form.

She forgot, for the moment, that even wolves have their predators.

How many miles she trekked searching for her lover, she never knew. On she went. The crisp air, the scuttle of rodents, the wing song of the night owls surrounding her comforted her wolf, letting her know she was safe. But the fatigue finally overwhelmed her. She needed to eat. Joseph’s scent winded around after the initial straight path from the clearing, and she didn’t have enough experience to tell the freshest trail from the older ones.

Hunger gnawed at her ribs. Her mind’s focus changed, and the smell of fresh meat tainted the air. Lifting her noise, she sniffed twice. It was close. Saliva dripped from her jaw, and she broke into an uneven run in the direction of the meat.
There!

She pounced on the meat, put one paw on it, and jerked a huge hunk of bloody, red flesh into her mouth.
So satisfying.
Her human mind rebelled at the goodness, but the wolf won the day. She put more pressure on the meat to hold it in place for tearing. Something clicked, then snapped as ragged pain tore through her forepaw still on the meat. Hard metal encased her paw in jagged teeth meant to entrap. Inside, she cried tears of pain until she could stand the silence no more and howled. The sound vibrated in the hills, the morose cry as lonely as her heart.

Lisa pulled against the metal, trying to use her other foreleg to push the teeth far enough apart to get her injured leg out, but she tried to use her wolf paws the same way as she would use her human hands. Panic started to swell.
The beast in a trap.
Hunters and other animals of the night, which she recalled with sudden clarity, might get her at any time.

Hadn’t someone mentioned cougar sightings lately? In her panic, she couldn’t remember where. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth as she panted. The frantic need to be free welled up into terror, and she began to gnaw on her leg. She had to get out of the trap. Extremely tired and with blood oozing out, she passed out before being able to free herself. As she lost consciousness, she thought a shadow moved toward her, then her eyes swayed shut against her will.

***

The howl of loneliness and pain rang through the forest, its plea for help clear—and definitely a female wolf. Lance panicked at the idea of Boris finding his mate and hurting her before he could find her. He broke into a run in the direction of the howl.

His long lope covered the ground quickly. He knew the area well, and put his knowledge of Joseph together with the landscape and her howl to find her general location. As he neared, he heard her guttural growls and smelled the scent that had imprinted itself on him.

Through the brush, he thought he saw her. Her rich brown pelt glowed under the rays of the moon. She looked up and his breath caught. Her brown eyes, full of pain and sorrow, glowered at him before she fell over. He jumped over the brush and landed near her at the same time another wolf growled at him.

“Lance, out of my way. I saw her first,” Boris, the pack’s feral enforcer for Roxy growled.

“I’ve been following her. She’s mine,” Lance responded fiercely. He would die before letting Boris near her. “You can see she’s caught in a hunter’s trap. She’ll be maimed for life,” he added knowing Boris’ distaste for imperfect females.

Boris’ low growl of challenge stopped abruptly as the black wolf actually looked at the wolf in contention. “You’re lucky this time, Lance. She is indeed inferior and not worthy of my attentions. See her body is disposed of after she dies. We can’t have any investigations out here.”

Lance barely controlled his temper at Boris’ cavalier attitude. “I’d planned on it. It’s part of my job to clear the area,” he ground out in his raspy werewolf voice. Reminding himself it was Boris’ very prejudice saving both his and her life, he struggled against the wolf’s heart which wanted to protect its mate from any potential danger. The need to attack one who would hurt his mate was strong. He held his breath to keep the growl back and dampen the call to fight before it overrode his sense, and he launched himself at the pack’s feral.

When he was sure Boris had actually left and was not hiding in brush nearby, he changed to his human form. He took the trap apart, breaking the mechanism so no wild animal or any of his pack mates could get caught in it. Gently, he lifted her paw and looked at it.

Great swells of emotion started in his gut, moved up his chest, and threatened to choke him. Having numbed his emotions for years to hide from the pain and shame of Roxy’s treatment of him, he could not define the feelings swamping him. Reverently, he set her paw down on the pine needles and stroked the fur on her face. She had pushed herself much too hard, and he wondered if it was her first change. Whoever she was, she needed medical attention. However, he couldn’t take a chance of being seen getting it for her, or they’d both be dead.

Nonetheless, he slid one arm under her shoulders and neck, and one under her hind legs, then lifted her close to his chest. Lance rubbed his cheek against her fur as much to comfort himself she lived as to give her comfort. She was belly up to him, and he could see her markings as well as a small scar. He clenched his teeth and began walking.

She had
the
mark.

His mate was
aswan
, not born werewolf but made. Roxy would be apoplectic when—if—she heard. Lance began jogging. His wiry form held more strength than his pack credited him with. Desperation clawed at him, and his mind filled with worry. He had to risk going to the home of the other pack’s leader, Nolan Littlebull, and beg him to protect her. Thankfully, Nolan lived close to the neutral territories.

Lance’s muscles rippled as he moved, his naked body absorbing the caresses of the wind saying, “Hurry!” against his skin. Sweat poured from his forehead down on the rich brown fur of the woman he would never claim. Although he couldn’t mate with her in their traditional ways, he would protect her no matter the cost.

Lungs burning as he sucked in the ever cooling winter night air, he ran. So far to go.
What if I can’t get her to the Ulfric in time?
Tears joined his sweat in droplets, but he didn’t bother to wipe them. When his lungs refused to suck in enough air to support his run, he slowed to a walk.

In an effort to try to save time, he cut across fields and through orchards as he got closer to the few towns on the reservation. There were no large towns between him and his destination, but he didn’t trust in luck. The moon was a large orb on the horizon before he found the place—and stopped dead in his tracks at the end of the long driveway.

The truck usually parked outside the garage was not there. It hadn’t occurred to him that Nolan might not be home, although he realized too late it should have. He began slowly walking down the driveway anyway, not knowing where else to go. Each step agonizing as his calves screeched in protest. He heard a car turn onto the gravel driveway and turned around. The lights of the vehicle blinded him, and all he could do was squint.

“Hey,” a voice called out.

Nolan.
Lance recognized the Ulfric as he stepped out of his still running truck. Lance fell to his knees. Nolan quickly covered the ground between them and helped him to his feet. He swallowed hard. Now that the time had arrived, he couldn’t find his voice to say the words which would put her out of his reach forever.

Nolan put an arm under Lance’s shoulders and steered him to the passenger side of the truck, not saying anything more. Lance, grateful for the reprieve, let himself be helped up into the truck, never letting go of his cherished package. The driveway wasn’t long enough to give him time to say goodbye to his beloved who wouldn’t recognize him once she woke up.

“You’re the Wahpawhat’s Ulfric,” Lance stated as the truck came to a stop.

“And you’re a long way from home, Lupin,” Nolan replied.

“I need help. I didn’t know where else to turn.” He stopped and swallowed hard.
Where to begin?
How did he explain all the sights and feelings flowing in him when he did not understand them?

“If you walked from Lupin territory, then you need to come in. I’m going to carry the wolf upstairs. You aren’t known as one of the alphas of your pack, but I sense you could be. I’ll leave it to you whether I come back for you or not.”

Lance nodded. There was both respect and threat in the other man’s words. Respect for him because of the length he had gone to in order to save the female wolf. A threat if Lance were to disappear before the Ulfric had satisfied himself with the answers and maybe his physical condition. Lance waited while Nolan came around the truck and opened the door.

“It looks as if she’s been caught in a trap,” Nolan said as the truck’s dorm light hit her body. “She’s lost a lot of blood. She should have a doctor.”

“There’s a doctor, a healer from our pack who works at the hospital in Toppenish, but—” he hesitated. How do you tell the alpha male of a warring pack what to do?
Very carefully.
“You can’t go there. You must not see her. I...” He hung his head down, fearing Nolan’s reaction. “I have visions. If you see her now, it will end badly.”
Might end badly anyway, but it wasn’t time for them.

“I’ll stabilize her here, and call for Kamiakin to help me.” Lance had no idea whom he meant. “He’s my new lieutenant. He can take her in.”

Lance nodded, but wrath and jealousy threatened to consume him. If he didn’t believe her life depended on this man, he wouldn’t have brought her. Having brought her, he needed to trust whomever Nolan entrusted her with.

“She’s—” he croaked, tears forming. The last time he had shed tears was years ago, and now for the second time in one night, he felt the wetness on his dark cheeks. “She’s important to me. You must save her from my pack, and never let Boris see her or smell her. He will know. I told him she was dying. That I would make sure of it.”

“I take it Boris is not likely to forgive you for this.”

Lance shook his head. The circumstances were so complicated they gave him a headache thinking about them. The Wahpawhats had a reputation for toughness but fairness. She would have a chance with them, which reminded him that he had not told the Ulfric the important part. “There’s something else,” he said slowly.

“What,” Nolan asked already washing the blood off her fur.

“I think this is her first change. She has the mark near her shoulder just there,” Lance said, using it as an excuse to touch her. She whimpered, and his heart melted as he gave her an extra loving stroke. “Roxy will kill her if she sees that. She says made werewolves are an abomination, and there’s a kill-on-sight order out on them.”

“Which you’ve broken,” Nolan said.

“Which I’ve broken,” he acknowledged. “And will break again. She’s the Lupa, but she cheated to get there. I’ll follow her for the good of the pack, but I will
not
kill innocents such as this one,” he said fiercely.

“Okay. I’ll take care of her. Right now you need to go lie down in my guest room. That’s an order from an alpha. I’m not your Ulfric, but...” Nolan said, not finishing.