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tree and tied him. He’d have to venture into the woods to shift. No sense in scaring his traveling companion. He patted his mount’s rump and walked deeper into the woods. Tall trees, heavily overgrown with vine and lush foliage delivered him into darker seclusion where only sunlight peeked through, dappling the October leaves with patches of yellow light. He undressed quickly. He could hear animals all around him. His senses picked up the various species, sorting through their gender.
                  Ah, a doe. A nice, fleshy doe.
                  Saliva poured into the caverns of his mouth. He kicked off his boots, tossed his clothes over a fallen log and crouched onto the forest floor. Leaves crunched beneath his toes. A disturbed beetle crawled over his foot, unno ticed. Bruce closed his eyes. He angled his head to the sky, sniffing the damp air as he opened his mouth, preparing to shift. It always helped to widen his jaws, to keep his teeth from cutting his gums and lips. He positioned himself on all fours and shook his head. Orange sparks flitted off his golden head. Large, padded lion’s feet sprouted from his lean flank. His round head expanded, quadrupling in size, making room for the fuzzy muzzle that grew outward. A tail sprung from his mangy behind, swishing with excitement, anxious for the kill. Sparkles rippled over his yellow fur, turning from orange to amber, like hundreds of blinking fireflies twirling and tumbling around him.
                  With one shake of his massive mane, he was off, following the scent of the doe whose life would be cut short within seconds. He slowed when her scent was upon him, musty and light, a tempting combination. His tail slapped at the bark of a tree behind him. He could already taste her. Cocking his head to the side, he listened. A twig snapped. An acorn popped. She was moving toward him. He sniffed, crouching lower, hiding behind a giant fern.
                  Bloody hell, she has a fawn with her! The cat licked the saliva dripping from his jowls. Christ, I’ll have to kill the baby too!
                  A frightened rabbit darted past him, her long, white feet pounded over the dead leaves as fast as they would carry her. The lion squinted. He’d let her go, after all, he hadn’t come this far for only an appetizer. Now on his belly, the lion inched closer to the doe and her fawn when anot her scent invaded his senses. It was heartier, muskier. The lion turned his massive head ever so slowly, wanting to remain unseen and unheard. He felt the earth vibrate beneath him as something else ventured closer. He sniffed again and licked his chops. The doe and her young were safe for the time being. The beast would go after the larger prey that approached on heavy hoof. The lion watched as the buck’s horns shoved a dead, dangling branch aside. A low grumble rolled from his empty stomach. Two more steps and the buck would be only a lunge away for the lion.
                  It happened so quickly the buck never knew of his fate. The gentle creature had no chance to experience fear and no chance to flee. The lion sprang from behind the fern that had concealed him with such perfection. With one swift bite to his neck, the buck’s life was cut short.
                  The beast watched as one back leg twitched and then stilled. He caught the doe and her fawn out of the corner of his eye, fleeing deeper into the woods.
                  Run little doe, run. Take your young far away.
                  There was always a small measure of guilt, for the mind and soul of a man also lurked beneath the fangs, beneath the fur. But only a small measure of it, never enough to stop him from killing. It was necessary for survival and his preferred way of life. Now back in his natural state, his mind wandered back to Wren and doubts clouded his mind as he tore into the smooth, rich flesh. Sweet,