Pierre
My claws sank into the dirt as I enjoyed being able to run in the daylight. The pack's howls echoed through the hills. Each marked where my brothers were. Luke was by the creek and Derek was on the ridge.
For years, I'd only been able to change when Luna's silver light touched the world. The mana tide had changed everything. Moonbound weren't bound by the moon anymore, which was both amazing and terrifying.
The sunlight felt different on my fur. It was warmer, but also... exposing.
The forest looked different too. The colors were sharper. Prey moved in patterns I'd never seen. A rabbit froze as I passed before bolting.
I didn't chase it since I was too busy enjoying my freedom. The world felt alive. It felt like Nature herself was watching me.
I could feel the primal energy surging and ebbing inside me as I explored the wilderness. The mana tide had given us this gift, but I doubted such freedom would come without a cost. Grandmother Nature wasn't exactly known for her kindness.
Moonbound had always been creatures of the night. We hunted when humans slept and moved when the world was quiet. That invisibility had been both our protection and our prison. Running in full daylight felt wrong. It felt like I was wearing someone else's skin.
I'd never felt the woods hum like this. The elders muttered about 'mana tides' and 'ancient spirits.' It was mostly Gaia and various trickster spirits, such as Coyote and Raven. Supposedly, they were up to something.
I felt offended that Luna was forgotten in the madness.
One of the older moonbound from Canada even mentioned some trickster god named Azeban. Apparently, Azeban was a trickster god who looked like a raccoon.
I snorted, my breath steaming in the autumn chill. Myths.
The elders loved their stories about spirits who played pranks and taught lessons. However, such things were only stories. Those stories were just warnings dressed up as folklore. They were cautionary tales, nothing more.
After all, if Luna herself hadn't spoken to us in centuries, none of the other spirits were likely saying much either. I was actually a little insulted that the elders told such stories instead of stories about Luna.
My thoughts were interrupted by a squirrel that darted past me and up a tree. Normally, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. The only reason I paid this squirrel any attention was because it looked like it was on steroids. It even stopped and chittered angrily at me like it was having roid rage.
What's next, a glowing deer?
I shook my head and kept moving. My paws were silent on the forest floor. The pack was scattered, exploring their new daytime freedom, but we stayed close enough to hear each other's calls.
When night descended, I was about to head home when my nose twitched, detecting human activity. A cabin, probably, since I could also smell smoke. I knew I should probably just keep running. But curiosity's a bitch, and I'd never been good at listening, even to myself.
A clearing opened ahead. And there it was, a cabin with smoke curling from its chimney. I moved closer, then cocked my head to the side as my hackles rose.
Something's definitely off.
A pile of rocks sat at the edge of a garden. It reeked of ash, mint, and death, human death. While it might not be as noticeable to others, moonbound had noses that put even hound dogs to shame.
I froze, then sniffed deeper. Dirt, onions, and… raccoon?
Tiny pawprints crisscrossed around the mound. A grave.
My fur stood on end. Someone, or something, had buried someone. I'd seen animals scavenge bodies as well as drag carcasses and tear them apart. But this was more like a burial.
I circled the mound slowly. The rocks hadn't been dropped randomly. The ash layer was even, deliberate. Whatever had done this had made multiple trips, working methodically in what must have been failing light.
They were intentional, like the burial rites our elders performed. Mint to purify and ash to honor. Even the onions served a purpose, masking the scent from scavengers.
What kind of creature performs funeral rites for a human?
I circled the grave slowly taking in every detail. There were no signs of violence or blood. My best guess was that the person had died of natural causes, and something had buried him where he fell.
The wrongness of it made my teeth ache. This wasn't how nature worked. Animals didn't bury dead humans with ceremony. They didn't cover bodies with sacred herbs and protective stones. Unless it wasn't an animal at all.
My ears swiveled as I caught faint sounds coming from the cabin. A glow flickered around the windows, and I could sense mana coming from inside. It was pure mana, the kind the elders called sacred. The kind that spirits were made of.
I crept closer, claws silent on the grass. Another scent lingered near the porch, human but female, faint, like she'd passed through days ago.
A neighbor, maybe?
The scent was unusual. I paused, nose twitching. There was something else in her scent, something that reminded me of the sacred groves the druids maintained. They were the places where mana pooled naturally.
Has a druid been here?
The Ozarks had a few tree-huggers who worked with nature magic instead of Luna's gifts. Whatever she was, she'd been welcomed here. Her scent was on the porch and on the door handle.
Focus, Pierre. Stop overthinking.
I could make out the sound of a television. Cautiously, I moved to one of the windows and pressed my nose against the glass.
A tiny raccoon, barely three months old, sat wrapped in a blanket on the recliner. It was watching Guardians of the Galaxy. Pure, sacred mana radiated off it like heat from a fire.
"Chris Pratt, you hack!" it squeaked in a shockingly human voice. "I'm a baby raccoon and I've got better comedic timing! You should've hired me, Azrabam."
My mind went blank. All I could think about was the fact that raccoons don't watch movies. They also don't sit in recliners. And they sure as hell didn't talk.
But the mana was real. It was pure and bright, like spiritual essence given flesh. The elders' stories slammed into me.
Azeban, the raccoon trickster. No. Impossible.
The raccoon's head snapped toward the window. Its dark eyes locked onto mine. Then it raised one paw with its middle claw extended in an unmistakable human gesture.
"Don't interrupt movie night!" it yelled.
I yipped like a startled pup and bolted. What in the moon's name was that?
I crouched in the darkness a quarter mile away. My chest was heaving as I tried to calm myself down. I was a moonbound with twenty years of hunting, tracking, and survival experience.
I'd never once yipped like a frightened pup and fled from anything, even that time I ran across a mother bear. Yet, a raccoon had just made me run.
Luna help me, the world's getting strange.
I kept moving, moving towards Derek's howl. The pack would probably laugh if they knew I'd been spooked by a raccoon and a rabbit. Still, respect was big in our culture. They'd at least hear me out.
That raccoon isn't just a trickster. It's a sign.
Azrabam... That's what he'd called himself. Or tried to, anyway. His voice was squeaky and mangled, but it sounded close enough to Azeban to raise my hackles.
Earlier, I'd been worried about the cost we'd pay for the ability to change during the day. Now I wondered if I'd just discovered the price.
That raccoon had plenty of power and hadn't been afraid of me at all. That wasn't natural.
The female's scent lingered in my memory too. A druid was visiting a spirit wearing a raccoon's skin. The thought should've been ridiculous. Instead, it just made me wonder what else the mana surge was going to do.
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