Jessie had made a few promises and by doing what he was, he was breaking a lot of them. He had promised not to hunt alone. He promised to stay away from men and women. He promised to stay close. These were all promises broken as the night would progress.
Pride is a funny thing and Jessie's pride dictated that he start being a man, so to speak, about the changes his body had gone through. So the next time the hunger struck, Jessie slipped away from the house and into the nearby wooded area. As usual, the transformation into the wolf had been excrutiating, but he bore it alone and quietly.
It was as if he was in a whole new world and it came to life in vibrant colors and sensations. He let his nose lead him where it would. Flushing out various small animals and devouring them with a quickness that was almost frightening. He was so busy having a good time hunting the small game that he didn't realize how far he had wandered off.
Close to the property line a lone hunter was out trying to do basically the same thing that Jessie was. Small game, he has a small calibre rifle. Just a boy, really. No more than eighteen or so himself. He had heard the growling and the squeals of the animals that were being eaten, and it terrified him.
Jessie came into a clearing and bayed softly at the moon. He was paying homage to the Goddess. It was a beautifully clear night and the air sang with the songs of tree frogs and the deep bellows of their cousins the bull frogs.
The hunter spies the wolf in the clearing and levels his rifle. And as Jessie rises from his squat to trot off, a loud report is heard. The bullet rang true and struck Jessie in his right flank. A sharp yelp and Jessie's back leg collapses under him, causing him to sit. Yellow gold eyes turn in the direction of the hunter. Rage, anger, confusion and pain cause his blood to boil. He leapt up, over and again, until he knocked the hunter flat on his stomach. A quick snap of the hunter's neck, and he would hunt no more.
Jessie moves away, unaware of the pain at first. All he knew was the sweet taste of the blood and flesh on his tongue. He wanders for a few minutes before sitting down in the tree line. He curls himself up and starts to lick the wound to his flank. A soft whimper escapes his throat.
Suddenly realizing how alone and far he is from the house, he looks up once again to the moon and bays softly.
Pride is a funny thing and Jessie's pride dictated that he start being a man, so to speak, about the changes his body had gone through. So the next time the hunger struck, Jessie slipped away from the house and into the nearby wooded area. As usual, the transformation into the wolf had been excrutiating, but he bore it alone and quietly.
It was as if he was in a whole new world and it came to life in vibrant colors and sensations. He let his nose lead him where it would. Flushing out various small animals and devouring them with a quickness that was almost frightening. He was so busy having a good time hunting the small game that he didn't realize how far he had wandered off.
Close to the property line a lone hunter was out trying to do basically the same thing that Jessie was. Small game, he has a small calibre rifle. Just a boy, really. No more than eighteen or so himself. He had heard the growling and the squeals of the animals that were being eaten, and it terrified him.
Jessie came into a clearing and bayed softly at the moon. He was paying homage to the Goddess. It was a beautifully clear night and the air sang with the songs of tree frogs and the deep bellows of their cousins the bull frogs.
The hunter spies the wolf in the clearing and levels his rifle. And as Jessie rises from his squat to trot off, a loud report is heard. The bullet rang true and struck Jessie in his right flank. A sharp yelp and Jessie's back leg collapses under him, causing him to sit. Yellow gold eyes turn in the direction of the hunter. Rage, anger, confusion and pain cause his blood to boil. He leapt up, over and again, until he knocked the hunter flat on his stomach. A quick snap of the hunter's neck, and he would hunt no more.
Jessie moves away, unaware of the pain at first. All he knew was the sweet taste of the blood and flesh on his tongue. He wanders for a few minutes before sitting down in the tree line. He curls himself up and starts to lick the wound to his flank. A soft whimper escapes his throat.
Suddenly realizing how alone and far he is from the house, he looks up once again to the moon and bays softly.