The Gray Way

Joshua devoted a few moments of scrutiny to the brown and neon orange colored shape that wove in and out of view between the trees, moving farther away with each step. It paused to shake itself and readjust its jacket. He tapped the back of his friend's leg with the toe of his boot. "Say, do bigfeet ever wear clothing?"

Shane rose from the deer scrape he was examining and followed Joshua's gaze. "Nah. Bigfootses are just animals."

Joshua leaned against a tree and watched the figure disappear into the forest. "Too bad. Full moon tonight?"

"Tomorrow, I think."

"Just our luck. That buck is good as wolf chow."

Shane nodded. This was his first time seeing a shifted werewolf, and even from a distance he was impressed by its imposing height. Part of him cringed at the thought of it getting the buck they were tracking first, but another part wished he could witness such a feat.

A glance upward revealed pinks and purples overtaking the orange of early sunset. He turned his thoughts away from the impending carnage and helped his friend look for a spot to set up camp.

***

If Hank stayed still the hunting jacket felt the same as any article of clothing he wore on his human body. As soon as he moved it rubbed against his fur, creating a sensation that was not quite a tickle, and less annoying than an itch, but maddening enough to remind him of both. He wished he could fly after the deer and kill it with the power of his mind so he could get this over with as soon as possible.

Hank's stomach grumbled. He hadn't even had a full day worth of shifting-time to hunt, and it was already ranting at him. The thought of being stuck here without food for two more moon days made him want to cry.

He tried to use the misery to focus his instincts, just like Alpha Bryan told him to. The deer's scent was getting stronger. That had to be a good sign. All he had to do was stay quiet. The two human hunters he detected earlier were out of earshot, so he needn't worry about them interfering. He had this one all to himself.

Part of him wondered if he would want it when he got it. The deer had a musky aroma with an undertone that reminded him of ammonia. He hadn't expected it to smell like a fresh grilled hamburger, but he imagined something a little more appetizing. If this was what cows smelled like while they were still alive he would never take cooking for granted again.

The trees thinned and the ground grew rocky, interrupted by patches of tall, dry grass. Hank put his hands on the ground and dug his stubby, clawed fingers into the soil. With his nose inches from the earth, he found it easier to focus on the trail. An unfamiliar calm settled over his mind, dampening down thoughts, scents, and sounds that did not say "deer." He no longer had to ignore the way the jacket felt more awkward when he walked on all fours. The stones that poked his tender paw pads did not bother him. The world outside his task faded until it was as detailed as the faces of strangers in a crowd rushing by while there was a close friend to talk with.

Sliding into that state of mind was both the most exciting and the most peaceful experience he could remember. It went beyond the desire to satisfy hunger. He stepped away from the myriad worries clamoring for his attention- work, family troubles, community obligations- and let life be about that moment.

He found the deer browsing on the border, as if it couldn't decide if it belonged to forest or grassland. It lifted its head and stared in Hank's direction.

Old fears broke through the state of blissful, simple thinking. Hank flattened himself against the ground, hoping the grass was tall enough to cover him. Now that he had the deer in his sights, he wasn't sure what to do next. Did you just fling yourself at them whenever you felt like it? Did you have to get real close first? Alpha Bryan said instinct would guide him, but he reached for his innate instruction book and found it blank.

The deer rotated its ears forward and bore into him with dark, dull eyes. Hank got the feeling it was mocking him, letting him know it saw him but showing no concern for the threat he posed. The crown of antlers arching over its head reminded him of the raised hackles of another werewolf.

Critical faces sprang from memory to offer comments with smug, sharp-toothed maws.

The deer stomped a forefoot and snorted.

Hank's eyes bulged. It was mocking him, challenging him even. Without taking a moment to consider the ridiculousness of the idea, he snarled and leapt out of the grass to teach it a lesson.

The deer pivoted and lifted its tail in an exclamation point of white fluff. It bounded across the grassland, accelerating from 0 to how-on-earth-is-it-going-that-fast in what felt like an instant.

Already frustrated, Hank didn't appreciate the added insult of being mooned by his dinner. No wonder the others were so obsessed with killing these things. Deer were jerks.

He wrung his muscles for every bit of speed they could give him. The deer's white backside drew closer. A new sense of euphoria washed over him, as if the contentment he felt while tracking had been soaked in adrenaline. He parted his black lips to let his tongue loll out and panted in wheezy breaths.

Hunger stepped into focus and pleasure faded with a haze of mechanical thoughts and movements. The cushion of distance the deer kept steadied, and then grew. Hank ignored the burning in his legs and pushed himself harder than ever, but he only fell further behind. It disappeared from sight and he let it go, collapsing in a heap of hot fur and disappointment.

With nothing better to focus on than restoring the oxygen balance in his muscles and breathing in the teasing scent of prey, he couldn't help but think, Maybe he was right about me.

***

Hank stood behind a tree, bathing in the aroma of hot dogs, beer, smoke, and sweat. He cleared his throat and stepped out into the campfire's glow. "Uh, hey. You wouldn't happen to have any spare hot dogs, would you?"

The hunter with scruffy blond hair smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. "Sure. Have a seat, buddy. I'm Shane, and this is Joshua. And you are?"

He tossed Hank a hot dog.

Hank fumbled the catch, almost dropping the meat between his grimy fingers. He flattened his ears against his skull and sat on the ground several feet away, keeping the fire between him and the humans. After trying to wipe his hands on his jacket he realized it was just as dirty as the rest of him and gave up. He took a tentative bite and spoke with his eyes lowered, watching the men without looking directly at them. "I'm Hank."

Shane prodded Joshua. "We spotted you a little while back. Josh here thought you were a bigfoot. He was gonna shoot you and put your head up on his wall."

Hank gave a quiet laugh. "Bigfoots aren't real."

"Says you! My daddy's uncle's neighbor saw one a couple years back. It wasn't a werewolf either. Had a head shaped like a cone and a face like a gorilla with mange."

Hank decided not to press it. He finished his hot dog. When Joshua pulled another off the roasting stick he lifted his eyes for a few moments, then looked away again.

The second man was the older of the two. He had black hair sprinkled with white and grey-blue eyes which seemed to reach out to Hank, challenging him to meet them. He held the food up but made no move to throw or eat it. "I almost got to thinking you were a myth too. Never seen your kind in all my years coming out here."

Hank picked a loose thread from his jacket. "They're around. It's my first hunt. The others must be better at hiding."

Joshua gave the hot dog a half-hearted toss and it landed in the dirt on the other side of the fire. "So these woods are full of poachers?"

One of Hank's ears twitched. "No. We buy licenses like everyone else."

"Since you got one tonight, does that mean you'll be heading out?"

Hank collected his second hot dog and pointed at the white fur on his muzzle. "Does it look like I got him? No one told me those suckers were so fast."

Shane slapped his knee and guffawed. "Who'da thunk it! I figured you'd be keeping us up all night howling your victory songs to the moon."

Hank grimaced. "We don't howl at the moon."

"Really? I thought you guys worshiped it."

"No! I mean, yeah, there are some weirdos out there, but no one I know does that."

The man's eyes widened with wonder, as if some important secret of the universe had just been revealed to him.

Hank ate the second hot dog in one bite. He sighed, thinking of how much he would miss the experience over the next few days. There seemed little chance he could catch a deer before it was time to go home, and he didn't dare ask anything more from the humans.

Shane's voice broke through his contemplation. "You all right?"

He met the man's eyes and his ears rotated a fraction of the distance back to their normal position. His neighbors wouldn't look at him that way after they found his name on the government's werewolf registration list. Most of the others in the pack he was trying to join preferred to keep him looking at his feet, if they even noticed him at all. Joshua's eyes had softened too, though they suggested more detached curiosity than sympathy.

Hank shrugged and gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I'll be fine. Just learning the Gray Way, is all."

Joshua raised his bushy eyebrows. "What's that?"

"You know, I'm not really sure myself. Way to being a proper werewolf, I guess, at least according to Alpha Bryan. He's teaching me. He's the guy they elected up at Oklahoma City. He sent me out here to spend some moon days getting a deer for, uh, 'building character.' I already screwed it up, though. I shouldn't have asked for those hot dogs. Messes up the whole self reliance thing, you know."

This was the latest in a long list of hurdles he had faced while trying to understand himself, and one of the first he felt his adoptive parents were powerless to help with. It wasn't his fault that weekends with his human father had revolved around dissecting computers with his hands, rather than taking apart deer with his teeth. He was still too embarrassed to try explaining to Alpha Bryan that he preferred the company of machines to wild game.

Joshua scratched his chin stubble. "And if you don't get a deer?"

"Then I'll stay a coat and they'll keep me at the bottom of the pack."

"Coat?"

The corners of Hank's lips drew back until they were small black dots on the white splash of his muzzle. He dropped his eyes and focused on digging dirt from the undersides of his claws. "Wolf on the outside, human underneath. Werewolves that want to be human, or that were raised by humans, or that somehow just suck at being what they were meant to be."

Shane picked his teeth in a contemplative way. He pointed his toothpick at Hank. "Now that's a recipe for disaster if I ever seen one. Why let someone else tell you who to be? You look miserable. Go home, if you feel like it."

He did feel like it. He felt like throwing the deer license in Alpha Bryan's face and calling quits on the whole thing. He'd been a lone wolf for most of his life; maybe it was time to accept it and move on.

Still, he wouldn't deny that part of the hunt had brought him to life in a way computers never did. A werewolf could get addicted to that experience. He shook his head. "I shouldn't give up. I'll get one, eventually."

Joshua narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. His expressions were harder to read than Shane's, but Hank thought he was starting to look bored. "This Bryan fella expect you to bring back a deer on your first try?"

Hank rubbed the fur behind his ear. "Yeah."

"You've never been in the woods before, have you? I know a city kid when I see one. Did these guys bother showing you how to hunt?"

"No. Alpha Bryan said it would come to me, natural as breathing."

Joshua snorted. "Well that's just idiotic. You gotta get trained up, find yourself a mentor. Sounds like these guys are messing with you."

As much as Hank hated to admit it, the suggestion made sense. He remembered the first and last time he brought his father as a guest to a pack gathering. His father didn't get along with Alpha Bryan, said he was too pushy. At the time he dismissed it as human discomfort over meeting an unfamiliar werewolf on a moon day, but now he wished he had been paying closer attention.

He forced his ears to lift halfway up to their normal position and tugged his mouth back in a tight smile with no teeth showing, like his mother taught him to use around humans. "Do you think… could you… maybe teach me? I did like it, at least until everything went wrong."

Joshua scowled, but Shane grinned and spoke up first. "Sure! We can show you a few tricks. He's right, though. I know deer stuff, but I don't know squat about wolfy stuff. You gotta look for someone in your own league. Don't tell me you're the only one out there who's not a jerk."

Hank shook his head. It seemed so clear now. Many pack members were friendlier when Alpha Bryan wasn't around. Some were almost as relaxed as these humans. He didn't understand how the humans could be more confidant in the company of a werewolf than the pack members were around each other, but he felt digging for an answer could unlock a truth that had eluded him all his life.

He tipped his ears forward, sat beside Shane, and asked him to pass the hot dogs.