7 Ch 7 Being Wolf

The next day was more of the same, with dad going out of his way to get me ready to be on my own. First thing the next morning was a longer trip into the county seat to get motorcycle added to my driving license. He insisted on a helmet and I didn't argue.

He also insisted on a trip to the mall while we were in town. He bought me one dress shirt and a few casual shirts so I'd have something other than my usual tees. We had lunch in the food court, where he instructed me to bring the wolf within me closer to the surface. Dad was leaning back, remaining casual, commenting on the various smells and sounds. I was glad it was mid-week and not too crowded.

I felt like I was about to panic, freaked out by this new attitude he had. He and I had never really just hung together. It had always been my mom and I who took off to go places. It was hard to match his casual atmosphere and just chat about the wolf. It was hard to push down the rebellious teen I had been. I didn't know if I could keep doing it. Our eyes met.

Be a man. Who knew it was so frigging hard.

After the mall were a few more stops. A sweet extra set of removable saddlebags for the bike from a tack shop. The sporting goods store was the next stop, where Dad bought me a duffel bag I could tie behind me on the bike, a new single person tent, and my own hunting knife. I didn't understand the look dad gave me when he held the knife thoughtfully before adding it to our stuff. He threw in a pocket knife as well, with a longer and more solid blade than the little one I usually carried.

Somehow I knew there was going to be another talk that night, one no more comfortable than the last, but no death grip on me either. A talk about a knife wasn't going to be good. I started preparing myself now to be able to sit through it, no matter what he said.

We loaded up the truck. I fingered the saddlebags we'd gotten for the bike... my bike. I couldn't wait for the license to get processed so I could ride the refurbished old bike. I wished I could hop on it now. I was antsy, and just couldn't relax. I wasn't looking forward to the ride back home. I couldn't help wondering if that was where he would start his talk- someplace I couldn't escape if I wanted to. Stiffly, I got into the truck.

There was no talk. Dad had the radio playing quietly, old country songs, loud enough to fill the silence. Dad kept looking at me sideways on the drive home. He didn't say anything when he suddenly pulled the truck over by an expanse of woods along the freeway.

"Get out."

He had this slight knowing smile on his face as he opened the driver's door, tucking the keys into his jeans.

Shit, now what? I kept my silence up, following him down to the woods we'd parked by.

We were barely into them when dad started stripping with a speed that spoke of practice. He was shifting even as he was setting the pile of clothes on top of his sneakers. Within seconds a huge black wolf stood before me. My dad looked at me expectantly through his wolf eyes.

"Dad..."

His gaze never wavered, not even a blink. His head dipped a little. He was waiting.

With a sigh I lowered my gaze and pulled off my shirt, then the rest, but not with his speed. I made my own stack on top off the new sneakers we'd gotten at the mall. Crouching down with one hand still on my clothes, I looked at him. I wasn't in the mood for whatever he had planned.

He looked tense, ready to pounce. Shit. I did an all-at-once shift, starting in my chest. His attack came before I was finished.

I snarled, using the still partially human leg muscles to give myself leverage to throw him off of me. I continued shifting, using the momentum from throwing him to spin around toward him. Landing on all fours, I stood to face him as a wolf.

Dad charged again, half-shifting mid leap. He whammed into my shoulder, stretching his long hairy arms to squeeze my rib cage. I had a feeling I would end up with bruises along my sides.

I wanted to sink my teeth into his arms. I stopped myself, remembering the stitches he had gotten from me biting him years ago when I was still a kid. I half-shifted, twisting my shoulder around. My thin front legs became arms inside his grip, leverage against his hold. I was twisting in his grasp so I could bring my hind claws up into him.

Dad let go, dropping to all fours, full wolf again, circling, looking for an opening. His eyes were focused, all wolf, unblinking. He feigned to the right, his jaws open to grab my arm. His body started to shift. His arms stayed wolf to handle his weight, clawed hands digging into the ground to add stability. His back legs moved in a small pounce, his legs lengthened, his hips altering to be able to bring his legs to the front. The pounce turned into a swinging motion designed to knock me off my feet.

My legs shifted, my posture that now of a wolf on all fours, except I wasn't, not totally. My hind legs did their own pounce as I leaped over his attempted swipe, bringing smaller wolf legs up high. My fist swung to connect with his jaw. I rolled off to the side from the momentum of my leap. I kept shifting to full wolf even as I moved, taking advantage of the greater speed and reflexes I would have in that form.

I stared at him, panting hard. We'd often worked out hard in the past, giving each other bumps and bruises, small scratches and scrapes. This was something different.

Dad didn't give me much time to think, rushing in again, his weight against my shoulder knocking me down. His back claws raked into me, scratching.

Two wolves again, moving between the trees, stepping over dead branches and dry leaves. I tried to make sense of what he was doing, especially with the road not far away. This wasn't a work out. This was real fighting. There were no pauses followed by instructions, no hint of what he was going to do next; and he wasn't going easy on me.

My turn to circle as a wolf. He lunged. I brought a fist up again, with the force of my change behind it this time, connecting once more with his wolf's jaw.

I continued my shift, standing on two legs, stopping the change part way; fur covered my body, claws were still partially formed on hands and feet. My partial snout took in the scents around me, my eyes focused on my adversary. It was getting hard to think.

Dad stood there on four legs, giving his head a shake, before giving me a wolffish grin. He rose up, shifting to two furry legs, matching my partial shift. He came at me again and we grappled like two wrestlers, neither getting the upper hand. Suddenly he licked the inside of my ear. I let go of him like a hot potato. Uggg, long wolf tongue way deep into wolf ear... shiver!

He shifted back to full human, laughing, pointing his finger at me. It was good to hear him laugh, even if it was at my expense. He went over to our pile of clothes, shaking his head as I shifted back to human as well. A human with red scratch welts, and the start of  a bruise showing on my side. Nothing compared to the bruise starting on his jaw where I'd clocked him twice.

"Go," he said gently, still quietly laughing as he pulled on his sneakers. "I'll pace you in the truck."

He picked up my pile of clothes and headed back to the truck without a look back.

I stood there for a minute, not sure what had just transpired between my dad and I. The sound of the truck engine had me completing the change to wolf. Claws scraped against the ground, my back legs digging in before I sprinted off.

This was no ghosting run I did, no easy, loping, mile-eating pace. This was a full, hard run, as if I was chasing prey. I ran as if there was an enemy before me I needed to sink my teeth into.

Powerful leaps, muscles gathering, exploding into longer and longer strides. The leather pads of my paws kept pounding into the ground, flattening the grasses as I ran. Claws dug into the earth. I snarled and snapped, giving voice to my pent-up frustration.

There was a clear space between groupings of trees. I saw dad looking over from the truck, enjoying the rare sight of me being totally and completely wolf.

More trees. I didn't have the desire to shift and play around like I often did at home. Claws make climbing trees so easy. No, these trees were obstacles to thread my way through, cover to hide behind.

I ran.

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Some small part of me was wondering at this change. The wolf form was familiar, and yet... This time my senses somehow took in more- more everything. I could picture the smells. Sounds filled in landscape beyond what sight provided. Everything was more except clear thought. I could hear the squirrels, and knew where they were in the trees. I was almost tempted to snap at a bird I'd startled. Even though the scent was faint, I knew it was there. I could almost see instead of just smell the lines of scent trails I came across. I knew, not just that a deer had been there, but how long ago it had passed. I knew every creature in that thin strip of wilderness.

The run consumed me.

I was beginning to get winded, panting as I ran. The ground-pounding run had, at some point, become the mile-eating lope, speed without fury.

The honking of the truck horn had me focusing. There had been only grass and trees, vulnerability and cover. Scents and sounds had been my world; my nose and ears were as valuable as my eyes.

I had forgotten about the truck.

I turned my head. Dad's truck was slowing down and pulling over to the edge. I angled my way over, pacing myself to the truck now as I slowed. I waited for a few vehicles to pass Dad before I moved out into the open. By the time I got to the truck, the passenger door was open with my clothes on the seat.

Shifting on the side of the now-empty road took a second longer than usual. I had to stop and think about what it meant to be human. I had to focus on long furless fingers, flat useless nails. I quickly pulled on the jeans, if slightly awkwardly. My legs felt wrong; they were too tall, too straight. The shirt went slower over my head. Toes stretched out on the blacktop, trying to remember the feel of shoes. The memory of wolf pads pounding the dirt filled me.

I looked up at Dad finally, my confusion evident in my gaze. I was going to ask... something. I didn't even know the right questions at this point. He tossed me a bottle of water.

"Get in the truck."