Moonweavers by J.T. Savage Read Free Book Online Page B

dogs toys a ball and throws it.  As all five dogs go to chase that one ball, the lady goes back to the clothesline with the sock.  The sock once pink and bright, now looked more dirty than when she washed it.  She sticks it in the empty laundry basket.  Scott liked the comedy routine.  She might be more accepting to the notion of befriending me.  But I might have a problem with all those other dogs.  I just don’t know how they are gonna react.  Scotts ears perk up and his head jerks back in a start as he hears movement in the brush behind him, completely leaving all attention away from the little farmhouse down below.  Scott can’t smell what’s coming from that way being upwind, but sees a shadow behind a tree move a little.  Scott instantly crouches down in gard ready to lunge on anything that comes out of that brush, his teeth smiling in a wicked,  grin and a low growl emerges out of him from nowhere.  Scott almost feels possessed at times when this happens, but figures its just some kind of deep rooted survivor instinct, like when he ate in the cave and didn’t know it.  Or went into a dream like state while running away from the pack.  He appreciated it, sure, but it scared the hell out of him at times too.  Almost as if the inner werewolf was still there with its thirst for blood and a need to kill.  He leaps towards the darkness and lands his front paws precisely at the spot he saw the movement.  Nothings there.  Scott turns to the left and right and then turns again, surveying, looking, smelling with his nose.  The wind is blowing in the wrong direction, but Scott tries anyway.  Now straight ahead he sees a face appear out from a knot in the tree and then submerges back into the tree.  Scott wonders what the heck is that.  Crouched down again, he leaps again toward the tree.  He smells harder.  With a more strange aroma than the woods, but Scott can’t  just place it.  As he looks into the rotted gore of the trees knot with sprouts of life popping out, Scott sees nothing.  Now a white transparent head slowly appears from behind Scotts tail and rises.  Now a shoulder rises.  Scott senses it and turns to see a lady standing before him scrowling.  She has a determined look on her face of unease or pleasure toward the wolf as she slowly creeps up from the surface of the woods through the scattered leaves and brush, without making a sound.  Scott looks puzzled as his body turns to face the creature.  In a stern voice the lady says, “What is your purpose moon beast?” 
    Scott answers, “Moon beast?”
    The lady just scrowls harder.  Scott, feeling uneasy, would rather be anywhere other than that spot at that moment in time.  The hunter takes over and Scott bows down again to leap and flies toward the lady again.  Mouth, now open, ready to submerge those teeth into the being in front of him like a flying torpedo with jaws preparing to blow up its target.  The entity vanishes completely as Scott rolls through, somersaulting to the ground with a sudden stop from a flaky barked elm that knocks the loosely formed bark impressions that fell brutally to the ground and shatter and split.  Little brown termites come out of the holes and scurry to run under the bark back into a safe cover away from any impending danger.  Scott shakes the wood chips off, rolling the muscles of his body all the way down his tail in a quick flurry and looks around to see where the woman went.  There ’s no sign of her anywhere as he turns and whispers in a very unsure, “Hello?”  Now Scott hears again, “What’s your purpose here?”
    Identifying the sound from coming above the tree, Scott looks up.  Above into the tree he sees the woman, sitting on a branch, looking down, calmer, repeating, “Why are you here?”
    Scott replies, “Why am I here?  To live.”
    “ Go back to where you came from you monstrosity.  You don’t belong here.  Go now and take your friends, those other evil wolves