Thunder Moon - fiction

I knew not what manner of creature stood before me, but upon seeing the blood on its shattered arm, I knew it could be slain.

My sword dipped to knee-height as my breath came in ragged gasps, appearing as huge plumes of smoke escaping my mouth in gulps as I vainly fought get my breathing under control. I had just fought fourteen men to the death and now this creature stared me down.

The beast before me was part animal, yet man-like in stature, having two arms, two legs, a torso and a head. The similarities ended there as it was covered head to toe in a tawny, reddish brown fur. Its head resembled that of a cat, yet with a short canine-like muzzle. No blood dripped from its jaws, so I doubted it had bitten, let alone eaten, anyone yet. It, too, had seen better, more restful times it seemed, as its breath was almost as harsh as mine.

A group of men had chased it to the top of the cliff of which I now stood near the base. The men jeered down the cliff-face at the fallen creature. They wore uniforms similar to the men I had so recently relieved of their lives.

The creature’s claws retracted as it stood there, taking deep breaths, whether to be rested to ensure my slaughter, I knew not. Yet it seemed an intelligence lurked behind those animalistic eyes.

I lowered my sword, resting the point in the snow, not taking my eyes from the beast before me. As we stood watching one another with wary eyes, I sensed a mutual appraisal, as if we both wondered if this fight would truly be worth the effort or if we should both just go our separate, bloody ways.

My sword-point flashed up and my nerves fired in readiness as the beast growled at me, low in its throat. As my eyes focused, more slowly from fatigue than I would have liked, I realized the beast’s right “hand” was still clutching its injured left arm that hung at its side and its bright eyes gazed at me with curiosity.

I gave the beast-man a questioning look. His right hand came up to placate me as it growled again. This time, it seemed almost musical. I lowered my sword, my curiosity fully taking control of my actions.

Praise Odhinn! It was trying to speak!

“Grrrr diff’cult, man-spake,” it growled, its jaws and lips moving in a way not meant in nature.

“You speak!” I said.

“Poorly,” it said. “’M called Thunder Moon in m’ tribe. This be m’ first attempt at man-shape.”

“By Thorr’s hammer, what manner of creature are you?” I asked.

“Scholar’s o’ Latin call m’ people ‘Lupus Humanis Maioribus,’” he spoke the last three words carefully, to ensure he said them correctly. “We’re changers of’r shape fr’m wolves t’ men.”

“By Odhinn’s beard!” I cursed. “Sorcery!”

“Not so,” Thunder Moon said. “M’ people’re older th’n men. We pr’tect men fr’m…”

“There it is!” screamed a soldier. “The demon!”

Thunder Moon turned to the charging men, extending his claws, a snarl turned to a full-throated howl on the wind, giving the soldiers pause in their flight to slay us.

I looked over at the man-beast called Thunder Moon, saw the grim determination in the set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes, despite the shattered left arm that hung useless at his side. This was a companion I could fight beside. This was a companion I would be happy to call friend. If we survived this battle.

My blood boiled in my veins as I readied myself for the incoming soldiers. Thunder Moon gave voice to a growl that was almost a roar, hoping to turn some of the men coward and make them run. I took up the yell and gave voice to my own angers and frustrations--and hopes that I would live to tell my children of Thunder Moon, the wolf-man who fought to save my life.

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