Luna rebirth

Jet’s new body trembled uncontrollably in the dirt. It was much like his old form. The ragged rising and falling rib cage was familiar as it strained for cold air to quench the fire smoldering over his burnt lungs. He was overly aware of his raw throat and the distant but constant hissing of air through his gritted teeth. 

Rebirth, in Jet’s opinion, felt very much like death but with more agony.

Everything about this body was recognizable, his clenched hands, curled feet…even the height of him hadn’t changed...yet. Only his blood felt altered. The venom had rushed through his veins with the ferocity of a torrential river, surging and tearing into his muscles with violent fervor. He could still feel the bite inflamed on his forearm. The wound hummed with a strange energy he couldn’t place.

The night he was ambushed was supposed to be like any other hunt. Jet had done all the preparation as he’d always done. He slipped out of the village at midday when the sun was at its warmest. His day clothes were neatly folded into a bag, hidden near the bank of the river, followed by a bath in the gushing water where he rubbed mud and grass over his skin until he could no longer smell his manly odor. He toweled off with a cloth that lived on the branch of a tree at the far bank, and he put on the shirt and pants that hung on a line in the breeze. It wasn’t a perfect method, but he’d found keeping his things away from the scents of humans gave him an advantage. It was no ordinary beast he hunted. Lastly, he retrieved his bow and quiver of arrows from the hollow of a tree and set off to find a place to wait for the sun to set.

Darkness was the best time to find them. They were fast and could move through the shadows almost unseen, but none were ever caught in the light of day. Jet could not see very well in the dim light, but that had never held him back if he could stay hidden. His father had taught him what to look for. The air was denser when they were near. He followed a network of deer trails to a place where no crickets chirped. There he crouched and continued on with extreme caution. His heartbeat quickened, before he caught sight of one.

It was the sound that led him to it, the soft wet squelch of muscle being torn off bone and the chewing that followed. Jet took every care to step silently, and slide between the undergrowth until he saw it in a small sliver of moonlight between the trees. The fur gleamed silver and he could make out a unique pattern of stripes down its back. Such unusual markings! It was entirely preoccupied with the dead sheep it was tucking into.

He remembered exhaling quietly with excitement as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew it back with the string. The pelt would have garnered him much praise in the tavern. Free meals would have been proffered for his service in protecting the village. He was so intent that he didn’t heed his surroundings. The creatures usually traveled alone. When the teeth snapped into his bow arm, he had no time to react. It was there and gone, the striped one fleeing off into the trees with it.

The venom hadn’t consumed him all at once. Jet had choked down the initial pain and retreated, stumbling into a pool of moonlight, hastily searching the contents of his bag. He’d fumbled for the antidote. Every hunter carried a vial. His fingers had trembled as he’d uncorked it. It was almost to his lips when he’d heard something rushing through the undergrowth, straight at him. Jet had scrambled for his bow, barely getting an arrow nocked and aimed into the shadows. It had been enough, he could hear when the beast skidded to a halt and snarled at him, snapping its teeth.

They respected the bow. That he’d known. The creature had turned and ran once again into the night, but in standing his ground, Jet had let the vial slip. The contents had spilled into the soil. He’d fallen to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of soil to try and recover any of the contents, but it was no good, and the shaking took him as the venom spread.

He spent the night writhing in pain. His screams echoed through the trees. No one came for him. None of his old kind, anyway. The village couldn’t be more than half a day's walk, he hadn’t gone that far before it had ambushed him. They could hear him. He knew they could. The transformation was unmistakable. Not a single person came to administer the antidote. After the sun rose his cries were cut off as he choked on his own swollen throat.

It was common knowledge the venom could be nullified even half a day into the process. Jet himself had aided fellow hunters he’d found bellowing in the early stages. He was the most renowned among them. Surely they had known when he hadn't returned that something happened. But none of them had come. Only the beasts came for him, after it was too late to stop the change.

The first one had turned up during the day. When the pain had seized his back and he’d flung himself over like a fish out of water in a pathetic effort to ease the suffering. For the briefest instant he glimpsed the flash of gray moving in the bushes. He’d scrambled around to face it. The sight of the elongated fur-covered limbs gripped him with fear and sent him into a shrieking fit. 

When it approached he knew it surely meant to kill him in his defenseless state. The muscles in his arm felt hollow. His bow was too far from reach and he was too weak to lift it, let alone nock an arrow. So he threw a rock. It was a sad throw with barely any force, but the beast dodged back all the same. It tried again and he flung a cloud of dirt. After that it sat back, becoming only an observer in the brush. After a time he resigned to its presence as a new phase of misery tortured him.

By the time the sun began to set, many of the beasts were present. Drawn, perhaps, by the unmistakable cries of a newborn clawing through the fevered passage to their world. They were collecting between the trees, forming a circle around him. Whether they’d gathered slowly or all at once, he couldn’t say.

Now, as he quivered in the absence of pain, mewling more pitifully than a fresh-born kitten, one approached to stand over him with a lifeless rabbit dangling in its maw. Jet could feel his breath quicken as he stared up at it. Its eyes flashed with fire in the orange light. Never had he been so close to a live one. The unblinking canine eyes studied him. The nose wiggled almost comically as it scented him before laying the dead rabbit tenderly on his bare chest.

Somehow, his hands numbly grasped at the soft fur. It felt warm. A fresh kill. He clung to it even as he heard himself saying, “I don’t want that.” His voice was no more than the coarse whisper of a much older man. 

The pointed ears listening to him tilted. He didn’t think it understood, but he hoped.

Light was fading.

“Water.” The word was almost a cough.

Another one moved forward and placed a badger on him.

He shook his head, “No…” Water was what he needed.

Jet feebly threw the rabbit at it. “Water!”

It was getting darker.

Another brought a small dead creature to place on him. 

Followed by another. 

And another.

They took turns, arranging squirrels, foxes, coyotes, and one even laid a stag over his legs, until he was covered in dead furred things. He feebly shook his head over and over. What were they doing? The sun was almost gone, he could barely see them by the time one placed a limp animal over his eyes.

If he had the energy he would have screamed to hear his own rage. He could feel his muscles drinking in the warmth seeping out of all the dead things blanketing him. His heart raced. How could they bury him in so many lifeless creatures? Didn’t they know what he was? He was death to their kind! Him! He was the big bad wolf that stalked them in the night! They should be cowering in fear of all he’d done to their kind!

The beat of his heart pounded faster and faster.

Something cracked.

Jet jolted and hissed.

It was so sudden he didn’t understand what had happened. It was as though someone had spilled hot water down his spine. Was he bleeding?

Another crack.

A bone, his shoulder, jerked. The motion was strangely involuntary, and painful. His breathing reduced to a shallow panting.

Snap!

Jet’s knee buckled the wrong way. He screamed in a silent whisper.

His muscles were leather straps twisting over, straining to rip away.

A sound rumbled between his clenched teeth. He clawed at the pile of furred bodies. The broken dead things were unmoved by his effort.

He could hear the heartbeats of the living creatures beyond his mound. His new kind. They were beating in unison, a circle of drums. Jet could feel his own heart pounding beyond the measure of theirs at a reckless pace. It was in his throat. He tried to turn away, to shake it out.

Muscles swelled. 

Bones fractured. 

A snarl escaped.

His head snapped back and forth as his body convulsed and settled.

Somewhere in the writhing and growling he clenched his jaw and felt the crunch of a small ribcage. 

He went still.

A rusty tang trickled onto his tongue.

The blood soothed his parched throat a little.

More.

His own bones stopped shattering as he wriggled to bite open the bodies piled on him. He’d skinned enough animals to know where the tender spots were.

Skins tore.

Blood spilled.

He drank.

It tasted good…so good.

Jet found himself biting into the exposed flesh of a rabbit. He wasn’t just parched. He was famished.

Teeth sank into muscle. 

Meat ripped free.

The world reduced to the tearing of moist sinew and the squishing of viscera. He worked his way through the pile with vicious efficiency. When he stopped, a scattering of bones and torn fur lay strewn about him in an explosion of remains. The inhuman hunger was finally sated. Jet felt invigorated.

The pack watched him silently as he rose and looked about at them. His chest heaved, slowly drawing air in and out. They waited.

“Why are you all staring at me!” he bellowed, though not in words. What came out was the meaningless roar of an angry beast.

They were not disturbed by it. 

Jet roared again, louder and more intimidating, he thought.

Still no reaction.

He rushed them. The change had given him claws and teeth, and he meant to use them.

A heavy impact bowled him over. 

It was a large male that knocked him from the side. 

Jet snapped at him. 

His teeth closed on empty air. 

This new body was fast.

The male was faster. 

It brandished teeth, forcing him back with a snap.

“No!” the snarl seemed to say.

Jet backed away nervously.

The male did not press the advantage. He left the space between them open.

A stillness grew. 

Jet swiveled to look for an escape but the circle was closed. Eyes glowed at him in the rising moonlight.

As he looked from one to the next, he noticed differences in their appearance. Some had shorter muzzles, others had darker coats than their neighbor. Little markings became apparent. Each had a unique aroma…subtle characteristics of earth, and rust.

The male seemed to sense his tension lower and rejoined the circle of kin.

One female was smaller than the rest. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She was familiar. A series of faint stripes patterned her coat. Jet knew those marks. He’d seen her when…when he was ambushed. 

Now he was reborn. Muscles singing with raw power. His silver fur coat gleamed under the light of the moon. Something quickened in his belly. A desire to know them.

His kin stirred. They surrounded him. Scents were exchanged as they sniffed him and he them.

The little female came last and growled lightly. He understood her meaning as if she had spoken words.

“Run with us.” she was saying.

And he did.