Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Tamara

   By Timberwolf

   Mg, shape-shifting, violence.

   This story is dedicated to one of my favourite female stars, Tamara
Jade, otherwise known as Zoey Kush.  The character of Tamara is loosely
based on her.    This story is different from my usual fare.  This time,
there's more story than sex content.  I wanted to concentrate on the
characters and storyline this time, as an experiment.  If that bothers you,
sorry about that, but please have a read anyway.  I hope you will still
keep an eye on my FTP and read further stories of mine.    The usual
disclaimers apply.  If you are too young to be reading this material, go
away.

   The Author does not condone child abuse in any form.    Feedback is
always welcome!  You can send it to: ptotrcw@gmail.com

     Chapter One

     I was in trouble.  I had writer's block, and it was driving me up the
friggin' wall.  I was trying to put a scene together between a well-hung
pirate lord and his busty aristocratic female prisoner, but every line I
wrote was pure crap.  Nothing worked, and it was, to be honest, utter
drivel.  I had to get away, I decided, get my head on straight, so I made a
call to my editor, and told her I was close to burn out, and needed some
time away.  She told me rather crossly that the next chapter was due in a
couple of weeks, and to get my ass in order, and come up with it soon or
she'd have to ask for the advance back that she'd already paid me.  I told
her I'd work on it, and it would get it done in time.    I put the phone
down, and swore.  Uptight friggin' bitch!  Peggy was in her fifties, she
had a Captain Bligh complex, and she terrorized everyone who worked for
her. She intimidated me; I have to admit, and I cursed the day I'd gotten a
sweet-voiced call from her, offering me a spot on her writing team.  She
ran a small publishing house, and it was popular with the supermarket
trashy-novel collectors.  I was the only male in the team of writers, the
rest being frumpy overweight female geeks and nerds, who had a superiority
complex against most, if not all, males.  I had seven books published, and
was working on my eighth, and I was in danger of just smashing and burning
the damn computer because my dialogue didn't work.    So I packed my Bug
Out Bag, put my laptop, power cords and external hard-drive into my
off-roader, made sure everything was in order and locked up, then drove
off, looking forward to spending some alone-time in my cabin in the
mountains.  From what I'd been paid in royalties from the book sales, I had
been able to buy an old run-down cabin, and had rebuilt it, so now I could
get away, and spend some quality time relaxing, and writing down new ideas
in relative peace and quiet.    It was a four- hour drive to the cabin, and
was just going on dark when I got there.  I went into the shed out back,
powered up the small generator in there, checked the firewood pile, and as
the genny hummed and ran happily, I turned on the lights and put a small
fire together in the fireplace.  Although it wasn't cold yet, the crackling
flames gave me a measure of comfort.  The logs hissed and spit, the resin
from the pine logs boiling and catching into small blue flame.    I made a
meal, banked the fire, and made ready for bed.  Looking out the window,
hearing the crickets sing and the night animals move around as they did
whatever it was that they were doing, I felt at peace for the first time in
many months.  Satisfied that everything was peaceful and secure, I went to
bed.    I awoke to a gloriously sunny day, and I felt refreshed, and was
raring to get started on my recalcitrant chapter.  Good intentions do not
make for good dialogue, however.  I was still stumped, and I found that
three hours had gone by, without a single word being written by me.  I
couldn't move away from my computer, knowing the words were there, but,
being unable to put them down, they'd slip away, and tease me with their
absence.  I got up, finally, and was this close to admitting defeat.  I
needed a coffee to kick start my grey cells, and although I had running
water, being pumped up to the cabin from a spring not far away, I took a
bucket down to the spring instead, and as I was crouching down, scooping
the bucket into the clear cold water, I heard a girlish giggle, and caught
a flash of movement to my right.    Then a girl, looking probably about ten
or eleven stepped out of the brush, and stood there, studying me.  She was
about five feet tall, or thereabouts, with long black hair with auburn
highlights, she was skinny and gangly, with knobbly knees, prominent hip
bones, and her breasts were small, making her look flat-chested.  Don't ask
me why I looked for them, I just did.  I'm a male, sue me.  She was wearing
a threadbare check shirt, and cut-off denim shorts.  There was a scrape on
her left knee, and her thin legs were tanned all the way up to her thin
labia, which were covered with a pair of white cotton panties.  I could see
her dark pubic hair poking out the side of the panties, and I went red. 
The gusset of the cut-off jean shorts were hanging down, and I could see
her crease, as she stood almost sideways to me, one hand on her hip, the
other behind her head, as if posing for me.    The girl had a cheeky grin,
and her grey eyes danced with the fun she was having, reducing a grown man
in his early forties to a gaping teenage kid.  She was wearing glasses, and
when she smiled a wide smile, I saw that she had some teeth pointing in
different directions.  Her parents should put her in braces, I thought to
myself, and I slowly stood not wanting to frighten her off, not noticing
right away that I had grown a boner while I was watching her watch me.  Her
grin got bigger, and she stared openly at my crotch, looking like she'd won
the lottery.    "He's big, mister!  Can I see him?" she said finally, and
then I felt the pressure of my hard-on.  I went red, again!  Then I turned
away from her, and gruffly told her, no!  Then I walked back to my cabin,
spraddle-legged, sloshing water on my pants leg.  My erect member was in a
difficult position, and I had to stop and rearrange myself, and I heard her
girlish giggles as she watched me in my distress.  I made it to the cabin,
grumping and growling, then went into the kitchen and made a coffee, my
erection gone soft finally.  When I turned around, the young girl was
standing in the doorway, and she looked around and she told me she'd often
come up here, and look in the window, wondering who it belonged to.  She
said she knew it was mine now, because my smell was the same.  My smell?   
She wanted to know if she could look around, meaning she wanted to come
inside and explore so I gave her permission.  I didn't feel any bad vibes
from her, just a curiosity for new experiences.  She wandered through the
cabin, silent as a ghost, then I heard the shower going, so I sat up,
wondering if the cheeky wench was having a shower, and I was getting up to
investigate, when the water stopped, and she was back, telling me that my
shower had better pressure than hers, which was cold and slow.    I got up,
and picking up my cigarettes, went outside for a smoke.  I would sometimes
smoke inside, but as it was a fine warm day, I felt the need for the sun on
my face.  So I sat on the steps, and soaked up the rays.  The girl didn't
come out, but I felt her presence by my computer.  She was reading what was
there on the computer screen, saying the words under her breath.  I
finished my smoke, and went back inside, and as I sat down, she stood
behind me and put her hands on my shoulders, and instead of being put off
by it, I actually felt warmed by her closeness.    "That's crap," she said,
breaking the silence, pointing at the screen.  "Thanks for your literary
criticism," I growled.  "I know its crap!  What do you suggest?" "Well,"
she said, "the woman is his prisoner, and he's got a big dick, too big if
you ask me, and her `heaving bosom' is too big as well, and it's just not
real!  Why is she hankering for his cock if she's an inexperienced virgin,
and in such a state?" I groaned, and knowing she'd got to the root of the
problem that had plagued me, and I snapped, "I know it's not real!  They're
just characters in a book, but I'm trying, dammit, to make it real, but I
can't seem to!  This is shit bought by fat-assed coffee swilling frustrated
housefrau's who wouldn't know a good book if one jumped out at them, and
bit their asses!"   The girl went silent, then gave my tense shoulders a
squeeze, and continued to do so, turning the motions into a shoulder rub.
She said quietly, "Try this." Then she began to talk softly, her voice
almost hypnotic, and sentence after sentence flowed into the air, seeping
into my imagination.  I typed furiously, trying to keep up with her as she
dictated the storyline.  Sentences turned into paragraphs, and then,
suddenly, I had two whole pages on the screen!  I'd noticed she'd gone
quiet.  When, I didn't know, I had just kept on typing.  So I went through
it, line by line, and corrected all the grammatical and spelling mistakes.
Then I started again, reading it word for word.    I was astounded!  It
worked!  Finally!  The words meshed and flowed into each other.  I felt
elated, my writer's block demolished by this wisp of a girl, my new muse. I
sat there gasping, feeling like I'd just ran a sprint, and I needed another
ciggie and a coffee bad.

   I asked her if she was thirsty, she said yes, so I made her a weak
coffee, which she accepted, and together we went out to the steps again,
and as I lit up, she asked if she could have a smoke, too?  I told her she
was too young to smoke, so she told me defensively that she was seventeen,
and was old enough to smoke, and do `other things!'.  I looked at her
sceptically, but she insisted she was, in fact, seventeen, and had smoked
for the last four years.  I gave her one, and she proved her point by
inhaling, then exhaling, without choking, comfortable with the cigarette in
her fingers.  She introduced herself, and told me her name was Tamara, in
the old language meaning `Little Flower', and she lived `over there,' and
her wave encompassed over two hundred and fifty thousand acres of pine and
deciduous national forest.  I told her my name, Ralph Maybury, not
expecting her to have known it, living out here in the backwoods.    I
asked her who she lived with, and she said her Mom took care of her; she
had brothers and sisters, but wouldn't give me any details of her home
life. Tamara had helped me out of a bind, so I didn't press for details,
leaving her with her secrets.  "Next time," Tamara said, looking out at the
view, "can I have a proper coffee?  This one is nice, but it is a bit
weak!" I laughed, a bit embarrassed, and promised her another one, better
this time, and asked if she wanted it now?  Tamara turned her head to me,
looking me in the eyes, then she got up, saying she had to go now, but
she'd return tomorrow, if that was alright with me?

   She had looked like a Child-Woman when I had first met her, small and
delicate, but now, it looked like there were two people standing there. 
The Woman, not the Child, looked out at me through her eyes, wise and
ageless.  I was captivated by her, not willing to let her go, but agreed
that she could come over tomorrow if she wished, I'd be glad to have her.
She smiled at that, and told me she'd come over early, and help me again,
if I needed her to.  Then she walked away, her hips swaying so beautifully,
her butt cheeks rolling daintily, and soon, she was out of sight, and
suddenly, the valley was lonely and cold without her there.  I searched my
feelings, and then I realised I already missed her!  I couldn't believe
myself!  The big, bad cynical author!  I'd only met her that day, but why
was I feeling like this, I wondered?  I got up, took the cups back inside,
then continued the story, the words flowing like they should, ideas coming
thick and fast.    I was up early, the characters demanding that I get up
and put their story on the screen.  They talked, laughed, yelled and
screamed at each other, then cried as they made up.  Both of them were
riding a wave of sexual longing for each other, and they became so very
real to me.  I was caught up in their lives, and by now the woman was no
longer a prisoner, but the hero's beloved, and they were getting closer to
a big love scene, the end of the story, and strangely, I was eager to write
it as they would finally consummate their union.  I wanted to see what they
got up to next!    Then a scent of sun-warmed flowers wafted through the
cabin, and Tamara was standing in the door, and when I smiled in welcome to
her, which she returned, looking pretty this morning, she languidly walked
over to me, and standing behind me, she reached forward to use the mouse to
scroll back, and began to read what I'd written.  I leaned back into the
chair, smelling her hair, freshly washed, and I then I smelt her body, so
sweet and pure, and musky with pheromones.    `Oh, Ralph, that's wonderful!
Those two are so in love!  They're going to have wonderful children!" Then
she giggled, and turned to look at me, and when she smiled, her grey eyes
glowed with happiness.  Tamara took my hand, made me stand up, and got me
to put the kettle on, to give me a break.  I looked longingly at the
screen, but she pushed me away, and told me I needed a break, and said the
characters would still be there, waiting for me.  I was on a roll, and
didn't want to stop!    I made the coffees, and we retired outside to have
a smoke, Tamara asking for, and getting, one of mine.  We smoked in
silence, the aromatic fumes being driven away by the breeze, which was
cooler, and smelt of rain.  Tamara mentioned to me that she'd looked me up
on the internet the night before when she'd got home, and wasn't surprise
to learn that I was a famous novelist, and she complimented me on my
accomplishments, and for being published.  I smiled a bit smugly, and told
her that, so far as my accomplishments went, I was proud to have been
published, but I was looking forward to the day when I could write my own
book, and then I wouldn't have to rely on royalties from the trashy rubbish
I was churning out.    Tamara said nothing for a while, then told me I
could soon, that this one book I was writing now would open that door for
me, she was sure of it.  I thanked her for her kind words, and sat back,
finishing my smoke, and dreaming of that day.  Then a cloud went over the
sun, and looking up, I saw the sky was grey and full of thunderheads.  Then
it began to spit, and as we went through the door, the rain came down, and
it was colder.  Tamara looked out the door, closing it, and shivered. 
Taking that as my cue, I got a fire going.  Tamara came to stand by it, the
heat warming her legs and front.    "I hope my brothers got under cover,"
she said.  "They were out hunting, and far away from home.  This looks like
it will last all night!" I asked her if they would find shelter out there,
then looking up she smiled, and told me there were always places available
for hunters who'd got caught out in the weather, so they would be fine. 
Tamara told me that she couldn't help feeling worried, though, as they
could be caught in a flash flood, or anything could happen.  The forest was
always dangerous to the unwary, she told me.  She was still in her shirt
and cut-offs, and even though she'd worn them yesterday, they were clean,
and smelt fresh.    Thunder cracked, and several seconds later, lightning
flashed across the sky, lighting everything up with a brilliant white.  I
turned the lights on, it having gone dark suddenly, and then went to the
kitchen to put the kettle back on.  Tamara sat at the computer, and began
tapping away at the keyboard.  "I'm just re-writing a couple of lines," she
told me when I asked her what she was doing.  "This part didn't quite make
sense, so I changed it around.  Now it makes perfect sense!"

   Leaning over her shoulder, I had a look, and she was right.  I asked her
why she didn't write a book herself, as she seemed to have the talent for
it.  She just sat there, and told me that her Mother had told her that she
had to keep her talents hidden, and that it would be all worthwhile, later
in life.  I felt for her, but she didn't seem angry, sad, or even upset by
her mother's injunction to remain hidden from the world.  She accepted it,
so I left it, then went to put lunch on.

   The temperature was dropping outside, and the rain came down heavier.  I
asked Tamara if her mother would get worried with her being out with the
weather like it was, but she looked up at me and smiled.  "Mom knows I'm
here, and my sisters keep an eye out for me!" I told her I was surprised
that her sisters would be lurking near, with this kind of precipitation.  I
was looking out the window, scanning the area outside for any sign of them.
The girl giggled, and said that they weren't near, but knew where she was,
and would come quickly if they felt danger threaten.

   We had lunch then, and conversation was light and easy, and it hit me
that, even though we'd known each other for a couple of days, we got along
well together, she was knowledgeable in many subjects, and she seemed to be
so comfortable in my presence, just as I was in hers.  I mentioned this to
Tamara, and asked her why she'd trusted me.  She didn't know me, and I
could have been a rapist or a murderer, for all she knew.  The small girl
sat up straight, and told me that she'd trusted me from the first moment
she'd seen me down by the spring, because she said, I smelled trustworthy.
"Not like a lot of men who roamed the woods," she said.  Those she avoided,
because she could smell danger on them, and she said "it was a sick,
horrible smell."

   I spent the rest of the day writing some more.  The small girl sat in my
lap, and had put my arm around her waist, giving me a running commentary on
what I'd written, then going silent as I wrote some more, or changed the
character's responses, or  bits of the storyline, finally exclaiming,
"That's it!  You've got it!" as I did something right.  Then because it was
dark out already, we were both surprised when her belly rumbled, and then
so did mine in sympathy.  So we got up, and I put dinner on.  The weather
was still not playing ball, so I asked Tamara if she'd mind staying the
night, as it was completely dark now, and I didn't feel right knowing she
could get hurt walking home.  She smiled at me, touched my cheek, and told
me I was sweet, and that she would curl up by the fire, if that was okay?

   "You're not sleeping on the floor!" I told her.  "I'll put some blankets
on the couch," I said, then she could sack down when she was ready.  She
didn't have to stay up all night talking to an old man like me, I told her.
She punched me on the arm, and told me I wasn't old, just `distinguished!'
Tamara did the dishes for me, insisting, so I let her.  I made us both a
hot drink, and I went back to the computer, drawn by the pirate and his
lady.

   I spent another couple of hours there, my fingers tapping away, and
before I'd realised it, Tamara was on the couch, fast asleep, curled up in
her blankets.  Then I yawned and stretched, switched everything off,
including the generator by an indoor switch, and went to bed.

   I was woken during the night by an unfamiliar noise.  I got up, put my
shorts back on, and made my way out to the living room.  I heard the noise
again, and moving to the couch, I heard a whimper, and looking over, I saw
the dark bundle of the blankets on the couch, just outside the coal's glow.
Looking down, I saw a young black wolf, kicking in its sleep, and giving
small soft yips.  I stood there dumbfounded.  "How the hell did that get in
here?" I wondered out loud.  Then Tamara moved, and my eyes went to her. 
She was laying there, the glow from the coals glinting in her eyes, and I
looked down, the wolf had gone, as if it had never been there.  I shook my
head, feeling fuzzy, and got myself a glass of water, and then went back to
bed.

   As I passed the couch, the young girl had her eyes closed, but I knew
she was listening to my footsteps, and she seemed alert.  So I went and
hopped into bed, thinking I must have still been half-asleep to have seen
the wolf lying there by the fireplace.  I was asleep quickly, and then
after a night of confusing dreams, it was morning again, and the sky was
clear and blue.

   Tamara left me that day, saying she should be going, and let her mother
see that she had survived the storm, before she had pups from worry! 
Laughing, she walked away, her dainty butt swishing, and if she had a tail,
it would have been wagging!  She burst into a joyous laugh, and then she
was off and running, disappearing fast down the meadow.  I turned and went
inside, and said hello to the lust-struck lovers waiting for me on the
computer.

   I wrote not one, but four chapters that first week, getting up early,
and staying up late.  I decided to take a break, and go into town for
supplies.  As I was driving down a long stretch of road, a young
black-haired, grey-eyed wolf was sitting by the side of the road, and on a
whim, I slowed down and stopped, looking at it.  It sat there watching me,
and its tail began to thump by its body, it's tongue lolling out the side
of its mouth in a wolfish smile, and then it went up on its back legs, gave
a spine-cracking stretch, and it seemed to laugh at me.  Then there came a
growl from my left, and the black wolf tuned away and ran off, but it gave
me a yip as it did so.  When I told the storekeeper about it in town, he
said that it was unknown behaviour for wild wolves.    "They normally shun
the company of humans, unless they're hunting, but they only attack single
people, ones they consider weak, and easy prey," he said to me.  "You're
lucky you didn't get out of the truck," he continued, "or else we wouldn't
be having this conversation!" I sent the chapters off by email, and waited
for a reply.  It was not long in coming.    "Will read them tonight.  I'll
get back to you about any rewrites if needed.  Good work!  Maybe you should
go away more often!"

   It was signed by my editor, and I mentally wished her a whole handful of
piles to keep her company.  I had no worries about rewriting the chapters,
not with my proof-reader and ghost writer back at the cabin.  Then I felt a
pang, an emptiness, and I couldn't wait to get back, and see that little
girl again.  I know I keep calling her a little girl, mainly because she
was short in stature, and she was thin, looking to me like a girl younger
than she looked.  I hope I've cleared that up.

   The wolf was waiting for me when I drove back up that same stretch of
road.  I slowed down, and it kept pace with me, loping along easily.  Then
swinging it's head and looking at me, it gave a yip, and flashed away, and
it was gone, like greased lightning.  One second it was there, and then it
disappeared.  I had the strangest feeling it was playing with me.  I
couldn't catch it, and gave up.  When I parked the off-roader, Tamara was
waiting for me on the step of the cabin, a bunch of wildflowers in her
hand. She was as lithe and sleek as always.  She gave me a grin, and then
stood to help me unload the groceries, and spare diesel for the generator.

   After we'd put the groceries away, we sat outside, having a coffee and a
smoke.  I'd gotten a few extra packs for the teen girl, but she asked me to
keep them here at the cabin, if I didn't mind?  I told her that was fine,
they'd be here for her, any time she wanted them.  Tamara blew smoke out of
her mouth, and said, turning to me, "Tomorrow, my brothers are coming here
to meet you.  I've told them about you, and they're curious.  They're shy
of human company, you know, people, so don't be surprised if they're a bit
twitchy around you.  It's just the way they are, okay?"

   I assured her that it was fine, and that they'd be welcome.  Tamara just
looked at me, and then a smile lifted a corner of her mouth.  "Couldn't
catch that wolf, huh?" I must have looked surprised, because she told me
she'd been watching.  I asked her how could that be, as it was several
miles down the road, and she'd been sitting here waiting for me.  She
shrugged a shoulder, and told me she'd run to the cabin, taking a short-cut
to get here.  That was possible, of course, mainly due to the winding road
between the cabin and that spot.

   Then we were talking about something else, and I mentioned that I'd sent
the finished chapters off to my editor, and I'd find out soon if they'd
been accepted.  Tamara was excited, and grabbed my hand, and told me that
they would, as how could they not be?  I was a great author, and I was
overdue for recognition.  Her confidence in my abilities was refreshing to
say the least.  I have to admit something here.  My new-found inspiration
was due mainly to this young woman, because she did something that no-one,
not even me for the last few years, had done.  She believed in me.  I could
see it in her eyes.  Humbling, very humbling!

   Then it was time to get dinner ready, which she stayed for, finishing
off a large steak.  She wanted it this side of raw.  I shuddered to see
pieces of the red meat disappearing into her mouth, her strong teeth
chewing it to mush in no time, before swallowing the mouthful.  I was
actually starting to lose my appetite watching her, but she gave me a feral
grin, and licked her lips, and said "Yum!" I finished my steak manfully,
and after I swallowed my last mouthful, I said, "Next time, why don't you
just go out with a knife and fork, and have dinner on the hoof?" She roared
with laughter, and told me that was impossible, as the cow kept moving, and
wouldn't stay still!

   We were both laughing then, and as the shadows lengthened, Tamara asked
me if she could stay the night again as her brothers were going to be at
the cabin early, around dawn.  "Why so early?" I asked, so she told me that
they were travelling the boundary of their range, their hunting area, and
that this cabin was the farthest limit before they hit the border of
another's range.  That I could understand, as I'd been hunting once or
three times when I'd been a young man.  Hunters are always jealous of their
own preserve, and look unfavourably on those who poached their territory. I
said as much to Tamara, and the young woman nodded, and said, "That's good.
You understand."

   The sky was dark, and the stars and constellations were out in force.  I
loved to watch them out here, no street lights to dim them.  I looked into
a telescope at an observatory once, and no matter how many stars light up
the sky that we can see, there more out there.  Hundreds of thousands of
times more.  I had actually recoiled when I saw how many.  It's scary,
frightening to think our planet is only one speck of sand in a vast
glittering beach without end.

   A wise man was asked once by a disciple of his, "Was there an end to the
Universe?" He replied, "Yes there is.  It is called the limit to your
imagination"

   So as we sat on the couch talking, Tamara was telling me about the
forest in this area, about the deer that would drink at a small creek not
far from here, about a family of field mice that lived in an old hay bale
in a field several miles away, and as she spoke, she held my hand, and her
excitement of telling me about the creatures and plants that lived in the
woods around my cabin was infectious, and soon, she was almost climbing
into my lap, she was so energised.  Then she did sit in my lap, by the
simple expedient of swinging her legs over mine, and shuffling into my lap.
She shyly put one of her arms around my neck, and then put her head on my
chest, listening to my heartbeat.

   I held her, and without thought, began to stroke her hair, long sweeping
strokes that soon made her whimper in happiness, her eyes closed, and her
mouth open.  The young woman arched her back, and then she licked my jaw,
which caused me to jerk back from shock.  I liked it, but it was
unexpected, to say the least.  Tamara flinched, and hung her head in shame,
but I hastened to tell her that it was okay, she took me by surprise, was
all.  I wasn't mad, I told her, and held her until she finally relaxed into
my arms.  I continued to stroke her hair, and as she cuddled into me,
without me realising it, I began to fall in love.

   Love can creep up on you without you knowing it's doing so.  My world,
the world of books, cities, and deadlines was another universe away.  The
space we inhabited in the here and now was all that mattered to me.  I
loved this sleek young woman, who would never win a Miss Universe contest,
who lived in a forest with a shy family that distrusted their fellow
humans, and it was another life, another world away from what I knew and
relied on for mental, emotional, and to a certain degree, a spiritual,
balance.  But all that became less and less sure, less `real', as I sat
there with that beautiful young wild creature in my lap.

   Chapter Two.

   Tamara's brothers walked out of the bush line, just as dawn was
breaking. There were four of them, strong, silent, and looking menacing
without seeming to.  Tamara had got me up while it was still dark, and she
was a little nervous, and had several coffees to calm her nerves.  She
would stand at the door, looking out the pane of glass, scanning the area
and whimpering in impatience.  When they approached, the eldest, who I
assumed it was, was in the lead, the younger brothers in an arrowhead
formation behind him.  Tamara led me outside to meet them, a little
nervous. He looked straight ahead, his eyes never leaving mine.  He was
confident, and walked upright, and for some unknown reason, I felt a little
intimidated by his silent self-confidence, and his way of carrying himself.
He wasn't afraid of anything, he didn't have to be.  His younger brothers
were the ones who looked around, scanning the area with their eyes, which
were constantly moving.

   They had no weapons for hunters, save for knives, and I made the
assumption that they'd left them back at their camp.  Tamara took my hand,
and led me to the four men, and we stopped about ten feet from them,
noticing that they made no move to come closer.  There was no feeling of
distrust, or aggression, we just stood there, not saying a word, looking at
each other.  The eldest kept his eyes on mine, judging me, weighing me up,
and no expression other than mild interest on his face for the man who'd
won his sister's heart.  Then Tamara let go my hand, and walked forward,
and when she stood next to her brother, she went up on tiptoe, and as he
bent down to her, still having his eyes on mine, she rubbed her cheek
against his.  I noticed that his eyes softened when she did this.  Then she
stood back, and with her head down, she walked back to my side, standing a
little behind me.

   Then the eldest brother stepped forward, causing one of the others, a
dark haired fellow with a scar on his cheek, to give a low growl.  He
stopped, and turned his head, his eyes hard, and some sort of silent
communication passed between them, and then Dark hair stepped back,
dropping his eyes.  Then moving silently forward, the eldest held his hand
up, not looking as if he was doing the correct thing.  I stepped forward,
and took it.  His grip was firm, and dry.  He looked at me, and said in a
quiet but deep voice, "I am called Dancer."

   The usual jokes, like "where was Prancer and Vixen?", or, "with wolves?"
didn't seem appropriate, and I guessed he wouldn't have appreciated or
understood them anyway.  He then asked me, by what name was I called.  I
told him, `Ralph', and he rolled that around in his mouth a couple of
times, as though to get used to it, to remember it.  When he said my name,
it sounded like a growl.  "Ralph!  A good name, a strong name.  Your dam
chose it well!" I didn't think it wise to tell him that my father chose it;
I just let him think my mother did.  Obviously, theirs was a matriarchal
family.

   "Little Flower has told us good things about you, Ralph!  You have
treated her well, with respect, and she says you hunt, but in a different
way.  This we can respect." Then turning to Tamara, he looked at her with
pride, saying, "You have chosen well, Little Flower.  He will give you
strong young ones when the time is right!" Then gazing at me, and with a
look of curiosity, he asked me, "Have you mated with her yet?"

   I was in total confusion.  I felt like I was in another reality, and the
turn of the conversation blew me away.  I was in shock by his question.  I
couldn't believe it!  He wanted to know if I'd had sex with his sister yet?
I had heard that mountain families were strange, but to be face to face
with this bunch of hillbillies was disconcerting, to say the least!  I had
no idea what to say, so Tamara answered for me instead.

   "Dancer," she said, respectfully, "it is not proper among his people to
speak of such matters.  We have not mated yet, as we are still learning of
each other's ways.  I ask you to be patient, my brother.  I will notify you
if and when we have done so."

   Dancer looked at her with a frown, and then he smiled, his eyes
softening.  He looked at me, deciding to be friendlier, asked if they may
inspect my dwelling?  They had been here before, he said, and had noticed
by my scent that it had been inhabited.  My God, but these people sure
talked strangely, like they weren't human at all!  I was still in shock,
and said, sure they were welcome to do so, and would they like a coffee, if
they were staying?  Dancer looked at Tamara, and then he smiled, and said
"Yes!  It would be appreciated, thank you!"

   With Tamara leading him by the hand, they entered my cabin, and they
looked at everything, but without touching anything.  When they came to my
computer, the screensaver was on, and a picture of a wolf came on.  One of
the brothers leapt back, and growled at it, and then he went red from
embarrassment, then when another picture of a wolf came on, an old grey
wolf with a piece of its ear missing, his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed,
"Dancer!  I know this one!  He has a range near ours!"

   Dancer looked at me, and asked from where did the picture come from?  I
told him that I had saved it off the internet, and he looked confused for a
moment, then one of his brothers murmured in his ear, and he nodded, and
said that was fine, he'd heard of it, and then the computer was forgotten,
and I poured them all a coffee.  We went outside, and they all relaxed, as
did I, because with them all in there, the cabin became very small.  They
were big men, the smallest six feet or so, and they were all muscular, yet
rangy, and radiated good health.

   They all moved silently, and with an economy of movement, yet looked
ready to explode with sudden and lethal force if needed.  My nerves were
nearly shot, so I got a cigarette out, and lit it.  Two of the brothers
wrinkled their noses up at the smell, and moved upwind from me.  Dancer
said with humour, "So that's where the smell came from!" Then looking at
Tamara, he told her that he'd noticed she smelled of it when she was with
them.  Tamara went red, and so that I wouldn't feel slighted or
uncomfortable, she took a cigarette from my pack, and lit up, joining me.
Her body posture didn't give the impression of disobedience or rebellion,
she was just siding with me to protect me, I supposed, like a show of
solidarity.

   Dark hair, whom Tamara told me was called Fleet-foot, turned and walked
away, then started running toward the forest.  Dancer saw my wondering
look, and told me everything was fine, he'd smelled a deer, and we'd all
eat well tonight.  Dancer and I talked, asking me questions about myself,
and so I told him who I was, what I did for a living, and why I was there.
He put me at my ease, making me comfortable to be in his presence. 
Fleet-foot came back an hour later, with a haunch of venison, which was cut
up and put over a makeshift spit over an open fire.  We did eat well that
night, and afterwards, with a goodbye from Dancer, the men moved off
ghost-like into the darkening evening, going back to their camp, I
supposed. As soon as they were out of sight, Tamara made sure they were
gone, sighed, and then relaxed.

   "Well, that went well," she said.  "I hope they didn't embarrass you too
much, when Dancer asked you if you'd mated with me yet.  Please forgive
him, he doesn't mix well very much with people, so he's unused to the
strange ways you have."

   "They don't get out much, do they?" I asked her, still running the
strange day over in my mind.  The weirdness of it all, and the funny way
the brothers had of silently communicating with each other and with their
sister had me beat.  I had tried to engage a couple of the brothers in
conversation, but they had frowned in confusion, and moved away, looking
around as if on guard against intruders to our gathering.  Dancer put his
hand on my arm, and told me that they were shy?  Yes, shy, and for me not
to take offence.  I had told him no, of course not, and left them to their
silence.  The two relaxed after that, keeping their distance, no longer
looking as if they wanted to go back to the forest, which they were looking
longingly at.

   "My family prefer the silence of the woods," she told me.  "Not all
people like the loud noisy city!" She had a smile on her face, and she was
sitting on the couch, her feet up on either side of her hips, and her
panty-clad pussy on display, split down the middle by the seam of the
cut-off shorts, which pressed into her cleft.  She seemed totally
unconscious of it, and the effect it was having on me.  I was trying to
imagine her nude, and I longed to see her pussy, imagining what it must
look like bare.  Her outer lips were full, and her womanly aroma was making
my blood pressure rise.  I had the incredible desire to take her then, and
slip her clothes from her slim frame, and devour her youthful body.  That
was the kind of effect she had on me.  I suppressed those urges with great
difficulty!

   "They are more comfortable out there," she said.  "They have food,
water, and shelter.  They have the company of their own kind, and they love
and look out for each other.  What more could anyone ask for?" She had a
point, I conceded, and then I got up from the desk to put the kettle on.  I
asked Tamara about the strange names they had.  Dancer.  Fleet-foot. 
Biter. Without thinking, I told her that they were names one gave to pets,
not people, and she became angry and defensive, telling me that Ralph was a
strange name, and people had their own choices, not everyone wanted to be
known by accepted brandings.  I hastily apologised, not wanting to cause
offence, so she calmed down, and accepted the coffee I held out to her.

   I spent most of the next day working on my book, while the young strange
woman stood behind me, helping me to create a more better fiction.  Words
poured out of me, and before I knew it, another chapter, then two, were on
my screen.  Tamara forced me to take a break, and we went outside to drink
coffee, smoke and talk.  We spoke of my characters as if they were real
people, and discussed plot lines for an upcoming book.  Two more chapters
to go and this one would be finished!  I was excited by the prospect, as
that meant I could go back to the city, and carry on my life away from the
peace of the woods.  But that created a problem for me.

   Tamara became pensive and quiet, not saying much when I was talking
excitedly about going back to the city, just looking off into the distance,
and a tear ran from one eye.  She looked at me, and asked if I could not
live here all the time, and stay?  She seemed desperate for some reason,
unwilling to let me go.  I wanted to stay, but the lure of my old life was
calling me, a siren's song too strong to resist.  I told the young
now-defenceless girl that I would come back as often as I could, of course,
but she got up, and without a word, walked away, not looking back,
disappearing into the bush line.

   I can be so thick sometimes.  I didn't see the hurt and heartbreak in
her eyes.  I was too full of myself at that moment, wanting to get the book
finished, and return to the hustle and bustle of the noisy crowds, and the
dictator who ran the publishing house.

   The last two chapters rolled onto the screen, finally, and then, with a
sigh, I sat back, relieved.  The pirate lord and his lady were now united
in orgasmic bliss, sailing off into the sunset, arm-in-arm, and thus endeth
the story.  I saved the entire book, and went into town, and as I drove
down that long stretch of road, I looked out for the wolf, but didn't see
it, disappointing me for some reason.  I drove on, and soon was in town,
sending off the completed book.  There were a couple of emails for me,
saying what a triumph; the book would be a best-seller!  I could look
forward to some handsome royalties!  I was the writer, but the publishing
house would get the lion's share of the money from sales.  That was part of
my contract.  I was at a low point when I signed it, and by the time my
head was on properly, I had two books churned out, and it was too late for
re-negotiations.

   This point reminded me.  My contract was expired, and up for renewal
after this book was written.  I was sure that Peggy, the publisher, would
try and do a number on me, as my books out-sold the other writers in her
stable, and that did not endear me to them.  Theirs was the same old tripe,
but in different words, different characters, in different settings.  They
were, even to the jaded crowd that bought that romantic rubbish, stale,
lacklustre, boring.  There were no other words for it.  Their royalties
were enough to keep them in snack food, but they shot daggers at me with
their eyes whenever we were called into the conference room for the monthly
meetings.

   I didn't see Tamara for the rest of the week, but every time I went
outside, I'd feel eyes on me.  No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't see
anyone.  I even called her name a few times, but she didn't show.  I was
feeling empty when I finally packed the off-roader, and as I was locking
the door to leave, I heard the lonely howl of a wolf in the distance.  It
sounded sad and heartbroken, and for a moment, I was tempted to stay, and
wait for my lovely, bubbly muse to return.  But with determination, I got
into the vehicle, started it, and drove away.  I was almost weeping when I
did.  The feeling of loss was so overwhelming; I had to keep wiping my eyes
as I drove.

   When I got back to my apartment, I called Peggy's office, and left a
message saying I was back, and then caught up on my mail, paper and
electronic.  I had a couple of emails from a rival house, offering me a
lucrative contract to come over to them.  I called, and was put onto the
publisher straight away, Peter Anderson, from Anderson Publishing, himself.
The top man?  I must be doing something right!  His house churned out a bit
of everything, from sci-fi to romantic to self-help books.  We had a good
chat, and he told me he was familiar with my work, and would I consider
coming in for an interview?  I said I would, and we made a time for the
next day, and he asked me if I was considering a change of genre.  I didn't
commit myself, and he let it go at that.

   Peggy called, and told me she wanted to see me straight away, and she
sounded jubilant.  I promised to be there in an hour, and rang off.  I got
to her office feeling good.  I had another book finished, my future looked
like it was on the up, and I wanted Peggy's feedback on the new manuscript.
She treated me like royalty, and I was immediately on my guard.  When Peggy
was expansive, you watched your back, because she had either a hook or a
knife hidden.  She always did, it was part of her make-up.  She showed me
to a chair, in front of her desk, naturally.  She sat behind the big
faux-wood monstrosity, and steepled her fingers, looking at me like I was a
lavish dinner.

   Peggy pulled out a sheaf of papers, put a pen on it, and told me to
sign. Just like that!  I picked the papers up, and read them.  It was a new
contract, and as usual, she would get the majority of the money, and I
would be locked into a contract, promising to write ten books for her!  I
took my time, and she became impatient, tapping her fingers on the desk. 
That was a sure sign she was starting to get pissed at me for taking my
time.  After reading the contract from start to finish, I put it down, and
said, "No."

   She exploded.  "What the hell do you mean, no?  That's a standard
contract, and you belong to me!  Just sign the damn thing so we can get on
with business!  I don't have time for your crap!"

   I looked at this woman who'd held me securely under her thumb for the
last four years, and I didn't like what I saw.  She was dressed in what she
laughingly called the latest fashions, she had big dangly earrings tugging
at her ears, and her blue rinse was up in a coiffure.  Her horn rimmed
glasses made her look ridiculous.  Her make-up didn't add to her looks,
either, for that matter.  It was far too heavily used, and suddenly, I
wanted out of there.  Her presence made me physically ill.  How the hell
had I put up with her all this time?  I wondered.

   I told Peggy straight, I didn't want to write romantic trash anymore,
and I'd made the decision to leave, and unless she altered the contract,
where I got the lion's share, and she took far less than what she was
demanding, we were through.  Her jaw dropped, and she laughed in my face,
and told me to grow up.  It was the contract, or nothing, she said.  I was
out on my ear otherwise, and I'd get nothing.  No royalties, no recognition
for my work, she'd put it under one of her girl's names, and then see where
would I be?

   I got furious, and told her that if she did that, I would see her fat
ass in court, and the fall-out would seriously damage her and her
publishing house.  She actually went pale at that, and backed off a little.
Then she dropped the ball, and tried to blackmail me into staying on, and
signing the contract.  It was messy, so in the end I walked out, telling
her coldly not to try and rip me off, or else!

   My interview with Peter Anderson went much better.  He was prepared to
go a thirds split, two-thirds for me, one third for him.  That meant I'd be
getting much more in royalties than I had before.  He had all seven copies
of my books on the desk, so that told me he definitely knew who I was.  I
looked at them in embarrassment, however.  They were trash as far as I was
concerned, and Peter noticed my reluctance to even glance at them.  When he
asked me why, saying that other authors generally went apeshit bragging
about their work, I told him how I felt about those ones, and how I was
itching to write my own book, and do what I loved most.  He asked me if I
had any genre in mind, and I had to think about that.  I'd written soppy
romances for so long, I'd lost sight of who I really was as a writer.

   I got up and went to the full length window, and looked out at the city
skyline.  But all I could see was the forested mountains and hills where my
cabin was.  I got an inkling of an idea, and to my surprise, excitement
flowed into my body like a slow wave.  "I have an idea in mind for a book,"
I told him.  "Nothing definite yet, just an idea.  I'll have to do some
research, and give you some written ideas once I've got a storyline put
together."

   I turned, and had my hands in my pants pockets.  "One thing, though.  I
want complete autonomy to work wherever I want.  No interruptions, and I
promise to keep to any deadlines, providing they aren't too extreme, for
starters." Peter was lounging in his chair, watching me.  He pressed a
button on his desk, and said, "Miss Trimble, would you come in here
please?" A moment later, his secretary came in, a pretty leggy woman in her
early twenties, with a sleek figure, sinful promises in her eyes, and she
had a pad and pen with her.  They still used pad and pens?  As Yoda would
say, "Urrr, impressed I was!"

   We sat there for an hour, thrashing out a contract.  When we were done,
I sat back, thirsty, and Miss Trimble went out, returning with a hot coffee
for me.  I sipped it, and asked Peter why he was going to all this trouble?
Did he really think I was worth what we'd put down on paper?  He looked at
me with a gleam in his eye, and tugged open a draw in his desk, and told
me, "You never saw this." Then he pulled out a very fat large envelope, and
placed it front of me.  "If it wasn't for this, I'd have never been even
remotely interested in you," he said.  "This proves to me that you can make
us both a lot of money, Ralph!"

   I opened the envelope, and got the shock of my life.  It was my new
manuscript!  Holy Shit!  He gave me a cat's-got-the-cream smile, and said,
"Don't ask!"

   I mentioned the cabin, where I seemed to get my best ideas, so he asked
me where it was.  I told him, and then he pulled out a large map which
surprised me further, and we looked for it.  He placed his finger on it,
and told me that it was within the boundary of a broadband pick-up, so he
wrote the name of the local provider, and told me to set it up, and as I
came up with the storyline and any chapters, to email it to him.  I asked
him if I really could, and he told me that according to the elevation of
the surrounding countryside, it shouldn't be a problem.  I remembered that
a telephone line ran out to my cabin, but now I'd have to get it checked,
and connected.

   When it was done, Peter told me to go home, and he'd have his lawyers
look over the contract, but he didn't foresee any problems with it as it
stood.  He got his secretary to type it up, and our meeting was concluded.
I went home elated.  I was going to be in charge of my own life, finally!
One of the first things I did when I got back to the apartment, was to put
it on the market.  I looked forward to the peace and quiet of the cabin,
and hopefully, to the sweet young woman who I owed my future to.  I really
hoped she was still out there.

   A couple of days later, I had a call from Peggy.  She offered me a lump
sum to meet any future royalties from the new book, but when I pressed for
details of the amount, she reluctantly mentioned a figure, and I told her
to forget it.  The amount was far below what I thought it should be, and
told her that if she tried to stiff me, I'd have a lawyer so far up her
ass, he'd be looking at daylight from between her teeth!  Another hissy fit
followed, and I hung up in her ear.

   A month had come and gone by the time I was ready to head back to my
mountain retreat.  The contract was printed, and Peter and I went over it,
and he hadn't changed a thing.  Impressive!  I signed it, and told him I
looked forward to working with him.  I looked up at my apartment, and
silently said goodbye to it.  I had lived in there for nearly ten years,
and it saw many tears, pity parties, and drunken episodes as I struggled to
be seriously accepted as an aspiring author, and I thought of the good
times I'd had, with the women who'd slept in my bed.  I shook myself, and
climbed into my off-roader, and started her up.  She growled and purred,
and with a big smile, I drove off, leaving the city behind, and all I saw
was the black top ahead as I put my foot down.

   I kept up with the sales of my new book, and not only did it meet
expectations, but it exceeded them beyond my wildest dreams!  Women, girls,
and even some men were buying it off the shelves, or straight out of the
boxes.  People were raving about it on television and radio, and a second
printing was in the planning stages.  The royalties poured in, and Peggy
kept to her word, and banked them all, not stealing a penny.  Just on that
one book alone, I could retire, if I wanted to.  But I had made a promise,
signed a contract for four books, and now I had to put my head down, and
get to writing.  As I was working one day, writing down possible
storylines, I lifted my head, and suddenly noticed how quiet it was.  When
I thought about it, I realised I missed my little helper, and had to stop
for a smoke.  I went outside, and lit up, taking one her packets with me,
so I just sat there, turning it over and over in my hand, looking at it,
but not seeing it, thinking of her.

   "I'll have one of those, if you don't mind," a familiar voice said, and
when I looked up, Tamara was standing there!  Either I was too deep in
thought, or she could move so silently, I hadn't heard her.  I jumped up,
and threw my arms around her, picking her up and holding her by the waist
laughing in happiness at seeing her again.  She laughed at my antics as I
spun around, and then I relaxed my grip, and she slid down my body, until
she was in my arms, and then I kissed her.  It was a slow, deep, loving
kiss, and she melted into my arms, and before I knew it, we both had tears
of happiness in our eyes.  She looked up at me, and whispered, "I've missed
you so much!  Are you here to stay?" I nodded, making her to give me a big
hug, she made a happy sound in her throat, and gripped me tight.  My
feelings for her came back in full, and together we sat on the step of the
cabin, and gazing into each other's eyes.  We smoked, saying nothing, our
eyes speaking volumes.

   At dinner that night, we sat at the table, enjoying the food, and the
closeness of the moment.  It was good to have her back, and the cabin was
warmer because of it.  Tamara spoke of the long lonely weeks, crying at
night, unable to be comforted by her mother, and her brothers grieved for
her, but could do nothing, letting events take their course.  Dancer spoke
with her, and advised her to choose another, but she didn't want to, and
pleaded with the moon to bring me back.

   "She heard me!" Tamara said happily, grinning, her slightly crooked
teeth showing.  "I knew she would!" then she sighed, and told me she was
staying here with me, now.  She'd talk with Dancer she said, and tell him
I'd returned.  We stayed up late, holding each other, and kissing when we
weren't talking.  The fire crackled and hissed, and outside an owl hooted,
looking for mice or another small meal to eat.  Then it was time for bed,
so after showering, I climbed under the covers, then Tamara stood in the
doorway, wearing only her shirt and panties, a mysterious look in her eye.
She walked slowly over to the bed, and before she got in, she told me.  "We
won't make love tonight, Ralph.  I need to talk to you first, and before
you agree to anything, you must listen to me first.  Agreed?"

   That sounded ominous, but I agreed to hear her out.  I wondered what she
was going to say, so I moved over, and let her in.  "In my family," she
began, "when we mate, we mate for life.  It's like being married, and we
stay married until death separates us." That made me think, alright.  I had
never been married.  I had had the usual dreams, fantasies really, about
wife, children, the whole thing, but my writing had always got in the way
of those dreams.  I found myself a bit afraid.  I was in my early forties,
as I had mentioned before, and if we had children, I'd be an old man before
they'd be fully grown.  I looked at the waif lying silently by my side, and
noticed she was looking tense, and trying not to look at me while I
digested what she'd told me.

   "Once we're mated", she said quietly, "there's no turning back, Ralph.
We're together till `death do us part'.  A male in our society doesn't
desert his partner.  He's there to look after and defend the young, and
will hunt, or provide for the young.  We have a close family tie, and
nothing can break it, unless one of us is Cast Out!" She went silent, and
then said, "That don't happen very often It's quite rare, actually."

   Tamara turned to me, and held me, her head on my chest, listening to my
heart beat, and then she put her hand on my chest, and told me to relax, my
heart was beating too fast.  I ran her words over and over in my mind,
trying to digest them, make sense of them.  I loved her, which was an
inescapable fact.  I'm honest with myself, never allowing my ego to rule
me, and speaking softly, I asked her, "Tamara, Little Flower, why do you
want an old man like me?  There are more younger and vigorous men out
there, more than happy for a chance to have a beautiful and wise young
woman like you?"

   She looked at me and with a tear in her eye, she told me, "I chose you
the first day I met you!  I teased you, and you didn't go after me.  When I
stayed that first night, you respected me enough not to come out to the
couch and bother me.  I've watched you when I've been here with you.  You
are a good man, Ralph, and I am in love with you!  I don't know why, but
being with you feels right!  I will be your woman, your pack-mate, and our
young ones will be strong and gifted!"

   I thought a moment, and something tugged at the corner of mind, and then
I said, "Your pack-mate?  You speak like you're a wolf, Little Flower, not
a human being!" She looked at me, and got up onto her knees, and said,
"that's another thing we must speak of, Ralph.  I am different from the
girls you know as human.  I have to show you who I am, and I am afraid that
if I do, you'll fear me, and hate me for it."

   I thought that over, wondering what she meant, and every scenario I
could think of, she didn't seem to fit.  I asked her, in what way was she
different?  She looked and sounded human, and I asked her, what was so
different about her, that would cause me to fear and hate her?  She burst
into tears, so I told her we wouldn't talk of it tonight, we'll talk in the
morning, if she didn't want say anything now.  Tamara sniffed, and wiped
her eyes, and told me that although we weren't going to have sex, as she
wasn't ready yet, we could do other things?  I asked her what things, and
she smiled shyly, and said, "Things that wouldn't mean a promise has been
made, things that would still be good for both of us!"

   "Okay, show me!" I joked, rolling over in bed with my hands under my
head, so Tamara, the cute little slim Child-Woman, climbed over me and sat
on my thighs.  I usually sleep nude, and tonight was no exception.  Tamara
dropped her eyes, and wrapped her small hand around my slack member, and
began to stroke and pull on it, crooning and smiling, and slowly, I began
to get hard, Tamara's eyes went wide as she saw it happening.  "Oh, my!"
she said breathlessly.  "He is big!  Are all men's cocks like yours,
Ralph?"

   I chuckled, and told her I wasn't that big, and I didn't know, men
didn't usually go around showing themselves off to each other!  The tiny
teen giggled, and continued to rub me, and soon, I was feeling good from
her hand stroking me.  She had gentle but firm hands, and I was starting to
breathe heavier now, my eyes closed, and small sounds of contentment coming
from my mouth.  Then she let me go, climbed off the bed, and took her shirt
and panties off.  Her breasts were small, like I thought, her nipples small
and pink, and she looked underfed, her ribs showing.  The pubic mound at
the juncture of Tamara's legs sloped gently inward, and was covered in
hair, matted from wearing panties, that went down and around her cleft.  I
could see the clitoral hood, puffing out, separating her outer lips, and
her inner lips were tucked in, but showing.

   She climbed back onto my thighs, and I saw her vaginal lips part
slightly, and I also caught a whiff of pre-arousal, and she was so damn
sexy sitting there, I was harder than I'd been in years.  Tamara continued
to stroke me, and looking into my eyes, she said in a serious voice, "No
sex, okay Ralph?" I agreed, not wanting her to take her hand from my hard
penis.  Tamara slid my foreskin down, and began to rub my glans gently,
spreading my pre-cum over the tip with one hand, while stroking the other
up and down my shaft.  I began to move my hips, and then she shuffled
forward, until her cleft was resting against my hot hard boner.

   Tamara began to rock against, me, and as she did, she became slick and
slippery with her arousal.  The feeling of her silky cleft sliding on me
had me gasping, and I had to steel myself from reaching down and holding
her hips, knowing that if I did, I'd be tempted to push her back, so that I
could enter her.  When she told me she wasn't ready, I took that to mean
that she was a virgin, and if we `mated' for the first time, that would
mean she'd be giving herself to me totally.  I didn't want to spoil that
for her, not if she was prepared to do what she was doing for me now.

   The little woman was starting to enter a world of her own, now.  Her
head was back, and she had a naughty grin on her face.  All she could feel
was the sensations of rubbing her pussy and clit against me, and the more
she did that, the wetter she became, until she was sliding up and down my
entire length.  Tamara began to moan and gasp now, murmuring under her
breath, and the words seemed to be centred around my erection, and how she
was feeling.  I couldn't resist, and placed my hands on her small breasts,
and when I closed my hands around them, she hunched into them, and then she
did speak.  "Oh, god, yes!  Hold my tits!  Pinch my nipples!"

   I was opened-mouthed in surprise!  To hear this young girl speak like
this was so erotic, it was unbelievable!  I held her small boobs, rolling
and lightly pinching and rolling her nipples which became little hard
pebbles.  Then she began to gasp, and rock her hips faster now, her sweet
young sex coating us both with her secretions, and with a low deep growl,
she came, shuddering and shaking, her long black hair hanging over her
face,.  Tamara sat on me, breathing heavily, and then she moved, to lay
beside me, her eyes closed, and a smile lighting up her face.

   I moved over her, and kissing her on the lips and face, I made my way
down her body, giving small kisses to her breasts which had flattened,
making her appear flat-chested.  Her nipples were still hard, and poked up,
drawing my mouth to them, and then I started to suck on them, making Tamara
moan with the sensations coming from them.  I went lower, and when I got to
her belly, she bucked under me, and giggled, so I tickled her with my
tongue, making her writhe with laughter.  I went lower, and as I kissed her
all over her mons, pussy lips and clitoral hood, she gasped again, and her
legs opened, shyly, not having that done to her before.

   I took my cue, and kissed lower still, noticing her reactions to my
attentions.  Tamara put her hands softly on my head, unsure what to do, and
as I gave her hood an exploratory lick, she arched her back, and moaned,
"Wow!  Do that again!" I did, and she lifted her legs so that her feet were
on the bed, and that opened her up to me, and for a moment I just gazed at
her sex, admiring the little wet cleft on display for my eyes.  Her outer
lips were pouty, and her inner lips were puffed, pink, and spread out,
opening like her name, a little flower.  Her aroma was heady, and musky
with her arousal.

   I leaned into them, and began to lick her all over the lips of her sex
in earnest now, so she closed her thighs on my head, rotating her hips,
gasping, moaning, and making encouraging remarks, telling me how good that
felt, how good my tongue was in her, and so I just kept going.  Tamara was
getting more wanton as her second climax rushed upon her small frame, and
then clenching her teeth, she gave a groaning howl, and came again hard,
with me licking her clit, grinding my tongue on her hard little nubbin. 
Tamara bucked and thrashed into my face, lost in her sexual oblivion.

   When the gasping girl finally calmed down, whimpering and moaning, I
kissed my way back up her body, licking her nipples for a moment, and then
I lay down next to her.  She lay there, then rolled into me, and hugged me,
telling me thank you!  Then all alert and curious, she asked me if I'd come
as well?  I told her I hadn't, so with a naughty grin, she scooted down my
body, and without hesitation, put her mouth straight onto my tumescence! 
She closed her lips, and gave an exploratory suck, obviously never having
done that before, then breathing through her nose, began to suck on me like
a lollipop, her tongue giving my glans upward lick inside her mouth.

   I didn't complain, as she was just learning, and the feeling was soft
and incredible!  I gently told her to keep doing that, but move her head up
and down, taking a little bit more of me into her.  She dropped her head,
and gagged as my tip hit the back of her throat, and then we both laughed
at her reaction, which was to take her head off me, and cough.

   "Oops, too much", she said, then went back down, flicking her hair out
of the way so that I could see her cheeks puffing in and out as she got her
rhythm back.  This may have been her first time with a man's penis in her
mouth, but she was a trooper, and kept going.  Tamara started to lick me
like before, and soon I felt that tingle that warned me of an approaching
climax.  She bobbed her head, and I told her to take it slow, so she did,
and that increased the sensations for me.  I was moving, writhing a little,
trying not to buck my hips into her mouth, and then I groaned, "Honey, I
coming!"

   She took her mouth off me, and jacked me off with her hand, then
exclaimed in joy as I shot my semen into the air, where it splashed onto my
stomach.  She continued to stroke me, until I had to take her hand away, my
cock being tender.  She lay beside me, and ran a fingertip in my cooling
seed, and then she took some, and put her finger into her mouth, and sucked
it clean.  She smiled, and told me it tasted nice, and then she proceeded
to lick me clean, including my flaccid member, until all of my ejaculate
was gone!

   Talk about surprised!  That I didn't expect her to do!  This sweet young
girl was amazing, as if she couldn't wait to try new things with me, and I
briefly wondered how sexually adventurous she would be once we'd mated, and
she was no longer skittish.  But that could wait for another day, and all I
wanted to do was curl up with her and sleep, my orgasm tiring me.  Tamara
got up, put her panties back on, then turned off the light, and snuggled
into me, and lying like that, we slept.

   Ever have those dreams where you know you're dreaming, but coast along
with it, curious to know what's going to happen next?  I had one like that,
and it was so real, it was like I was actually there.  I could smell the
night-time forest and the sounds and my vision was so clear, so sharp, I
took a step forward, and raised my paw, ready to run.  Paw?  I looked down,
and noticed how low I was to the ground, and then I looked at my body, and
I saw fur all over it.  I wasn't standing upright, but down on all fours,
but I wasn't uncomfortable with being in that posture.

   Then a small black female wolf came to my side, and by body gestures,
and an inquiring look in her grey eyes, she was asking me if I wanted to
run with her.  I panted a yes, and then we were off, and the ground sped
away under my flashing paws, and at first I was swinging this way and that,
almost crashing into trees, until she stopped, and told me how to use my
tail as a sort of a rudder, and that made it better.  We ran for what
seemed like hours, and out of the corner of my peripheral vision, I could
see other wolves running with us, but try as I might to see them, when I
turned my head, they were gone, but were back when I turned my head
straight on.

   I forgot about them, and ran, my chest heaving with the unaccustomed
exertion, until finally, I told her I had to stop, low growls and whines
coming from my jaws.  Then the small black she-wolf came to my side,
turning her haunches toward me in a display of need and affection, and then
she licked my face in happiness.  I was her mate, her pack-mate, and she
loved me for it!

   I jerked awake, sitting up.  Tamara gave a whimper, reaching for me in
her sleep.  The ramifications of the dream settled into the fog of my
half-awake state, and then I was awake fully, panting, out of breath and
with a dry throat, so I looked down at this strange little woman in my bed,
and try as I might, I couldn't, just couldn't, reconcile the black she-wolf
with her.  Tamara moaned and whimpered in her sleep, and mumbled, "Where
did you go?  Come back!" I held her, and finally, I slept, but the
wolf-dream didn't happen again, and I knew nothing until I woke to an empty
bed, and the sun streaming into the room.

   Chapter Three

   I lay in the bed, the blankets all a mess and I was tired, my hands and
feet sore.  I couldn't understand why they would be so; it was just a
dream, after all, right?  Wasn't it?  I heard the sound of weeping, and
then Little Flower was standing at the bedroom door, her eyes red and
puffy, and she looked so forlorn.  "What's the matter, Little One?" I
asked, holding out my arms to her, but she just stood there, shaking her
head and hugging herself, then wiping the tears from her eyes, she said in
a small voice, "I can't, Ralph.  I can't hold off telling you who I am, not
after last night." I was confused, and went to ask what she was upset
about, when the damnedest thing happened.  She was no standing longer
there, but a black-haired, grey-eyed wolf was.

   It stood in there doorway, and looked at me with sad eyes, and to say I
was piss-my-pants scared was a gross understatement!  The she-wolf came up
to the bed, and as I recoiled from it.  It whined, and put a paw up on the
mattress.  I was almost climbing up the wall in fear, and a cold sweat had
begun to sprout on my skin.  I was terrified, I admit it!  I shivered, and
I thought it was going to go for me, but it sat on its haunches, and then
the she-wolf jumped onto the bed, and lay down, its muzzle on my thigh,
it's sad grey eyes never leaving mine.

   "Holy fucken Christ!" I breathed.  This can't be real, my mind screamed
at me.  I desperately wanted to wake up from this weird dream, but my
conscious mind told me I was already awake, and that this wolf was very
real, it was lying on my bed, and it was Tamara, the girl I knew as Little
Flower.  I almost went into shock, but the writer's part of my brain kept
me from slipping into that black void.  Then, miraculously, I was no longer
afraid!  Believe it or not, I suddenly realised I had the storyline for a
new book!  It was crazy!  I was so relieved, I laughed, and swallowing down
my reluctance to touch this wild animal, I gingerly put my arms around her
and rubbed my face in her soft fur.

   The she-wolf, Tamara, wagged her tail in happiness, and rolled over,
giving me a show of trust and affection, so I rubbed her belly, giving her
kisses on her muzzle.  She pawed at me, licking my face, giving small
whines, and whimpers, and so I said to her, "It's ok, my love!  I'm not
afraid, and no, I don't hate you!  This is fantastic!" I laughed again, and
Tamara was back, kneeling on the bed, wrapping her arms around, me,
squeezing me in joyous abandon.  She was crying in happiness, and trying to
talk, but her blubbering was making her words gibberish, so she shut up,
and hugged me.

   As we were sitting at the table having breakfast, I was making notes on
a pad as I ate.  Tamara kept telling me to eat, as I would start scribbling
ideas, and my breakfast went cold.  I shovelled it into my mouth to finish
it, and as I went to the computer to switch it on, I was chewing the last
bits.  I worked for several hours before I was interrupted for lunch, and
that went down my throat untasted as my mind was elsewhere.  Tamara took it
with good grace, and got dinner ready in advance, not saying a word, but
deep in thought.

   It was finally the craving for a smoke that got me up, and before I went
outside, I really needed to visit the bathroom!  Tamara had put cups of
coffee by my elbow, and before I knew it, they were empty, and I'd hold the
cup up, and look for holes and spills, which there were none.  The she'd
fill it up again, and off I'd go, ideas pouring out of me.

   As we sat outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun, Tamara commented on
the ideas that I'd written down, sounding as though she'd read them, and
when I said something to that effect, she laughed, and said of course she
did!  She'd come and stand behind me, but I hadn't noticed her there, too
wrapped up in what I was doing.  She asked me if I had a name for the book
yet, and sadly I didn't.  She offered a couple, but they didn't seem to
fit, as I hadn't put together a storyline yet, and to me, the title should
reflect the content of the book.

   We were about to go inside, when Tamara stopped, and cocked her head,
then she abruptly told me to stay where I was, and then she was off,
running down the meadow.  She stopped about a hundred yards away, and then
walked slowly forward, to kneel in the long grass.  She was looking at
something there, and I could see her mouth moving, but I didn't know what
she was saying, or to who, or what.  She knelt there for a minute, her
hands busy, then looking up at me, she screamed, "Ralph!  Start the car,
then bring me a blanket!"

   I didn't hesitate.  Something in her voice told me to hurry, that
something was wrong, dreadfully wrong.  I ran inside, grabbed the keys to
the off roader, and a thick woollen blanket, then putting the vehicle out
of gear, first making sure that the handbrake was on, I started it, then
leaving the door open, I dashed to Tamara's side, where I found her
cradling a small greyish tan wolf.  It was a bitch, I noticed, then I saw
the blood that was oozing out of the many bite marks and gashes all over
its body.

   I knelt down and handed Tamara the blanket, and she wrapped the wounded
animal in it.  Then she took off running to the vehicle, shouting at me to
get in quickly, and floor it!  As soon as her door was shut, I planted boot
and we roared out of there, gravel from the spinning tyres flying.  As we
careened out onto the main road, I asked the worried woman where we were
going.  She told me of a doctor near town that they went to, and "hurry,
Ralph, hurry!"

   Tamara sat on the back seat, being thrown around as we sped down the
unsealed country road, the tyres skidding in loose gravel.  Suddenly, there
were wolves everywhere!  There must have been about twenty of them, huge,
vicious animals that looked insane with anger.  They growled and leapt at
the off-roader, bouncing from it, and one leaped at the vehicle, and Tamara
screamed as it crashed into and off her window.  The wolves were going
crazy, leaping at the vehicle, snapping and lunging at the tyres like they
were trying to savage and shred them, forcing us to stop.  There was a
frightened howl, and one of the wolves flew through the air, to land
heavily and skid on the grass at the side of the road, and it didn't get up
again.  It was dead, and the other wolves increased the ferocity of their
attack.

   On the road in front of us, coming up fast, there were three wolves
standing in the middle of the road, a huge old grey-furred dog wolf with
half an ear in the front, his eyes glowing red with blood, and they were
snarling, their heads down, fangs bared.  They were not going to move, I
knew.  Tamara screamed that we cannot stop!  It was us or them, and with a
snarl of my own, protecting my own pack, I shifted down a gear, and planted
my foot.  The Rover surged, and as it screamed with high revs the G forces
threw us back into our seats.  We were on the wolves, and I caught one as
we went past, feeling the thump as we hit it, and heard its death scream as
it was catapulted into the scrub.

   "What the fuck is going on, Little Flower," I yelled as we cleared the
rabid pack.  They were chasing us, but we were going too fast, the pack
lagging behind as we sped away.  Soon, they were only dots on the road,
slowing down.  I did the same, my heart beating so fast, I thought it was
going to burst out of my chest, the fear and the adrenalin powerful in my
veins.  Tamara was crying, what for I didn't know.  "Tamara!" I yelled
again.  "What was that?  What did they want?"

   "The child!" She sobbed, "They wanted this child!  They've tried to kill
her once already, and that was their second attempt!"

   "Child?" I yelled, "What child?" Then I flicked a look into the
backseat, and there was a young girl, no more than ten or so lying there,
her light brown hair wet with perspiration, and clotted with blood.  Her
clothes all ripped and bloodied, and she was pale from loss of blood.  Her
eyes were half-open and glassy.  Her mouth was slack, and she looked dead
already.  Tamara had her head in her lap, and her tears fell onto the
lolling grey face.  The rest of the trip was a blur, the crying young woman
giving me directions, until we skidded into a driveway, and then Tamara was
out and running into the house, not even knocking, holding the child.  The
young man who came to see what the fuss was all about didn't seem surprised
to see us, and immediately told Tamara to bring the child, and ushered her
into a back room.  He told me to stay put, then went out back, closing the
door.

   It was a long time before they reappeared, and the young man asked
Tamara if I was her mate, looking at me, his brows furrowed, trying to
place me.  Little Flower told him I was, and it was recent thing.  She sat
on the chair in the front room, her hands bloodied, and trembling.  Her
head was down, and then the reaction set in, and she sobbed loudly, so I
went to her, knelt by the chair, and she threw her arms around my neck,
shaking and crying in grief.

   The doctor went away, and came back ten minutes later, with a hot coffee
for us all.  He stood off to the side, not willing to intrude into this
scene of heartbreak and sadness.  Tamara calmed down, and then she picked
up her cup, and sipped the beverage.  She said nothing, and then the doctor
asked who was responsible for the child's injuries?  Tamara looked up, and
with a savage snarl she spat, "The Jimson's!  That pack of flea-bitten
mutts turned on and attacked one their own!  A little girl-child, Allen,
defenceless!" Then she hung her head, and in a sad voice, said, "Dancer
won't tolerate this, and the Jimson's will defend their territory.  They're
probably going to want her back." Tamara was angry now, her eyes flashing,
her blood rising to her face, making her look flushed.  "We can't give her
back, Allan!  They'll kill her if we do!  They're going to lose a lot of
blood over this if they try!"

   She got up, and went to the back room, to check on the girl.  The doctor
turned to me, and asked where did I fit in to all of this?  Was I part of
the Miller clan, or the Jimson's?  "No," he said, "Little Flower wouldn't
mate with one of theirs, not alive and screaming, anyway!" He looked tired,
and sat down, and I was desperate for a smoke.  I'd put my packet in my
pocket on the way out of the cabin, and told him to come outside, and I'd
talk to him there.

   The doctor was a young man, about twenty-five or so, but he carried his
experience well.  He was an even tempered guy, with sandy-blonde hair and
he had brown eyes that looked sleepy, until you noticed the intelligence in
them.  He introduced himself as Allan Webster, "call me Webb!", the local
vet, which surprised me, but he told me not to worry about, he was known in
the valley as a `Neutral', and all the families came to him to patch up
their hurts.

   He watched me shrewdly, trying to pick me, wondering if he'd seen me
before.  I fished out a smoke, and then as I lit it, I introduced myself,
and told him about myself, how I'd met Tamara, and her brothers, and how
Tamara had freaked me out by changing in front of me.  It was good to tell
someone about it, because it still didn't seem real, and I was still coming
to terms with the knowledge that my girl, the woman that I was in love
with, was a werewolf!

   "They're not werewolves," he told me.  "They're shape-changers. 
Werewolves have to wait for the full moon to change; shifters can do it
anytime, anywhere!  Every person carries certain genes, and every once in a
while, they come out, and that person will change into an animal that suits
their personality.  Some are wolves, some big cats, some different
animals." He looked into the growing darkness, and sighed.  "Some don't
have them at all, very rare, they are." He looked down at me as I sat on
his porch, my legs over the side.  "The werewolf mythos started because of
some people, mainly men, who didn't know what they going through.  They'd
start by having the dreams.  Dreams of running through the country, or
forest, other wolves with them, but when they turned to look, the wolves
would be gone."

   He sighed.  "Then they'd start to change spontaneously.  Usually freaks
them out, something fierce!  The shifters, who had been there and went
through the change themselves, try to be near one who's going through it;
they can feel it somehow, but sometimes?  Well, there are full wolves and
other animals out there who used to be people, people who went `native',
for lack of a better word!"

   "When you change into that animal," he continued, "you take on the
traits of that animal, and sometimes, the lure of the wild feelings swamp
you, and you stay changed, forgetting who you are, and who you used to be!"

   "That's why some wild animals hang around people, because a part of
their mind remembers who they used to be, and they don't know why they want
to be around people!  Some are accepted by people, the rest are driven
away, captured and relocated, or killed as a pest."

   "My family has been here as long as theirs has," he said, waving at the
house, and the two girls inside.  "We all know about them, their feud,
which has claimed a lot of lives these past few centuries.  It erupts every
so often, packmates get killed on either side, then they settle down, and
everyone gets on with their lives." He sighed, a deep sigh of regret.  "The
names may have changed over the years, but the enmity remains."

   He looked inside, then told me that not everyone in the valley were
wolves.  I was looking out at the road, and I saw nothing, felt nothing,
and when I turned my head to look at him, there was a huge cat looking at
me, inches from my face!  I yelled, and fell off his porch, and when I
picked myself up, Webb was standing there again, laughing at me.  "Fucking
asshole!" I almost shouted, "you scared the crap out of me!"

   "I didn't know dogs were afraid of cats," he said.

   "What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped.

   He looked at me, and shook his head.  "You mean you don't know?  Shit,
why do you think Tamara is with you?  She wouldn't mate with a human, it's
not in her genes to!  She'd only mate with another of her kind.  And that's
you, in case you're wondering who I'm talking about!"

   I was speechless.  Then the dream came back to me, so real and so very
seductive.  Tamara and I running through the forest at night, and I felt a
wild surge in my blood, remembering how I felt, the joy of the hunt, the
enhanced sight and smells that came to me.  I was in shock.  No, I thought,
not me!  I was a shapeshifter?  Impossible!  I was an author of books, a
scribbler of words, and a scholar!  Holy shit!

   Just then, Tamara came outside, and she had wrapped a blanket around
herself.  She told us that the child was doing better, but was running a
fever.  The doctor went inside to check on her, and then Tamara came over
to me, sat beside me, putting her head on my shoulder.  I put my arm around
her shoulders, and together we sat there, watching the stars come out, not
saying a word, not feeling the need to, despite my shock, and the myriad
questions I had.

   About then, Tamara's stomach gave a growl, and I felt my own rumble in
discontent.  She got up, and told us we'd better head back now, as there
was nothing else to be done, and that the child would be safe here, as no
family would violate neutral territory.  She called out to Allen, and he
came out, then giving our goodbyes, he shook my hand, pleased to meet me,
and kissed Tamara on the cheek, and promised to send word about the child's
progress as soon as possible.  Then we turned away, and drove back to the
cabin in silence, Tamara nodding off, tired from the emotional upheaval of
the day.  So I took us home, and when we got there, we had a quick dinner,
and then went to bed, cuddling in the dark, until we both slept, not
feeling the storm approach.

   When we woke up, the sun was still a light smudge on the horizon.  I was
lying in the bed, feeling warm and drowsy, Tamara lying beside me, her nude
body stretched out, looking so damn good.  She was starting to put on
weight, filling out and gaining sleeker curves.  Her breasts were becoming
fuller, and the weight of them on her chest made me look at them, study
them in their perfection, and I wanted to lean over her and kiss them,
feeling her nipples in my mouth.  I did begin to move over her, but she
rolled out of bed, dashing into the bathroom, giving a giggle as she did
so. She knew what I had in mind, waiting for me to move.  So when I did,
she made her move.  She was playing with me in the way of wolves, and
rather than be cross with her, I found her coquettish behaviour stimulating
me.  As I went to hop out of the bed, the sheet tangled itself on my
erection, twisting me around, causing me to almost fall out of bed!

   Over a short breakfast, Tamara told me she was going out, and pass word
of what had happened to her brothers.  She worried how Dancer was going to
react when she told him, being the Alpha male of their pack, and when she
left, she was silent and a bit withdrawn.  I watched her wolf form flash
into the trees, feeling no discomfort at seeing her do so.  I had lain
awake in bed last night, waking up after only a couple of hours sleep, and
did a lot of thinking.  The conclusions I came to made me resolve to accept
this strange new way of life.  After all, what did it profit me to rail
against something I really had no control over?  If was it to be, then let
it.  Que sera, sera, as Doris Day sang.

   I went inside, and began to write a new story, this one based on my
experiences so far, with the names and places changed.  The words flowed
like a stream, and the plot revolved around a loner who goes to live in the
woods, running from painful experiences in his life, etc.  etc.  Standard
stuff, really, but it's how the story is written, and how it is translated
by its readers.

   I took a break after a couple of hours, and as the weather was still
fine, although the summer was over, and autumn was well and truly here, I
went outside, and took advantage of the weak sun, noticing for the first
time the reds and yellows of the changing leaves on the trees.  The grass
was still long, and waved in the midday breeze.  I watched it rippling and
waving, and down the meadow, a covey of quail took flight, wheeling noisily
away towards the trees, and taking roost there.

   As I was getting up, and moving to go inside to do some more writing,
something crashed against my skull at the back of my head, and as darkness
was overcoming me, I heard a gravelly voice say, "Stupid mutt!  He
should've heard me coming!" Someone else laughed, a derisive and sarcastic
sound, and as my face smashed into the gravel of the path, he said, "Leave
him there, but tie him!" Then darkness, black and comforting, closed over
me, and I knew no more.

   When I came to, I groaned with the pain in my head that scrambled my
thoughts.  My hands and feet were tied, and when I tried to move, I
couldn't.  They were tied tightly together.  I was trapped.  I felt a boot
crash into my ribs, causing my breath to leave my body explosively, and a
voice said, "Reb?  He's coming around!" He must have been pulling his boot
back for another kick, because the gravelly-voiced one told him to back
off, and leave me alone.  I shook my head to clear it, and a wave of nausea
made me want to heave, and bile, sour and burning, rose into my throat.  I
spat to clear the taste out of my mouth, and then the sun was blocked by an
old man, about sixty or so, thin but physically commanding, with a piece of
his ear missing, and it looked like it had been chewed off.  He took my
chin in his hand, raised my face, studied it, and with a flick of his
wrist, pushed it away.

   He was crazy, I knew that immediately.  His eyes burned with madness,
and he was sneering at me, considering me to be a lesser being, prey for
the hunter.  He laughed, which a couple of other men did also, and when I
looked around, there were eight men there, stocky, vicious, and waiting for
the order to kill.  I could almost smell the blood-lust on them.  There was
no compassion, no quarter in their eyes.

   The Alpha spoke to me then, but not looking at me, his mad eyes roaming
around, never still, looking for his enemies that he knew must surely come.
"Where's the girl?  I know you know where she is, boy!  I want her back!"

   I shook my head slowly, and before I could answer, one of the men had a
knife at my throat, and as it pressed into my neck, I felt a searing pain,
and then felt warm blood beginning to dribble down my upper chest into my
shirt.

   "You see what we can do to you, boy?" the old man said conversationally.
"It can take a man hours to die.  My boy Fred there knows how to do it,
too!" He had a look of pride when he looked at the one holding the knife to
my neck.  "You see, I taught him all he knows!  He loves to hear the
animals scream when he slices them, a bit at a time!  It's purely music to
the ears!" Then he laughed, a horrible sound, full of the promise of a
screaming hell.

   His insane eyes gleamed, and with a death's head grin, he bent down, and
grabbed my blood-soaked shirt-front.  "I want my grand-daughter back, boy!
I've promised her to my son, there!  If she isn't found soon, a lot of
people are going to die!" Then he brought his face close to mine, and lost
in his bloody fantasies, he said, "And we're going to start with you!"

   The man holding me surrendered the knife to mad old man, and as he went
to swing a cut to my face, there was a blur of movement, and then the men
were shouting as a black wolf jumped into the air, ripping out the throat
of the man behind me, splashing me with arterial blood.  The knife was
knocked from the old man's hand, and then Tamara was there, holding it low,
in a classic knife-fighter's crouch.  It was a hunting knife, honed sharp
and deadly.  Then she whipped around, and the bonds holding me melted away,
and she back facing the men, while the son of the mad old man died,
bleeding to death in moments.

   Tamara was panting, but she didn't take her eyes from the men
surrounding us, watching them fan out around her, waiting for the chance to
get close and take her.  I stood, rubbing the feeling back into my wrists,
not knowing what to do in this deadly game.  I was frightened, more
frightened than I'd ever been.  I knew one wrong or false step would bring
death to us both, and so I stood silently behind her, ready for only God
knew what to happen next.

   The old man had stepped back, and his eyes went colder, and a snarl was
twisting up his face.  "Oh, girl," he whispered.  "You killed my son! 
You're going to scream a long time for that!" Then he shouted, "Well, don't
just stand there, take them!  Kill the male, but I want her alive!  Do it
now!"

   As they went to move, suddenly the place was alive with snarling wolves.
Several of the men went down, the wolves tearing out their throats, and
then there were snarling, growling, fighting animals everywhere.  Tamara
grabbed my hand, and pulled me up the steps of the cabin, and together we
watched the slaughter.

   Soon all but the three fleeing wolves, Jed Jimson the first to run, were
down or dead.  Then Dancer was standing there, panting heavily, blood
coming from many puncture wounds on his body.  Taking the hunting knife
from his little sister, he moved among the dead and dying animals, and when
he found one of the wolves not of his pack wounded, he plunged the knife
into their chests, and there were yelps of pain, but not many.  When it was
done, he slumped to his knees, and wept for his fallen wolf-brothers.

   Together, Tamara and I patched Dancer and his brothers up as best we
could, none of us speaking, moving from one to the other, with a couple of
unwounded cousins helping us, while more family members turned up, and
buried the bodies.  Tears were shed, with Dancer saying they'd be
dis-interred later, for proper burial elsewhere.  A call was placed to
Allen, who promised to meet us out there as soon as he could.  He was also
bringing the wounded girl with him, who was recovering slowly, so we sat
there in the afternoon light, and waited.

   There were close to fifty members of Dancer's family and extended family
there by the time Allen, the doctor turned up.  He went to each of the
wounded and replaced bandages, giving them all shots, and advising them to
change as soon and as often as they could, as that would speed the healing
process up faster.  A couple of the female family members took the little
girl from his car and carried her inside while the coffee pot, which had
been going non-stop, was refilled yet again.  I hoped my coffee supply
would last, but the arrival of some people with heavy packs removed my
fears in that direction.  They had medicines, bandages, needles and
sutures, supplementing the doctor's supply.  They also had food and coffee,
so we sat or milled around, no-one willing to leave just yet.

   Tamara broke out her smokes, passing them around, and several men, and a
couple of women were smoking, making some of the family move away from the
group, wrinkling their noses at the smell of cigarette smoke, much to their
enjoyment, and laughter.  Comments and jokes were thrown at each group,
lightening the sombre mood.  Tamara came to me, and sat between my legs,
her back to me, and I held her close.  Without her intervention, I'd have
been tortured, and killed.  She lit a smoke, and as she puffed, she told me
that the girl, Summer Rose, would be alright, but would carry some pretty
ugly scars from her ordeal at the hands of her own family.

   "Jed Jimson, didn't just bite her," she told me.  "He also used a knife
on her, the bastard!" She was trembling, but not from the cold breeze. 
"When she refused to be mated with Jed's son, they thought they could
torture her into it.  She's nearly insane from fear of them!" The lovely
young woman sniffed, holding back her tears.  "She knew she could get help
from us, that's why she came here.  She was looking for us, but was so weak
and out of her head with pain, she went by the cabin, not seeing it.  Not
all the Jimson clan hate us, and we all want this damned feud to end!"

   Tamara turned to me, and told me the girl was only eleven.  "Can you
imagine what a grown sadistic prick like Fred Jimson would have done to
that poor girl's body, Ralph?  He'd have torn her apart!  There's no way
she'd have survived the rape he'd have inflicted on her!  I'll talk to
Dancer, and ask him as Alpha if we can adopt her into our clan.  Maybe
she'll settle down as one our pack, and let us heal her."

   Then getting up, she said she was going to help the other women to
prepare food for all of us, and then walked away.

   Chapter Four.

   The family members who stayed the night slept in the barn, and I broke
out as many blankets as I could find.  The Miller clan were remarkably
accepting of me, most being friendly enough to talk to me, and when I told
someone that I was a writer, suddenly I had several of them clustered
around my computer reading my work, and commenting on it, all of them
trying to give their opinions of the characters, and telling me what they'd
have done different, had they been the people in the book.  Everyone's a
critic!  Those ones were shushed, as a couple of women, who'd read one or
two of my books, tried to read a book they hadn't.

   Tamara and I left them to it, showered and went to bed, where we lay in
each other's arms, and talked about the day.  Summer Rose was sleeping on
the couch, and was watched over by some of the older women, and by the hard
look in their eyes, no Jimson would get with cooee of going near her. 
They'd be dead before that happened!

   The next attack came the next day.  Jed had told one of his boys to keep
an eye on my place, and tell him when everyone had left.  Most of the
Miller clan had gone, and not expecting him to move so soon and they went
their separate ways.  There were still some sentries around, left there by
Dancer, but they were in the tree line, watching us, out of sight.  There
was only Tamara, myself, and the girl, Summer Rose, in the cabin, and then
suddenly, the door was kicked in with a crash, and Jed Jimson was standing
there, foaming at the mouth, finally passing over the border into full
insanity, and screaming that he wanted all of us dead!

   He didn't just want his grand-daughter back, he said, she was going to
die for being a traitor and coming to us for help, crossing the boundary of
his range, into ours.  I got Tamara behind me, but she stepped forward, her
hand with a knife in it, the one she'd taken off Fred Jemson.  She was
snarling at him, a feral and vicious sound, and then she attacked the old
man, taking an underhanded swipe at his unprotected belly.  He swung a
powerful back-hander, and with a loud slap, sent her flying one way, the
knife the other.  She crashed into the sink bench cupboard, and lay there
on the floor, stunned.  There were many people outside, some trying to
barge through the door, but was stopped by their patriarch blocking the way
forward.

   Then there was a cacophony of howling, wolves calling for each other,
and then everything dissolved into chaos.  Outside, there were wolves
fighting everywhere, snapping at throats, growling, snarling, yelping in
pain or agony, and the din was incredible!  I had to do something, and I
felt an unreasoning anger at this mentally sick hillbilly asshole, and with
death in my heart for the hurt and misery he had inflicted on those I knew,
and the one I loved, I charged at him.

   He tried to change, to go into his wolf shape, but as I saw his eyes
change, I swung a kick at him, and caught him in the hip, then both of us
were off-balance, and snarling, we closed on each other, and then my hands
were around his neck, while he was trying to do the same to me.  We rolled
around in the floor, first me on top of him, the he on me.  It was brutal,
savage and cruel what we did to each other.  We inflicted hurt on each
other, and every time he tried to change, I'd dig a thumb into his eye
socket, breaking his concentration, making him scream.  Several times I
felt hands try to pull me off him, voices yelling, telling Jed he had to
leave, but now I had the bloodlust on me, and I wasn't letting him go until
I was holding his dead body in my grasp!

   Then through the fog of hatred for this sadistic and inhuman piece of
trash I was trying to kill, I heard a voice, Dancer's panting voice,
telling me to let him go, he was dead, and couldn't fight back anymore.  It
took some seconds to let go.  My hands were locked, and I couldn't make
them move.  Then someone saw my problem, and my fingers were prised off the
corpse's throat.  I was pulled to my feet, shaking, my legs wobbly.  I
stood there numb and cold, then suddenly I was crying, and I staggered to
the computer chair, and Tamara was at my side, holding me, crooning into my
ear as she held me.

   Every one of the Jimson pack was dead, including the patriarch.  That
didn't mean we got off lightly, though.  When I went outside for a smoke to
calm my nerves, I saw furry bodies and blood everywhere.  Several men of
the Miller clan, those with the strength to go through a change, were lying
on the ground, moaning and groaning in pain, the arriving men and women
doing what they could for them.  Another call was placed to Allan, and then
we all had to wait for him.  I couldn't stop the shivering that plagued me.
Try as I might, I couldn't remember the fight in any great detail.  All I
could remember was the heat of battle, the unreasoning, overpowering lust
to kill, and as I sat there on the step, with Tamara never leaving my side,
someone started to wash the blood from me.

   I didn't even realise I'd been hurt, nor did I feel any pain until I was
being tended to.  Suddenly, I pushed away from everyone, staggered a few
feet, and then with my guts heaving, I was throwing up, bitter scalding
bile pouring out of my throat.  I was on my knees, feeling woozy, unable to
stop crying and choking.  A couple of men helped me through it, telling me
I was suffering from shock from the fight, and that I'd be fine.  One of
the men, one I'd met the day before, knelt next to me, put his arm around
my shoulders gently, and talked to me, telling in a quiet voice that
usually happened when the adrenaline wore off after a bloody battle, and
that he'd gone through it too, a few times.  He talked me through it, until
my head was clear enough for calmness.

   I was grateful for that man, and with his arm around my shoulders, and
my arm around his waist, we went back to the cabin step, and as I sat down,
Tamara, my beautiful wonderful mate, gave me another smoke, and this time,
I held it, my hands steady.  The men would come by me, and some would shake
my hand, and murmur words of comfort.  I had proved myself to them, but at
the cost of another's life, sadly.  But he was dead, and I wasn't.  I liked
that idea very much.

   When the body of Jed Jimson was carried out of the cabin, several women
spat on the body as it went past.  They either knew of his practices
concerning the women of his clan, or were adopted members of the Miller
clan, and remembered his rule with fear and hate.  He was just so much
carrion now, and I refused to look at his corpse.

   It was around three in the morning before everyone was asleep in the
cabin and barn.  Someone borrowed my off-roader to ferry some of the more
seriously hurt to a local hospital, returning later to ferry the next lot
there.  The walking wounded sat or lay wherever they happened to be, until
helped into the barn to sleep.  I offered my bed to anyone of the more
wounded than me to use, but none would take it.  They'd smile, thank me,
and say no that was my bed, it was mine by right.  When Tamara took my hand
and led me to the shower, several women snickered, but were all smiles. 
You get used to their sense of fun in the pack.

   Tamara, my exotic goddess, helped me off with my torn and bloodied
clothes.  When I saw how much there was, I started to look for more wounds.
There sure was a lot!  The cut on my neck was stinging under the hot water,
even with the stitches, a couple of them torn out during the fight with Jed
Jimson.  My bruises all over my body ached, an annoying deep ache that
cramped when I turned a different direction.  Tamara was gentle with me,
washing me down, and when I was clean; she dried me like a child, and then
led me off to bed.  I fell asleep immediately in her arms, cradled softly,
safe and warm.

   The shape-shifting Miller clan had their own cemetery, and it was a sad
day when we all gathered to put the mortal remains into the ground.  There
were so many of them, I had no idea of the scale of the slaughter that day.
The part of the country that they'd settled so long ago was known locally
as `Shapeshifter County," and a lot of births weren't registered, so those
who did die in the internecine wars and feuds would be buried quickly and
quietly, and their passing was hardly remarked upon, but they were
remembered anyhow.  You never truly die, the memory of who you were lives
on.

   The majority of the Jemson clan moved on after the battle that wiped out
a big majority of their males, and their patriarch, their Alpha male.  Some
of the Jemson women, and a few of the males, mainly young boys, came as a
delegation to Dancer, our Alpha, and petitioned him to take them in, and as
a gesture of goodwill they said they were changing their names, that they'd
be Jemson's no longer.

   After putting the idea forward to the rest of the Miller clan, as a full
pack, they agreed.  The pack was the largest in the country, and was one of
the more disciplined of them all.  They now had the largest territory as
well, and that winter, there food for all, no-one went hungry or without
through the snows and storms that lashed the county.

   During the months that followed, Tamara and I didn't mate, as you would
have expected.  She was waiting for something to happen, something that
would tie me to her and to the pack forever.  It happened one day, as we
were out checking trap-lines.  Tamara had decided to teach me how to make
and set traps, and we dined on fresh rabbit, skinned and eaten with relish!
The skins she taught me to cure and scrape, and I was surprised at how much
she had to teach me!

   I was trying to ford an ice-covered stream, but it was freezing, and
deep, as well as wide.  I couldn't jump it, and there wasn't anywhere for
me to cross it without getting wet.  I had shied away from thinking about
changing, fearing for the loss of my humanity, and for weeks I had lost
sleep worrying about it.  It was a personal issue with me.  Tamara had
changed often, and had talked with me, explaining in detail the thought
processes that went with it, but still, it was an impossibility for me to
do.

   "All you have to do," she told me, "was to imagine the wolf shape in
your mind.  Let go of your conscious self, and flow into that shape.  Don't
worry about your clothing; they will still be there, but `elsewhere'.  Be
confident that you are the wolf, and the change will happen quickly." She
looked away for a second, then looked at me, and said, "You have to let
your humanity go, Ralph.  Your humanity will stop you from changing, and
will be a block from it ever happening.  I know you fear this, but it must
happen!"

   So, this particular day, as I squatted by that blasted stream, I stood,
walked back a few paces, and calmed my seething mind.  I pictured myself as
a wolf, thinking about how easy it would be to run at, and fly over that
cold rushing water.  I was moving before I thought about it, running at the
water, then suddenly, I was on all fours, loping easily, and I felt the
exhilaration of the wind in my fur, and then a miracle happened!  I was
sailing over that stream, and landed with a thump on the other side!

   I was astounded, and raised my head, and howled my joy!  Just then I
heard an inquiring yip, and there were five wolves looking at me, sitting
on the far bank, the one I'd started from.  Dancer was in the forefront,
and his tail wagged in congratulations.  Next to him was Little Flower, and
she was running in circles in pure joy!

   I took a running jump, sailed over the stream to their side, and then
all five wolves were jumping and throwing themselves on me.  It was so
surreal; I just had to howl again in happiness!  Dancer told me in the
language of wolves to calm down, and to follow him.  We traversed the
trails and hidden nooks and crannies, known only to wolves, until we came
to a den in a valley not far from where we lived.  There were about twenty
wolves there, some visiting, and when they saw me, there was the wolf
equivalent of a party!  There were old friends and new, and everyone just
had to smell me, and some of them, the females, making me jump and put my
tail between my legs when their cold noses got too close to my butt!

   There was general merriment at my discomfiture, but that was soon calmed
down when Dancer, our Alpha, told them we had to go now, and we left them,
and made our way back.  When we got to the cabin, Dancer changed form to a
man, and I was so wrapped up in my new form, I almost forgot how, until
Dancer growled at me, and with reluctance, I changed back to a man again.

   I was on a high, and Tamara was full of energy, almost jumping out of
her skin with suppressed joy, and when the others had made their goodbyes,
grinning at me and congratulating me for the change, `finally!', she turned
to me, threw her arms around me, and hugged me tight.  It was then, with my
heightened sense of smell, that I noticed her odour.  She was excited, but
it was a different kind of excitement!  I could smell her arousal, and it
was heady and strong!

   Tamara looked me in the eyes, suddenly shy and coquettish, and told me
she would be waiting no longer, it was time.  I knew what she meant!  She'd
been waiting all this time for me to make up my mind and join the pack, to
become my true self.  That `something she'd been hoping for, believing in
me for, had finally happened.  I was now a true mate for her; I was her
Alpha, her Leader, her pack-mate.  I felt strong, powerful, and the blood
surged in my veins at the thought that I would now possess her completely.

   We showered together, Tamara like a little girl blushing and giggling,
not meeting my eyes, but darting glances at my manhood as it grew in her
soapy hands.  She was breathless, and it was like we were spending our
wedding night together, both of us virgins, even though I wasn't, but she
was.  We would be giving ourselves to each other completely, and that made
the experience all the more erotic for us.

   We dried each other off, spending long minutes slowly dragging the towel
over our bodies, and fingers finding out `hotspots', that increased our
desire.  Then we were on the bed, Tamara, lying there, flushed and
breathing hard.  Her arousal was strong in my nostrils, and I had to clamp
down the raging hormones that demanded I take her then and there.

   Tamara was lying in the bed, her arms up over her head.  This pulled her
breasts tight to her chest, and they beckoned me.  The nipples were hard
little pebbles, so I dipped my head, and tasted first one, then the other,
licking them by dragging my tongue over the nubbin of flesh.  Tamara sucked
in her breath, making them stick out even more.  I spent a few minutes
sucking and licking her breasts, giving them little kisses, feeling the
soft smooth skin as it moved and trembled under my lips, driving her to
distraction, making her toss her head and moan.

   My hands found them then, and I lightly massaged the little mounds,
teasing the nipples by rolling and softly rubbing them.  Giving Tamara a
kiss on the lips, I made the trip down her body, kissing and giving small
darting licks, her skin goose-pimpling.  My hands ran down and then back up
her sides, from her hips to her armpits, back again, feeling the ridges of
her ribs, and then I was covering her breasts again, gently squeezing them,
and she had a glazed look in her eyes, little moans and sighs coming from
her parted lips.

   Then her aroma wafted up to me, so I dipped my head, and placing my lips
on her pubic mound, I rubbed my lips over her little curls, breathing in
the smell of her, so rich and musky, sweet and desirable.  Then I raised
her legs, lifting her rear into the air and off the bed.  I went further,
and licked her pouting and slick lips, giving them a swipe with my tongue,
making the aroused young woman gasp and shudder as my tongue tip hit her
clit, then I spent some time working my tongue on it, Tamara moaning with
increased frustration and need.

   The aroused young woman had had enough of me between her thighs, and
rolling over, she presented her hind quarters to me, showing me her thin
lips and puckered rosebud.  She lowered her shoulders to the bed, and
pushed back at me as I knelt there, groaning and making small whining
noises.  I moved behind her, holding my erect member, and she gave a moan
of joy when my cock-head found her entrance, I stayed still, the wanton
girl pushing back, and then half of the head went into her soft and silky
lips which parted and accepted it, and I groaned as they slid over me, hot
and slick.  Her juices were copious, and there was no need for further
lubrication from me, and as she pushed back, I pushed forward slowly, her
entrance so incredibly tight but welcoming.

   I felt the ring of her hymen, then with a gentle squeeze on my shaft,
and a yelp from the shaking girl in front of me, I was in, half my length
buried in her.  We were both panting, and I caught the coppery smell of
blood, evidence of her virginity, and then as I pulled back until my tip
was still in her, I saw the red blood as it smeared my manhood.

   Tamara knelt there, her breath fast and shallow, as she felt me within
her, getting used to the warm hard invader in her body, then she started to
move, small movements at first, then slowly shoving her cute butt at me,
and then we were moving together, our flesh slapping and shaking as we
found a rhythm.  Tamara was saying, "Oh, oh, oh, oh," over and over again,
and I was groaning, her warm wet channel clasping me, squeezing me, milking
me, driving me toward climax, and with a mighty effort of will, I managed
to hold off.

   Then after some amount of time, Tamara gave a cry, and shuddered
underneath me, giving small cries and grasping at the sheets, her head
tossing back and forth as she rode her climax.  I gave a loud groan, and
climaxed with her, my seed boiling up my shaft, and spewing out in a
cascade of liquid fire.  We shuddered and shook, and I was having a massive
orgasm, the most powerful of my life.

   Then we collapsed onto the bed, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat,
and sated, we lay there, me cuddling her from the back, while she moved her
hips back at me, a smile on her lips, her eyes closed, and giving a "Mmmm"
in contentment.

   We slept then, in the embrace of love, two lovers, two pack mates, two
who'd become one.

   When the sun rose over the trees, we woke and made love again, and again
when we'd got out energies back.  She was a gentle yet ferocious lover, and
even though I was her elder by over a decade, the strength of my new status
gave me the strength to take her, and together we discovered the joys of
exploring the different ranges of our imaginations in the bedroom, the
couch, and outside in the grass.

   We have a happy life together.  We would shift form and hunt together,
working in unison, revelling in the heady thrill of the kill, tasting the
warm blood of our prey as it ran over our tongues.

   Dancer and his pack would come and visit occasionally, but always
respecting our hunting area.  They wouldn't take a life there without
permission, but would always ask first.

   Wolves are so considerate!