By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 16

I watched Shane disappear into the underbrush and sighed as I moved my gaze to the fire. Small flames flickered among the branches, their bright and cheerful dance at complete odds with the mood.

The sound of hooves on packed dirt had me ducking behind a shrub. Through the trees, I could see a handful of people on the road. These weren't knights or soldiers in clean armor. Apart from the numerous weapons, these ragged men in grubby mismatched outfits had nothing in common with our pursuers.

"Mule droppings. Still fresh, can't be more than an hour ahead."

"Let's catch 'em. Been a while since travelers came this way."

Apparently, the bandits had one thing in common with the soldiers in the previous valley – they were looking for us.

Keeping low, I took off my shoes for silence and jogged after Shane. It wouldn't take long for the men to double back and start searching for a camp.

"Shane!" I hissed, trying not to speak too loudly. "Bandits are looking for us!"

The grass between the shrubs was still bent over from his passage, making him easy to track. I ran as quietly as I could, eventually spotting him ahead, leaning against a tree with his head bowed wearily. With a relieved sigh, I continued forward as the first rays of light filtered through the trees.

As I opened my mouth to call his name, Shane collapsed to the ground, going into convulsions as his body contorted into his werewolf form. The dark orange light returned, but instead of the usual shimmer, it crisscrossed his body like aggravated lightning.

I froze in shock, then ran forward to help, although the convulsions were rapidly worsening, forcing him to curl into the fetal position. My feet slowed to a stop as he... shrank. I shook my head, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, but he was definitely getting smaller. When the convulsions stilled, I was even more confused.

Instead of a large werewolf capable of towering over me, a mummified knee-high bundle of bones, fur, and dried-out sinew rested against the base of the tree, complete with a snarling wolf head on top. The limbs and tail were tightly curled up, with the head being disproportionately large. The hollow eye sockets glared blankly at a shrub to the side.

I blinked a few times, but nothing changed.

The mummy corpse thing didn't move.

I suddenly had a sneaking suspicion why I never saw him during the day. He had never mentioned the fine details of his curse, but this seemed like a perfectly good reason. This also explained why he didn't hear the war party's horn calls during the day.

Remembering our current pursuers, I quickly glanced over my shoulder, but couldn't see the road from here. The bandits would be returning soon, so we had to get out of here. Considering Shane was – had been – my guide, that "we" included him, regardless of what I was supposed to call his current "form".

"Uh, Shane?"

The mummy didn't move, as oblivious to my voice as it must have been to the horn calls. With a grimace, I picked up a stick and edged closer, keeping a wary eye on the unmoving knee-high mummy. In the gaps between the ribs, a glint of silver reflected the sunlight, and I shuddered when I saw his necklace hanging in his hollow chest.

Gingerly, I reached out and poked it – him? – with the stick. The mummified bundle easily rolled to the side, clearly as hollow and light as it looked. The only thing missing was dust motes drifting through the air.

The urgency of the bandits warred with the impossibleness of the last few moments. I had come to accept Shane as a massive regal werewolf who uncannily guided me through a danger-filled forest. It had never crossed my mind that I'd be wondering if I could stuff him into my backpack.

Well, he did say I could travel ahead...

I shook my head as I knelt down and took off my backpack. This was insanity. I was putting a werewolf in my backpack. I would definitely not be telling my father about this part of my journey.

I really had to have words with whoever cast this curse. They clearly needed lessons in creativity. A poodle would have been much easier to deal with than a creepy corpse.

It was a good thing my backpack was mostly empty. I put my rain cloak on and carefully picked up the mummy, which was far lighter than should have been possible, and warily slid it into my backpack.

"Sorry, Shane, but there are bandits nearby," I whispered as I closed the flap. I doubted he could hear me, but just in case he could, I wanted to make sure he knew what was going on.

A crack of lightning overhead and the tumultuous boom shook me out of my partial daze. I rose to my feet and put my backpack on. I hastily returned to the campsite and scooped dirt onto the flames. Leaving the raw rabbit where it was, I saddled Milly and led her through the forest, away from the road.

I followed the creek upstream, eventually finding a place we could easily cross. Lightning and thunder accompanied us as rain began pouring down.

My nerves were tightly strung as I got on Milly's back and rode down a deer trail. This was the first time I was in a forest alone, nevermind that there were bandits nearby and more soldiers just over the mountain. Nor had I realized just how much Shane's presence had meant during our earlier travels. There was no werewolf scouting ahead for trouble or chasing predators away. It was just me, Milly, and a mummified something or other in my backpack.

I tried to keep Milly on the grass and rocks so we didn't leave many tracks. The rain came down harder, and I hoped it would make it impossible to tell her hoofprints apart from a deer's. With luck, it'd be enough to keep unwelcome company off our trail. I had no idea how Shane was going to react when he was back on his feet, but I suspected I had until close to sunset before I'd find out.

At least Shane would stay dry in this rainstorm.