image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/3ff72c08-5734-48b4-bb7d-fb5e3a626480/0_2.webp]
Sam...
Smeared in gore, scratched to hell and lifted by a lingering euphoria, Sam’s walk back to his campsite was effortless. He ducked into the tent he’d set up the night before and retrieved his cell phone from his dry sack. They might not be up, but he’d take a chance.
One by one, they joined the call. Cary first. “Where in the hell have you been? You missed a fantastic moon.”
“Hey man,” Orp said, blurry and still partly asleep.
“Are you all at Bale’s house?” Sam asked them.
Balor entered the chat with his video on, wearing a loosely draped robe, coffee cup in hand. “I’m waiting for my breakfast, boys. What’s happening?”
“I have something to share, but I wanted to warn you before I turned my camera on.”
“Lucky,” Balor purred, “Don’t tell me something bad has happened and your streak of good luck is broken. Did our best boy lose his right foot?”
Sam ran his fingers roughly through his hair and said, “No. I am perfectly fine. Better than fine.”
Cary turned his camera on next. “Well, don’t make us wait. You missed a beautiful moon last night and some very fine cock sucking.”
The med student’s words distracted him. Making himself focus, Sam turned on his camera and exposed them to his naked gore smeared body. Most of the blue markings had been smudged and lessened, but it was clear in the camera that he had not missed the moon.
“Holy Shit,” said Orp.
Balor dropped his coffee cup and yelled for his mouse of a wife.
Cary stared into the camera. “What have you done?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I’ve ridden our dreams.” He lifted a tiny tuft of rabbit fur and held it up to the camera. “I dreamed of being a wolf and ran through the night until a tiny life caught my attention.”
Thoughtfully, Balor tilted his head. “You hunted in your sleep?”
“Hunted, killed and ate.”
Sam lifted the little pot of blue he had ordered through the mail. “We need to talk about this.”
Their leader smiled. “Indeed, we do.”
*
Rig…
The keys dug into his palm as he tightened his fist. Rig hated this. His bike was his baby, his girlfriend. Nothing felt good about handing her over to another.
Short, compact and impatient, Brenda waited with her hand open. He knew his friend would take care of his baby. She was a fine rider and a reliable person. He’d trusted her with his life before. She was stronger than the humans she often went up against in multiple ways. In their time knowing each other, Brenda had been used as bait more times than he could count. If Brenda said he could have his baby back when he could ride her again, the woman meant it. He took a deep breath that pulled around his lungs and released the keys into her open palm. “Take care of her. Okay?”
“You don’t have to go.” The keys to his best girl disappeared into Brenda’s pocket. “They have had plenty of eyes on that mountain since the incident happened.”
Rig wet his lips. It was hard to admit his frailty. “I need the healer.” He stretched his neck one way and then the other. “I felt her, drawing me away from death, one strand at a time. I don’t know what is going to happen when I try to change.” He opened both of his hands. “Or when I try to change back.” Rig settled his wide hands on his own ribcage. “It feels like netting encapsulates my lungs. I can’t take a deep breath yet.”
“It’s only been a few days, you big pussy.” She thumped him on the arm with the side of her fist. “Are we going to have to put you on a new team and restart you with a band of green stick eighth graders?”
“Fuck you, Brenda.”
“In your dreams, maybe.” She lifted her chin, shoulders squared. “You be careful around that Lost girl. Trouble can’t help but find her. She’s a fricking danger magnet.” She shoved his keys into her pocket. “Don’t fuck around on that mountain, either. You do what you need to do and then you get your ass back to your own people.”
“Yes, Mam.”
Her smile was so similar to a sneer that people who didn’t know her well misjudged it every time. She added, “You’re going to think we are missing you, but we won’t be. Not every day, anyway.” She broke her tough gal stance and stepped forward to give him a tight hug. It was like being held by a person sized honey badger. Brenda hissed, “You fucking come back.”
He pressed his cheek briefly to her temple. “Try not to die.”
She snorted. “As if. Me and my children will dance on your grave and sing the sky songs about how you cheated death, stole your breath back out of the hand of the dirt king, and died an old man from eating spoiled stew.”
“I should be so lucky.”