Clandestine

[Nerys]

::22nd Hour::
::22nd Day::
::Undecimber::
::Year LV::

::Nerys::
Danger. Sickly sweet cat smell everywhere. Close. Too close. Never close enough.
The moon glowed off her dark pelt with a low burnishing gleam as she lay crouched, belly brushing the earth, in the fields surrounding Benevolence. Nerys was not hunting tonight. She had slaked her thirst the night before on an unfortunate tinker about ten miles down the road from Benevolence. It was a blessing to have a runner's physique. Where most Gewyn stayed closely confined to their territories, Nerys' own territory was a very small one and she was rarely in it. Instead she preferred to skirt the claims of others, wandering the borders of the valley to hunt. It gave her a broader scope in which to hunt, and she stood less chance of being detected that way. Ten miles was a mere jaunt.

Some distance to her left loomed Hallow Hill, it's presence an even blacker shadow against the black night sky. A stiff chill breeze made the grasses dance and carried the scent of woodsmoke and the sound of distant laughter and voices on the wind to the hidden she-wolf.
Humans. Warm healthy smell. Like bread and salt. And fine meat and cool sunlight.
But she could not yet detect his scent. She would need to be closer to Hallow Hill, nearer the smithy. The lupine femme licked her lips and whimpered in agitation. She had taken care to feed, to lessen the desire, but still it would be there, and so would the cats. The blasted Guardians would be there with their claws and fangs. The memory of their stink made her nose wrinkle.
Too sweet milk and fish. Dead fish smell. Greedy cats. Stupid kittens fawning over human-prey-meat.
But her hunter, the hunter. The desire became too strong sometimes and she had to give in, just a little. She had never drank from him again, but watched him. Simply watched him and breathed his scent, listened to his voice. It was foolhardy to venture so close to Benevolence but she did not care. Whenever he went into the woods she would follow him. She had fought off a few of her own kind, puzzling them immeasurably with her behavior, purely to protect him. If she could not have him, none would.

Tonight she would not be content till she had at least caught his scent. She was decided. The dark pelted femme closed her green eyes and let the moonlight mold her. It was not something she did often and tonight she did not yet feel the urge to shed her wolf's clothing so quickly. She felt the gnawing pain of her bones splitting and reshaping themselves: her hind limbs lengthening, her toes splitting on her forepaws and becoming wickedly clawed fingers. Her torso lengthened, her backbone reforming itself and shoulders shifting, muzzle shortening ever so slightly. The mane of hair on her neck and throat lengthened slightly, longer than the rest of the fur still covering her body, now with woman's breasts and hips and thighs. Crouched in the shrubbery of the high meadows, near the edge of the river that ran by Hallow Hill, Nerys sat, waiting for the pain to ebb from her limbs. She liked this halfway form: it made her a beautiful monster.

Shadow to shadow she made her way to the base of Hallow Hill, the smoke from the smithy - nearer now - tickling her nostrils. And then, she caught it. Her ears pricked and a quiet whine of joy escaped her delicate muzzle. His scent had reached her nostrils. He smelled of more than human to her, he smelled of leather and sweat and warmth and joy. The scent of the other - the younger human man she ignored. All that mattered to her was the scent of her Gareth Cleaver.

[Griffin]

The night never brought peace to Griffin. Night was the time of darkness and shadows and, though his eyes could see through them, so could those of his enemies.

Tonight, however, he was not on the forest’s edge challenging the Gewin. No, he had no energy to fight on the front lines tonight, and there were many others who did and had willingly taken his place. Of course, more than one of his fellows had suggested he make the change permanent if he was too scared to serve his purpose.

He had fought with another young, hot-headed male. The challenge had burned Griffin’s ears to hear. “Is that why you always want to expose yourself to the villagers? Do you feel safer as one of them, with us to protect you?”

Griffin had responded quickly. “If I relied on you for safety, I would fear cat claws at my throat more than a cur’s jaws.”

The two had very nearly come to blows, but the other Guardians had reminded them that there was work to do before any claws could come out. He suspected that in the daylight the other would seek him out and continue the fight, and he would find a willing opponent. Nobody could question his courage nor his dedication to his destiny as a Guardian! He didn’t care what any of them said, he…he…

…he smelled something foul.

From where he had been curled up at the base of a tree, Griffin stood up. If sin itself bore a stench, it could be no more foul than this. It stank of greed and want and malicious doings, if such things were possible to detect with the nose. It was a smell he couldn’t liken to any earthly thing, and it made his pink nose twitch unpleasantly.

Tightening his muscles, the feline-formed fighter shot forward towards his target. It was near the smithy, he quickly realized. The men folk there were tough for humans, but not match for a beast such as this. He willed himself faster, his tail sticking strait out to keep his balance as he forced his paws into the earth to gain all possible speed. He would lay this corpse in the open and show anyone and everyone who doubted him that Griffin was no coward!

As he came in sight of the Gewyn, he slowed only minimally. With every step, his legs lengthened and his body grew larger in proportion, until he was slightly bigger than a dog. Nearing, he leaped to try and win a quick bite to her arm and maybe cripple her before he went in for the kill. As he opened his jaws, Griffin snarled, “Get away from them!”

[Nerys]

::Nerys::
She smelled him coming. Heard the faint whiskings of his paws through the grass. It was almost too late when she heard him. Of course she had not been paying attention to that. She cursed herself mentally. If she got herself killed she would never see him again, would not be able to keep him safe.

The cat - young, male, coming fast. She didn't bother to try and place his scent, only cared that it made her eyes water and clogged her nostrils. It drowned out the beautiful smell of the man in the smithy. That alone was enough to raise her hackles. Of course this would happen, of course it would. This was why she avoided all others and this was why she hardly ventured out. Idiot felines didn't have the presence of mind to realize she wasn't hunting. Any fool Gewyn with half a brain could tell the difference between a curious lupine and a hunting one. Even a dull Gewyn - and she was a harsh enough judge of her own kind anyway. Halfwit cats!

She had done nothing. Hurt no one. Was not hunting. Only came to see. To hear. To smell. To be near. Who was he to drive her away? Impudent servile knave! Stupid kitten scum! He wanted to take her from him. He could not make her. She would not let him.

She half stood from her crouch, the steely muscles rippling in her thighs and back; in her hybrid form her height considerably taller than his own. He was a big male and though he was lanky, she was certain he was quite strong. This would have presented a problem for the average female Gewin, but Nerys was not average. At just over six feet tall, the hybrid woman was the same size as some of her male counterparts. Mane on the back of her neck bristling and her tail stiff she told him with every fiber of her being that she was more than ready. Her still lupine ears were pinned and her eerily human eyes blazed emerald fire. As he leaped at her, the screeching useless command ripping from his throat, she flung up an arm, letting him catch it. It was something he would not expect. No one expected any creature to invite pain.

A venomous snarl of hatred and pain tore itself free from her throat as his fangs sunk into the meat of her forearm, clean punctures gaining purchase. It stung like fire and his cloying sweet scent made her head swim. But he had a strong grip on her arm, there wasn't going to be any budging him if he had a solid hold...which was exactly what she wanted. The Gewyn woman threw out a clawed hand, grasping for her own elbow, aiming to lock him close to her chest with the combined strength of both her arms if she could manage. She let the momentum of his leap throw them both backwards and lashed out with bared fangs at his neck and throat, which if she could pull him close, would be within the range of her vice-like jaws.
Foolish kitten, leave me be! I do not hunt tonight!
But her thoughts were useless: she doubted he could hear her thoughts and would not believe her if he could.

[Griffin]

If Griffin had thought about the Gewyn predicting his movements correctly, it would have enraged him to no end. Instead, he was shocked that she not only left herself unguarded, but seemingly welcomed his assault. He locked his jaws around her arm, teeth sinking in powerfully. His first thought, of course, was his original goal: maim her. He began to tighten his hold, eager to feel the bone shatter if he could manage it, but the sudden restraint around his neck halted him.

A growl rose from his belly, the deep sound giving voice to his anger at being tricked. An older one of his kind would scold his foolishness, listing all of those who had been killed when temper clouded their judgment. They would say that was why his radical ideas were doomed to fail; he was too hot-headed to see how irrational they were.

But now was not the time to lash out; her claws were digging through his pale, medium-length fur and scoring into flesh, dragging him words her deadly canines. As quickly as he could manage, Griffin shifted into a human form and felt his size shrink. Desperate to gain space now, he moved to slip from her grasp and gain much-needed space, aiming a kick to give her another wound to think about.

[Nerys]

::Nerys::
Nerys felt her claws draw blood, tightened her hold as the cat squirmed and growled. His weight pressed her back into the damp earth and she realized that she would have to find a way to pin him or stand again. She didn't want this fight. Didn't want it at all - why couldn't everyone just let her be? It was all she wanted, to be left alone and to be allowed to see and protect her beloved. She had never asked for anything more and yet cruel Fate seemed determined to deny her even that little comfort. It made her blood burn with rage.

As she squeezed the cat's body tighter, still snapping at him with her fanged jaws, she felt him begin to shift, his form becoming longer and slighter till his height almost matched her own. Her grip loosened, she had not been prepared for that. He aimed to kick her and she let him go, no doubt exactly what he wished her to do. The blow landed on tensed stomach muscles and she let out a little snarling grunt of frustration. He was strong but had no claws in his human form so while it would leave a bruise, he'd drawn no blood. The she-wolf threw herself forward, grimacing in pain as her weight landed upon her punctured arm and lunging out with her good paw, aimed to grab onto his ankle before he could withdraw the limb from it's extension after the kick. If she managed to grab his ankle, she would jerk him towards her and throw him further off balance than he already was from throwing his leg out. She'd use those few moments of imbalance to try and land a good solid blow to his body or face, whether she raked him with her claws or managed a good solid punch didn't matter. All she had in mind now was making him pause long enough to let her get away.

It was not her war anymore, not really. One of the wards of the Guardians was her beloved - her ward as well. She wanted no fights, wanted nothing from this village. She never killed villagers only travelers and other woodland creatures. Nerys did not want to fight - she took no joy in violence and had but a cold satisfaction in knowing she was capable at it. It would let her survive now as it had before.