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In The Distance, A Blood Moon
Chapter seventy five - In the Name of Family

Chapter seventy five - In the Name of Family

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Holly...

Holly stood over a barrel-chested man who had made a break for the woods. Her dagger quivered in his chest as he fought for his last breaths. She lifted the phone back to her ear. “Like I said. We found them.”

Frantic, the voice on the other end was too loud. She held the speaker further from her head as Ansel yelled. “Do nothing. Wait for us.”

She dropped the phone to the loamy soil and stepped down on it, splintering the screen. There was more to do, and no man who spent his days behind a desk was going to tell her how to complete this. She bent forward, twisted the blade, and angled it upward to tear a hole through the creature’s beating heart. She hissed at the dying man, “You don’t deserve the life you were given.”

Across the lawn, her people were finishing their grisly tasks. There was no pleasure in it and too much death. A wet drop landed on her cheek and she looked up. Clouds were coming in, and rain. She breathed the damp air in. As she rubbed the wetness between her fingers, she thanked the stars for protecting the surrounding forest. When she gave a high sharp whistle, heads lifted and turned toward her. She stepped from the cover of the trees and gave the hand signal for Blossom. Pulling free of her torn and dirty clothes, her body ached to change and run. Counting shadows, she sighed with relief when the number was whole. After long denial, Holly rolled into her heart shape and leapt forward into the night, her team falling in behind her. Now to find the Bears.

David…

A shadow ahead of him, Blossom raced through the woods. David’s shoulder ached from the leap he had taken from the second-story landing. His body longed for rest and food, but he would not stop until he was certain of her safety. In the distance, he heard a howl, bright and clear. Others joined the sound, familiar. Their team was alive. His heart leapt and new strength flowed into his body. He’d grown attached to them.

David crashed through the underbrush, his body too large to spirit through the holes and channels in the green Blossom could navigate. He knew the instant she found them. Sharp cries and joyful yips rose into the night, floating toward the stars as the rain began to fall in earnest. Under the shelter of the trees, he came upon them, shifting and turning, dirty and coated with blood, these children of the stars.

In the center of the ring, Blossom shuddered on her wobbly legs. Each in human form, they embraced her, wrapping their arms around her traumatized body. One after another they joined the ring, until she was the only wolf remaining, safe in the center of their barrier of bodies. David rolled into his human form, reclaiming it with an aching strangeness. Who he was had changed in the last few hours. He would never be the same boy he was on the mountain.

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Steaming, rain cool on his skin, David knelt in the outer ring, hands at his side. When Holly smiled at him and gave a small nod, he reached out and added his presence to their concentric rings. From his heart, outward expanding, the song he liked to sing for his own child rose to his lips. Wherever Kennedy was, he prayed it was far from here. In Bear, he sang his prayer to the stars, low and resonant. Blossom turned her muzzle toward him, golden eyes red at the edges, bloodshot. She joined his song with a long howl of grieving. The others picked up the sound, and their cry of communal pain overtaking life rose powerful enough to drive the ghosts from the ground and keep them from haunting them. He shuddered.

Blossom released her shape and slumped back to the ground, a wounded, naked eleven-year-old. The rain fell upon them all like absolution, and together they knelt in honor of the world they protected. Dirt and blood slid from their bodies, washed to the ground, where the earth would absorb their loss of innocence. Sweet as a caress, rain sheeted down David’s cheek, flowed down his back. Sanctified, the team breathed together. They were whole.

Rig…

They sat together, the three of them on a fallen tree. The fire buried ash and coal now. They had returned the dirt to the grave and far below the surface, Terry’s parents lay together in a heated bed. Without a word, they passed the water jug between them. Rig stood apart. What had happened between them was something he had been witness to, but not a part of. This was family business. When Kennedy rose to standing, Rig stepped backward. Her eyes were so dilated they appeared black. She rolled into her heart shape and her men followed her lead, claiming Bear. Rig trailed behind the massive animals. He wondered what a hiker might think to come upon this set of tracks. With the tip of his boot, he erased the transition between human to animal, blurring the steps.

When they reached the truck, Kennedy climbed into the open truck bed and flattened to its ridged floor. Red, right behind her, placed his paws on the open gate and the shocks compressed. The big fellow struggled to get his right back leg to come up, but managed with his left. He dragged himself forward and curled around her smaller frame. Rig was grateful that the truck was unlocked. He opened the door to the backseat of the cab and moved out of Terry’s way. “Rest, I can drive. I can come and get the car later. The keys gleamed on the dash waiting for him, and Rig gave a small prayer of thanks. He walked to the back of the truck and closed the tailgate.

The whole truck rocked as Terry climbed into the back seat without bothering to change, filling the entire space. By the time Rig came around the truck, he could already hear the big man snoring. Being that cramped couldn’t be comfortable. He had to push hard on the door to get it to shut. If anyone stopped him, he did not know what he would say. The truck sat so heavy that he worried about the tires as he slid into the driver’s seat. He’d go slow. Rig was relieved that the Vet didn’t drive one of those little lightweight city trucks that were so popular with the Sheep. Belt in place, he turned the key and eased them onto the dirt road, going slow. He’d tell them tomorrow what Snow had said.