By the Silver Moon's Light

The next several days passed quietly within the shelter and security of the cave. The storm gained strength, the wind howled and the thunder roared, while more than one tree nearby suffered from lightning strikes. I worried more about Wolf. Did he have shelter? Was he dry? Hungry? But there was nothing I could do, I had to trust his ability to look after himself. Days were gloomy and we did little - eating a bit when hungry and spending much time sleeping.

In the deep of the night when Agatha slept soundly, Phelan would slide beneath my furs and love me. Each time was like the first. We fit together, like...a sword in a sheath. He would love me tenderly but passionately, playing my body like some finely tuned stringed instrument. I would choke my cries of delight and pleasure, stuffing a corner of a robe in my mouth and chewing until the hide was all but dissolved. I learned to touch and please Phelan as well, in the semi-darkness and noted with pride his muffled groans and growls of pleasure. I could pleasure him with my mouth until his rigid cock swelled and pulsed, depositing his seed in my mouth. I drank it down with the same passion he spilled it. One night, in our loving, he lifted me over him and I settled on him, riding until we both collapsed trembling in my sweaty furs.

Agatha said nothing, but I know she smelled our rutting, and saw the furtive touches we were too enamored to hide. I desired him as completely as he did me and loved him with all the innocence and passion in my maiden heart. Except for that corner, hidden from all but myself -- the corner that longed for my missing Wolf. I missed his warm, easy companionship. His understanding that seemed almost to require no speech from me. His easy acceptance of my moods and teasing. And I missed his love.

I knew, with no doubt, that Wolf loved me wholly. Phelan told me that he did, and yet, I doubted. Everything I knew of life, everything I had been told and taught had nurtured the belief in me that I was bad, I was ugly, I was unworthy and unlovable. Phelan seemed to love me. His words and lovemaking certainly worked hard to convince me. And still I doubted.

And too, I missed my dreams of running wild as a she wolf alongside my mate. The richness of the night air. I could read chapter and verse of it now, nearly as well as Wolf did. The stretch and play of muscles as I ran beside him, faster than I could ever manage on two legs. The cold, crystal taste of a spring and the hot, copper taste of blood when we made a kill. I missed that and craved it as deeply as...as deeply as I would miss and crave Phelan's touch, were he gone away.

As the unseen moon waxed, the storm began to wane and I could feel my courses coming on me. My breasts were grown heavy, the nipples swollen and tender from the constant attention they received. And I could feel the fullness, low in my belly that signaled my moon time nearing.

I finished a sleeved tunic and a skirt I could tie round my waist. I would need more, heavier garb before winter, but that was weeks away still. Agatha had taken to watching me sidelong and one night as we settled after supping, she announced that she had a story to tell to us this night. She sat between us, and I leaned against her knee as she began to talk.

"Many years gone I loved a fine, strong man." She chuckled at my start of astonishment. "Oh yes, I was young once, and lovely myself and my man was strong and wise, and the headman of our village. He was a good leader, and a good provider but he died too young, in...a hunting accident. And I was heavy with our babe."

"In fact, it was twins. Girls. Different as the sun and moon. The men of our village helped provide for us, and we never suffered or went without. I was learning the plants from my old Grandam then, but even so, we always had plenty to eat and my girls grew up strong and lovely. But they were wild and didn't want the well known life of our people and our village. As they grew older they took to roaming on their own. I never knew where or when they might come home. Our men saw to it that they knew the ways of the forest, how to protect themselves and provide for themselves as well."

"What were their names?" I asked timidly. I'd been taught not to interrupt, but I was curious to know. "What were they like?"

"Keary and Keely they were called. Keary was a wee thing. Tiny and dark. Dark hair, like a storm tossed cloud and dark eyed as well with skin like snow in moonlight. She was clever though. More clever by far than Keely, and Keely knew and hated her for it. For her cleverness, and for her beauty. Keely was tall and fair. A golden child, made of sunshine. She had hair like ripe grain blowing in the wind, and eyes like dark amber honey. She was not half so swift, her arrows not so deadly...but she could cook, and bake, and sing like an angel. They were beautiful and each was a daughter to take pride in. But Keary turned up her nose at Keely's skills, dismissing them as useless. Keely, as I said, hated Keary jealously for her wit and her beauty -- as though either of them were her fault or her choice..."

She trailed off momentarily, recalling the struggles of those years. I looked up at Phelan but he sat silent, as if turned to stone, totally attentive to the tale Agatha wove for us.

"Keary liked to hunt, alone or in company and it happened one day that she met a company of riders, also out hunting. They were wild riders, on a wild hunt..."

I gasped and even Phelan started. I'd heard tales of the Wild Hunt, when the fae rode the hills on wild steeds.

Agatha went on, "It's not often that the Old Ones leave their hidden hills and roam our world, but it's said no man can resist the sound of their horns or their calling voices. No woman either I think. I never saw her in this world again although I heard of her. Whispers on the wind said the leader of the hunt had taken her to mate."

A cold prickle, spider walked down my spine. "What was his name, Agatha? The leader who took her?"

Agatha laughed without humor, "I don't know child. I never had a chance to meet him to ask. If you ever see the Hunt, you can ask. And ask too about Keary's daughter!"

"What?" A rising panic churned in my belly, along with the certainty that I already knew what was coming. "Keary had a daughter? What happened to her?"

Agatha's hand rested gently on my hair. "You tell me, Child. No babe can stay in the Hollow Hills, you know. The Old Ones live forever. They do not age or die, and those they take with them do not age as we mortals do. If Keary's babe had stayed with her it would be a suckling still, though years have passed. I had hoped they would bring the baby to me to raise, but the Old Ones are unpredictable. They gave her to another to raise...to her aunt."

"Keely had found herself a steady man as a husband. A fisherman. And she had a houseful of strapping sons."

"And a daughter," I added.

"Keely never whelped a girl child. Only sons!" Agatha's voice was stern. You are my Keary's child!"

And suddenly it all became clear. All the years of angry malice from a woman who jealously hated her sister, and now was raising that sister's daughter. A child that, from what Agatha...from what my Grandmother said, looked like her mother. Small and dark...and clever and wild. I was not ugly, or bad, or sinful. I was simply the unwanted reminder of a childhood rivalry. Looking up I saw the admiration and love in Phelan's eyes, and for the first time I fully believed it. I felt as though a weight of ages had been lifted from me.

"Grandmother," I whispered. "What's my name?"

"You are Morna, my dear." She cupped my chin and kissed my forehead tenderly. "You have always been Morna."

The rest of the weight of years of being berated and beaten, being hated and hammered down by oppression from pulpit and populace alike, slid from my heart and shoulders. I buried my face against Agatha's....against my Grandmother's knees, and I wept. I wept with joy at finding out the truth of my life, and regret for all the lost years, stolen from the two of us by the bitterness and anger of my...my aunt.

Agatha stroked my hair gently. "Hush now child, it's not good for you or the bairn to go on so."

I stopped in mid-sob and felt Phelan freeze to silent stone at Grandmother's side.

"What? What...bairn?"

"The bairn in your belly of course, what did you think I meant?" She chuckled.

"I...no....I can't. I mean, I don't know. I don't understand. I'm due for my moon time." I blushed at discussing it in front of Phelan.

"Well I do, I saw you naked when you arrived and I've seen you naked washing. And I know there's a babe growing in your belly. Maybe more than one. Twins run in our family." She reminded me.

I looked up at Phelan and he grinned down at me with more than a little pride and possessiveness gleaming in his eyes. He held out his hands to me and I let him lift me and pull me close, kissing me tenderly but certainly claiming me before my Grandmother.

He bent over me cupping my ass firmly with his hands, "Woman, move my bed!" he commanded.

I tilted my head sideways to look up at him. "Are you wanting to sleep next to my Grandmother then, Sir?"

Agatha snorted with laughter and Phelan swatted my behind, "I've never beaten a pregnant woman yet?"

"Have you had much opportunity then, my love?" I teased. Enjoying both the fact that we could openly tease each other, and that I could call him 'my love' and mean it...almost totally.

"Not until now, but I'm going to enjoy beating you if you don't behave," the twinkle in his eye belied his words and I knew, simply knew, that Phelan would never...could never...actually beat me. He loved me far too much. Which would not, I thought, preclude him spanking me playfully on occasion if called for. I smiled happily to myself and went to move his pallet and merge it with my own. No more midnight trysts.

That night I dreamed that Wolf came and stood beside the bed, looking at me with love. I tried to rise to go to him but he growled and made me know that I must stay behind and sleep and rest. I tried to stay awake until he returned but I drifted back into further dreams. I woke in the morning to find Phelan by my side and Wolf gone, but a fresh deer hung to bleed by the cave mouth.

I was distressed all morning, looking for Wolf and startling at every sound. Finally my grandmother snapped at me.

"What in the name of all the gods is wrong with you today, child? You're acting like someone poured ants down your back!"

"I'm sorry Grandmother, I'm just...well, I'm worried about Wolf is all. I dreamed about him last night and I know he was here and brought us the deer. I just don't know why he didn't stay...I...I miss him is all..."

Phelan choked on his meat, then gave a loud bark of laughter. Grandmother cackled as well.

"I take it all back Morna. You are clever, but perhaps not quite as clever as your mother."

"I'm sorry..."

"What are you sorry for? You have no need to be sorry. Now tell me -- What does Moya mean?"

"It means Bitter, but..."

"And Morna means?"

"Morna means Beloved."

"And Keary means?"

"The Dark One."

"And Keely?"

"That means Beautiful."

"And do you know what Agatha means?"

"That means Good."

So, tell me then. What does Phelan mean?"

My eyes widened and I stared at Phelan, "It means...it means...it means Wolf!"

And I watched Phelan, where he stood on two legs, as he...shifted and...changed and dropped to all fours to become my Wolf. I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around his neck, raining kisses on his face while he eagerly licked my face and neck.

"Wolf...Phelan...my love! Why didn't you tell me?"

"After you changed the first time, I thought you knew!"

I turned to stare at my Grandmother, "I changed? What do you mean, that I changed?"

"You changed...several times...like this..." And suddenly, instead of my Grandmother, there stood an old but regal white wolf...who was still, apparently my Grandmother. And recalling the dreams of running with Wolf, everything now made sense. Then I clasped my hands to my belly.

"Oh gods, Grandmother! Am I having babies or cubs?"

Both she and Phelan turned back to their human form. Grandmother looked serious but Phelan looked nearly as worried as I felt.

"Well, we won't really know until it...they...arrive. It could be either. You mated first in wolf form. I had cubs. You might..."

Somehow the thought did not distress me as much, perhaps, as it should have. Not knowing was stressful, but the thought of tiny cubs pressing their little pink pads against my breast, suckling me, was not an unpleasant thought. I reached for Phelan's hand, only to have him enfold me in his arms, and I knew that regardless of the outcome, everything would be alright.

As the days became weeks became months, my belly grew, as did my knowledge of my mate and my mother's people. I would, likely, never have answers or knowledge of my father's people. The fae are ever secretive, keeping to their hollow hills and hidden ways except for those rare occasions when the Wild Hunt rages through the night, or you come across one unsuspecting.

But my Gran taught me much of her people. Shape shifters we are. Here we become wolves but other lands and other places and times choose other shapes. Stories have come to her of Werecats, and of giant predator birds, in lands far to the East. We are not many and her story of a village was just that, a story. Shifters are known to each other and keep in touch, especially in their animal form, but they stay quiet. They are not welcome by common folk who fear them, and the hunting accident that took my Grandsire's life was no accident but coldest murder. A village of mortal men came across his tracks and hunted him to his death.

Shifters are not immortal like the fae but longer lived than most common people, unless we fall victim to some unforeseen accident or injury. We can be killed and we can be injured or can injure ourselves while hunting in either of our forms, or in the case of those few who commit to one form only, they can become subject to any of the ills of that form. Some choose to remain always wolves, a few, like Keely, choose to remain always human.

After my Grandsire's death another male took the leadership of our loose-knit pack, passing the leadership to his oldest male child. Phelan had fought and won a fierce battle for the leadership and had been pack leader for some time, watching me grow from a distance and determined to keep me safe. He counted it a stroke of luck that led me wandering into the woods after Keely's death. I counted it the greatest blessing.

As my belly grew larger, Gran and I both became convinced that more than one life was nurtured within it. Too many bumps and pokes and heads and bottoms seemed to be struggling beneath the skin. My breasts grew large and heavy as well, the nipples huge and dark and so sensitive I could barely stand the brush of my bed furs against them. Phelan grew cautious in his loving, frequently curling himself around me from behind and sliding into me. I was no less eager than before, but Grandmother Agatha cautioned us against vigorous lovemaking the closer I came to term.

I had all but given up shifting the last few weeks. I was uncomfortable as a woman, as a bitch wolf I was swollen to the point of bursting and found it difficult to lay down or even simply breathe easily. Spring became Summer, Summer became Fall and Fall became Winter with the Mid-Winter Solstice drawing near. I was no longer able to hunt, but Phelan kept us well supplied with meat and my Grandmother and I had laid in quantities of dried roots and mushrooms and other edibles. We had no lack.

It was a crisp, cold night, close to the full moon of the solstice when my waters broke and my labor began. It was fairly quick and easy, all things considered. Or so I was told at least. My own viewpoint differed somewhat, but I was, at least, glad it was over. Two fair sized cubs were born that night, one solid black female and one dark gray male. I suckled them briefly in woman shape, before realizing that their mouths and paws were more suited for my Were form. Grandmother said they probably would not change from their cub form for their first year or two. That was disappointing in a way. I longed to cuddle babies to my breasts but contented myself with suckling my cubs and giving them long loving kisses and baths with my wolf mother's tongue.

It was a week or so after the Solstice, the moon was waning but not full dark, and Grandmother offered to watch the cubs while Phelan and I went for a run and possibly a hunt. It had been some weeks since I had shifted and I was eager to stretch my legs, despite the snow lying thick across the hills. We stuck to trails in the woodlands and skirted the meadows where the snow was not as thick and I stopped to rest on a hillside. We scented hedgehog and Phelan went to locate and dispatch it.

As I waited for his return the wind brought me the clatter and clamor of hunters abroad. Horns called and hounds bayed and I heard the high clear calls of faerie voices and one, clear, high soprano call of a wolf.

I raced to the top of the hill, straining my eyes and nose, all of my senses...and then, they came into view. Radiantly beautiful men and women, shimmering in their finery, racing on faerie mounts. Sleek hounds ran baying at their heels, along with one large, sleek black wolf. I lifted my muzzle, calling to her. She was my mother and I longed to know her.

They heard me. The hunters stopped. Their steeds pawed the ground and the hounds milled restlessly but she...my dam...rocked back on her haunches and raised a cry of her own. She called to me to join them. She called to me with love and longing and the leader of the hunt raised his horn and blew a low and mournful note that echoed hers. They loved me...and they wanted me to join them. I raised a paw, and Phelan appeared beside me, nosing me anxiously. It came to me that I was loved as well by my mate, and by my Grandam who even now lay curled protectively around my young cubs. And while they might be too young to love me, still they would have need of their mother for years to come.

I raised my muzzle in a last, sad call, trying to put all the love and longing of my young life into the notes. I grieved that we might never meet or speak again, but was glad enough that I could tell Agatha that Keary still walked the earth. She echoed my call again, and Phelan joined me as we sang our loving farewell. The horns blew and the hounds bayed once and the hunt was gone in a swirl of mist and snow, and Phelan and I turned toward home and our life and family...together.