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He hesitated. "Well, okay. See you before you know it," he promised, and left by the side path.
Saturday evening stretched on forever, golden with sun and rich with the smell of honeysuckle.
"Come with us," Esmé begged. Most of the pack were going up to the state park to run.
"Not this time," Vivian said. She wanted to be alone. There would be fights, she knew. They would call it playing but they would be testing each other, seeing who had what it took for the Ordeal. She didn't feel like fights. She only wanted the clear smells and the crazy stars. There was a new warmth in her and she wanted to embrace the night in peace.
You are smitten, she told herself, and she stretched like a happy puppy.
Up in her room she worked on her mural. She painted herself in her skin, watching the running wolves. It didn't look right. Maybe she should show herself changing, ready to join them.
I wish I was changing clothes to go to that party, she thought, and threw her brush down.
Red dappled the sky, fireflies flickered outside her window - little wantons looking for a night of love - and the voices of the dusk grew loud. The fine hairs on Vivian's back rose, eager for the change. Wait a while, she told herself, wait till it's fully dark. But it was hard to wait for the night at full moon.
There was muffled laughter in the yard below. What now? A chorus of ragged voices split the air, drowning out the insect song. "Ahwooo! Ahwooo!"
She stuck her head out the window. "Quit that howling out there."
The howling dissolved into more laughter.
"Come out and run with us, Vivian," Willem called. "Please, please."
"No way," Vivian called back. She climbed out onto the roof and looked down. Finn appeared disgusted as Willem wrung his hands theatrically. Ulf was fidgeting as usual, hopping from one foot to the other as if he wanted to pee. Gregory grinned glitteringly bright; his teeth were already pointed. "Come on, Viv. We're gonna have a great time."
Rafe beckoned with a claw. "The moon feels good on your back, Viv."
Vivian could feel the wolf inside uncurling, but she laughed derisively. "It's not the moon you picture on my back. Go visit your head-banger sluts and see what they think of you with your fur on. They probably won't notice the difference."
Gregory's pointy grin got wider at that suggestion and Ulf giggled. Great Moon, she thought.
Willem looked up with huge, disappointed eyes. "Aw, Viv. You never come anymore. The rabbits are getting sassy. One poked its tongue out at me last night."
She softened slightly. She and Willem used to have the best times rabbit hunting. "Another time, okay, Willi? But not full moon."
Rafe put his arm around Gregory's shoulders. "Come on then. That bitch is too stuck up to hang with us anymore. She prefers meat-boys. Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food?" he yelled up at her.
Willem shot her an apologetic glance, and Gregory blew her a kiss. Finn nudged Ulf in the rear with a boot, making him squeak. When they reached the gloom of the woods she saw Rafe toss his shirt in the air and saw Finn tip forward to stand on paws.
She sat on the porch roof, allowing them plenty of time to leave. They usually ran toward the city to find mischief in the urban debris; she would run upstream through local parks and quiet neighborhoods.
A pleasant hum coursed through her. The night began to look different - the hairs on a leaf stood huge like a forest, the edges of the trees were crisp. She lay back to enjoy the stars.
Did we come from there? she wondered. Are we an alien race that was marooned? Perhaps our transmuting power was a survival trick, and now we've forgotten that human wasn't our first form. Perhaps belief in the Moon Goddess was only an echo of an ancient truth.
The shingles beneath her were rough and pleasing to her sensitive skin. She already felt the beginning creak of bones reforming, the pop of sinews changing.
She forced down the cramp in her gut; she would have to leave soon. She couldn't change on a rooftop lit by moonlight. What would the neighbors think?
As if on cue, she smelled the odor of a human. Someone taking an evening stroll, perhaps?
There was scrabbling down where the drainpipe emptied. Rat? She rose to a crouch. No, someone was climbing the pipe. She heard a muffled grunt of effort and the tiny ching of metal against metal.
Burglar? The lights were off, the truck was gone, it was Saturday night. Possible.
Vivian crept to the edge of the roof, keeping low. Her eyes narrowed, her claws grew, and her smile was thin and vicious. Burglar Bill would take some stripes home.
She lifted her hand to strike as a head rose over the eaves.
