Moonrise
by
Gloriwulf


Every month, the moon calls me northward. Like all women, the waxing and waning of her silvery face controls my life. But in many other respects, I am nothing like all women.

I stopped off at a bar along the way, one of many such places where the men come to prove themselves and the women come to watch. They are like an oasis of sorts, in this vast, Canadian wilderness. As I entered, the smell hit me, the heady aroma of sweat and alcohol mingling with the hot, musky odour of sex, not just the act but the desire. This and the powerful tang of blood emanating from a cage in the centre of the room thrilled my senses and made my pulse race. I pushed my way to the ringside, enjoying the sensation of the muscular bodies pressed against mine but needing to see who, or what, was inside that arena.

The figure that stood there had his back turned towards me, but something about his presence made a jolt pass through my body. The muscles in his fine, strong back twitched and a haze of cigar smoke hung heavy in the air. Suddenly, as if feeling my gaze, he stiffened and whipped round to face me. I could barely move. It seemed to me then that he was the wilderness made man, something barely tamed. Dark eyes, with dark hair that ran down from his thick mane and along his jawline. There was more of this pelt covering his broad, muscular chest. But it was his eyes that drew me; they were piercing, like those of a predator. There was a puzzled look on his face, as if he could not understand something. His nostrils twitched. They seemed to be breathing me in, but I doubted he would be able to pick out my scent from the miasma that surrounded us. Still, I wondered briefly if he could smell the moon's curse upon me.

His concentration was broken by the tall, ugly trucker who had stepped into the cage, hoping to win a prize and prove his manhood. The slight smile that crossed the former's lips made me realise that the fight would be a short one and that the prize was not for the trucker to take. None of the blows seemed to have any effect on my champion and he rammed home a killer punch to his opponent's jaw, which soon ended the match. Instead of acknowledging the crowd's acclaim, he just stood there looking at me through the wire. Neither of us spoke. I simply turned and headed outside.

His beaten-up van was easy to find, covered as it was in the heavy scent of his musk. It was parked near the trees on the edge of the lot, well away from the rest of the cars and trucks. I did not have to wait long. Without a word, he appeared through the snow, opened the door and pushed me inside. His lips pressed tight against mine as we tore at each other's clothing. We fell to the floor as I guided his hands to the places I wanted, needed, them to be. I turned over, wanting to feel the weight of him on my back, the two of us like the wild things we were. As he moved inside me, the heat began to rise and his breath was hot against my neck. The waves of pleasure made me cry out, almost screaming, but he was inexhaustible. The night seemed to pass too quickly. Once, he turned me on my back and as we moved together, I could read the tags that hung around his neck. 'Wolverine'. I was right, he was as much an animal as I was.

Finally, sleep overcame us and I rested my head against his chest. Listening to the strong beat of his heart, I felt safe and happy, as if I could stay there forever. But I knew that was not to be, at least for now.

The first howl woke me early, before the moon went down, and it was swelled by the multitude of voices that followed. At last, I had found what I was seeking, the force that had sent me north before I had become distracted by this unexpected pleasure. Wolverine awoke a fraction of a second behind me. "Don't worry darlin', they won't hurt yer." His voice was a low, soft growl. "Not with me here." At that, gleaming claws shot from his left hand and he grinned wickedly at my look of surprise.

"You don't understand," I said sadly, heading for the door. I opened it and just stood there, allowing the rays of moonlight to penetrate the shadows. When the change hit me, I tried to speak. "Don't believe everything you read," I whispered. "It's not all true." But it was too late. The transformation was quick and it hurt, but my clear, clean canine mind soon forgot the pain as I lifted my head to join the moonlit chorus.

As I went to go, to run with my pack, I turned back to look at him one more time. The expression on his face was not one of hate, as I had feared, but of amazement. It soon gave way to one of understanding, as if a perplexing puzzle had suddenly unravelled itself. When he began picking up my clothes and folding them neatly, I realised that maybe I could come back and that he would not turn me away because of what I was. Perhaps, when the moon had finished with me, I would return. Till then my place was with the wolves. Just as I moved to leave, he came to me and ruffled the fur at my neck. "Mutants together, eh?" he grinned, shaking his head in wry amusement. I licked his face once and was gone.



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