Chapter 6 The Black Wolf
Since my first shift, my cougar had grown into a strong presence in my life, her instincts blending with mine in a way that felt natural.
We got along well. Unlike me, she found happiness in small things.
She loved soft blankets, sun-warmed windowsills, stalking through the woods, chasing small critters, cardboard boxes, and of course catnip.
Tonight she wanted the woods.
The shift came easy. Bones lengthened and reformed, muscle and sinew reshaping beneath my skin until I landed on four large golden paws.
My cougar was a true mountain lion, a hundred and twenty pounds of tawny gold, lean through the ribs and heavy through the haunches.
Her tail stretched almost as long as her body, balancing every movement, and each paw was broad enough to bury my human hand beneath it.
The forest unfolded all at once. Layers of scent, sound, and movement. Things my human mind would have missed completely. Damp earth. Rotting wood. Small creatures moving beneath leaves. The faint trace of something that had passed through hours ago.
She breathed it all in, then moved.
Her paws hit the ground without a sound as she slipped between the trees, light and precise for her size.
A fallen log caught her attention. She veered toward it, nose brushing the rough bark, whiskers twitching.
Her claws sank into the softened wood, testing, then digging deeper and peeling back a strip with quiet determination.
Something skittered underneath.
She froze, focused, then pounced.
Missed.
She huffed, annoyed, pawing at the spot like it had personally offended her. The movement came again and she dove after it, nose nearly buried in the decaying wood, tail flicking with sharp, irritated swishes. When it escaped a second time she chattered softly under her breath and lost interest.
A tree caught her eye next. She leapt, claws catching easily, and climbed without hesitation. Higher. Branch to branch, testing her footing. She settled high above the forest floor, eyes half-closing as she watched the leaves shift and listened to the quiet hum of the night.
Then her ears twitched. Once. Then again.
The forest had gone quiet. Not the slow quiet of night deepening, but the sudden, absolute stillness of every small creature deciding at the same moment to stop moving.
She tensed before I fully processed it, every muscle coiled, gaze locked on the darkness below.
A wolf stepped out from between the trees. Black from nose to tail, massive even by wolf standards.
He stopped as his gaze lifted and locked onto us.
My cat held perfectly still on her branch. I did the same inside her. For a long suspended moment none of us moved. She stayed perched high, tail twitching, watching the wolf from above. I felt her weighing him, assessing him, completely unfazed by the dominance rolling off him in steady waves.
We should leave, I told her.
She didn’t even flick an ear.
The wolf stepped closer to the tree, slow and deliberate, his paws barely disturbing the leaves. His gaze stayed locked on us. He was enormous, the kind of predator that should have sent every instinct screaming.
My cat didn’t flinch. She leaned forward, curious.
No. No, absolutely not. Do not go down there.
She went down there.
She dropped from the branch in a silent, effortless fall and landed lightly on the forest floor. Her tail lifted high, confident, almost flirtatious.
What are you doing? Stop. Stop that right now.
She padded toward him, each step measured. The wolf huffed, a low rumble that vibrated through the ground. She answered with a deep purr, the sound rolling through her chest like she was greeting someone familiar.
We don’t KNOW him, I tried. He’s a wolf. A huge wolf. A stranger. This is a terrible idea.
She didn’t care. She kept moving.
He didn’t move. Didn’t growl. Didn’t posture. He just watched her with those pale gray eyes, steady and unblinking.
She brushed her head against his cheek.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING. ARE YOU INSANE.
He nuzzled her back, tongue sweeping through her fur in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation rippled through both of us, startling and intimate. She melted into it, purring harder, kneading the dirt with her paws.
Stop. Stop. Stop—
She didn’t.
I tried to pull back, to force her to retreat, but she held control like iron. I was just along for the ride, trapped behind her eyes.
The wolf moved along her side, fur sliding against ours, marking her with his scent. She accepted it for a moment, then snapped at him with a sharp snarl, swiping a paw across his muzzle with sheathed claws.
He blinked, startled.
She bounded away, tail flicking, chuffing at him like she was daring him to follow.
He did.
He kept a respectful distance, circling her, scenting the air, checking the shadows, guarding her like she was something precious.
She snarled at him again. He licked her ear until she stopped.
I don’t understand any of this, I muttered uselessly.
Her mood flipped again. She rubbed against a tree trunk, leaving her scent, making sure he caught it. A soft chuff called him closer. Then rising onto her hind legs, she swatted his shoulder before springing away, inviting a chase.
He lowered his head, lifted his hindquarters, and pounced.
She darted off, delighted.
They ran together through the forest, up slopes, through brush, across shallow streams. She moved like a phantom. He followed like a shadow that refused to be shaken.
Eventually, they collapsed in a clearing, sides heaving. He curled around her, his fur warm. She relaxed, utterly content, purring as he licked her face. Their scents mingled until I couldn’t tell where hers ended and his began.
I stopped trying to reason with her. There was no point. So I just… watched.
They stayed like that for hours. When she finally rose, she rose and padded back toward the tree line. He followed at a distance, silent and watchful, escorting her to the edge of the forest.
I shifted back just inside the trees, pulled on my clothes fast, and hurried home.
In my room, I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment before moving to the bed and sitting down.
For a long moment I just stared at my hands.
What… was that?
My cat’s behavior made no sense. The wolf’s behavior made even less.
He should have attacked. Or run. Or postured. Or… something normal.
But he hadn’t.
He’d played. He’d guarded. He’d touched her like she belonged to him.
And she let him.
I exhaled sharply and dragged a hand over my face.
That wasn’t normal.
I didn’t know what to make of any of it.