A warm breeze rippled through the golden grass of the clearing, rolling like the surf at the seashore until it spent itself at the edge of the trail. The dull orange disc of the sun hung low in a cloudless blue sky; the trees cast long shadows in sharp relief. The day teetered on the brink between late afternoon and early evening.
On the other side of the path, to her right, the green waters of Lake Winslow lapped serenely at an earthen bank.
Brianna Lang wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was a gorgeous day, except for the heat and the humidity. The light wind offered a little relief, but she had worked up quite a sweat climbing the hilly trail to the wilderness area. She'd made her trek in about forty-five minutes -- just about what she had estimated. No sheriff's deputies or park rangers had impeded her progress. The forest was almost eerily silent, save for the insects and a few birds. She slid her backpack off her shoulders and opened the flap so she could get to her instruments -- and her gun, if need be.
She could see the parking area on the other side of the glen through a break in the trees. She shivered. As a little girl, she had spent many happy hours in this park, picnicking with her family, taking walks on this very trail with her father.
Now these once friendly woods seemed somehow menacing, foreboding.
Last night, an unholy beast had stalked and killed two young kids in a convertible, and then slaughtered a female ranger in that lot. In all likelihood, the thing had probably been somewhere in this area. In fact......
About twenty feet ahead on the trail she saw an area where the grass had been trampled. She rushed to the depression and bent down, scrutinizing the turf.
There -- on a bare patch of ground. They were unmistakable -- huge, wolf like paw prints, leading away from the parking area back into the woods. Some of the stalks of grass were stained a rusty brown.
Dried blood, most likely.
The creature had passed right through here last night.
Brianna suddenly felt very cold, even in the blast furnace heat of the late August afternoon. She hugged herself and apprehensively glanced around. Well, this was something, anyway. If they could backtrack these paw prints, maybe they could find the creature's den -- if it had one. Maybe bring in some bloodhounds. She wasn't about to do it herself! She realized how alone she was up here -- and how vulnerable.
And then, suddenly, the forest grew deathly still. A robin cut off its freeform song in mid-warble, and even the insects ceased their buzzing. Brianna felt gooseflesh pucker all over her body.
"It gets dark a lot quicker up here than it does down below. Must be all these trees."
She screamed and whirled around.
He stood on the path about ten feet away from her -- and he was naked. He smiled ingenuously at her, leaning against a tree with his arms folded. He was a handsome young man, with wavy chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes; he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, well-toned and well-hung. Ordinarily she would be gawking in open-mouthed appreciation.
But this was very, very wrong. How could she not have heard him coming?
"Sorry if I startled you, Brianna, but I'm here to help you find what you're looking for."
She felt an icy fist clench in the pit of her stomach.
"How d-do you know my name?" she quavered. "And what do you think I'm looking for?"
He chuckled.
"I have excellent hearing. I was up on a ridge over there this morning when you were doing your preliminary investigation, and I heard them call you by name. Brenna -- Brianna Lang. Pretty name, Brianna. And as for what you're looking for -- well, you're looking for the werewolf."
Brianna's palms were wet, and her mouth was desert dry. "Th-there's n-no such thing as...."
"Oh, but there is!" He closed his eyes and raised his head, and appeared to be meditating. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer blue.
They were amber -- almost yellow. It had to be a trick of the light! Brianna swallowed hard.
"The thing is, people think that werewolves can only change during the full moon. That's just not true; the most powerful ones can change any time they want to -- but they can't help but change when the moon is full."
Now there was no mistaking it. He was changing! His skin had darkened to a shade of mocha and was thickening, like animal hide. His fingernails and toenails had grown into long, razor-sharp talons, and patches of chestnut fur sprouted all over his body. His penis had almost tripled in size and was sheathed -- like a wolf's. Brianna stood rooted in place by sheer terror.
When he spoke again, his voice was a guttural snarl.
"Don't you feel stupid, bitch? Haven't you ever watched a horror movie? You're the airhead bimbo who goes off in the woods all by herself and gets butchered by Freddy or Jason -- or eaten by a werewolf." He bared his teeth, which were now long, bristling fangs. "In the movies, the werewolf always goes for the throat. Not me -- I go for the tits! Especially when I nail a hot babe with a nice rack like yours. And the thing is -- you'll still be alive and watching while I eat them!"
"No!" Brianna quavered, terrified. "Oh, God - no! Wh-why me?" She took a halting step backward, wondering if she shoud run or go for her pistol.
He shrugged, and flashed a fearsome grin. "No reason, really. You have a very pleasant musk - I like the way your pussy smells. It's imprinted in my mind and marks you as my prey....and you do look good enough to eat!"
His muscles began to ripple and bulge, and he was growing taller.
With a shriek of terror, Brianna yanked her .45 out of the back pack, flipped off the safety and squeezed the trigger. The pistol roared and bucked in her hand; the slug caught the changeling in the center of his chest with an explosion of blood, flesh and bone, and knocked him backward. He howled in agony.
Brianna pulled again and again, emptying the clip into his chest with deadly accuracy. The impact of the bullets lifted him in the air and dropped him into the lake with a great splash. He floated face down in the water, streaming blood from eight tightly-spaced exit wounds in his back. The fur faded away; his skin returned to its normal hue.
He was changing back into his human form.
She sobbed with relief. She had done it; she had killed the werewolf! Now they could identify the son of a bitch, and.....
