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Authors: Helen Harper
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landscape, although fortunately it would not be
full again for another fortnight. By the time I rounded the top of the dunes, Tom
was already on the sand, waiting. I
slowed and took my time walking down towards him. Falling down once a day thanks to my
seemingly inborn clumsiness was more than enough, thank you very much, and the
sandy slopes were steep enough to warrant at least some care. The tide was out,
leaving strands of seaweed and ocean detritus behind it. A small crab scuttled out of the way of
my feet as the sand levelled out. Tom stood patiently, watching my approach.
I gave him a mock salute and, wordlessly,
he handed me one of two wooden staffs before widening his stance in
preparation. I ran my hands down
its unvarnished length and it occurred to me that I was in need of some
sparring. I had a lot of aggression
still pent up inside. I wiggled an
eyebrow at Tom, ducking just time to miss being hit by his first swipe. I retaliated with a crouching sweep that
knocked him off his feet but he leapt up with more agility than he’d shown in
recent sessions.
“Been practising much?” I inquired
lightly.
He didn’t answer and instead began
circling me. His left flank was
open so I jabbed him under his ribs and was rewarded with a faint ooph. He tried to even the score with a swipe
but I pulled back just in time so that his staff found nothing but the
wind. He immediately recovered,
spinning the wooden pole adeptly in his hands and then lunging forward with an
underarm attack that caught my clenched knuckles. I hissed slightly in surprised pain and
retaliated.
We continued for some time, with no sounds
to be heard other than our breath, the knocking of wood as the staffs connected
and the rumble of the sea. I was
beginning to feel my muscles tingle with pleasure at the exercise and a faint
sheen of sweat graced both our foreheads, when he suddenly grinned and threw
away his staff, pulling off his t-shirt and sweats. I took a step back and watched, ready.
He bowed his head and tensed, beginning
his shift. It amazed me every time
how an 80 kilogram man could become such a huge
animal. Where did the extra weight
come from? Shifters didn’t transform into normal looking animals – even
the smaller weres, the rodents and such-like, became larger than their human
forms. And again, most definitely not
for the first time, I wished I had my own shift.
Tom’s bones creaked and his skull
elongated outwards. His muscles
rippled and the hair follicles around his chest and legs extended till he was
shaking out his coat on all fours, with fangs bared and yellow eyes
gleaming. Tom was a wolf. Generic, I know, but he had both speed
and strength and wasn’t afraid to hold back.
He leapt at me without any further warning
and I rolled to the side on the soft sand just in time, springing back onto my
feet and turning to face him again. His haunches tensed and he tried to feint left but the tension in his
body had given him away. This time
I used the staff to snag him under his belly and twist him onto his back. He whined slightly before staggering
back to his feet. I paused for a
second, just to check, but his tail gave a brief wag. Good, I wasn’t ready to go home just yet;
the fire in my blood was only just starting to flicker.
He manoeuvred around so that I ended up
with my back to the ocean. Clever
boy, now he had the high ground. He
rose up on his hind legs and snapped at my face so I was forced to take a step
back. Then, without warning, he
barrelled into my midsection and knocked me off my feet, landing on top of me
on the sand. I could swear I saw a
glint in his eye.
“Tom, if this is when you decide to shift
back to a naked man, I will not be happy,” I mockingly warned. He was a friend, but most definitely
without those kind of benefits.
He licked my cheek and went for my
throat. His canines scraped
full again for another fortnight. By the time I rounded the top of the dunes, Tom
was already on the sand, waiting. I
slowed and took my time walking down towards him. Falling down once a day thanks to my
seemingly inborn clumsiness was more than enough, thank you very much, and the
sandy slopes were steep enough to warrant at least some care. The tide was out,
leaving strands of seaweed and ocean detritus behind it. A small crab scuttled out of the way of
my feet as the sand levelled out. Tom stood patiently, watching my approach.
I gave him a mock salute and, wordlessly,
he handed me one of two wooden staffs before widening his stance in
preparation. I ran my hands down
its unvarnished length and it occurred to me that I was in need of some
sparring. I had a lot of aggression
still pent up inside. I wiggled an
eyebrow at Tom, ducking just time to miss being hit by his first swipe. I retaliated with a crouching sweep that
knocked him off his feet but he leapt up with more agility than he’d shown in
recent sessions.
“Been practising much?” I inquired
lightly.
He didn’t answer and instead began
circling me. His left flank was
open so I jabbed him under his ribs and was rewarded with a faint ooph. He tried to even the score with a swipe
but I pulled back just in time so that his staff found nothing but the
wind. He immediately recovered,
spinning the wooden pole adeptly in his hands and then lunging forward with an
underarm attack that caught my clenched knuckles. I hissed slightly in surprised pain and
retaliated.
We continued for some time, with no sounds
to be heard other than our breath, the knocking of wood as the staffs connected
and the rumble of the sea. I was
beginning to feel my muscles tingle with pleasure at the exercise and a faint
sheen of sweat graced both our foreheads, when he suddenly grinned and threw
away his staff, pulling off his t-shirt and sweats. I took a step back and watched, ready.
He bowed his head and tensed, beginning
his shift. It amazed me every time
how an 80 kilogram man could become such a huge
animal. Where did the extra weight
come from? Shifters didn’t transform into normal looking animals – even
the smaller weres, the rodents and such-like, became larger than their human
forms. And again, most definitely not
for the first time, I wished I had my own shift.
Tom’s bones creaked and his skull
elongated outwards. His muscles
rippled and the hair follicles around his chest and legs extended till he was
shaking out his coat on all fours, with fangs bared and yellow eyes
gleaming. Tom was a wolf. Generic, I know, but he had both speed
and strength and wasn’t afraid to hold back.
He leapt at me without any further warning
and I rolled to the side on the soft sand just in time, springing back onto my
feet and turning to face him again. His haunches tensed and he tried to feint left but the tension in his
body had given him away. This time
I used the staff to snag him under his belly and twist him onto his back. He whined slightly before staggering
back to his feet. I paused for a
second, just to check, but his tail gave a brief wag. Good, I wasn’t ready to go home just yet;
the fire in my blood was only just starting to flicker.
He manoeuvred around so that I ended up
with my back to the ocean. Clever
boy, now he had the high ground. He
rose up on his hind legs and snapped at my face so I was forced to take a step
back. Then, without warning, he
barrelled into my midsection and knocked me off my feet, landing on top of me
on the sand. I could swear I saw a
glint in his eye.
“Tom, if this is when you decide to shift
back to a naked man, I will not be happy,” I mockingly warned. He was a friend, but most definitely
without those kind of benefits.
He licked my cheek and went for my
throat. His canines scraped
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