The town is like many other small towns I have passed through - nothing more than half a dozen houses, a general store, pub and a small post office branch. The pub is similar to many others I have walked into during the last few months, noisy and smelling of stale smoke and alcohol. The people that fill it are in various stages of drunkenness. There are a couple of businessmen at a table against the far sidewall eating their supper as they talk. I tune out their conversation of real estate prices as I pass them by. There seems to be the usual drunk standing by the bar swaying as he raises his glass in a shaking hand to drink his beer. Several groups of people enjoying a drink make up the scant clientele and I walk up to the bar to order a meal and a beer. I smile at the barkeeper as he runs his gaze over me appreciatively.

"What can I get you?" His name is Darren according to the name embroidered on his shirt.

"I’d like to order a counter meal please, a large steak medium rare with roast vegies. And a schooner of beer thanks," I say with a smile. I watch as he turns around and calls my food order through a window to someone working in what smells like a kitchen.

"What brand of beer would you like?" Darren asks as he picks up a clean glass and looks at me. I put my forearms on the bar and lean forward as I glance at the taps that deliver beer to the bar.

"Whatever you have on tap will be fine thanks," I grin at him. He expertly pours my drink and I hand him the twenty-dollar note from my pocket. I take the change he hands me along with my glass and head to a small table in one dim corner. The amber liquid is cold and bitter on my tongue as I swallow.

Unease tingles up my spine making me glance around nervously. Some instinct warns me of danger and I turn my head to watch as four men enter the bar room. I look away quickly before they notice me looking their way. The smell hits me, sending me into a fear-filled hunch over my drink. Werecats! The intricate levels of their scents tell me they are clan cats: born to this life, not some roving strays that have been turned by fate’s cruel hand. I glance their way without lifting my head, a sly movement of my eyes. They seem unaware of my presence as they make their way to the far end of the bar and order their choice of drinks as the barman greets them familiarly. All four of them are large, six foot tall or more and three of them have the solid muscular build of mature clan cats. Roving strays are often thin and scrawny but clan cats that are secure in their clan never are. They have well defined muscular bodies moulded by plenty of physical exercise.

"A large steak medium rare with roast vegies," a female voice says at my elbow.

I smile and nod at the woman from the kitchen as she places my plate of food on the table in front of me. I control the urge to grab the plate and growl possessively as she puts the cutlery down beside it. I sneak a quick glance at the four men as the woman walks away and before I reach for the knife and fork, they seem oblivious to the fact that I am a werecat, a stray, and I am trespassing on their lands. My mouth begins watering as I begin to cut the steak into chunks pausing only to put a large piece into my mouth and chew as I continue to hurriedly cut the entire piece of meat into chewable pieces.

My instincts are screaming at me to leave but my body demands the food in front of me. It has been too long since my last proper meal in human form, and I have only been hunting small game when I shape-shifted so I don’t attract human attention to my presence. I am halfway through my meal when the inevitable happens; one of the four toms walk past where I had lent both arms on the bar as I had ordered my food and drink. He stops in mid-stride. My acute hearing lets me hear him draw in a sharp breath as he catches my scent on the bar, and I hear the sudden stop of conversation from his companions as they too hear him. Tension quickly fills the bar room as suddenly hostile eyes look around the room. I can almost feel the tremors of fear that threaten me as sharp eyes skip over me dismissively.

The piece of meat in my mouth almost refuses to go down as I swallow it before reaching for the next bite; I figure I have a few moments more before the men start walking around the room trying to catch a whiff of any scent. I watch unobtrusively as two of the men make their way out towards the restrooms thinking the roving stray werecat would be there. I hear the distinctive low range popping sound that tells me one of the men who went out the back of the building has shape-shifted. An acrid smell wafts in through the side door warning me that the tom in cat form is marking clan territory. It’s time to leave, I tell myself as I put my knife and fork down. In human terms he is saying he will grind the trespasser to dirt beneath his heel.

I get up from my table leisurely and head towards the kitchen with a regretful last glance back at my unfinished meal. I give the two men a wide berth as I leave the room unnoticed; they are looking for me but are unaware of exactly why they can’t find me. I slip into the women’s restroom to avoid the tom walking towards me and I hurry into a cubicle as I hear his footsteps slow. I realise I am sweating and grit my teeth in annoyance; my scent will be faintly detectible if a werecat was to get near me. I had accidentally found a way to mask my scent from animals and other werecats but unfortunately sweating, especially with fear, will render it ineffective. The footsteps continue on their way and I hold my breath as I listen to the steps fade away. I creep to the door and listen with my ear pressed against it for a few moments before opening it warily and glancing both ways before slipping out into the corridor and heading towards the rear exit.

I instantly rule out escaping in my rental car, as the other werecats are sure to have vehicles at hand. Vehicles bigger and faster than mine, making using my car futile. I have no wish to be forced off the road in a dark isolated place to find myself at the mercy of four large toms. Toms have no mercy for females.

At the edge of the parking lot I stop and listen, I am rewarded when I hear the faint sounds as velvety paws circle beyond the parking lot lights. I give my rental car one last look before taking a deep breath and stepping into the glow of the lights and heading along the street as if I regularly did this. I have long since learnt that the easiest place to hide is in plain sight. I am almost to the end of the block when I become aware of a silent form shadowing me. I stop and glance around uneasily as if I am a human.

"Who’s there?" I call nervously as I act like a normal human. I take a cautious step backwards before turning and hurrying towards the main street with several uneasy glances over my shoulder. The sensation of being followed fades.

I look for somewhere I can hide as fear sends waves of fire burning up my spine; tremors shake my body as terror speeds my steps. I reach a park and melt into the shadows as I step out of my sneakers and begin unfastening my jeans. A quick wriggle has them pooling around my ankles and I kick my feet free of them while pulling my sweater and top over my head. Even though I am unable to control it I know what is coming as I feel the first shafts of pain shoot through my very bones. I shape-shift into cat form almost instantaneously even as I let my clothes fall from my hands. Angrily I turn on my clothes and all that remains of them after a few seconds is tattered rags. I raise my head to listen as I glance back the way I had come; my ears prick forward and then back as I test the night air for any scent.

The breeze is blowing into my face lightly as I pick up the scent of several werecats; angrily I bare my teeth and arch my whiskers forward before giving a screech of pure rage. I head across the park at a slow lope as I head away from the town. If there had been anyone to see me as I burst out of the trees to cross a highway, they would have seen a black leopard like cat bounding across the road in three leaps. The sounds of pursuit reach me telling me I have foolishly revealed my whereabouts with my screech. I bare my teeth in an almost grin like expression as I pause to look back the way I had come. Fear floods my system and I fight to maintain control of my mind.

Run boys run, I think as I turn and begin running at full speed across an open field. Run run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me I’m the ginger bread … cat.

The parody of an old nursery rhyme runs through my mind as I speed across the ground and reach the thick belt of trees on the far side. The fresh crisp night air is sweet with the smells of nature as it blows in my face as I weave through the trees at high speed before slowing slightly as the practical side of my mind takes over.

Circle. Don’t leave the breeze taking your scent straight to them. Don’t stop-keep moving.

Four long exhausting hours later I stop below a ridge top just outside of town. I am motionless as I listen for any sounds of pursuit. I crouch low and crawl to the crest of the ridge with my belly almost touching the ground as I slink over the edge without showing a clear silhouette. I stop as I cross the trail of my pursuers and lower my head to take a deep sniff so I will know their scents if I ever come across them again. Seven toms, three of the group from the pub, then shortly after a group of four followed. I glance around uneasily as I realise I must be close to the clan home range. I must leave quickly. A roving stray won’t be tolerated so close to home. Even as I realise this I feel a strange longing that goes against every cat instinct I possess.

I have spent my entire werecat life alone avoiding other werecats; I survived a werecat attack as a twelve-year-old child. I later came to learn the attack was unusual in the fact the werecat had come across me while he was in cat form pounced, shape-shifted and then raped me. My father had scared him off when he and a workmate had appeared unexpectedly, we had been on the way to hospital when the cat had attacked the second time.

I have little memory of the first year after my turning and had learnt later that I had disappeared from the human community for nearly a year. At first it was believed that I had been killed in the motor vehicle accident that was believed to have killed my father as he had rushed me to hospital but my body had never been found in the burnt out wreck.

When I had turned up eleven months later malnourished, unkept and disorientated it had been assumed I had suffered a severe head injury. This had never been confirmed as I had a well-developed fear of strangers and physical contact. I had evaded the authorities and managed to survive on my own until my father’s uncle had taken me under his care as best as I allowed. This had amounted to free food when I needed to eat and the knowledge that there was always a bed available if I should need it.

I am mainly self-educated in survival, although a roving stray had befriended me in the first few months after I had been turned. He had taught me how to hunt while in cat form and when he had learnt I had an uncle in human society he had urged me to return and learn how to blend in now I was a werecat. For a few years I had lived uncomfortably between the two worlds unable to find a place I felt I belonged. Werecat? Human? I belonged to neither world until the day I had been stealing apples from an orchid and while up in a tree I had witnessed a clan werecat as he had shape-shifted back to his human form. My now- neighbour Pete Willoughby was unaware I knew his secret and we had become friends soon after I had stumbled across my scent masking secret. From him I had observed over several years how to live in the human world and retreat to the wildness of the bushland when my inner cat no longer can be controlled. Now at twenty years of age I am on the run from clan cats yet again.

Twenty minutes later I slink into the parking lot of the pub and make my way to my rental car. It sits deserted on a car trailer and I nearly scream my rage as I see its torn condition. I had shape-shifted back to my human form involuntarily and this fresh burst of fear and rage threatens to make me shape-shift once again. Numerous dents mar the formerly smooth panels, one door hangs half off its hinges and the interior is ripped to ribbons. The strong odour of urine and dung come from inside the vehicle as I quickly squat to reach under the destroyed front seats to retrieve a metal box. Inside is a complete set of clothes sealed in plastic along with a pair of sneakers in my favourite brand; deep in one of the jeans pockets will be a large sum of cash. I crouch in the shadows beside the vehicle as I awkwardly pull on the clothes before crawling on hands and feet to a connecting shadow that travels along one side of the parking lot. The clothes are unisex and well worn already so I blend in with any other human out at this time of night. I adjust the collar of the heavy coat and tuck my long blonde hair down inside.

When I am well away from the abandoned car I straighten up and glance around quickly before lengthening my stride to hurry my escape. When I reach the highway leading from town I hesitate for a moment before heading for a nearby service station. My need for food overcoming my instincts to flee the town, I had expended a lot of energy changing forms and now I am in more desperate need of food then when I had stopped to eat. The lights inside are bright and I blink rapidly to adjust my eyes before walking slowly along the aisles towards the counter, on my way I collect an array of packaged food. Placing the pile on the counter I hesitate a moment before adding a plain black baseball cap to the items and stand back as the young guy behind the counter begins running it through the till.

"We’ve had a run on the jerky tonight. You’re lucky there was any left," he tells me.

"Yeah?" I answer flashing him a grin as I pull the baseball cap onto my head.

"Yeah, the Williamson family must be going camping. Four of the sons and seven of their ranch hands were in buying up on their favourite camping snacks," he says with an answering grin.

Eleven of them, I tell myself as I idly reach for a bottle of coke.

"You don’t say. How many workers does the family employ?" I ask casually.

"Up to a dozen at different times," he informs me as he scans the last item.

Shit!

"Do you want plastic bags for these?" His question brings my mind back to the job at hand.

"Can I get two of those backpacks over there?" I ask pointing to a shelf behind the counter.

"Sure thing," he smiles, "Any particular colour?"

"The dark green army style. My brother will love it," the lie comes easily to my lips, I have no sibling.

"What ever pleases the pretty lady," he flirts with me and I laugh softly while he begins packing my purchases into one of the bags.

I loose track of his conversation as the door opens and two large men hurry in and I recognise them as two of the toms from the pub earlier. I tense as their scent reaches me quickly in the heated space. I hurriedly push several large bills towards the guy across from me and grab the nearly filled bag.

"Keep the change," I say quickly and head for the side door as I hear the very low hiss of anger.

"You forgot some of your things!" A deep gravely voice calls dangerously close and I glance back over my shoulder to see one of the men too close for my comfort. His eyes widen with surprise as he sees my face clearly and realises I am female.

"Back off!" I hiss so low only he and his companion can hear me as I back pedal fast towards the door as my terror escalates. I dare not chance loosing control and changing shape inside the shop in front of a human or near either of the clan werecats moving towards me with purpose.

"The Boss wants a word with you before you clear out," the closest one says in a firm tone.

"Tell Mr Williamson maybe another time!" I hiss in a whisper soft tone before I spin on my toes and race for small side door. Surprise that I know their clan Alpha’s name gives me the vital instant to reach the door ahead of my pursuer and then I am outside in the night air and running for my life. The shop is quickly left behind as I use all my speed available in human form. I know I am fast but I have never put my pace to the test as I do now. I refuse to drop the pack of food as I sprint into the surrounding darkness and head for the trees. Behind me I can only hear one pursuer and over the sound of my laboured breathing I think I detect the sounds of someone using a phone.

The soft give beneath my sneakered feet tells me I have reached bare ground and I strain to increase my pace. The sounds of my pursuer suddenly stop and I slow to chance a quick look over my shoulder. I can’t make out any sign of pursuit and I drag in a sharp breath as I hear the faintest sounds of bone and tissue popping. Terror races through me as I realise the tom behind me is changing form to that of a cat, and fiery pain shoots up my spine even as I struggle to keep running. I toss the bag towards a tall pine and take a deep breath as I plunge forward as if to do a somersault or cartwheel. As I shape-shift on the fly there is a brief but fierce flash of pain as if my body has exploded before my front paws hit the ground and I run several more paces before executing a sharp turn sending leaves flying as I end up facing the way I came.

I lay my ears back as I slow to a trot and glare at the darkness ahead of me. I bare my teeth in a vicious snarl as I spot the inky black form gliding between the trees. He slows and enters the tiny clearing at a fast walk. I wait until he is in the open then launch myself at him, teeth bared and claws unsheathed. My fear has turned to savage aggression and I attack with the experience I have gained protecting myself from tomcats for the last eight years. I am in good condition weight wise and my hundred and fifty pounds stagger him as he tries to twist away from me. It’s no use as I whirl after him delivering several hard bites to his shoulder and a savage swipe of my claws along his ribs. Before he can recover his balance I am off and running once again. This time I hear no pursuit but maintain my pace knowing his backup would not be too far away.

The night is long and I am tired as I alternate between running full speed and loping comfortably. When dawn comes I am walking steadily in the dark shadows of a gully and pause to lap several mouthfuls of water before trotting in the narrow stream. I find a small shallow undercut several miles up the stream and I leap from the stream to the small shelter without leaving any marks in the damp clay of the stream. I settle my tired body on the cool earth in my feline form and stretch out making myself comfortable. Rest is my first priority as I lower my head until my chin rests on my front legs. I yawn widely and lick my lips before closing my eyes contentedly. Sleep comes fitfully and I wake at the slightest noises, even mice scurrying in the undergrowth brings my eyes open.

It is nearing sundown when I come fully awake and creep out of my hiding place. I stand for several long moments in the last of the day’s sun enjoying the warmth on my silky fur. I am entranced as I watch the fur on my side gleaming in the sunlight. I twitch my skin and I am startled to notice my fur has an almost coppery sheen to it with inky midnight black rosettes showing underneath. I yawn with satisfaction before walking down to the stream for a drink. Having quenched my thirst I leap the stream and begin padding along the opposite bank alert for any game. I am hungry and need to eat. Since I have not shape-shifted back to human form, not to mention the fact if I had that I have no clothes or money, that leaves me with the only option to hunt.

A mile later I stop and watch a herd of cows grazing on the lush green grass of the field. My tail twitches with nervous energy as I bring my urge to hunt under control. I dare not hunt livestock: to do so would undoubtedly alert landholders to the presence of a large cat. I slink along the edge of the field to the next lot of trees and from there up a small hill away from the cattle.

I find what I am looking for nearly two miles and an hour later. I catch the scent of feral goats and begin to stalk silently. I find three nanny goats in a small copse of trees; two have half grown kids with them and I immediately fix my attention on one of the kids that limps as it takes several steps. I burst into view startling the goats into action but none of them have a chance of escaping me. My front claws catch the hindquarters of the injured kid, one stride and then I am closing my jaws on his throat. I am merciful and I snap his neck instantly. I eat hurriedly, constantly alert as I rip chunks of warm meat from my kill. Soon I have an audience of two foxes and my tail flicks in annoyance even though I am relieved they will remove all evidence of my meal once I go. When I walk away from my kill I have had a good feed but I have not over eaten since I still have a long way to go before I reach safe territory.

The bright happy sound of birds greeting the rising sun wakes me and I smile as I yawn and stretch in my own bed. Silk sheets glided against my satin pyjamas as I move and I open my eyes slowly. I have made it home safely and I am in human form once again. Never one to lie around in bed I quickly get up and head to my bathroom. Locking the door I turn the shower on before undressing and stepping beneath the flowing water. My shower gel foams to a rich lather that smells of wildflowers and citrus as I wash myself carefully. After I dry myself I carefully rub a similar smelling mixture of oils into my skin taking care to cover every inch before reaching for my work clothes. My scent-disguising secret is in the ingredients of the gel and oil mixtures I use along with an herbal mixture I drink containing chlorophyll. A loud pounding on my front door has me skipping down the stairs to open it with a smile.

"Hi Pete come on in. You’re just in time to make my morning coffee while I cook us breakfast," I tell him as he grins at my bright greeting.

"Hi yourself. You’re certainly a lot happier this morning," Pete comments as he heads for the large kitchen in my house. He had called over last night not long after I had gotten home only to have me slam the door in his face so he couldn’t get close enough to me to catch my scent.

"Jetlag - you know how it is," I return easily as I head towards the fridge. First on my breakfast menu is an herbal drink I make myself washed down by a generous glass of orange juice. Breakfast is a filling meal of pancakes, sausages, bacon and eggs washed down by copious amounts of hot coffee. Pete has his black with loads of sugar while I like mine with lots of milk.

"Any chance of you making a batch of those caramel cookies for me before you go back to work in a couple of days?" Pete asks as he savours his coffee.

"Just one batch?" I ask with a smile.

"I might be able to find room in the freezer for a batch or two," Pete says seriously but the mirth in his eyes gives him away.

"I’ll have to go into town to get several things," I say with a sigh. I know how much Pete likes my caramel cookies and some instinct always makes me want to pamper him, not to mention I love his company when I am game enough to indulge myself.

"I got the morning off. I’ll take you if you like." Pete offers.

"Shopping with my favourite male neighbour. How can I resist?" Laughter colours my words and Pete laughs too. We leave the dirty dishes in the sink and head outside to Pete’s car. I smile as I climb into the passenger seat and turn on the radio to my favourite station.

The trip to town is uneventful, both Pete and I preferring to make a quick visit with as few as possible stops. It’s on the way home that the first indication of trouble shows itself when the flashing of lights in the rear-view mirror catches our attention and Pete curses softly under his breath as he slows and guides the car to the side of the road.

"Well I wasn’t speeding," Pete mutters as the sheriff gets out of his vehicle and walks up to my window.

"Hi Pete. Miss Tawny, Doc Caruthers rang our office to see if we could find you. He’s busy over the other side of the Leaning T working on some hot-blooded horses and a call came in to him. Mac Toovey needs someone to go out and put down some stock that’s been mauled by a bear. Doc asked if we could find you to go do it," Sheriff Kepler explains.

I frown as I glance at Pete. "I guess those cookies of yours will have to wait," I tell him.

"I’ll just drop Tawny home so she can get her pick up and go do that for Mr Toovey," Pete tells the sheriff.

"No need for Miss Tawny to drive out there by herself. I need to get photos of the injuries to the cattle to record it and pass it on to the wildlife rangers," Kepler says with a smile in my direction.

"It’s fine by me," I tell Pete.

"I’ve got your spare keys so I can put your shopping in your kitchen for you," Pete says with a slight smile.

I get out of Pete’s car careful not to touch the door handle with bare skin and get into the sheriff’s car. Kepler chats continually as he starts his vehicle moving and heads back towards town. We have to stop by the vet hospital so I can get the spare kit my uncle, veterinarian ‘Doc’ Caruthers, has in his office. I listen to what he knows of the bear mauling with interest. It turns out that the owner of the cattle hopes one of the mauled animals can be saved.

With the medical bag at my feet and the holster containing a high-powered pistol balanced on my lap we head for the place where the unfortunate rancher and his stock wait.

"We leave the vehicle here and go the rest of the way on foot," Kepler says as he pulls to the side of the road near where a man in overalls is waiting impatiently. I climb out of the vehicle and Mac Toovey rushes over to me immediately.

"Ah it’s you Miss Tawny. Is the Doc busy?" Mac asks worriedly.

"The Doc is busy until late this evening and he sent me out here. Show me where these cattle are and I’ll see what I can do," I tell him gently.

Mac takes the medical bag from me and heads towards a rough wooden enclosure.

"Ain’t a job for a woman, no sirree. Them cows are tore up something bad," Mac mumbles as I follow him across the rough ground. I can see five dark lumps in the knee-deep grass on the other side of the small loading pen and ramp. Three cows mill in one of the pens and I grimace as see that one of them is trailing intestines from a large hole torn low in her side. All three cows are heavy in calf and will probably calve in the next few days.

"These are the cows Doc put the purebred embryos in last summer. Only got three them left now. I can’t be affording to loose them calves," Mac tells me with tears in his eyes.

"Let me see what I can do," I say gently and study the three surviving cows closely. After a few minutes I can tell two of the cows can be saved while the third one is beyond help but maybe it’s not be too late for the calf she carries.

"You want me to shoot them Miss Tawny?" Kepler asks softly.

"No, I can sew up two of them. Give them antibiotics to fight infection, hopefully save them and the calves. The one with the torn stomach will have to be put down, but if I’m quick I should be able to save the calf." My voice is strained as I think of what is to come. It takes the three of us to put the two cows in the close confines of the crush where I can restrain them, take pictures with my digital camera and then tend to their injuries. I sew up the deepest of the claw marks and then give each cow injections to try to prevent infection. The last cow stands in the corner of the pen, her head hangs low and she is gasping for breath but she still has the strength to threaten to charge me as I cautiously climb into the pen with her to snap several photos. I know the heat of the day and the stressful work I have done has made me sweat and she can smell me. It is the scent of a large predator that alarms her.

"We ready?" I ask Mac and Kepler quietly. We have planned this carefully.

"Do what you must Miss Tawny," Mac says gravely. I know this is hard for him; I remember him telling my uncle and I how he had hand raised these cows as orphaned calves. The recoil of the gun kicks hard in my hand but I ignore it as I watch the cow fall.

"Knife!" I demand of Mac as I hand Kepler the pistol. Mac hands me the large knife I have taken from the medical bag and climbs into the pen as I squat beside the stomach of the cow. I plunge the knife deep into the stomach of the cow and cut making the entrails come out. Steam comes from the cut bathing my face in the smell of fresh blood and intestinal juices. My breath hisses out and I turn my face away as I struggle for control of my inner cat.

Saliva fills my mouth almost instantly and I have to continually swallow while I clench my jaw tightly as my inner cat scream in fury and fights to escape and feed on our kill. Another cut and a large organ can be seen; there is movement within it and I use the knife as carefully as possible. Tissue parts beneath the razor sharp blade and two legs spill from the incision along with the fluid that surrounds the unborn calf. I drop the knife; grab the two legs just above the small hooves and pull the weakly moving calf from its warm cocoon. I hurry to wipe mucus away from the nose and mouth of the calf, hoping it will breathe. When there is no movement of its ribs I grab it by the flanks and lift its hind quarts up to allow any fluid in its lungs to drain out its open mouth.

Mac begins rubbing the motionless chest roughly before reaching down and opening the mouth wide. The body jerks in my grip and a moist gasping sound comes from the calf; Mac rubs the calf’s chest again and another gasp follows. I lower the calf down once again and stand back as Mac works on the calf. I try breathing through my mouth but it does nothing to cut down on the enticing aromas that come from the carcass of the dead cow or the still wet calf. My mouth still waters from the smells and I swallow several times. There is a buzzing in my ears and darkness flickers at the edge of my vision as the cat within me swells.

This is my kill! I should be pulling still warm organs from the body and eating my fill of fresh liver or heart.

"Scuse me," I mutter and stumble away. I poke my head and shoulders through the gap between two rails in the fence and lean against the lower rail as I struggle to force myself under control. My stomach roils and I retch loosing what remains of my breakfast. Restraining myself and refusing a shape shift always makes me physically sick when I manage it.

"Here," Kepler holds a metal flask out to me and I straighten up slowly before taking it. The liqueur burns as I rinse my mouth out and spit before taking a few deep swallows and handing the flask back.

"Thanks, I needed that," I say quietly and watch as he returns the flask to Mac.

"This will be one fine bull calf," Mac tells us happily as he struggles to pick up the calf and carry it to the passenger door of the old battered pick-up he drives. In the trailer attached to the pick-up the two living cows move restlessly and he glances at them once he has the calf settled on the seat.

"You need to look at the dead ‘uns?" Mac asks as he looks towards the dark lumps in the field. I look towards the carcasses in the field with dread. The last thing I want is to be around the excess of freshly killed meat while my inner cat demands to be released but I must know if what I suspect is so.

"I need to check them out Mac. The injuries on those cattle in the yard didn’t look like dog or dingo mauling to me," I say softly. Mac purses his lips while he thinks about it for a few seconds before taking a rifle from the front of his truck and glancing towards the place Kepler stands still holding the pistol I used to put the cow down.

"Ok let’s do this then," Mac announces.

I head towards Kepler and force a tight smile as I stop near him, "We’re going to check out the dead cows." He hands me the pistol and we join Mac walking to the first of the dead cattle. The first thing I notice is how badly the animal was clawed up on the hind quarters and that the stomach had been torn open to leave a trail of intestines before it had fallen. I walk out wide around the carcass and head for then next one. Claw marks on the front shoulders and signs of a strangle hold on the throat accompany the strong acrid scent around it. I take my small camera out and take several pictures of the carcass, the scratched up grass on it and the areas that reek of urine the strongest.

"This one here got a horn in whatever killed it," Kepler calls from the first animal.

I hesitate for a few moments as I scan the surrounding field for any signs we are not alone, my senses on alert I return to the first carcass and move to stand near Kepler. There is shiny black hair on one short thick horn, the tip discoloured by dried blood. I take a close up picture.

I notice a clear paw print in the torn up ground and glance at both Mac and the sheriff, "Look there where the ground is all torn up. See the print?"

"Woo wee! Must be some big animal!" Mac whistles softly under his breath.

I catch the look Kepler sends me and I nod when he motions back towards the vehicles. I quickly snap pictures of the paw print before squatting near it to hold my hand over it to get an accurate impression of the size. I hold the camera awkwardly in one hand and snap a picture for comparison.

"I think we should get out of here," I announce. I can smell the individual scents of several different roving strays on this beast and I am terrified they are lurking close by watching us. Neither man objects so we walk back to the yards; Mac climbs into his truck and follows the sheriff and me as we go back to the sheriff's car.

"I’ll get you to email me a copy of those pictures if you don’t mind," Kepler tells me.

"I’ll do up an official report for you to pass on to the rangers if you like," I offer knowing it is expected.

"That would be good," Kepler says.

I glance at the two cows in Mac’s trailer as we pass him; he gives us a wave as we go by and then he is behind us as the sheriff picks up speed.

"Back to your place so you can clean up?" Kepler asks quietly. I look down at myself and grimace as I realise my shirt is plastered to the front of my body by blood and amniotic fluid from saving the calf for Mac.

"Yeah, I need a shower," I mutter.

"So have you and Pete Willoughby got something going?" Kepler asks. I glance at him and realise he is only about Pete’s age, not the middle aged person I had considered him.

"You could say that," I answer coolly allowing him to get the wrong impression. It’s a ploy I have used in the past three years since I turned eighteen and men have become more openly interested in me. The rest of the drive passes in silence and I realise Kepler is embarrassed to have indicated interest in a woman who he believes is seeing of one of his friends. I don’t attempt to encourage his former friendly manner; he’s a nice guy and I don’t want to encourage him when I have no real interest in men.

I am relieved when we reach my place and I get out of the car. Pete was at his place when we drove past and I know he will wait until either I phone him or take the cookies I promised to make to his place. I head straight for the shower stripping my dirty clothes off and putting them in a brown paper bag so I can burn them later. The smell from the beast I butchered to remove the calf from will be next to impossible to remove from the material and I have no wish to be reminded of the experience.

It is mid afternoon when I knock on Pete’s front door carrying a container of still warm cookies, my digital camera and the USB cord that connects it to a computer.

"I come bearing warm cookies," I say with a wide grin as Pete opens the door and sniffs with appreciation.

"Come in, come in. Here let me take the cookies," Pete says even as he reached for the large container. He scoops several cookies into one hand and puts his other arm around the container taking it from me, already chewing on a mouthful of cookie as he leads the way inside.

"I was wondering if I could use your computer and Internet for a few minutes. My computer has decided to be difficult and I need to send pictures and a report to Kepler. Oh and Pete … he might have the impression you and I are … involved," I say with a grimace.

"Where would he get that impression?" Pete asks surprised.

"I might have … err let him get the wrong idea when he asked if there was anything going on between us," I mutter acting slightly embarrassed.

Pete stops and looks at me with surprise. I know he can hear the nervous beat of my heart but he doesn’t realise that it is not the announcement I just made that has made me nervous.

"Shall I let you get to work at the computer?" Pete asks after a moment.

"That’d be great," I say with a smile.

I sit at the computer and upload the photos before Pete wanders over.

"Was it a bad dingo attack?" he asks with some interest. I bring up a picture that shows the paw print in the torn up ground.

"Someone has had an exotic big cat escape. It killed five full-grown cows and mauled three others. One had to be put down. This animal leaves prints too big for a cougar, way too big," I say quietly. It is only because I am a werecat I hear his heartbeat pick up pace and his sharply indrawn breath.

"How big?" He asks. I go through the pictures until I bring up the picture where I have my hand beside the print and it is no accident that I have allowed him to see the picture of the fur and blood on the horn of one of the dead cows. Pete growls deep and low in his throat. It is a sound a normal human wouldn’t hear but my sensitive hearing picks it up even though I don’t react in any way.

"I’ll let you do what you’re doing. Want a cup of coffee?" He asks.

"That would be wonderful," I answer and glance over my shoulder at him as he walks away. When Pete is in his kitchen making the coffee I hear him on his phone making a call. He thinks I can’t hear him as he talks to another werecat on the other end of the phone. I can hear both of them clearly even as I type up the report for Kepler and email it and the pictures to him.

"Want to stay for tea? I can throw a salad together and grill us some steaks," Pete offers from just behind me. I flinch from his voice startled I hadn’t heard him approach.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," Pete says quietly. He knows the story of my rape. Most people in the county do and put my dislike of physical contact down to that. I glance at him curiously. I know from eavesdropping on his phone call he’s expecting werecat visitors around that time and I have to wonder why he would want me around while they are here.

"Make mine a couple of burgers and it’s a deal," I say after a few moments pause. As much as instinct demands I avoid other werecats I am curious about them in general and the chance to ‘study’ some is too much to turn down.

"Burgers it is," Pete grins.

"Well if we’re having burgers I had better go have another shower, I swear I can still smell the cows blood on me." I mutter as I get to my feet.

"I’ll see if I can find us a movie we haven’t watched for a while for after tea," Pete says as I gather my camera and cord up.

"Make it an action movie," I say and head for the door. Pete follows me and I stop just inside the door to look back at him when I open it.

"You okay after that call out? Do you want me to come over and hang around until you’re ready to come back?" Pete asks.

"I’m fine Pete. It’s not as if some human psycho attacked those cows," I tell him gently. I see the fleeting concern deep in his eyes before he smiles at me and shrugs.

"I guess I’m taking your warning about what you said to Kepler too much to heart," Pete says quietly.

"I have your phone number if I get scared," I laugh easily and hesitate for a moment. "Maybe later … we can talk some." I leave it at that and head for my car. Behind me I hear Pete let out the breath he had sucked in at my announcement.

As I drive away I wonder if the roving strays that had killed the cattle were still around. Would they return to their kills? And if they did how would they react to my scent on the dead cow, my kill, in the yard?

In the few hours before I plan to return to Pete’s I worry about the fact there are werecats coming to visit. As scared as I am of werecats other than Pete, I am also very curious. As I understand that these are friends of Pete’s and belong to the same clan he does. I consider Pete my clan and as dangerous as it will be for me, I long to make friends with his friends.

I take a long time having my shower and taking care to use my scent masking secrets extra well: I don’t want to be discovered tonight. The fact remains I am what is termed a stray and I am living in clan territory without invitation, permission or their knowledge. If I am discovered I will be disciplined harshly and forced from my home if not killed immediately on detection. I have come across dead stray tomcats in my travels, cats that had been caught in a clan territory and executed for it. I am nearly ready to go visit with Pete when my mobile rings and I answer it with a smile.

"I’ll be there shortly Pete," I say before he speaks.

"I’m sorry to disturb you Tawny but I need your help. Something has gotten in with some vealers and mauled quite a few of them. I’ll be up all night attending to them if I can’t find some help." My Uncle’s voice takes the smile from my face.

"Tell me where you are and I’ll be there as soon as I can," I tell him resigned to a night of work instead of the socialising I had hoped. I listen carefully as he gives me instructions on where he is and how to get there as well as a list of things he wants me to collect on my way past the veterinary office. I hang up and change into a pair of shorts and a tank top and grab a pair of overalls for use while working on the cattle.

When I climb into my Ute I detour to Pete’s place first to let him know I won’t be there and hesitate at the sight of a strange van parked along side his car. I get out and walk to his front door and knock loudly. I hear Pete call out for me to come in but I shake my head and back up a step as I take a deep breath and smell the strong scents of two werecats I don’t know.

"Pete! I got a call out from Doc. I can’t stop. It sounds like an all nighter!" I call out to him. I hear footsteps approaching the door and move back nervously as I detect two sets. The door opens and Pete comes out followed closely by the largest tom I have ever seen. He has to duck his head slightly and move through the doorway slightly sideways. Pete takes several steps towards me but stops as I back nervously away. He is used to the way I shy away from contact and close proximity with men.

"Hey Tawny. This is Micah a good friend of mine. Micah this is my neighbour Tawny Caruthers." Pete calmly introduces his visitor recognising my unease and its cause.

"Hi Tawny," The softly spoken tones surprise me and I nod uncertainly at the speaker. Something about him strikes a chord in my memory and I struggle to place what it is, his face? His Scent? Or maybe it is the sound of his voice? His face is strong with well-defined features, his eyes a mixture of different shades of warm russet brown with gold flecks around the pupils. His lips are nearly too generous in his very masculine face and his hair is an unusual mixture of light brown streaked with gold and ginger highlights. I notice the way his nostrils flare with each breath and the animal like quality he has whenever he moves. I take a nervous step back from him and look at Pete before glancing back at Micah nervously.

"I need to go Pete. There’s been more maulings and Doc needs my help," I say softly knowing Micah and the tom out of sight not far from the front door can hear me clearly even though I speak softly.

"Please tell me you won’t be out in some dark field at night!" Pete says alarmed.

"I’m blonde not stupid," I scold Pete with a smile for his concern for me. "I have to get going Doc needs help." I force myself to turn my back on the giant behind Pete and walk the few steps to my car, jump behind the wheel and wave out the window as I speed off. I hear a conversation start behind me but can’t understand it as I speed down the road, concentrating on the road so I don’t think about the two visitors at Pete’s.

Within the hour I am busy helping my uncle. I am staggered by the sheer savagery that has gone into the attack on the herd of young cattle. Many are wounded, not many seriously but there are a few exceptions that keep my uncle busy while I tend to the simpler cases. It is nearly dawn when we turn the last beast into the yard with its companions; I grimace as I wipe my face on my upper sleeve. I can smell the blood I have smeared over my clothing and skin as well as the faint scent from the hide of the injured animals. Beneath this mixture I can detect faint traces of three roving strays as well as a faint smell of my own scent.

"Looks like that’s the last of them," My uncle says, his voice thick with exhaustion. I grimace as I brace my hands in the small of my back and arch my back backwards as I stretch stiff muscles. I long to be able to shape-shift at will and run in my favourite spot several miles back in one of the forests. I can picture the long soft grass along the banks of a sweet stream where I often fish for trout.

"I think I’ll head home. Even I can smell myself," I tell my uncle.

He laughs at me, "The number of times you sprayed that deodorant on yourself you should smell like daisies!"

I smile and shake my head at him. He made no complaints while I had worked along side him. I help him pack the equipment we had used into his truck before climbing into my vehicle and starting the drive home. I sit motionless in my vehicle for several minutes when I park outside my place. I am tired to the point of exhaustion and I haven’t eaten in the last twenty-three hours. I all but stagger out of my vehicle and frown as I hear the sounds of an unfamiliar vehicle turning into my driveway. I turn my head and watch as a van makes the two-mile drive towards my house. I frown as I recognise the van that had been parked outside Pete’s the evening before. Pete climbs out of the passenger seat when the van parks and I close my eyes as I lean my head on the roof of my vehicle.

"I thought I’d stop by on my way out," Pete tells me quietly. I hear the gravel crunching softly under his feet as he approaches me and I open my eyes as I lift my head wearily. He takes hold of my arm gently and leads me to my front door where he takes my keys and unlocks the door for me.

"Want me to come in and cook you a feed while you shower?" His voice is soft and gentle as if he knows how fragile I feel at the moment.

"Everything alright Pete?" Micah calls from the van and I start nervously. "We can wait for you if your neighbour needs a hand." I repress a smile as I realise he has been eavesdropping on our conversation. So I wasn’t the only one who tended to do that.

"Yeah …" My voice is faint, almost non-existent and I clear my throat before continuing, "Yeah, that would be appreciated. Your friends can come into the kitchen if they want."

I turn towards the stairs and stumble on the first one as I make my way towards my preferred bathroom. I listen to Pete call his friends inside and explain to them to stay in the kitchen so they don’t ‘freak’ me out. I smile as I strip my clothes off and drop them in a heap on the bathroom floor before stepping beneath the stream of water from the showerhead. The aroma of fresh coffee and bacon greet me as I come out of my bathroom nearly three quarters of an hour later. I hurry down the stairs and head towards the kitchen as I listen intently.

"She’s nearly here. You sure you smelt traces from four roving strays on her?" I don’t recognise the voice and frown angrily as I realise Pete had intentionally smelt me. Anger curls my top lip and I hesitate for a moment just out of sight as I bring my emotions under control. I feel the faint flutters of fear as I move to the door of the kitchen and glance around quickly. Pete looks my way as my sneakers squeak on the floor and he smiles fondly at me as he holds up one of the cookies I had made the day before.

"I found your secret stash," Pete grins charmingly. I glance pointedly at his friends then back at him.

"Tawny I haven’t introduced you to my brother Steven yet have I? Remember you met Micah briefly last night?" Pete says around a mouthful of cookie.

"Hi," I manage before I head for the food I can smell waiting for me in the oven.

"Where’s my bacon! I smelt bacon!" I exclaim when I see only scrambled eggs on the plate.

"I got hungry waiting for you," Pete explains with a smile. I ignore him as I seat myself at the table choosing the end away from Micah and Steven. I chew on a mouthful of eggs and sigh as I bite into onion and something else spicy. I spare a glance for Pete before resuming shovelling the food into my mouth.

"Did you eat last night?" Pete suddenly demands, "Cause I know you skipped lunch."

"I was too busy," I mutter as I remember how my stomach had grumbled at the smell of warm fresh blood for most of the night. Suddenly I push the plate of eggs aside as I crave warm red meat still flowing with blood. I close my eyes in an attempt to control myself.

"Tawny?" Pete’s voice reaches me and I realise he has been trying to speak to me.

"Sorry but I been awake over twenty-four hours straight," I mutter as I open my eyes and glance his way.

"We should leave and let Tawny get some sleep," Micah says in his soft deep voice. I glance his way and give him a faint smile. I could get to like this tom pretty quickly.

"Yeah," Pete agrees reluctantly. "I’ll see you this afternoon. I owe you tea if I remember rightly."

"Maybe," I say with a quick uncomfortable glance towards Steven and Micah. Pete understands me and gives a quick nod. He knows me too well to push me and make me feel uncomfortable.

"See you later then," Pete says lightly.

"Nice meeting you," Steven says as he heads for the door. I glance at Micah and he nods at me with a smile. I feel my cheeks burn and I turn away with a start as I realise I am blushing. I sneak a glance his way and catch him watching me with a pleased look on his face. I duck my head using my hair as a curtain to hide my face. I listen to them leave the house and make their way to their vehicle.

"You didn’t tell us your neighbour is such a dish," Steven says once he thinks they are out of hearing. I hear a low growl I recognise as coming from Pete and then the solid thud of flesh meeting flesh.

"What was that for?" Steven demands in a soft hiss.

"Work it out for yourself or do you want me to hit you again?" Micah asks in a no-nonsense tone. I listen until they drive away then return to forcing the now cold scrambled eggs down my throat. I know I must eat before sleeping and when the plate is empty I place it in the sink and head for my bedroom.

The pounding on my front door wakes me and I lift my head groggily. I frown as I concentrate then smile as I recognise the faint muttering as coming from Pete.

"Coming!" I call loudly even though I know he would be able to hear me if I spoke in normal tones. I glance at my bedside clock as I stand and stretch. I am surprised to find that I have slept the day away and it is now nearing dusk. I take a precautionary sniff of myself, decide I don’t smell and head down stairs towards the front door. Pete knocks loudly once again and I grimace as the sound assaults my sensitive ears.

"Okay! Don’t knock the door down!" I yell as I reach the entry hall and take the last few steps to jerk open the front door.

"Hey there, didn’t wake you did I?" Pete asks as he walks by me and into the house. I frown as I realise he is checking my house for any one else than me, and I freeze as I realise he is checking for any signs of werecats as I hear him sniffing the air.

"We’re going to have an early tea and head off to one of the nightclubs later. I thought you might appreciate someone else cooking you a meal..." Pete says as he turns to smile using all his charm on me.

"Who are we?" I ask guardedly.

"Steven, Micah and me," Pete says loosing his smile as he senses my hesitancy.

"If I ask you a question you’d keep it to yourself?" I ask as I glance down at my bare feet.

"You’d want an answer wouldn’t you?" Pete smiles and I realise he’ll repeat his juicy piece of gossip if I ask him my question.

"Forget it," I say turning away.

"Would it make any difference if I was to let it slip that Micah asked if you were involved with someone?" I shoot Pete a startled look and Pete nods solemnly, "I put him straight on a few things. Privately of course,"

I blink not sure what to make of this remark, I give a ladylike snort then head towards the kitchen and my daily herbal drink.

"Not all of us are like that bastard," Pete mutters softly. I slam the kitchen cupboard when I retrieve a pack of cereal and ignore Pete as he follows me around the kitchen. I grab a two bowls and place them on the table, pour myself a plate of cereal and sit down to eat it without milk. Pete sits down opposite me and begins to pick pieces out of the cereal box and eat it without using the bowl I had placed on the table for him. I grab the box from him and pour some cereal into his bowl.

"Don’t pick the fruit and nuts out of it!" I snap before turning my attention back to my food.

"He’s not seeing anyone," Pete mutters as if to himself. I stop eating to glare at Pete but he avoids my gaze and I turn my attention back to my food.

"If you want to miss out on a good feed and some good company then that’s your choice," Pete snaps as he gets to his feet and heads for the front door. I listen to him rev his vehicle harshly as he leaves and I regret he is angry with me. I push my nearly empty bowl back, place both elbows on the table and lower my head into my hands.

Not all of us are like that bastard

The words whirl around in my head as I see a large black feline face that horrifyingly transforms into a man, his large form moves over me and then comes the pain that threatens to tear me in two starts. I scream in pain as I erupt from my chair sending it crashing over backwards. Pain lances through my body and mind as I fight to remember that it is a flashback. It’s not the real thing. When I finally stop shuddering I find I am huddled in the small space between the fridge and the cupboard. I am shaking and tears are running down my face as I gasp trying to catch my breath. My throat hurts and I realise I have been screaming.

I crawl up stairs to my bedroom and climb onto my bed where I curl up and close my eyes. I drift in and out of sleep for a while and when I do awake up after a short nap I feel much better. I indulge in the luxury of a deep warm bath before heading down stairs to clean up the kitchen, I head out onto the side veranda to relax in a chair but the aroma of cooking meat on the breeze makes my stomach growl reminding me I haven’t had a decent feed. I lift my head slightly to sniff the enticing aroma on the breeze and get a good whiff of Pete and his friends. I groan as my body shifts to full alert and head back inside in annoyance. I find my body lotion and apply it thickly.

The phone rings and I glance at the display screen, recognising Pete’s number I groan but ignore the phone as it continues to ring. Ten minutes and nearly as many changes of outfits and I am ready to leave the house as my mobile rings yet again. I flick it open and hold it to my ear without speaking.

"Hey Tawny. Am I forgiven?" Pete asks quietly.

"No but I still like ya anyway," I tell him with a sigh.

"Come on over and have a few drinks. Things will look better after that." Pete tells me before offering. "I’ll even make sure Micah keeps his distance,"

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"You’ll be ready to make him back off if I can’t handle it?" I ask as I shiver nervously. I’m sure I can hear someone in the background as Pete takes a deep breath.

"I promise I will," Pete says evenly. This time I am sure I hear an angry hiss before I hang up without a further word. Even as I realise I have just put Pete in a very uncomfortable position. My fear lessens as I reach for my keys with a shaking hand.

The drive to Pete’s passes too quickly and I find myself climbing out of my vehicle with butterflies the size of elephants in my stomach. I make it to his front door and actually turn away before I get a hold on my emotions before I turn back to the door and knock before I can change my mind. I recognise Pete’s footsteps as he approaches the door and have a nervous smile ready when he opens it.

"I made it," I say quietly as my smile wavers.

"Tawny. We’re the good guys okay," Pete tells me softly and I nod my understanding. I walk past him into his house and then step back against the wall and wait for him to lead the way out to the back deck where I know the outdoor grill is.

"Tawny has decided to join us," Pete announces for my benefit as I follow him outside. Steven is already making a burger from the cooked meat and turns to send me a grin but it is Micah who is tending the meat on the grill who has my attention.

"How do you like your meat?" Micah asks without looking at me.

Freshly killed and still running blood

"Medium rare and slightly charred," I say cutting off my errant thoughts.

"Steak, burger patty, or sausage?" Micah inquirers.

"A nice thick steak if there’s any, or just regular steak," I answer as my nerves calm down with the seemingly ordinary conversation.

"There’s a regular one here just about ready. Want fried onions with it?" Micah asks as he adds a couple more steaks to the grill.

"Hey! That’s supposed to be mine!" Pete protests as he eyes the meat on the grill. I catch the low-pitched growl that comes from Micah warning Pete and I take a step towards Micah unfazed. A human wouldn’t hear the growl and I know I need to act like a human. I study the steak on the grill and shake my head.

"Looks too cooked for me. I can wait for one of the others," The smile I send Micah is wobbly with uncertainty. Micah glances sideways at me and quickly tosses the steak in question onto a plate before he passes it to Pete without a word.

"You’re looking much brighter this evening," Micah comments softly.

"Getting the chance to sleep can do that for me," I answer and glance at his face. He meets my eyes and I see the anger buried deep in his eyes. Instinctively I understand it is not at me but rather for me and I drop my gaze quickly.

The aromas coming from the grill make my mouth water and I reach for a plate. I heap fried onions on the plate and study the steak for a few moments. They really need another few minutes but I can feel my inner cat demanding to be released; maybe nearly raw meat will pacify her for a little longer. I know I will shape-shift before the night is out. I can tell I will loose control and shape-shift involuntarily from stress.

"See something you like?" Micah’s voice is pitched low and if Pete and Steven were human they wouldn’t have heard him.

"That thick piece of steak nearest me," I pitch my voice low as well but hold his gaze as he watches me. A faint smile curves his lips and reaches his eyes as he picks the piece of steak up in the tongs and places it on the plate before putting a mixed selection on his own plate. I take my plate and retreat to a single deck chair near where Pete is sitting before I sit down and tuck my legs beneath the chair. Micah moves to stand behind me on the other side and I freeze for a few moments before turning my head to glance at his feet nervously. After a moment I turn my attention back to my food cutting all of the steak into tiny pieces and close my eyes in satisfaction as the warm juices from the piece of steak ooze across my tongue.

There is silence while we eat, broken only by the soft sound of music coming from the radio inside. A large hand appears over my shoulder to take my empty plate and I am surprised by the fact Micah hasn’t scared me with his silent movements.

"Will you have bourbon as well Tawny?" Pete asks on his way past me to the kitchen.

"Going on the call outs the past day I’d better not," I say regretfully. "I might need to be able to drive to another vet job."

"I’m putting a movie on. Who wants to watch it?" Steven calls from inside.

"What are you putting on?" Micah asks from the kitchen. I lean back and close my eyes enjoying the last of the cool evening breeze. I can hear the muted conversation inside but ignore it as I feel the tension slowly draining from my body. Maybe I won’t loose control and change after all. The faint scrape of a chair near mine makes me open my eyes lazily and I turn my head to see Micah settling into the chair he has placed near mine. He hands me a can of coke and stretches out comfortably in his chair as he sips his beer. The silence between us is soothing on my nerves and I close my eyes before leaning my head back against the back of the chair.

"Looks like it’s going to be a full moon tonight," Micah says softly.

"Full moon was last night but it’ll be bright tonight since there isn’t much cloud around," I correct him without opening my eyes. My phone vibrates silently in my pocket, I get it out and check the text message I have received.

On a call out to foaling difficulties, phone diverted to your mobile.

I take a deep breath surprisingly disappointed that I will have to answer any calls.

"Problem?" Micah asks.

"Just got put on emergency calls by the vet," I answer quietly.

"Pete told us there’s been some trouble," Micah said. I recognise his gentle probe for information and realise this is why Pete invited me over. Not because Micah was interested in me but because I had first hand information on the ‘maulings’.

"Yeah. Shit happens and rich arseholes that get exotic pets and don’t house them securely cause it," I say bitterly.

"Exotic pets?" Micah questions gently.

"Yeah exotic pets as in possibly a couple of African lions or some huge tigers," I answer tightly.

"Shit!" If my hearing weren’t so acute I would have believed the stunned disbelief in his voice but I also catch the forced note to his remark.

"Can we change the subject? I’ve had enough of looking at the results to last me a life time." I say.

"That bad?" This time his gentle tone is believable to my ears and I nod. I open my can of drink and take several swallows and try to ignore the fact that the can smells like Micah. I glance down at the can and push the pull-tab down flat before glancing at Micah where he is sitting near me silently. I can see his face clearly in the moonlight and he is watching me.

"How long have you lived around here?" He asks with interest.

"For as long as I can remember," I answer softly. I am enjoying the quietness of the night and hate disrupting it. We sit there in silence for a good ten minutes and I shift in my chair stretching my legs out in front of me comfortably. I feel something nudge my left shoe and glance down to see I have placed my feet beside Micah’s feet. He moves his right shoe touching mine lightly as if he has just discovered this too. I glance at his face startled and he meets my eyes as I feel his shoe settle against mine. He raises his beer and takes several mouthfuls before meeting my eyes once again. I feel myself shudder as I look away and take a deep breath.

"I don’t mind if you don’t," he says quietly. I control the urge to pull my feet away from his and give a jerky nod.

"Pete explained you don’t like people in your personal space," Micah says lightly. I give a nod but leave my feet where they are. The longer I do this the easier it is. My heartbeat is loud in my ears and I close my eyes as I concentrate on keeping my breathing steady.

"So you’re a qualified vet?" Micah asks.

."No," My reply comes quickly and I swallow uneasily, "I’m a vet nurse. Doc Caruthers type of took me in when I was younger. I learnt a lot watching him work."

Yeah a heck of a lot I muse. Like certain substances cut through the natural scent of an animal and others help mask scents. Some, like chlorophyll, hide smells nearly completely.

"So you help him out," Micah guesses.

"He pays me a decent wage and I’m putting myself through college part time," I say smoothly.

"So there is a method to your madness?" Micah jokes lightly, "You must get paid well for helping with his work." I turn my head and listen as Steven and Pete yell loudly with excitement in the house and Micah laughs pulling my gaze to him abruptly. He glances my way as if he feels my eyes on him and the corners of his mouth lift in a smile.

"I guess the movie is getting to the good parts," He explains and glances towards the door as if in explanation.

"Must be," I agree and look away from him.

"You want another drink?" Micah asks as he gets to his feet.

I realise my can is empty but I shake my head, "I’m all right thanks."

"I’ll be back in a few moments," he tells me before heading inside. I get to my feet and move to where I can look out at the land between Pete’s house and mine. I’m still standing there when Micah returns and I hear him move to stand beside me.

"Your house is out that way isn’t it?"

"I’m sure you know that," I tell him bluntly.

"Yeah I do," He admits as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His upper arm brushes my shoulder and I gasp in surprise as I jerk away instinctively. I raise a shaking hand to my face and brush my hair back from my cheeks nervously. I take several deep breaths and close my eyes for a few moments before moving to sit on the bench seat near by.

"Mind if I sit there too?" Micah asks.

"Just give me a bit of room," I tell him nervously. When he has settled himself comfortably not far from me I glance towards him cautiously, "What type of work you in?"

I hear him grit his teeth for a few moments, "Security," he finally offers.

Shit! A warrior!

I am suddenly aware that he and Steve are what are called ‘warriors’ in the werecat community and this means they are like police or military police. They chase strays out of clan territory and handle problems like the livestock maulings, anything that may bring their existence to human attention.

I listen as he sips his beer and turn my head enough to glance at him from the corner of my eye. He seems totally relaxed even though I can smell the tension coming from him. It seems my question wasn’t appreciated. We sit in silence while he finishes his drink and I take a deep breath to breath in his scent concentrating on remembering it.

"I’m heading home. I want to get some sleep," I tell him as I sit up straight and arch my back prior to standing. Micah stands up smoothly and turns to hold one hand out towards me. I eye it nervously for a few seconds before reaching out with a trembling hand. His grip is gentle but firm and I allow him to keep hold of my hand once I am standing.

"I’ll walk you to your car," I hesitate a moment when Micah takes a step towards the door, he stops and looks back at me.

"You’ll tell Pete I said see him later?" I ask uncertainly.

"If that’s what you want," Micah assures me as his thumb rubs the back of my hand while there is a subtle new tone to his voice. I swallow suddenly sure of what I want to happen between us. I take one hesitant step towards the path that leads around the outside of the house and pull my hand free. I keep sneaking glances at Micah as he follows me. When I reach my pick-up I turn and face him. I look away suddenly scared as he stops in front of me. I know he can smell my fear and I take a shaky breath as I try to calm down.

"What do you want?" Micah asks as he places a large hand each side of my shoulders and leans against my car effectively caging me without touching me.

"Jus …just a kiss," my answer is whisper quiet but Micah evidently hears me and leans in close. Only his lips touch me as they brush against mine softly. I close my eyes and exhale shakily as I allow my mouth to open slightly. My breath catches in my throat and my heart begins racing wildly as his tongue slips between my lips. He lifts his head for a moment breaking contact between our lips and I give a soft sigh of disappointment. His hands cup my face and then he is kissing me, his lips hard as his tongue plunges into my mouth. I break free with a jerk my chest heaving as I gulp deep breaths of cool night air. I push against his chest and he stumbles back a step as shocked as I am by our kiss.

I am terrified by how badly my cat wants this tom and I rush to get in my vehicle slamming the door and smashing the door lock on. I know this won’t stop him if he decides to come after me but I need the barrier as I scramble to get my keys and put them in the ignition. I see Micah standing where I left him as I speed off. I rush to put the headlights on and steer shakily for home. White-hot heat shoots up my backbone and I grit my teeth as I fight to stay in human form. I am forced to pull the vehicle to the side of the road near my driveway entrance as my body shudders and shakes uncontrollably.

"Not yet!" I sob to myself as I squeeze my eyes closed tightly and try to remain human. Left with no option I pull back onto the road while I am temporarily in control and drive past my turn. I am heading for the nearest forest reserve that is in the opposite direction to where the roving stray werecats have been attacking. I feel like I am being burnt alive during the seemingly endless drive and when I reach my destination I open my door and fall from my vehicle onto my hands and knees. I struggle to pull my clothes off as I grit my teeth against the searing agony raging through my body. I barely get my jeans and shirt off before my body shape-shifts ruining my underwear and shoes. I snarl and race for the shadows beneath the trees.

I feel the smooth play of muscles in my shoulders as I race through the trees. I hear the sounds of nature around me and slow to listen more closely to the rustle and scurry of night creatures. I slow to a walk and head for the stream I know is at the bottom of the small hill. The water is cold and clear as I lap to drink my fill. A memory niggles at the back of my mind and I lift my head while water dribbles down my chin to drip back onto the surface of the stream. With my thirst satisfied I look around for food to replace the energy I used changing forms.

Memories of the mauled cows, not being able to feed from my own kill rush into my mind. There are other cats in my territory! Interlopers who are threatening to expose my existence. I roar my fury and turn my head towards the west and the country there. I set off at a trot the only thought was to see these intruders and chase them off.

I move swiftly across country, my body is hard and toned from the life I lead on both two feet and four. As a human I keep busy in an attempt to keep from dwelling on this cruel twist fate has dealt me. While in cat form I am generally on the run from male clan cats and strays alike. As I travel I pause every now and then to listen for any sounds bore on the night air. As I listen I lift my head and sniff the air currents searching for any clues to what lies ahead of me. I move in wide arcs as I trot at a good pace, my passing is silent from long habit and I avoid moving out of the shadows into clear spaces.

My ears pick up what is ahead before my nose and I smother a growl deep in my throat as I identify the sounds of a fight. Angry with the trespassers on my territory I race forward looking for the source of the noise. I reach the top of a small rise and look down into the field below. An angry snarl rises in my throat as I see the cause of the noise I followed here. There is a group of werecats fighting in the clearing. I count seven as my keen eyesight follows the fight.

One werecat breaks from the group and runs for the trees on the far side of the field but a large black form races after him pulling him down before he reaches the shelter of the trees. There is a brief struggle before the larger werecat stands over his defeated foe and roars in victory. This display of savagery makes me tremble and crouch close to the ground melting totally into the shadows as I narrow my eyes to lessen the chance of moonlight reflecting in them. I slink closer to the edge of the trees on my belly and settle down motionless as I watch the fight continue. One more werecat is killed then the remaining cats move around each other rubbing against their companions. Several are licking themselves as if they are wounded.

Commonsense keeps me hidden as the group of werecats move to a small dam and drink from the water there. I tremble as I watch the cats playing in the water. I stay hidden even though I long to join in the fun they appear to be having. When they move off over an hour later I shadow them as they move towards a larger field on the far side of the dam. I watch in horror as they begin stalking three large Brahman bulls standing dozing at the far end of the field. The largest bull, a big red behemoth known as Red Devil by his owners, swings around to face the advancing werecats. He lowers his head and moves it from side to side menacingly.

The werecats rush forward as one, descending on Red Devil. I watch as he staggers then bellows his rage as many claws slash at his hide. He has his head lowered and I hear a werecat scream as the bull plunges forward and grinds his head against the ground. The scream is cut short and I watch as the bull goes down beneath the combined weight of the werecats. Unwilling to stay any longer and watch the carnage I turn to slink back the way I came.

As I turn a slight movement catches my eye and I crouch once again as I search for what moved. After a few moments I make out three black forms crouched watching from the far tree line. I creep along the ground on my stomach and once out of sight of both groups of werecats I break into a lope as I head for my vehicle. I miss my stride and tumble into an undignified heap as a loud roar comes from behind me. I get to my feet hurriedly and shake the leaves and twigs from my pelt before heading off as fast as I can go.

I wake the next morning feeling irritable as soon as I open my eyes then frown at the corner where two walls meet the ceiling as I stretch while still lying down. I take a deep breath and groan as my sensitive nose picks up my own personal scent.

"Great! I should have known!" I head for the shower and work my magic with my daily routine. Only today a faint undertone similar to the spice cinnamon lingers. I head downstairs and slip some frozen prepared cinnamon rolls into the oven. While I wait for them to cook I take a double dose of my special drink.

"Why now?" I complain to myself as I sniff once again to check my scent. Yes, it’s definitely there. I am coming into oestrous. In simple terms I am coming into heat and my smell will attract every mature tom within a ten-mile radius. This I do not want to do. A quick phone call to my uncle with some vague excuse of a college lecture I must catch frees me from work for a week. As I eat my make shift breakfast I am thinking of where to go. The only other time I came into heat I camped out in a national park for the week.

The phone call to Pete letting him know I am going away and asking him to watch my place for me is much harder and I grimace as I hear Micah asking questions softly in the background, questions that Pete asks me. It seems Micah had been hoping to see me again today. I pack several changes of clothes, enough dried food for a week as well as my tent and several heavy blankets. I can’t rely on changing into cat form to hunt or keep warm so I pack as if I am a human. Chances are I’ll shape-shift but I don’t rely on that.

The drive to the national park I plan to camp in seems to take forever as I become slightly feverish and find it difficult sitting in the car to drive. The place I pick is well back beyond where people prefer to camp and there is no signs of humans around as I get out of my vehicle. By the time I have set my camp up it is mid afternoon and I dismiss the idea of lunch. I am in no mood to eat and instead I gear up for a hike in the forest. I follow an animal track to a small pond several miles from my campsite and I settle myself on a small rocky shelf where I sit gazing out over the water.

It is getting late when I pick up my backpack and head back towards my camp. I take time on my way to stop and pick juicy blackberries that grow wild in the woods. The surrounding area is lush with new growth and I glimpse several feral goats as I pause looking westward. At my campsite I quickly make a meal for myself knowing I’ll need the energy to keep warm tonight. I clean up and hang my food high in a tree out of reach of any four footed predators before rolling my sleeping bag out for the night.

"Miss Pretty Kitty Cat has decided to go for a walk on the wild side has she?" The masculine voice startles me and I spin around to face the intruder to my campsite. He steps out of the shadows into the moonlight that filters through the trees and I can smell him from where I stand in front of my tent. He is taller than me by several inches and outweighs me by a good forty pounds. The strong stench of male werecat comes from him and I wrinkle my nose in nervous distaste.

"Go and leave me alone Jasper!" I hiss angrily.

He lifts his chin slightly and makes a big deal out of sniffing the air. "I don’t think so. You smell real good …" His voice breaks off as he makes a grab for me but I am off and running even as his fingers brush my upper arm. I under estimate how fast he is and I hit the ground heavily as he tackles me from behind. The breath whooshes from my lungs and I gasp as I begin to struggle.

"Finders keepers," he says in a singsong voice and pins me to the ground beneath him.

"I’m not ready yet!" I protest as he tries to reach beneath my stomach to unfasten my jeans.

"That just means I’ll have fun for longer," he chuckles as he manages to locate the brass button above my zipper.

"Just wait until the morning!" I beg as he fumbles with the zipper.

"No, I’m having you now and if you fight me then it’ll be just that bit more painful for you. I want to hear you scream when I lockup in you," he mutters against my ear, his breath hot and heavy already. I stop struggling knowing he is right and it will be easier on me if I allow him to mate with me without fighting him.

I feel the zipper go down and then he is struggling to push my jeans down without letting go of me. He quickly grows impatient and reaches for the knife he always carries. He flips me over onto my back and slips the blade under the fabric at the bottom of the zipper and I hear the material tear as he jerks the blade. Another quick motion and he flips me back onto my stomach.

I grunt as he jerks me onto my knees roughly and forces my face against the ground. I feel something hard probe the opening of my passage and then he surges forward with a rough thrust. I give a soft cry as he slams into me as deep as he can go before he almost withdraws completely only to plunge into me with a hard thrust once more. He grasps my hips firmly and pulls me back against him hard. I feel him throbbing and swelling within me and whimper in pain. He almost pulls out of my body before lunging forward again and I squeal with pain as the growing swelling at the base of his penis is forced past the opening of my passage. He attempts to withdraw once again but the swelling is now too large to be pulled past my opening and I cry out in pain as his jerk drags me backwards. Jasper laughs and moves as much as he can as he attempts to thrust into me and withdraw repeatedly. I sob with pain as his swollen penis stretches my passage. I bear down struggling to expel his intrusion, I feel him throb and waves of pain flood my loins.

I can’t understand this locking up aspect of mating, we are felines not canines and as such theoretically what is happening should not happen. I have often wondered if it is some werecat adaptation to aide in conception. After a few moments he stops checking to see if he can pull free and is content to curve against my back and rest against me as his penis throbs within me rhythmically making me cry out with pain with each throb.

Nearly an hour later I feel his penis begin to slide out of my passage slightly and I bear down against his intrusion and with a burst of pain I manage to expel him. I collapse onto my stomach whimpering with pain. I would try to run away but the muscles in my inner thighs are quivering from the pain and I can only lie there and wait until Jasper decides he wants to mate with me again. I wish I was in cat form, I know I would be able to outrun him and escape but my inner cat is content even if he has hurt me. She knows she will want to mate very shortly and she has no intentions of escaping her source of satisfaction.