Page 28 of A Skirl of Sorcery
I touched my nose to his, indicating that I’d see him at home in the morning when his adventures were over. I didn’t need to warn him about the packs of werewolves he might encounter; He Who Roams Wide would take care of himself and stay out of their way.
The smart move would have been to return to my human form for the journey home. It was never wise to spend too much time in a cat’s body, and there was every chance I’d have to be human for at least part of the return journey. But I’d enjoyed my foray into the grove and I wanted to stay cat for a while longer, jumping around rooftops and walls and breathing in the perfumed night air.
I decided to carry the strip of alder bark in my mouth and allow myself thirty minutes of feline freedom before I returned to my human body. It was about time I had some kitty fun; it hadbeen far too long since I’d been a cat for no other reason than pure enjoyment.
Alas, less than ten minutes later I was regretting my impulse.
The first strains of an impending werewolf fight reached my ears as I was sauntering along the top of a brick wall and eyeing up the rooftops to my right. At first I ignored them; werewolf packs often came across each other during the full moon and fur flew as a result. Minor pack brawls were considered unimportant, and once all the parties were back in human form there was rarely any political fallout unless there’d been serious injury or a death. But something about these howls and excited yelps was different; there was an edge to the noise that spoke of genuine bloodlust.
I stopped briefly – and that was when I heard the chillingly familiar, high-pitched caterwaul. My initial flash of fear was for He Who Roams Wide, although my instincts told me the screech hadn’t belonged to him. But it was definitely familiar…
I didn’t complete the thought. Out of nowhere He Who Roams Wide barrelled past, racing along the street below with his black fur raised. He wasn’t running away from danger – he was running towards it. Cats weren’t stupid; they avoided fights whenever they could, and my sleek, adventurous moggy was far too experienced to involve himself in any danger unless it was absolutely necessary.
My mental traffic lights flicked from lazy green to bright flashing scarlet and I leapt after him, quickly abandoning the narrow wall for the ground below.
He turned right at the far end of the cobbled street. I gained several metres on him, powering forward with all of my energy, and did the same. I jumped over a wide puddle and swerved to avoid a row of pretty plant pots. I could feel my heartbeat thudding through my chest. My stamina was already weakening, but I maintained my speed as best as I could and less than sixtyseconds later I caught up with him. Then I realised what the problem was.
Eight werewolves had gathered in the centre of a narrow street and a bloody fight was definitely brewing. This was not an evenly matched situation, however: it was seven against one.
My stomach dropped. There were few reasons why any werewolf would be alone during the full moon.
I squinted at the group of seven and recognised the same bastards who’d caused problems for the dryads at the grove. Silver’s distinctive fur was gleaming in the moonlight; frustrated by the dryads’ magic, he’d obviously decided to aim for a different target.
I switched my attention to the lone wolf facing them – and the small ginger cat at his side. I’d not seen Thane in wolf form before but I knew instinctively it was him – and he’d got himself into a ridiculous situation. I would give him an earful the next time I spoke to him, but the tongue lashing he’d receive was nothing compared to what I’d say to Tiddles who should have been curled up asleep on my bed on the other side of the city. She must have sneaked out after I’d left.
If there’d been time, I’d have hawked up my furball and approached on two legs because, even without weapons, it would have been easier that way. But I could tell from Silver’s stance that he was about to attack and transforming would cost precious seconds that I couldn’t spare.
I spat out the alder bark and growled at He Who Roams Wide to stay back. Then, as Silver jumped forward with his sharp teeth bared, I ran.
Thane and Silver became a blur of fur, rolling together on the ground, vicious snarls ripping through the night air. This was no play fight: Silver was out for blood and Thane had no choice but to match his thirst for violence. At least the other six werewolves were hanging back. They could have chosen to surge forward asa pack and rip Thane to pieces but they were holding themselves in formation, their narrowed lupine eyes tracking every move of the fight. None of them noticed my approach.
I prioritised. While Tiddles remained in play, Thane’s concern would be for her and not for himself. Her back was arched and she was spitting angry hisses at Silver; in another heartbeat she would throw herself at him and get herself killed.
I lunged for her from behind and sank my teeth into the scruff of her neck. She screeched with pain, which made Thane lose focus and give Silver the upper hand. While the younger wolf bit Thane on his shoulder and blood spurted, I dragged Tiddles away. She fought me every step of the way, but I’d taken her unawares and I had the upper hand. Growling warnings, I hauled her into the nearest corner and a moment later He Who Roams Wide joined me.
Tiddles stopped struggling and went limp. I released my hold on her and she slowly turned and gazed first at He Who Roams Wide then at me. Her annoyance was obvious but she dropped her head to tell me that, albeit reluctantly, she would stay out of the fight. I nodded and turned back to Silver and Thane.
With Tiddles no longer by his side, Thane clearly felt that he could give his full attention to the fight. Although blood continued to drip from the wound in his shoulder, he had turned the tables on Silver. The younger wolf was still on all fours but he’d pulled back to allow space between himself and Thane. I silently applauded when I saw that his right ear was ragged. Thane had stood up for himself. Perhaps we’d get lucky and Silver would make the smart choice to slink away.
Silver was quivering but Thane was as still as a marble statue; there was barely a sign that he was breathing as he towered over the younger wolf. Without baring his teeth or making a noise, he was proving his superior status. In most werewolf fights that would have been enough but, just as I thought Silver would twistaway with his tail literally between his legs, the young female werewolf behind him gave a yip of encouragement. Goddamnit.
Silver raised his head, his tail and his shoulders. A rumble started in his chest, growing in intensity until his growls were loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. Thane tensed, then Silver flung himself forward and the fight resumed again with even more tumbling and gnashing of pearly fangs.
I couldn’t intervene because it would diminish Thane’s standing even as a lone wolf; he had to maintain appearances or he could expect any number of attacks during the next full moon. Besides, my small furry cat body stood no chance between these two predators. But I wasn’t powerless and I could still engage the remaining werewolves. Sometimes attitude was far more intimidating than strength.
I puffed up my fur so that my small black body appeared much larger than it actually was, then arched my back, dropped my forehead and advanced on the six remaining werewolves. It was their presence that was encouraging Silver to continue his attack; take out the rest of the pack and he would back down.
The young female was the first to notice me and the look in her yellow eyes was pure amused derision. She was ten times my size and she had five buddies to back her up. She raised a heavy paw and swiped at the air to suggest she’d easily bat me away if I drew any closer.
I didn’t blink as I swerved around Thane and Silver and continued to advance. One by one, the other wolves spotted me.
Obviously, in a real fight between one cat and six massive wolves, the cat would be destroyed in seconds so I was aiming to avoid a real fight. I would win this encounter through my brazen attitude, not through my claws.
As I eyeballed each werewolf in turn, one of the other young males flinched slightly. Excellent: he was their weak point.Wolves were pack animals; if I could force one of them to retreat, the rest of them would probably follow.
The young male, whose tail was slightly bushier than the others and streaked with flashes of ink-black fur, had no visible scars; not only was he young, he lacked experience. The three older werewolves would swipe me dead with a forceful paw but hopefully this youngling would give in to his instincts and run.
Adjusting my trajectory, I fixed my eyes on his and continued to place one paw in front of the other as I moved steadily in his direction. His tail was already beginning to droop.
