Being trapped in canine form for so long muddled my thoughts. It’s a wonder I didn’t become feral. One good thing came of it, though, memories of my homeworld got lost in the fog. I’ve been bombarded with them since my return to two legs, and none of them were good. Now, though, sitting with my female, I’d like to page through them. If my thoughts get drawn to the bad times, Willa will pull me back.
“You might call it primitive, but it felt right to me. We were a warrior people, but it was out of necessity. There were many tribes, all vying for land and resources. We rarely killed each other, though. We vanquished by stealing livestock or driving them out of the fertile valley where we wanted to make our camp.”
“Sounds kind of like the Native Americans on Earth. They used to count coup, which meant riding up to an enemy and touching them with a short stick and riding away unscathed. I think it was a show of courage for prestige more than aggression.”
“So you understand.” He smiles at that and nods. “My father died right after my Spirit Quest ceremony. It’s when a boy becomes a male. I had to live on my own in the wilderness for ten days. A boy is sent out naked, with no food, clothes, or weapons, and is left on his own. When I returned, I felt like a full-grown male.
“Not only did I have no one to rely on but myself during those ten days, but I became closer to my canine form. We are born in our humanoid form but are able to shift by the time we reach five or six lunars. We worked together on my Spirit Quest more closely than we ever had. It was harsh and difficult and the best time of my life.”
In my mind, WarDog is lying with his head on his paws, his ears perked forward, tail wagging slowly, he sighs with contentment as I reminisce.
Yes, the best, he agrees.
Willa nods approvingly and says nothing. It’s one of the things I like best about her, she can tolerate the silences. I feel closest when we sit in the quiet together.
“And you, Willa? What of your life before you met me?”
“I guess females don’t need to go on Spirit Quests to declare we’re adults. We know when we’re women—nature makes a big red announcement.” She shrugs. “So mom died right around then and it was just me and dad and grandad.
“I liked digging in our huge backyard garden as a child. When mom died I loved growing all sorts of vegetables to go with the meat we hunted and those we had on the farm. I loved climbing trees, hunting, and camping. I was a tomboy. Did that translate?”
I shake my head.
“A girl who likes to do what boys do. I was never into frilly dresses or dances.”
Her eyes fly to mine. I guess we’re both thinking of the dance the other night.
“You seemed to enjoy the dance on the Fool. And I have to say I enjoyed your dress even if you didn’t,” my voice is deep and rough as my gaze makes a slow slide all the way from her pink lips to her toes.
“Well, yeah. I guess I’ve grown to like those things, too.”
Mate. This conversation caught WarDog’s attention. Mount her, make her ours. He wants to mate her. He’s wanted this since that first day in the cell when her fingers slipped under his ruff and stroked all the best spots as if someone had drawn her a map. She gave him a name like they were best friends. How could either of us not grow to love her?
Love. Is that what this is? I wish my mother was alive. She’d explain my complicated emotions. In our tribe sex was freely shared between mature males and females in humanoid and canine forms. I have never felt like this with any female I’ve lain with. Sharing with only one partner was reserved for mated couples.
Although actually there’s nothing complicated about how I’m feeling. I like this female, I have affection for her. I want to mount her, but it’s so much deeper than that. Most of all, I want to protect her.
I push WarDog back. He resists but then gives up and lies down with his head on his front paws.
“I wish you’d go back to the Fool,” I blurt before I know the words have flown from my mouth. Glancing down, I have the good sense to act contrite, knowing she doesn't like me telling her what to do.
“I know.”
“You say you want to protect me and keep me in humanoid form, but I protected you today. My belly clenches in fear just thinking what that animal might have done to you.”
When the picture of that thing spearing her with one of its deadly pincers darts into my brain, I wonder if I could go on without her. The thought slams into me that I already think of Willa as my mate. I’ll need to tell her.
Soon, WarDog agrees.
“Can I convince you to return to the ship?” I ask, knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, but does it with a smile. Not just any smile, but the slight tip of her lips that is an invitation for kissing . . . and more.
“I’m a canine. I have a strong need to assert dominance,” I warn as I rise to my feet. In my mind, WarDog leaps to his feet, too, his whole body at attention.
Sniffing deeply he urges, She wants us. Take her, hold her, bite her, make her ours.
NO, I snarl, our truce forgotten as jealousy overtakes me, she wants me not you. Back off. His head drops, his tail slips between his legs and he
