Under Alune

Wild eyes watched the red-clad form making her way up the wooded path. It was evening. The sun was a rose-tinted star burst atop the broad peak to the west of the cabin at the end of the path. Shadows of trees and their still boughs stretched across fallen leaves and pine needles. The path itself was only a thin line where undergrowth and brush had not yet reclaimed the once well-traveled earth. The creature followed the woman in red carefully. The red-woman had now entered the cabin's clearing and was looking about as if she were in the clutch of memories. Even in the encroaching dusk, the creature's eyes could see her every detail. It had looked upon her with such great intent, since she'd set foot upon the mountain's slopes, that it was sure it could see her even with its gold eyes tightly closed. It slavered. Dark amber skin graced her smooth features and accented her brown eyes. The creature thought of the hidden flesh, her modest breasts and shapely backside. It let out a soft purr and crept closer and closer to her, holding its excitement as best as it could. The woman in red clutched the folds of her cloak closed as she entered the clearing. Behind her, miles of spruce and evergreen lined the path to a hamlet atop a high hill in the far distance. All the while she had walked, she felt an an odd fear. It touched most heavily upon her when she looked into the woods. She was sure something was watching her, and had followed her from the far hamlet. And now with the sun straddling dusk and western slopes, drawing long shadows across the grass and wildflowers, she felt as if any sudden thing would give her a start. Still, she was glad to have reached the cabin, with its smoking stove-pipe and green-shingled roof. The cabin had become the embodiment of all she'd left behind when she'd moved away from the hill-top hamlet and to the big city. Memory flooded up in the singular emotion of joyous return. She approached in a slow coy fashion, half expecting the door to swing wide open to admit her. She shrugged and climbed the stairs to a low, wooden porch and ran a hand over the split-logs that ran length-wise over the brick of the cabin. It'd been so long since she'd been to visit it, and must have been uncared-for ever since. Already the pseudo rustic appeal of it was shifting into true dilapidation. She opened the door. Inside were simple bits of furniture- all hand built by her husband's family and ancestors- and trappings of her own lineage. Lamps had been lit and held at low-wick to light the darker areas of the dining room and kitchen. The counters in the kitchen was bare; and the same could be said of the dining-room table, except for the table cloth and compliment of shakers and napkins The woman in red frowned, if it were not for the fire she would be convinced that she was alone. She tried the back door and found it slightly ajar. Moving it slightly caused the wind to catch it and send it clapping against the log panels. She looked out onto a shadowed porch and lawn, and seeing nothing, called out: "Keysean?" There was a noise in the house, like a doorknob striking a wall. She turned to see the basement door had swung open. She approached the dark stairway and peered to the black that enveloped everything past the last stair. The woman in red gathered the folds of her cloak and descended the stairs. "Key?" she called into the dark and nothing answered. Just as she turned to ascend the stairs a cat stepped in the doorway. It was not overly large or exotic, being a simple orange tabby, yet its glimmering-gold eyes spoke of something more. It c****d its head to her. Then grinning in a feline fashion, it began to change, slowly at first, then gaining in size, loosing fur and facial features. Fingers grew from paw-like stumps. Bones elongated, twisted and contracted to better fit its new form. There was a man now in place of the cat, clothed and walnut-skinned. He ran his hand over his face and over his corn-rows in and almost ritualistic fashion then stood up. "Keysean!" said Aeisha, "there you are." Keysean smiled thin, "Hey Eesh." "I've been looking all over-" She eyed him curiously, "where have you been all day?" Keysean shushed his wife and, reaching out his hand, lead her upstairs. He had set the table while she was distracted- wine chilled in the center flanked by burning red candles. Side by side were two white-porcelain plates, each with its own compliment of foods; Salmon on spinach leaves, oysters on the half shell, Shrimp paste on thick corn-toast, and steak skewered intermittently with glazed duck. Aeisha's eyes were afire the moment she saw the expansive fare, a momentary fascination that passed to simple excitement. Keysean took her in his arms and kissed his wife; saw again her eyes but the same as he'd seen for years, their spark a firm one and one he no doubt shared. His hands moved automatically. "Doors!" said Aeisha suddenly, her cloak now banished to the floor. Keysean went about the task of securing the cabins entrances, then closed the basement door. His eyes caught again his amber princess; skin of deep honey and braids a cinnamon cascade down her neck. She smiled demure, drawing him with irresistible force. The food was forgotten in their love and wasn't remembered until night was firm on the mountainside. A waxing gibbous moon watched over all below, including the cabin and its summit, the short length of foothills leading to a forested area of broken table-land known as the Split-way, and the massive sprawling city of Theyeark. Far to the west, the Shifter village of Wolfhelm was alive with nocturnal residents, whose duties included lax watch over both the Split-way and the Norths district of Theyeark, home to the more privileged residents of the city. Several hours later found husband and wife seated together in a low chair with flat wooden armrests beside the dining room table. They hadn't yet bothered to dress. Momentarily sated, they fed each other victuals while watching the woods through an open window. It had been over twenty years since the last time they had been to this cabin. Aeisha remembered it was exactly two months before Keysean had broken the laws of the hill-top hamlet- commonly called Wolfhelm- and had been exiled. He and only he had been forced to abandon the lands of his ancestors and not return until deemed worthy. Many of Wolfhelm's shape-shifter residents wished and prayed for Keysean's good fortune in the unforgiving world of men. Most, however believed that he would never be allowed to walk the soil of Wolfhelm ever again. Very few shifters lasted long without the support of their people. Despite the opinions of the majority of her family, friends, neighbors, elders, and general passerby, Aeisha had followed Keysean into exile. She agreed that his actions merited exile, if only by law, and could not fault the rulers of Wolfhelm for their decision. Yet neither could she believe that the man she loved was beyond redemption. Surely he'd had his reasons for breaking one of the hill-top hamlet's strictest rules. And despite his conviction and punishment, she could tell that the rulers of Wolfhelm knew it too. The most common punishment for Keysean's crime- the unauthorized murder of humans- was death. Close second was imprisonment in the secret ultra maximum security facility of the Natural Agency; a fate perhaps worse than death for those taken by the Nat-agents n ver returned. Very rarely (almost never according to the older residents of Wolfhelm) was any shifter ever lucky enough to be exiled. And so it was little surprise (to some) that Keysean was given a chance to return, even if it were only for fourteen full days. Surely there was good reason. Their two children were nearing the age where they would achieve their first transformation, so would benefit from exposure to shifter society. And soon, when the moon was full, the shifters of Wolfhelm would gather beneath her and satisfy their bloodlust with the ancient rites of the Gathering. So the rulers of Wolfhelm took vote, and decided to bring back their exiled son and his family for a fortnite. Aeisha put all these thoughts and feelings in order as she sat straddling her husband. As a way of testing his resolve, she was teasing him with a morsel of salmon. Keysean went for it, but she lifted it out of his reach and giggled. Unwilling to move his hands, he purred sadly then nipped at a bare n****e. Aeisha gasped and squirmed on his lap, but he gripped her waist tight and pulled her closer. In response, she draped her arms over his shoulders and kissed his forehead. "I love you," She said, smiling. "Oh yea? you better-" "Keysean!" Aeisha pouted and locked her eyes on his. "Aww come on babe," Keysean forced a serious expression. "No room here for nothin' or no-one else." "Gotta say it," she took the morsel of salmon and made as if she were going to eat it. "I lo-" There were footsteps approaching their cabin- six boots, three men. Both Keysean and Aeisha's attentions shot to the door. Only their closest family members knew that they were there at the cabin, and none of them would have bothered with knocking. This disturbance could only mean trouble. Immediately fearing the worst, Aeisha slipped from Keysean's lap and gathered up her clothing. Keysean, deftly slipping on his boxers, reached the door just as his wife did. As he joined her side, he wondered if she could smell the same thing he did: These were not familiar men. But she, having fallen into motherly concern, was hardly paying attention to him. All she could think of were their cubs Aeryka and Kyresh; What could have happened that would force someone to come all the way to their cabin? Aeisha nearly flung the door wide open, but Keysean caught it halfway. She gave him a worried look then faced the three men on the cabin's porch. The tallest of the three stood at the doorway, and two others flanked him and stared ahead blankly. They each wore the brown suit of a park ranger, complete with peaked hat and scuffed hiking boots. Keysean wrinkled his nose. Accompanying the scent of the woods and of sap on the air, a thick scent of sweat and dirt and something otherwise bitter and oily came from these men. "Can I help you?" asked Keysean. The foremost man nodded and gathered himself. Then, pulling a roll of paper from under his arm, showed it to them. "You are trespassing-" "I would say the same to you-" said Keysean. "I have here a deed, to a Mr. B. Riud," The ranger waggled the deed with flicks of his wrist. "This land belongs to me and my family," argued Keysean, his brow creasing. "Has for generations." "No, this land is oofficially property of the sole owner Bartair Riud." The ranger was now reading from the deed, " 'All the lands of the mountains and the Splitway including the High-hill and all it's properties.' " Keysean frowned deeply, "I don't know what you..." then thinking again asked, "May I see the deed?" "What for? you must vacate these premises immediate-" Keysean reached for the deed, his mood switching from confused to annoyed. The words the ranger were saying were impossible. No one person could just up and buy all the land of his people. The ranger pulled the deed away. Keysean, irate, snatched it from him. His hand brushed against the Ranger's face as he grasped the curling paper. The ranger's cohorts stepped closer, expecting trouble. The ranger put a hand where Keysean had touched him. Aeisha' eyes darted from the deed to Keysean's face, emphatically expressing her ill-ease. Finally he returned the deed to the man. "Gather up the stuff, babe," said Keysean, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be right in to help. Just gotta talk to these gentlemen." Aeisha was given hardly enough time to nod before Keysean stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind him. He knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Despite this, he also knew that if it came to violence, that neither of them would be given much of an opportunity to make excuses. They would likely be handed over to the authorities and jailed indefinitely. Or killed. Keysean would not let her be involved in his misery any longer. He stood defiantly before the men, his nose smarting from the stench that arose from them. Fur was growing, one folicle at a time, at the back of his neck. His hackles were rising. Instinct, more powerful than any arousal, screamed at him from the ancient parts of his mind. He looked at the deed once more and sneered.