Page 5 of Moonless

He gives me the route home.

That’s an answer to a different question, and he knows it.

Eskan tries to squeeze between his father’s forelegs, so I go back and nudge him toward Colm. Keer steps around us, putting himself between the pups and the blood. His spine arches as he starts to shift.

Bones crack, and his breath grates through his teeth. I keep the pups close while black fur recedes and his forepaws lengthen into hands. A few seconds later he’s crouched naked on the path, one hand braced against the ground.

“We’re going home.”

Birdie noses his knee. He scoops her against his chest and turns her away from the trail.

I shift too, teeth clamped through the wrench in my hips. The last change in my fingers hurts enough to make me flex them. I hate that part. Then I catch Eskan around the middle as he makes another attempt.

“Whose wolves?”

Keer looks at the marks again. His lips part, but he glances at me and presses them together.

There it is.

“You know that scent.”

“Axan will take an armed group out today.” He sets Birdie beside Colm, keeping a hand between her and the bracken. “We’ll find out where they went.”

“Then you can tell me whose trail they’ll be following.”

He reaches for Eskan, but I keep my nephew against my stomach.

“Kes. Take them home.”

“I’m asking you a question.”

“And I’m getting my children away from blood and moonbright.”

I stand with Eskan wriggling in my arms. Keer gathers the other two, his eye returning to the gap as he straightens.

“You stay off this trail.”

He’s looking directly at me now.

“I found it.”

“Stay off it.”

Sure I will.

Eskan kicks against my ribs, trying to get down, so I turn him toward home and start walking, rubbing the soft fur between his ears with my thumb.

Keer falls into step beside me, carrying one pup under each arm. Colm rests his chin over his father’s wrist. Birdie bites the other one.

Usually I’d encourage her. Instead I look back once, fixing the split birch above the gap in my mind.

My brother knows a name, and he’d rather tell me twice where I can’t go than give me that much.

By the time we’re dressed and carrying three human children toward the tables, Eskan has forgotten the blood and has both hands out for his birthday cake. Colm holds my collar with one fist, studying the crowded clearing from my hip.

Mel turns to make room for us, and her belly pushes a wooden cup off the table.

“You were supposed to bring them back tired.” She lifts a platter over Birdie’s reaching hands. “Those are very awake children.”