The Wolf (Patreon)

For a Halloween on a Full Hunter's Moon, I know I needed to do something special so, I present to you, "The Wolf".  I took inspiration from "The VVitch" with a werewolf spin and ran with it.  While it's set in the 1600s and I did what little research I could in the limited time I had in order to make it somewhat period accurate.  Keyword is "somewhat".  I did not try to pattern the speech because of my sanity and the time I had, plus the readability would be crap.

It's a long one and I hope you think it's worth it.  Thank you and Happy Howl-aween!  Hahaha! Haha... hah... ahhhhh.... sigh.

Harriet stirred, mindful of her brothers and sister sleeping next to her.  Her breath steamed in the cold air as the fingers of bleak winter wormed their way through the gaps in the boards of their house.  She sat up on instinct with sleep-filled eyes to see parent's empty bed.

Light flickered beneath the door to the great room.  The girl glanced to the lone window in the room, a prized possession given by her maternal grandfather on their voyage across the ocean to the colonies.  A relic of a life she couldn't remember, sixteen years gone when she was just a baby toddling around after her parents and older brother.

Snow clung to the window.  Despite the seemingly endless wind eroding what had piled up, more flakes replaced those swirling away to leave only a small gap for her to peer through.  Darkness glared back at her.

The clank of an iron bolt snapped her attention back to the door and the wavering glow around the frame.  Her parents woke earlier than the children, barely, but even this hour was unusual for them.  Harriet untangled herself in order to slip from the bed, sliding through arms and legs and beneath the quilt until she gingerly stepped onto the freezing dirt floor to tiptoe to the door.

Her curiosity would be her ruin, she knew, for her parents both warned her almost daily.  It was unnatural and unwelcome, leading her to daydream when she should be focused on her work.  They were barely surviving despite their farm's yield as compared to their neighbors.  Her family had followed the others deeper into the wilderness two years ago, eager at the idea of a larger grant of land.

Sometimes Harriet heard her mother bemoan the move in the submissive, roundabout way she spoke sometimes.  Life had been hard enough in the colony, now it was downright savage.

"...word?" Harriet's mother said softly beyond the door.  The snow blanketed their home, enclosing them.  Trapping them.  Their family and all of the sounds and smells and interpersonal bickerings.

"We're to ration, Verity," her father's tired voice said.

"Further?  Further, Elias?" her mother asked urgently.  "You barely have the strength to work."

"Aye and work what, Verity?" Elias grumbled.  "This winter is worse than the last already and our stores aren't nearly as deep as what's needed.  Josiah-"

"What?  What is it?" Verity asked but her hushed, fearful voice betrayed her foreknowledge.

"Josiah passed in the night," Elias sighed.  The house groaned in the silence that followed.  "They couldn't stop the bleeding."

She'd heard through the other children what had happened when Josiah's oldest brought the man back to the village.  The hunter and his son were out before dawn, checking traps when they spied a lone buck.  They stalked it carefully, ready to strike until Josiah was surprised by a great, grey wolf.  The man tried to fight back with his belt knife but the wolf never let up, leaving the man with both arms broken and a leg hanging askew.  Strangely enough, it didn't stay to finish the kill, instead staring after the boy while he dragged his father away, back to the village.

It was the first time a wolf had attacked any of them.  They'd all caught sight of wolves around their village but they were a skittish breed, and far smaller than the ones from the old world.  Or so she'd been told.  A meeting of the elders had been called while Levi, a young man who'd been apprenticed as a farrier in the colony, did what he could for Josiah.

He was their only skilled hunter.

"Elder Job and I will check the traps," Elias finally continued.  "And we'll take turns hunting in between our chores.  Neither of us can match Josiah but with the grace of God, we'll manage.  We have to."

"Couldn't- couldn't we send for Abner to-" Verity tried to ask.

"He won't come," Elias replied in a voice that brooked no further discussion.  "Pray with me Verity.  For Josiah and the village.  Until time to wake the children."

"Thou art the blessed God," Verity began slowly, echoed by her husband a second later.

Harriet stepped away from the door with her arms crossed as meager protection against the sharp chill invading the room.  It formed an icy spike, driven deep beneath her breastbone that made every breath hurt.  She pushed gently at her youngest sibling, Hiram, who stirred in his sleep while smacking his lips.  It was impossible to lay comfortably again and her mind worked anyway, ensuring sleep wouldn't return.

She thought of her brothers and sisters, and of Matthias, her betrothed.  Their duties, especially during the winter, kept them separated but she found herself finding excuses to see him, even if just for a moment.  He was fair with curly black hair and broad shoulders on a frame waiting to be filled out.  And while he wasn't the most handsome in their small village, his smile was bright and true and kind.  Her father admired the boy's devoutness and work ethic, traits she also appreciated but she found herself physically longing for him in a way that surprised her.

Mercy, Harriet's younger sister, turned, pulling the quilt away from Harriet but she didn't mind the extra cold as her cheeks grew warm and her hand slid against her belly.  Her stomach churned.  No, not her stomach but lower and a wave of sensations rolled along her body, forcing her to bury her face into the thin pillow she shared with her sister and little brother.  The sensation wasn't new but where it'd been sporadic over the years before, it now grew more frequent and urgent.  Almost as if passing eighteen years was a trigger for her body.

A few times, she nearly approached her mother for advice but she knew the conversation wouldn't help and might even earn her extra busy work for the audacity of it.  Or extra prayers.  Or time alone with the minister, something she feared more than anything else.  The man cut a spare figure with fire in his eyes.  He terrified her.

Harriet's hand pressed against her stomach, just above the smooth rise of her mound.  She inhaled slowly and exhaled with a shuddering breath when her legs rubbed together. Her heart echoed below, between her thighs and she felt a pleasant warmth there.  The urge to touch herself was strong but she clenched her hand to her hip instead.

Curiosity won out, as it nearly always did with the girl.  With an ear for the door, she slid her hand beneath her undergarments, sliding fingers through the wild tangle of the silky hair and-

She could feel the heat even before she touched herself.  As carefully as she could, she pulled her right leg back and lifted her knee slightly on her heel.  Her fingertips touched throbbing, sticky skin and wet hairs stuck to her body.  The hand felt cool against her skin and a thrill trembled through her body when she brushed soft, slick skin between the inflamed surrounding flesh.

And wetness.  She inhaled with a sharp, surprised breath when her finger rubbed against the delicate pink skin hidden from view.  Worry filled her, forcing her to pull her hand away to stare at her fingers, suddenly sure they were bloody.  There were no agonizing cramps but it could be something else - a sickness or-

The faint light from the great room shined off of clear liquid coating her fingers.  She rubbed them together, marveling at how quickly they glided until she pulled them apart to see a thin line stretch and snap.  The scent was sharp this close to her face but she brought it closer, breathing it in as she imagined how easy it would be for Matthias to enter her.  She pressed her fingers to her mouth, suddenly overwhelmed at the idea and her tongue darted out to taste herself.  It could surely be for nothing else than her body preparing herself for starting her own family.  With Matthias.  A miracle of God to make the process easier and, her hand returned between her legs to continue exploring, more enjoyable.

She played with herself slowly, barely moving her arm until she pulled it higher.  Harriet gasped and snatched her hand away once more to make a fist just beneath her chin.  She'd touched something above the slit and she'd almost moaned at the feel of it.  Worse, she wanted to bring her hand back down to see what it was but she couldn't bear the thought of giving herself into pleasure.

That's not- that's not what it's for, she reminded herself, recalling the lectures from their minister.  When married, her duties were clear.  Until then, she would keep herself pure and not give into wanton desires.  She would be wedded after winter, she was sure of it.  Not long to wait at all.

If they survived.

Harriet dozed, daydreaming of her own future until the door creaked open and her mother entered to call them awake.

"Mercy, go fetch wood for the porridge," Verity said without preamble.  Her hand rested against her belly.  The bulge of her early pregnancy was slim but noticeable when she wore her shift to bed.  "Harriet, we'll need water and young Hiram can help chip the ice if need be.  Isaac and Zachariah, go help your father with the goats until it's time to eat.  Old Tom has his horns stuck in the boards again, bad this time.  Wash up and get dressed."

The oldest child, Zachariah, pushed out of bed, followed by Isaac while Harriet helped Mercy and Hiram down, leading them to the wash bowl while Zachariah cracked the thin layer of ice over the water within.  They washed quickly with involuntary gasps at the shock of freezing water against their face. The three boys turned their backs to the two girls while they dressed, with the two older boys finishing first and leaving to help their father.  Hiram picked at his clothes but waited until Harriet was finished.

"You're getting too old to need help, Hiram," Harriet fussed while tying the laces of his breeches.  Mercy handed her the boy's small doublet, passed down several generations, for the boy to slide his arms into the sleeves.

"I like when you help, Harriet," the boy said shyly.  She tsked but he leaned in to kiss her cheek with a giggle that exploded when she tickled his sides briefly.  He clutched her dress while she bundled her thick brown hair up beneath a white coif.

They all set about their morning chores with Harriet leading Hiram outside, dressed in fur lined capes.  Dense gray clouds loomed overhead while the wind whipped their clothing and reddened their cheeks.  Harriet shielded her little brother from the snow the best she could until they retrieved two buckets of water.  They hurried but carefully so they wouldn't spill on their clothing, pausing only for a moment beneath the overhang at the front of their house.

The roof slanted upwards on two tall beams but remained unfinished.  The work was halted until better weather and time permitted but their father was excited to continue.  His would only be the second saltbox house in the village when completed and while he'd never boast of it, he took pride in being able to afford the materials.  God smiled upon the prosperous and he felt, privately, that he was well loved indeed.

Once inside, Harriet brought the water to her mother, helping to fill a pot while a small fire burned beneath.  Oats were added with a rare pinch of salt and Harriet stood by to stir the mixture.

"You'll go to Susanna today, Harriet," Verity said while moving about the great room to tidy up.  "With milk for tallow.  Zachariah leaves for Plymouth in five days with Isaac.  We've barely time to make enough candles for him to bring with the wool and milk.  And- and they may bring one of Nan's kids to sell as well."

Harriet glanced at her mother. If they were selling their goats, even one, it was worse than she'd imagined.

The door opened with a whirl of snow.  Elias stomped through the doorway with his sons in tow.  Harriet and Mercy dipped into brief curtsies with a nod of their heads.

"Father," Harriet said with Mercy at the same time.  "The porridge is ready."

The two girls laid out bowls after scooping a helping of the thick gruel into them, with extra for Elias and Zachariah.  Once finished, they sat, sweeping their petticoats beneath them while bowing their heads.

Verity led them in prayer, praising God for the bounty He provided for them while dedicating their lives and their day to Him with a reminder for her family that even when times were more plentiful, they ate to live rather than living to eat.  Their hunger would strengthen them, hone their focus and remind them of the frailties of their earthly bodies.

"We are elevated from the wicked beasts that roam the fields, O Lord," Verity finished.  "Neither abusing food or drink in excess or losing ourselves to satisfy the sensuality and delights of the flesh.  We remain your humble servants.  Grant us health, peace, and truth, in Jesus Christ, our Lord and only Saviour. Amen."

The prayer was her mother's way of forestalling any complaints over their meager portions and would be all they were told of the new food rationing with perhaps the exception of Zachariah.  Harriet ate slowly.  Worry gnawed at her stomach with sharper teeth than the hunger lurking just below the surface.  Her mother's prayer had washed over her but rather than feeling calmed by the words, she was disquieted.  The girl's piety paled in comparison to her mother and she worried, not for the first time, if something was wrong with her.  She loved God and trusted in His plan but her cursed mind couldn't help but wander and wonder, chipping at the cracks of her beliefs.  She resolved to find a way to speak to her mother that evening with her concerns, as soon as she could decide how to frame it in a way that wouldn't worry her parents.

"I'm finished," Harriet said.  "May I give the rest of my porridge to Hiram, please?"

"You'll finish-" Elias started to say but stopped when Verity's hand closed on his wrist.

"That's fine," Verity said while staring steadily into her own daughter's dark brown eyes.  Understanding passed between them, and a small amount of gratitude from the girl's mother.  "Wait for us and help with the cleaning before seeing Goodwife Browne."

"Yes, mother," Harriet said while scooping her food into her little brother's already empty bowl.

The rest of the family ate in silence while Harriet sat with her hands in her lap and her eyes focused on the table, turning her thoughts over and over.  She picked at her insecurities in an attempt to find where her faults lay.  More and more she felt like she was play-acting, pretending to be a dutiful daughter of God and her parents rather than accepting it with her very soul.  She hated how she questioned everything but could find no way to stop.

Is there a difference in pretending to be something for my entire life versus actually being that thing? She wondered to herself.  If I follow the forms and try every moment of the day, is that any different?

Zachariah, Isaac, and Elias excused themselves when everyone was finished.  The women stood as they did and Harriet tugged Hiram until he slid from his chair to stand as well.  Verity went to her husband to wait while he slipped into his coat.

"Be safe, husband," she whispered while her hand pressed against her stomach.  Elias grunted in return.

"We'll check the traps and reset them if needed," he told her.  "I'll have my knife.  Say a prayer not for me but for Josiah and his family."

When the three men left, the others cleaned, beginning with their bowls and moving on to scrubbing surfaces within the great room.  The girls joined their mother to mend clothing torn over the past few days, mostly by the rough work their father handled.  Hiram trotted back and forth, bringing food and grain to the goats in several small trips until he was finished and left to play quietly with a rough, hand carved horse.

"It's time," Verity said while leaning back with a sigh.  She knuckled her waist and sacrum before standing.  "Mercy, stay with me for the wash.  Harriet, your father left the milk by the front.  You're to be polite to Ms. Browne but firm, no less than three pounds of tallow.  And cotton for the wick if she's generous."

"Yes, mother," Harriet replied with a short dip.

"Don't tarry," the older woman continued.  "Use my coat for when you go; I'll be inside most of the day and it's warmer than yours."

With another dip, Harriet turned away.  She smiled at Hiram when he made a soft whiny sound while making his toy prance and he smiled back at her shyly before going back to his play.  Her mother's fur coat was another gift from the old country before they traveled to the colonies.  It was old but luxurious and heavy, a comforting weight that Harriet felt she could disappear into on the rare occasions when she was allowed its use.

The outside air was bitterly cold, even with the hood of the coat over her face.  Its fur brushed her ears and cheeks while the freezing wind threatened to pull it away and expose her.  Her face burned until she ducked her head and bent to lift the twin baskets lying by the door.  The frozen bottles shifted but settled and she plodded through the thick snow.  Gusts buffeted her occasionally but they lessened and, as she reached the village, she spied blue through the gray clouds overhead.

Uneven paths led through the village, built by the furrows created by carts and frozen by the weather.  She walked carefully, mindful of her balance and the baskets in her hand.

A small group of villagers lingered near Elder Sampson's home.  Harriet craned her neck as she continued on her way but the shifting crowd hid whatever drew their attention and she knew better than to linger.  Sudden gusts of wind kicked up loose snow, forcing her to bow her head once more while she made her way back out of the village, lifting her feet into the snow bank when the cleared paths ended.

Voices faded away from the village and the snow dampened the sounds of animals in the unending forest surrounding them but a shrill cry far overhead made her look up.  A bird of some kind circled overhead.  It drifted sideways against the wind before dipping and circling back, hunting for prey.  The details were lost to her eyes but she watched it for a time until it banked and faded away.

All that remained was the forest and the white snow.  The treeline was covered in thick clumps of white but the scraggly trees within were merely speckled with flakes.  Her forays into the forest were never deep and always accompanied by an adult or her older brother.  Mushroom hunting or picking berries or sometimes gathering kindling.   The immensity of the forest was daunting and she often wondered if her parents had felt the same during the voyage over the ocean.  Sometimes, standing in the woods, she felt like she could drown in their depths.  That the boughs would bend around her, smothering her until all was black and she was drowned in leaves.  On those days she found herself hurrying home, terrified of every little sound made by those who lived in that inhospitable environment.

Harriet stumbled in the snow, catching herself at the last moment before she fell.  Two buildings stood before her, a small house and a larger building which housed several pigs and a single prized Kerry heifer, bought at a dear price by the Browne family years after they first arrived.  They hoped to breed her when the snow melted and they could make the trip to Plymouth.

Smoke rose from the chimney built into the side of their home, twirling gray that spun for a moment before the wind grabbed hold to drag it away, dispersing it into thin threads that were whittled away into nothingness.  More smoke guttered until the wind let up.

Laying the baskets down on the ground cleared away from the door, Harriet knocked as loudly as she could before stopping back respectfully.  Goodwife Browne answered the door, glancing out eye level briefly before looking down.  She was the tallest woman in the village and even her eldest daughter was taller than Harriet.

"Harriet?" Goodwife Browne asked.  The corners of her lips turned down as she tried to remember why the girl was there.

"My mother sent me for tallow," Harriet said, bending to pull aside the cover of her basket.  "I've eight bottles of fresh goat milk.  We're needing-"

"I don't have any," the woman told her.  "I sold all I had in town this morning to a passing trader.  The Stones raised their breeding price on account of demand.  A ship they were expecting has been delayed."

"B- but my mother- we're needing-" Harriet stuttered.

"We all have needs and times are difficult enough that we need to watch out for our own," Goodwife Browne said.  Her square jaw clenched tight.  "Ask the trader.  Perhaps he'll deal with you.  Good day."

The door closed before Harriet could even give her reply and she stared at it. She'd never liked the woman and while gossip in the village was almost rare, she was adept enough at listening for hidden meanings and knew that others shared her opinion.  The Brownes rarely added to the communal stores, despite having success with their pigs, but were one of the first in line when food was scarce.

Harriet stuck her tongue out with a mocking, deep curtsy before turning away.  She realized quickly that the trader must be the one drawing the crowd in the village and wondered if they were from one of the tribes.  Her contact with the nearby Wampanoag confederation was extremely limited and always accidental.  Her father shielded her from them and she was excited at the idea of seeing one with the excuse of trading for what she needed.  In her mind, her father's anger would be worth the experience.

The trek back, with the excitement of the encounter building within, was far shorter than the way out.  She took longer strides and even began to sweat beneath the coat until her breath was puffing in short bursts by the time she reached the edge of the village.  Now she slowed, placing each foot purposefully on the icy paths until she saw him.  A few people gave their greetings, which she returned, but her eyes focused on the broad man standing beside his small handcart.

He turned to stare at her and Harriet shivered when their eyes met.  In repose he appeared implacable, as if carved from an ancient mountain.  Her disappointment was slight when she finally noticed his fair skin but the unearthly quality of the man made up for it.

She approached timidly and he continued to stare, scratching his wiry gray beard before placing his hands into the fur-lined pockets of his coat.  The bushy-tailed cap he wore barely hid his long, unruly hair, gray to match his beard.  Wrinkles lined his forehead but, despite his age, he held himself as straight as a man less than half his age.

The cart was laden with wrapped packages.  A few knives, their hilts made of thin, tightened leather strips, lay against an opened pouch.  Furs covered the rest of his cart while a few cuts of meat hung from the sides.  A rolled pack was attached to the back of the cart and she assumed it was the man's personal belongings held together with leather straps.

The corner of a pelt peeked out from the side of the pack.  Its beauty was breathtaking.  The fur was pure, shockingly white.  Harriet dropped the basket in her right hand and almost reached out to touch the pelt, barely holding herself back when she realized what she was doing.

"Girl," the man grunted.  His accent was thick and unrecognizable to her but she could make out his words.

"S- sorry-" she told him, looking back at him before her eyes were drawn back to the fur.

"It's not for trade," he told her, easily reading her intentions.

"I- I have goat milk, I could-" she ducked her head while cursing herself.

"You did not come for that," he said

"No, but- but," she tried to say, looking back up at him.

The man's eyes glinted in the sun.  They shined one moment with the dark yellow in the heart of a fire and corroded bronze the next.

Fool! She chastised herself.  She could only imagine the rage her father would fly into if she were somehow able to make the trade.  Her back and legs throbbed at just the thought of it.  Complete fool!

And still it called to her, fur rippling in the wind that swept through the empty village.  She yearned to run her fingers through it and feel it against her cheeks.  To spread it out and lie down on it, throwing her clothes off piece-by-piece until she lay nude with the fur against her skin, rolling and rolling until it covered her completely, surrounding her with it's warmth.  With its power.

"Why are you here?" the man whispered, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I-" Harriet said, turning to face him while her eyes stayed focused on the pelt.  "I-  The-"

Finally, she gave him her full attention, physically pulling herself away from his pack.

"Tallow," she sighed.  "My mother sent me to trade for it from the Browne family but they already sold what they had to you."

"Yes," he said, nodding his head.  "This is so.  I remember the woman."

"My family needs the tallow to make candles to trade in Plymouth," she told him.  Her eyes flicked to the pelt and back again.  "Three- three pounds.  I have goat milk to trade."

The man lifted his head at the mention of the milk and he scratched his beard once more.

"Show me," he demanded.

Harriet pulled the covers back from her basket.  She lifted one of the bulbous, clouded bottles for him to see.

"They're frozen but fresh," she told him.

"Two pounds," he grunted.  "Two pounds of tallow for all of it."

"N- no," she said, standing her ground.  "Three pounds.  I have to- they're worth three pounds."

"Two, or leave," he said gruffly, his eyes shining golden once more.  His voice rumbled harshly.  "Don't waste my time, girl."

She shrank from his stare and his voice, shoulders slumping and back bowing while sweat beaded on her temples.  It was worse than when the minister was focused on her.  His voice would raise and threaten you with damnation for your misdeeds.  This man, his very presence cowed her without a word being said.

"Th- three," she squeaked in reply, daring to look up at him from her bent head.

"The mouse speaks!" he yelled but his face tightened and she could hear the groaning of the cart as his hand clenched against it.  "Two."

"I- I- I- can't," she gasped while remembering his earlier interest.  "Th- Three pounds.  You- you can trap any animal you want for their fat but milk is harder to come by.  It's- It's worth more to someone like you.  And- and the bottles, too."

He regarded her without changing expressions until he reached up to scratch his beard once more and she swore she saw the hint of a smile.

"And it has teeth, the little one," he said.  "This is so.  Three pounds.  From the bundles in the corner."

He studied her again but his smile was gone.

"Take what you think is right," he told her.  The lighthearted tone he'd used was gone with his smile.

"I- I will," she replied, lifting the bottles from her baskets to lay them gently into his cart.  Her eyes strayed to the pelt as she worked but she did her best to focus.  Finally, she hefted the tallow and decided four bundles were enough.  "I'm done."

"Scurry home," he told her while waving his fingers.  He looked to the sky and down again.  "I think I will rest here for the night.  The village seems welcoming enough.  And then I'll move on.  The wild calls.  So close that you can feel it inside of you but never close enough to reach.  Better that life than this.  More freedom.  You, I think.  You should move on as well."

"I'm- I'm going," she told him with a small amount of uncertainty.

He simply nodded and looked past her, standing with his feet wide and planted, waiting for others who may come and trade.  She almost broke down, then, to ask if she could just touch the pelt.  If she could nuzzle it, perhaps.  Or wrap it around her body.  The words were on her lips until she dragged herself away.

---

Verity listened to her daughter's tale once she was home, eyes tightening when she learned Goodwife Browne had sold her tallow and then smoothing when she learned of the trader.  She asked questions about the man, which Harriet answered as well as she could until the older woman was satisfied.  Mercy's eyes were wide the entire time and eventually Hiram joined them to listen, leaving Harriet to embellish what little she could for his benefit.

Once finished, the three women set to work laying out linen for wicks while melting the tallow.  Mercy and Hiram helped briefly before cutting limp vegetables for a stew.  Harriet's stomach cramped at the smell of the food when it began to boil, reminding her of the breakfast she'd shared earlier.  She ignored it and continued to work, dipping the wicks into the tallow in slow, measured movements before hanging them.

Out of the entire terrifying encounter, she couldn't stop thinking of the fur left behind and a temptation crept into her heart.  She denied it at first but it grew slowly within, a seed taking root and spreading its thin fingers throughout her body until her mind kept returning to it.

What need does he have for it? She asked herself as she helped with dinner.  A small loaf of bread cooled on the table while she passed out bowls of stew, saving herself for last while ensuring Hiram had more than she did.  Her thoughts continued as her mother praised God for their day, even adding in a small thanks for helping Harriet speak with the trader, as if she hadn't conjured the courage herself to stand before him.  He has that enormous coat.  What does he need the pelt for?  It wasn't on the cart so it's not for sale.  Surely he's too big to wear it and he has no home to use it for a rug.  A rug!  Something as beautiful as that for a rug!  What a waste that would be.  Even as a blanket- it seems wrong.  He doesn't need it.  And- and he could hunt for another one.  Another pelt.  He'd barely miss it.

Her hands gripped her dress while her eyes stared past the dinner table and the house itself, lost in her own circular thoughts.  Evening chores came and went, giving Harriet time to sit and play with her little brother.  He was a great explorer, riding his horse throughout the untamed land and she narrated his journey, surprising him with dangers that his young mind tried to think past.  Nearly every crisis was beaten by the fact that his horse could jump as high as the moon, well over anything that would threaten him.

When bedtime came, the women went first to change alone before creeping under covers.  Harriet lay on the edge of the bed with Mercy against her but, after the men entered to undress, Hiram wiggled his way next to her.

The two beds creaked as everyone slowly settled and their breathing deepened into sleep brought on by a full day of work but Harriet lay awake.  Her heart beat quickly while her head throbbed.

It's madness, she told herself.  I shouldn't. I shouldn't even be thinking of the idea.

But as time passed and sleep refused to come, she couldn't think past it.  Instead, she began to plan how to accomplish the task.  She wouldn't steal it, she decided.  She just wanted to touch it.  Just once.  With her bare skin.  In that dark, quiet moment she knew within her soul that if she let this pass her by, she would regret it for the rest of her life.  She wouldn't steal it.  She would just touch it.  Just the once.  And then race back home before anyone knew she was gone.

Her mother's coat hung by the door and her boots were below.  It was dark fur and heavy enough to keep her warm without her dress and the oversized hood would hide her face and hair.

Harriet slid slowly from the side of the bed with her ears listening for the smallest change in breathing.  She clenched her teeth against the cold dirt floor but huddled over and walked with her hands touching the ground beside her feet.  At the door, she held her breath and opened it as slowly as possible until the gap was just wide enough for her to slip through.  She left it open and walked upright with more confidence, grabbing her mother's coat and slipping into it before shoving her feet into her boots.

With a backwards glance at the bedroom, she lifted the door's latch painfully slow, pushing it away from the catch to keep it silent.  As before she sidled through the smallest gap and turned to close and latch the door once more.

No clouds marred the sky, leaving the silver crescent moon to brighten the path to the village.  Harriet almost laughed as she trudged through the snow, shoving her legs forward as quickly as she could.  The thrill of it all was entirely new to her.  She was not a daring girl but she surprised herself at how incredible it felt.  Taking a risk with the very real chance of getting caught left a mad boiling mixture tumbling in her stomach and yet she felt full of energy and excitement.

Not even the freezing wind could bother her as she waded, stomping and sometimes jumping through the shallow holes she'd left earlier in the day.  When the village approached, the thrill burrowed deep into her bones and she clutched her arms to her chest.  She wanted to claw at herself as anxiety grew to fill the sudden vacuum within her stomach.

Harriet paused just beyond the village.  She waited and watched but everything was dark and quiet.  Now she continued forward, holding the hood down over her face.

The cart sat close to Elder Sampson's home and the man, who she realized only now that she hadn't asked his name, was gone.  A lump filled her throat but as she continued forward, she was able to make out the shape of the trader's pack still attached to the cart.

The corner of the pelt glowed in the moonlight, even more entrancing than she remembered.  She gasped when she saw it and hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself.  It seemed too good for her.  Too... magical for her mundane life.  But her lips firmed and she forced herself onward as her heart beat faster.

Harriet's cold-reddened fingers reached out, pausing for just a moment before gliding forward to rest her palm on the fur.  She sighed while closing her eyes and making a gentle fist.  Despite being left out, it wasn't cold.  Unfortunately, only a fragment of the fur was free.  She tugged at it carefully to pull more of the corner away and then more.  And more.  And more, feverish now as she slid it free from the loosened straps holding the pack together.

The pelt hung from her fingers down to the middle of her shin and up to her breastbone.  It was lighter than she'd expected, and thinner and a brown tanned hide.  Harriet pulled it up, rolling it as she lifted it to press her cheek into the fur with a satisfied sigh and wide smile.  It was exactly like she imagined it would be.  Softer than anything she'd felt.  She rolled her head, turning to press her other cheek into it and then down before swirling her face in a circle.  The legs of the pelt dangled and twisted as she pressed it against her body.

The girl's nerves woke and goosebumps rose, tracing a thin finger down her spine before the rest of her body responded and dimples appeared over her shoulders and arms and down to her legs.

And the warmth began to grow between her legs.  Harriet's eyes widened when she felt the throbbing ache and she gasped, clutching the fur to her chest.

Now the situation became clear to her.  She stood with the entire fur in her hands, in full view of the village with no way of quickly returning it back to the trader's pack.  Worse, anyone could step outside to see her.  It would just take one person using a privy to see her there and demand to know what she was doing.

Harriet folded the pelt in her arms in a panic before holding it close to her body with her forearms and hands inside.  She turned and fled back the way she came, slipping on the paths until she reached the snows.

---

A shadow detached from the wall of the house next to the handcart behind her.  Golden eyes flashed in the moonlight and lips widened into a broad smile over a gray beard to show too many sharp teeth.

---

The flight from the village back to her home was a terrifying jumble.  Harriet fell several times, picking herself up and retrieving the pelt before racing away once more.  The benevolent moon now highlighted the girl for everyone to see who she was and what she'd done wrong.  The hood of her mother's cloak fell back to bounce against her shoulders and expose her face.  Her hair streamed freely behind her as her cheeks and ears and nose burned from the cold.

Harriet stopped in the middle of the wide field separating her home from the village.  She gasped as her sweat froze beneath the coat and the melting snow covering the jacket dripped within to soak into her shift.

Looking into the distance, she could only barely make out the dark blot of her home and she shivered while her teeth chattered.

Will I die here? She asked herself while her laboured breath puffed away.  A sinner, damned to Hell for my thievery and deceptions?  I can't.  I won't.

She lay the pelt on the fresh snow to her side and began to undo the buttons of her mother's coat.  Once undone, she removed the coat and set it beside the fur.  She stood for a moment in nothing more than her shift and boots, gasping as the wind whipped the thin undergarments.  Finally, she reached for the pelt and lay it against her back.  The forelegs rested along her thin arms, their girth hanging down to cover her while she felt the hind legs against her thighs.  Although the head was missing, a strip of the neck lay against her nape.

The girl searched for the straps to tie it against her chest but her hands scrabbled against the smooth skin and found nothing.  She twisted and shrugged the pelt to push it off but it held in place.

"What in th- aaah!" Harriet screamed as needles pierced her flesh.  Fiery pain overwhelmed her, tearing through her skin from her skull to her toes.  "St- st- st-!"

Light flashed in front of her eyes.  Ragged silver circles exploded in her vision as the moonlight sent lances hurtling to the earth.  She screamed and squeezed her eyes shut while bowing her back and falling into the snow before her.  The needles dug deeper and pulled, tearing muscles and bones apart.  She stretched her back legs out and the pain wavered for the briefest of moments.

Brown hairs began to appear on the silver pelt and the hanging forelegs tightened as her arms swelled.  She snarled and gnashed her teeth while clawing at the earth.  Her shift molded itself to her growing body but tore when she continued to grow.  Brown fur dotted her powerful limbs and a small part of her felt the brush of snow against thick hair on her bare midriff.

When the needles pierced her brain, she raised her head and howled through a cracking jaw.

Her consciousness fled in terror.

---

Harriet woke with a startled shout.  Dark limbs hung over her, reaching for her with their insidious, gangly fingers.  She screamed and pushed back, sliding through snow that burned her naked body.  The girl screamed again when something touched her back, forcing her to jump up and turn but it was only the trunk of a tree.

The limbs resolved into leafless branches and the canopy of the forest itself.  She gasped and turned and turned again but finally looked down her body.  The pale moonlight reflected off of her white skin.  Her soft, puffy areola and thick nipples were tightened against the cold, twisted and erect over her slim bosom.

Dirt and snow flecked the tangle of her pubic hair.

The pelt lay a few feet away from her, with the fur flat on the ground.  She grabbed at it, wrapping the fur around her belly with the forelegs in a loose bow while searching for her coat and boats but neither were near her.  The forest was completely silent around her and she shivered, not just from the cold surrounding her.  She stumbled away, glancing behind herself as she fled the forest blindly but, thankfully, the tree line was close and she fell to her knees in a thick bank of snow.

Kneeling on the ground with the pelt covering her body, she stared left and right while her nostrils opened to breathe in the scents around her.  Something tickled her brain and she pushed herself up to stumble to the right, wading through snow with bare feet and legs.  Less than a minute later, she found the path she'd made earlier and she paused to stare again.

A shiver raced through her from the tip of her head to her toes.  She wiggled them and continued on while trying to remember what had happened.  The realization that she should be frozen or dead never crossed her mind.  A pool of warmth formed in her chest as the silky fur continuously brushed against her breasts and nipples but she ignored it as well as she could, especially when she could feel it spread lower in her body.

I was- I was- my coat! the girl realized.

"My mother's coat," she groaned, finishing the thought out loud.  "I took it off to- to- why?  Why would I do that?"

A few minutes later, something miniscule tugged at a strange part of her mind, distracting her from the useless effort of replaying the night's events in her head.  She breathed in sharply and looked up to see the coat layed out in the snow before her.  She yelled and dashed to it, lifting it up and dusting it off before slipping into it and closing the buttons with trembling fingers.

The remains of her boots were strewn around a wide, flattened area.  It looked as if a mighty struggle had taken place and Harriet touched her belly while staring.

Was I attacked?  It can't be.  Whatever tore my boots apart would've killed me.  So, then, why?  What happened?  It has to be that.  Something- something attacked me.  I- I kicked it and it tore my boots off and I ran and- and maybe I hit my head.

She wondered for a moment if she should gather the pieces of her boots but she couldn't quite think of what to do with them and so, with a last look, she abandoned them and ran, jumping through the snow on feet that were only now starting to feel the cold.

Finally, the girl reached her home and she fell to the ground, panting with a rasping, aching throat.

"Harriet, you fool," she whispered while still holding the pelt against her body beneath the coat.  Her head pounded more painfully than her heart as she looked around the yard to find a place to hide the fur she'd stolen.

Although there were several places she could bury the pelt, she refused to leave it in the dirt or snow.  She wouldn't sully it any worse than she had by placing her sinful hands upon it.  Instead, she retraced her steps back into her home, slowly and carefully, replacing her mother's coat by the door to stand barefooted with only the fur covering her body.  With a furtive glance towards the bedroom, she pulled the legs of the fur apart to slide it off her body.

Harriet stood in the quiet, cold darkness in the middle of the great room.  It was an odd feeling to be in the middle of her home without clothing, without even a shift to cover her skin.  She expected to feel embarrassment and a need to clothe herself quickly but was surprised at how unusual it felt instead.  Before she could pick apart her thoughts, she began to worry at what little time she might have left before her parents woke.

The girl folded the fur carefully into as small a rectangle as she could with the fur facing inward.  The door to the bedroom was undisturbed.  She slipped through but left it open as a precaution in case she needed to have an excuse for being out of bed.  In case she needed to lie.  She knelt beside the chest at the foot of the bed, opening it while staring at her parent's bed.  She moved clothes gently aside to place the fur at the bottom before replacing the clothing.

She only had one other shift that fit her and she took it from the top of the clothing before lowering the chest.  Still crouched with one hand on the ground and her knees spread, she sniffed the air and looked to her parents while cocking her head.  Their breathing was light but steady so she stood while pulling the shift down over her head.

A wave of goosebumps lifted from her skin while she made her way to bed.  Hiram had taken the opportunity to spread his arms and legs in the space she'd left but he didn't resist when she moved him to take her place beneath the covers once more, enjoying the warm spot he left behind.

She lay awake, terrified of what she'd done.  And yet, the thrill of the act was undeniable.  She hated the coiling, twisting feel of it within her guts but her heart beat so quickly and her nerves were so alive.  She shivered from the touch of the blankets against her body while pulling her legs up to her chest.

Harriet hugged her knees and tried again to remember what happened but it was a blackness.  She wasn't sure how much time had passed between removing her coat and waking in the woods.  Even now she had no idea what time it was.  Winter played havoc with sunrise and sunset, confounding her every year.

A sudden tiredness flooded her, drawing her eyes closed until she forced them open, only to feel how heavy they were.  The events of the night sapped her pent up energy and she uncoiled, stretching out her legs (in the snow burning pain snarling) until she sighed and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

---

Harriet groaned when her mother woke them.  Her limbs felt as heavy as rocks and just as inflexible.  Hiram climbed over her and bounced on her back to jump to the floor.

"Wake up, Harriet," the boy whisper-yelled in her ear.  "Wake up!"

She pushed herself, arching her back and groaning again as joints popped and bones cracked.  The quilt slipped down to her ass as she raised her head with her jaw open until her whole body shook.  Now awake, she twisted and stepped onto the floor with barely a wince.

Only when she was nearly finished getting dressed did the events of the night come crashing back into her.  She froze with one hand in the midst of tucking her hair beneath her coif while her eyes slowly lowered to the chest before her.  To the pelt hidden within.

I have to return it, she realized while swallowing a hard lump in her throat.  I have to bring it back and apologize.

The fear of her punishment bubbled up within her guts, cramping them while her temples began to throb.  Her deed would be known in the village unless the trader was understanding.  If he wasn't, she'd be beaten and ostracized.  Her betrothal to Matthias would be over.  Nobody would ever trust her again and she'd be a spinster or married off to someone far away in a lesser engagement.  Her penance would be unending.

Anger flared within her, sharp and abrupt.

My entire life ruined and what right do they have to judge me so harshly!  Her lips compressed until they whitened.  If I kept it, they would never know.  If I returned it, unharmed, I've undone my mistake and apologized to the owner.  This is between me and the trader, what right do they have?  Am I the only one to have a lapse in judgement?  No.  I know I'm not.  But perhaps one of the few to own up to what I've done.  To have the bravery to admit what I've done and admit that it was wrong.  That should be enough.  That should be-

"Harriet, come here," Verity said from the great room.

Harriet flashed teeth as she snapped her head around but she smoothed her expression quickly and finished covering her hair before striding into the great room.

"Where are your boots?" the girl's mother asked.

"I- I-" she stuttered, caught by surprise at the question.  Her mind churned, offering several lies to tell but she settled for the simplest.  "I- I don't know, mother.  I left them there when I came inside last night and they were still there when I went to sleep."

"Did you use the privy in the middle of the night?" her mother demanded to know.  A hint of anger edged her voice and Harriet felt the skin on the nape of her neck respond, prickling from beneath her hair to her shoulders.

"I might've-" she said while trying to ignore the strange anger and indignation growing within.

"Might've?" her mother asked in a mocking voice.  "You might've used the privy but you don't-"

The front door banged open to show Elias framed in heavy falling snow.  He looked between mother and daughter before stepping inside.

"The Browne's lost their pigs and cow," he said grimly, taking the hat from his head to hang from a lone, thick nail.  "Torn apart and half eaten.  An entire wall is gone and destroyed.  The wind finished the job.  They had to dig the bodies out.  They'll be lucky if they can harvest enough from the remains to buy another sow."

"Josiah," Verity gasped with her hand against her throat.  "The wolf followed him.  It must have."

"Aye, perhaps," Elias nodded.  His jaw flared once, twice, thrice until he spoke again.  "The trader left early.  Before anyone woke."

Harriet bit her lip painfully hard while clenching her fists against her dress.  A great roar sounded in her ears until she breathed out.

"-think he-" Verity started to ask.

"If he did, he's moved on and we don't have the men to track him," Elias told her.  "We'll pass his description along any time one of us travels but we don't know that he had anything to do with it.  He traded fairly and kept to himself.  The attacks- the poor animals.  If it weren't winter, I'd wager a bear.  Even now, perhaps- perhaps it was.  A maddened, starved bear."

Verity glanced at her daughter and then to the door while frowning.

"Did anyone mention if things were stolen?" the woman asked.  "In the night perhaps."

"Not as yet, why?"

"Harriet's boots are gone," Verity told him.  "And she swears they were by the door."

Elias turned to stare at his daughter.  Whether because she withstood the trader's presence and verbal assault the door before or because she felt emboldened by her midnight foray, she found herself staring back without a hint of fear.

"The Clagett's daughter was about the same size," the man said finally.  "See her today and ask about her boots.  She were eager to donate her daughter's effects after the girl passed last year.  You'll go, Harriet, with your mother's boots and Zachariah will go with you."

He looked around the great room, staring at each child in turn until they held his gaze.

"Nobody is to stray from the farm," he declared.  "Nobody goes alone beyond our home.  We're all to keep watch.  If the animal is bold enough to attack one farm, nothing will stop it from trying again.  I'll take watch with Hiram.  Zachariah and Isaac, you'll take turns with me.  We'll be sleeping in the pen for the next week."

"Surely Hiram's too young," Verity said with her hands clenched against her belly.

"He needs to learn," Elias said.  "Now, we'll break our fast.  There's work to be done."

What does it mean? Harriet asked herself as she went through the motions of serving porridge and sitting through prayer.  For the trader to just leave?  Did he somehow miss the pelt?  It can't be.  It was his own personal belonging.  And it is beautiful.  I wouldn't let it leave my side, if I owned it.  I would cherish it forever.

Harriet craned her neck to look back at the room at the chest within.  Already she missed the feel of it against her skin.  She vividly remembered the fur's softness on her chest and the sensations it evoked.

A wooden spoon tap-tap-tapped against a bowl and the girl turned back to see her father glaring at her.  She bowed her head and continued to eat.

I will cherish it forever, she told herself.  He left it behind.  The fool left it behind.  He discarded it.  If it was important, he would've torn the town apart searching for it.  That's what I would do.  If someone took it, I'd go mad.

Her throat rumbled while her fist clenched her spoon until it trembled in her hand and clattered against the bowl.  She didn't finish the thought but the emotions that cycled through her told the tale: violence, bloody red violence.  After she lay her spoon down and bowed her head to wait for the others to finish, she scratched at her arm with a long, slow motion, dragging her nail against her white cuffs and the black sleeves, harder and deeper until the pain of it forced her to grind her teeth together.

---

Harriet led her brother wide of the path she usually took to town and she prayed the fresh snow had covered her old boots.  Zachariah watched the forest as they made the journey and didn't question the route they took.  Despite his short, brown hair and his mother's strong features, he took after his father's personality, remaining quiet unless he absolutely had something to say.

As they walked, she picked at her waistcoat and the shift beneath while sometimes tugging at the petticoat.  They scratched at her skin while digging into her body as if she wore someone else's ill fitting clothing.  Too tight and too itchy.  It irritated her but she couldn't stop picking at them while her cloak dragged behind.  Worse, her foot slipped freely within her mother's larger boots.  The girl grunted and scratched at her sides while her lips quivered and raised, showing her teeth.

"Do you think it was a bear, Zachariah?" she asked, to distract herself from the clothing.  She longed to strip out of them and she sighed when she remembered walking from the woods wearing only the pelt.

Maybe I will do it, she told herself for the second time that morning.  I could take the pelt out when nobody is looking and keep it beneath my petticoat.  If I excuse myself to the privy, I would have time to undress and-

"Father says so," the boy answered.

"Father thinks that's what happened," she corrected, surprised at how direct she was.  She picked at her shoulders and then stretched, bending her arms forward and back again.

"He would know," Zachariah told her.

Harriet huffed and shook her head.  Her brother always followed her father.  He worshiped him and sometimes it was hard to tell them apart, aside from their size and she knew that was just a matter of time.  He was a perfect son with the only flaw being that he wasn't married yet and that wasn't a fault of his own.  He was almost married to Phila Williams until the girl's father found letters written to her from a man in Plymouth.  Now he waited for another match and their father was beginning to look beyond their village.

"But what do you think?" she asked.

"I think it was probably a bear," he said with a shrug.  "Or that wolf what done in Josiah.  The gray wolf.  It doesn't matter.  We'll guard our farm and the village and maybe catch it while hunting."

"Did you?" she wondered out loud.  "Catch something I mean.  In the traps.  Or hunting."

"Not yet," he sighed.  "We can see the trails in the snow and the bait is gone but father and I aren't hunters.  We'll have to learn."

The rest of the trip was made in silence with Harriet rolling her shoulders and scratching at her back and sides until they reached the village and she stilled her restless hands.

Matthias greeted them both at the edge of the village but spoke to her first.  Concern radiated from his eyes and posture but he grinned at her before assuming a more serious expression.

"Harriet, good morrow!" he said, looking her up and down.  She blushed at his inspection, bowing her head to hide the slight smile that came to her lips.  "I'm so glad to see you safe.  Zachariah.  Are you and your father well?  I heard you were trapping together."

"Yes," Zachariah answered.  "We've no time to socialize.  Fare thee well, Matthias."

"Pray remember me," Matthias said with a bow and a hand to his heart.

Harriet turned to flash a smile at the young man while following her brother but then she turned and caught up to walk behind the straight-backed boy.

"You're cold to him," she chastised.

"We don't have time to be cozy," Zachariah said with a hint of his father's sternness.  "People are starving, Harriet.  We lost our best and only hunter.  The Browne family lost their pigs and cow.  Sure and Matthias can be pleasant.  He's a good man.  But you've no time to make eyes at him.  Once we've survived the winter and you're married, you'll have time enough."

The long speech seemed to exhaust the boy and he fell back into silence until they reached the Clagett's home.  Harriet gave greetings and her apologies, as she had before, for the death of their daughter.  They spoke for a while to catch up until Harriet found a time to politely ask if they still had her boots.  Goodwife Clagett was relieved to pass them along and, after a moment, Harriet asked if there were any extra shifts as well.  The older woman eyed her critically and told her they'd be too big for her but relented under protest and Harriet left with two shifts and the boots.  They weren't quite as fine as her own pair but they were warm and fit well.

More silence followed the walk back to their home but Harriet preferred it to the exhausting option of trying to interact with her brother.  This time, she took her regular path but slowly while watching ahead to ensure her old boots were hidden.  As she drew near, she swore she could smell them, despite nothing but even, unmarked snow covering their path.  It tickled her brain and confused her but the location seemed vaguely correct so she assumed it was a trick of her mind.

Chores began immediately when she arrived home but she begged off for just a moment to put away the new shifts she was gifted.

The bedroom was empty, allowing Harriet to kneel before the chest and move her stack of clothing.  She sighed, releasing tension she wasn't aware of holding when she spied the folded pelt.  The girl cast a glance to the door behind her but bent down to unfold the top of the pelt to caress the silver fur, only, as she did, she noticed a few brown hairs mixed with the silver.  She frowned and tugged at them, sure that they were loose hairs from the trader's other furs but they were solidly in place.

With yet another look towards the great room, she bent and pressed her face into the fur.  Harriet groaned and opened her mouth, dragging her tongue against the pure, soft pelt before nuzzling into it with a quivering moan.

Voices disturbed her trance, pulling her back into reality and she sat up, folding the pelt in place while replacing her clothes and adding the new shifts.  The girl pressed a hand low on her belly.  She breathed out slowly, her breath as hot as the ache forming low in her guts.

For a brief moment, when she stroked the fur, she felt a brush against her own back.  A phantom hand sliding against her skin.

When she stood, her legs were shaky.  She touched her stomach.  And then lower, turning her back to the door to feel between her thighs and rub herself for just a moment.  Just enough to feel how excited she was.  To feel how alive she was.  Like her trip the night before, it was a thrill to do it.  To allow herself a small pleasure that she was sure would be frowned upon.  She pushed and squeezed and felt liquid against her body once more.  Her skin crawled, racing from the base of her spine and up, forcing a groan from her lips until she lifted her shoulders.

The girl stumbled from the room, catching herself on the door frame in order to steady her legs and walk more confidently.  It took effort to hide her distaste when told she was to clean the privy but she was at least thankful that the freezing weather would make the work less unpleasant.

With every chore finished, the day progressed.  And with every passing minute, Harriet tried to find the time and excuse to steal away into the outbuilding with her pelt - her pelt in her mind now, not the trader's pelt.  He'd left it behind, unwanted and she'd claimed it for herself.  But the day was busy with someone else walking past or kept occupied helping someone else.

It was almost too much for Harriet to bear.  She was filled with a strange anxious energy that left her on edge.  When she wasn't seated, she paced and scratched at her uncomfortable clothing until she was called to sit and work.

Her eyes were drawn to the dusky, snow-lined windows and her mind wandered, seeing herself as if one of the falcons flying high above, a dark comma in the middle of a field of unbroken silver snow encircled by forest for as far as the keen bird's eyes could see.  It was a breathtaking scene that left her yearning for- for- for-

What, exactly? she wondered.  She probed her feelings while keeping the image in mind, relishing the starkness of it, the visceral visual emptiness of the tiny bit of their tamed land with the immense wildness beyond.  What terrified her before now filled her with an odd sense of loss.  Why loss?  The woods scare me.  There's death and- and lawlessness.  My home keeps me safe.  Keeps us safe.  The village protects us.  It- but- Josiah.  And the Browne family's livestock.  We're slowly starving to death.

She wanted nothing more than to ask her father for reassurance but it was not her place.  And that angered her.  Her eyes tightened while the hairs on her nape bristled.  Their village was a small foothold in the chaos of the wilderness and it was dying.  They had the audacity to assume their superiority and mastery of the land but a single attack left them reeling.  The men were stretched thin with their duties while the women prayed and made candles.

Harriet scratched her covered arm as they trembled with anger.  Her canines grinded together while her jaw creaked.  She gripped her knees to hold herself steady but found herself curling her fingers until her nails pressed painfully deep into her skin.  As the others finished their small, tasteless meal, she steadied her breathing in an attempt to calm herself from the sudden, spiky rage within.  Sweat beaded along her back while her temples throbbed and the roar returned in her ears.  A slow rumble bubbled up from the back of her throat until she swallowed.

Her face ached and burned.  The great room, with the low fire and gaps through boards, was now too bright and too humid.  The wooden clink of spoons against bowls and the smacking of lips was loud and repetitive.  Her nails dragged against the back of her thighs, marking them with red lines.

The pain distracted her.  The rumbling at the back of her throat returned, lost to the howling wind outside.  The rough treatment of her nails woke something new inside of her and she found herself rubbing her ass against the edge of her chair as pleasure mixed with pain and irritation.

Dark images flashed through her mind.  Emotions tied to experiences that she couldn't remember.  Fury.  Her body pushed to the limits.  Tumbling.  The hot, exciting taste of blood.

Harriet gasped outward.  Her building frenzy released in an instant, leaving her confused and swaying in her chair as her father knocked on his bowl with his spoon, reminding her to be silent and still.  She snapped up to glare at him but he was already focused on his food once more and she pulled herself back, restraining herself.

The world outside of her home beckoned to her and the strange yearning returned.  The freezing wind would temper her heat while the snow and open field would muffle the sounds.  Her sounds.  Making it easier for her to- to-

She shook her head and breathed.

Once dinner was finished, the women cleaned up and Harriet went through the motions without thought.  Her father smoked in the corner, sitting upon the old, stained chair that was his own space.  The scent of his tobacco burned her nose worse than it ever had and she was thankful it was a rare occasion for him.  She coughed and cleared her throat until he was finished and even then, she hated the way the lingering smell overwhelmed the other scents around her.  It was a foul habit he'd picked up from the other men in the village but the price of the leaf was too high for him to enjoy a brief smoke more than once a month.

As was custom, Verity led evening prayer.  Harriet mumbled the words with the rest; she knew the prayers by rote and could recite all of them in her sleep if needed.  They felt empty and awkward in her mouth after her strange fit earlier.  She still reeled from it.

"Zachariah, Isaac, and Hiram, with me," Elias said when prayers were finished.  The man accepted a small basket of bread Verity baked earlier while Mercy struggled with a ladle and bucket of water.

Verity opened her mouth but thought better of it and simply hugged her husband before kissing young Hiram's forehead.  She watched them leave and then turned to shepherd her daughters into the bedroom.

"Sleep with me tonight, Mercy," Verity pleaded and the young girl nodded while she undressed.

Harriet hesitated by the chest.  She licked her lips as she replaced her clothes and her hand slid down through the gaps until she felt the pelt.  She sighed, her eyelids fluttering while she rubbed it between her fingers.

She would make time.  When the others were asleep, she'd steal away in her shift with the excuse of needing to relieve herself if caught.  And with the men watching the animals, the timing was even more perfect.  Closing the chest, the girl pulled back the quilt from her bed before slipping beneath and she lay on her back with her arms and legs spread, enjoying the amount of space she had available.

The empty space around her hooked the visual once more of her small form in the middle of the snow.  She held onto it now, savoring it as she waited for her mother and sister to fall asleep.

Is that what I've missed? she asked herself while staring at the exposed wooden beams overhead.  My own space?  My freedom?

Soft breathing signaled Mercy falling asleep but Harriet continued to explore her feelings until she heard her mother's snort and the erratic snores that followed.  And still she waited, allowing them time to fall deeper into sleep.  It only served to heighten her excitement.

Finally, it was too much and she slid from the covers to the cold floor, walking quickly to her chest to open it with less care than before.  She pushed aside her clothes and pulled the pelt free to lay against her bent knee before closing the chest.

Harriet hid the fur beneath her shift as she walked barefooted through the bedroom and through the door.  She listened while she made her way into the great room but there was only the shriek of the wind.  The door resisted when she opened it but flew outward suddenly, pulling her with it. She held fast and forced it close behind her.

The wind was fierce with heavy, blinding snow fall that made her regret not taking a coat with her.  After a moment's hesitation, she turned and ran on numb feet towards the small privy.  The house lay between the tiny wooden building and the larger pen where they kept their goats and she was grateful for it.  Whoever stood watch within shouldn't be able to see her but if they patrolled outside, there was a chance - if their house wasn't in the way.

Once inside, she gasped and stepped up on the small wooden platform.  Her feet were completely numb from the cold but she stared at them and wiggled her toes to ensure they worked.

Now she wasted no time.  Harriet pulled her shift from the bottom, lifting it past her arms before setting the undergarment on a bent nail beside the door.  A wide red flush lay between her pale breasts as her body pulled heat from her extremities to help her survive the cold.

The girl unfolded the pelt with the fur facing her, holding it by the forelegs.  Whatever the beast had been, it had been huge.  Even with the missing paws, it's legs reached nearly as wide as her outstretched arms and its legs brushed against her shins.  She pressed it into her stomach, holding it tightly against her body with a groaning gasp of pleasure when the silky silver and brown fur flattened against her skin.

Her right hand slid down the smooth back of the pelt.  Down and down and down until her fingers slipped between the gap in her legs and she moaned.  Her left hand pulled back to squeeze her slim breast through the fur and her eyes closed.  It was better than she remembered and exactly what she needed after the stress of the evening.  Alone.  Unburdened by the weight of her father's control.  Her fingers pressed the pelt up between her legs while she spread them apart and she moaned again.

The feel of it was extraordinary, somehow both cool and warm at the same time and silky sensuality that left her gasping in short breaths as she continued to press and rub.  Her growing wetness slicked the fur back as it slid between her labia over and over.  A knot was being tied within her belly, tighter and tighter while somehow growing.  Her brow furrowed as she panted, uncertain of what she felt except that she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop because the fur rubbed between her thighs as if something were behind her and over her, on top of her and pressing into her, something not her.  Her fingers trembled and her knees shook but she only rubbed faster and faster and faster until she gasped, throwing her head back with her mouth open while her legs drooped, forcing her to her knees.

She caught herself with one hand on the platform.

all fours jumping and running and racing

Shaking her head, she pulled the fur from her body.  A wide, dark line of matted, wet fur lay low on the pelt, above where the hind legs branched off.  Her mind grew blank as she stared at it and her fingers worked independently of her empty thoughts, turning the pelt.  Throwing it over her shoulders until it rested against her back with the strip of wet fur directly over her swollen pussy.

Harriet groaned, raising her head with her lips back as the pelt pressed against her body, molding itself to her.  She hissed, dropping her other hand to the ground.  The pelt hooked into her, stitching itself deeper into her body and she moaned, slowly pushing her ass backwards.

Brown hairs emerged from the pelt around the nape of her neck, coiling around the silver hairs.  The skin over her spine pulled taut as it merged with the pelt and her nerves connected.

"God!" Harriet shouted, jerking her upper body back hard enough that her small breasts quivered.

Sweat poured down her breastbone and around the small curves of her chest.  Brown hairs pierced her flesh, stopping the droplets as they raced between her breasts and down her belly.  She groaned, arching her back while leaning forward on her hands and raising herself on her toes.

When her eyes opened, gold streaked the plain brown of her irises.  She snarled, pulling trembling lips back as drool dripped from the corner of her lips.  Scattered hairs emerged from her arms as the pelt continued to fuse to her.  Hard lines stood out on her thin arms and legs as they swelled from the muscle building within.

"What's- what's- rrrrrrgh-" Harriet growled, spitting as her jaw cracked.  She shook her head and her untied hair fell around her shoulders, leaving a few strands trapped by a thick mane of fur on the nape of her neck.

The tips of the girls ears lay exposed and ringed by scraggly brown hairs.

"Have to-  have to-" she groaned, pulling herself up.  Her nails dug into the wooden boards next to her but they bent and fell away to show soft pink, wrinkled flesh dotted by the dark tips of claws rooting themselves to her fingerbones.  Her voice deepened as her ribcage expanded.  "Go."

She shoved through the door, stumbling into the wind.  It whipped the heavy fur on her back and the traces covering her stomach.  She turned and fell, catching herself on hands and feet before forcing herself to stand again.  The wild tangle of her pubic hair flattened and waved as snowflakes fell to cover her.  Pain wracked her lower back.

The tip of the crescent moon lay exposed behind heavy, gray clouds.  She stared at it, mesmerized by its purity as the fur crept from the middle of her stomach to the sides.  Despite the sliver of illumination, her golden eyes could see clearly and she cried to the moon in thanks for what little light it provided.

And she ran, as consciousness faded.  But not entirely.  She saw through its eyes, unable to speak or think or move while riding its body.  Its speed was tremendous while it plowed through the snow and into the forest, scent for the trail of its prey.  She exalted with the beast as it stalked, pushing to a stronger scent when it stood undecided.  Her decision and the realization that she'd made a choice to affect the creature was lost on her.  It wasn't her.  It couldn't be her.  Yet she felt a raw thrill when her prey startled and ran and-

---

She woke in darkness, huddled against a snow crusted log.  Staring out into the darkness of the forest, she remembered.  Bits and pieces.  The hunt.  The kill.  The feast.  The strongest of the emotions over the past few hours.  Not the wandering in between.  Not the romp through the underbrush.  Not stalking the edge of the village out of curiosity, staring at the homes with brilliant yellow eyes.  Just the brightest of the sensations.

The pelt lay before her, touching her stomach and legs and she knew it now for what it was.  She felt full and strong and warm, despite her nudity.  And free.  Cloaked in nature without the worry of her human life.  She wouldn't starve, couldn't starve when she could hunt as well as she did.  As it did.  She could hunt for her family.  For the village.  She could-

Realization took hold and her confidence wavered as humanity reasserted itself over the beast.  She shivered and her breath puffed away.

She could never tell them.  Worse, she could never wear the pelt again.  She wasn't foolish; she knew the pull it had on her and what it meant that she could remember more now that she-

Harriet blinked.  She'd worn it the night before.  When she'd taken off her coat.  The memory of it came back to her - stripping bare to lay the pelt on her body and the pain it brought but nothing more.

The second time and now she remembered more and she worried what it would mean if she wore it a third time.  Or a fourth.

She shivered again and rolled, pushing to her knees and then her feet.  She stared at the pelt.  Half of the fur was brown now in streaks and blobs.

I could bury it here, she told herself.  Right here and never touch it again.

Anxiety filled her.  The thought of the thing lost and forgotten in a shallow pit made her whine with a high pitched sound at the back of her throat.

No, I'll- I'll take it with me and hide it again, she thought.  And decide the best way to dispose of it later.  There has to be a better way.

Harriet gathered the pelt into a large square against her stomach.  She walked steadily on strong legs through the forest until she emerged, scenting the air before turning left towards her home.  The supernatural warmth filling her faded slowly, with every passing moment, forcing her to walk quickly until she was dashing through the snow, a pale streak with even, unlabored breaths despite her speed.

Just at the edge of her farm, she slowed and scented the air again while eyeing the pen.  A shape moved and the wind brought Zachariah's scent to her nose.  She circled around until the house was between her and she continued on throbbing feet until she reached the privy.  She huffed at the smell of old excrement but forced her way inside to grab her shift and pull it over her head.

Now she continued into the house, holding the door easily against the wind until she could latch it again and make her way to the bedroom.  Her ears twitched when she listened to her mother and sister and she was relieved to hear their nearly synchronous steady breaths.  As before, she folded the pelt, caressing it gently before slipping it to the bottom of her clothes.

Sleep came quickly as she dozed beneath her quilt.  She dreamed of blue skies and slow prey and the wind racing through her hair and fur.

---

Harriet woke as soon as she heard her mother stir in the other bed.  She was suddenly alert and wary, inhaling deeply while listening for the sounds in the dark room.  A light flared, chased by the smoky scent of burning tallow.

"You're awake early," Verity said when Harriet slid out of bed.

"I don't feel tired," the girl said honestly.

"Well and good but let your sister sleep a few minutes more," the older woman said.  She pressed her fist against her back while leaning into it with a sigh.

Harriet nodded and retrieved her clothes for the day, laying them on the bed.  She unfolded her petticoat and bent to pull it on.

"What is that?" Verity asked.

Harriet turned to her mother but froze when the woman put her hand low on her body, just above her ass.  Her shift had lifted when she'd leaned in to change her clothing.  The girl felt the tug of hair when her mother ran her fingers along her back, bumping over her spine.

"What is it, mother?" Harriet asked with some concern.

The older woman stared at the wide swathe of long, loose brown hair.  She lifted her daughter's shift and was shocked to see it continue up and over her nape.  She'd never seen anything like it, not on her children and not even on her husband, who was quite a hairy man.  It disturbed her but she couldn't understand what it meant.  Her slim fingers pressed against muscle just beneath the surface of the girl's skin.

"What is it?" Harriet asked again with a raised voice.

"It's- it's nothing," Verity said finally while pulling her daughter's shift down.  "Hair.  Just- just loose hair.  It's nothing."

Harriet shrugged away from her mother, annoyed at the interruption in getting dressed and having hands laid on her.  She continued in silence, grunting as she shrugged into her tight clothing.  As it had the day before, the linen scratched her while hanging oddly, tight at the shoulders and hips and stomach.  When she bent to fix her hair, the sleeves bulged over her biceps, pulling the fabric hard into her skin.

"Draw water while I wake your sister," Verity said.  She watched her daughter, noting the strangeness of her behavior but finally putting it down to the stress of everything that had happened over the past few days.

Harriet left without a word, going to the front door and out, leaving her boots behind to walk on reddened, bare feet to the well.  She cranked the wheel easily, overpowering it until the bucket swung back and forth against the sides of the wall.  It leapt free past the rim of the well and tilted, spilling water to the ground.

The girl knelt before a puddle formed by water splashing into a small crater in the ice surrounding the well.  She touched her hands to the ground and leaned forward, raising her ass while lowering her chest.  Her tongue curled outward.  It was wider and thinner than before and it flexed easily, cupping the water and allowing her to drink while lapping at it.

With her thirst slaked, she lifted her head and stopped, eyes wide while staring at her wavering reflection.  She realized only now what she'd just done but it was her face that caused her alarm.

Her ears ran to elegant tips beside the coif she wore to cover her hair.  She watched herself raise a hand to touch the edge of her ear and she felt the sharp points of scattered hairs.  When she bent her ear forward, she realized she could see the hairs.  They were sparse but enough to notice and she sat back with a gasp, touching both ears and rubbing them between her fingers.

Harriet snapped her head to the house and forced herself to stand, dusting snow from her petticoat.  She pulled at her coif and shoved her ears within but they resisted until she pulled hair over them to trap them in place.  Her heart pounded in her chest as she visualized the pelt beneath the bottom stack of her clothes.

'It's just hair,' Verity's voice echoed in her ears as she felt the ghostly touch of her mother's hand against her back.

"No," Harriet whispered while reaching behind to scratch above her ass.  Something moved beneath her fingers and she felt the uncomfortable pressure of bone grinding against bone when she pressed harder.  "Oh, no."

Harriet lowered the bucket once more and brought it up more slowly before lifting it and bringing it into the house.  Her stomach growled loudly when she brought the water to her mother who looked at her sternly but kept her thoughts to herself.

But I stopped, she thought to herself as she joined her sister and mother in preparing breakfast.  I put it away.  And- and I swore to not use it again!  This isn't right!

The girl's head throbbed, pulsing down her nose and into her jaw in waves that left her annoyed with the ache.  She caught herself grinding her teeth but stopped, only to find herself doing it minutes later.  It eased the pain slightly but she still forced herself to stillness.

After prayer was finished, Harriet devoured her food.  She bit the spoon, gnawing at it briefly before scooping more potage.  She frequently knocked the spoon against her teeth which caused her to bite the wood again.  When she lay the utensil down, the edges were ragged where she gnawed at it.

I can't wear it again, she told herself, not realizing she'd mentally gone from wouldn't to can't at some point in her thoughts.  I can't-

"Mother," Hiram asked quietly.  "Is there more?"

"He can have the rest of-" Zachariah started to say.

"No," Elias told him.  "You need to eat.  There will be dinner tonight, Hiram.  You'll wait until then and be glad with what you have.  Others have less."

"Yes, father," the little boy said piteously.  He turned his bowl to scrape a single oat into his spoon.

She knew then that she was lost and she bowed her head with her eyes closed.  It didn't matter what happened to her; she would damn herself eternally if it meant Hiram grew to adulthood.  She would doom herself if it saved her family.

And-

And she wanted it.  That faint voice that she'd ignored grew louder when she accepted her fate and she realized just how much she'd enjoyed it.  She could remember turning now, at least the beginning of it.  She felt her cheeks grow red when she remembered touching herself in the privy and the strange but incredible release but even that paled in comparison to the feel of the beast.

WIth her mind set, her confidence grew and she began to look forward to nightfall once more.  She worked quickly and eagerly through every chore while delighting in the few breaks she had to play with Hiram and, occasionally her little sister.  There was hope now.

Prayers followed dinner with her father sharing what little news there was.  The Browne family was leaving tomorrow to barter for another sow, two if they could with what little the other families chipped in.  Harriet bit her tongue.  She'd almost asked why the village would help them when they rarely did their share.  It wasn't the first time she'd held herself back that day.  Despite her excitement for both the future and for another chance with the pelt, she found herself increasingly frustrated over small things and more willing to share her unasked-for thoughts.  The constraint bothered her greatly.

The men left for their watch while the women cleaned and prepared for bed.  Harriet undressed quickly but slowed when she remembered her ears.  She glanced at her mother when she loosened her hair, shaking it to ensure they remained hidden.

I'll work on it, she told herself.  I'm- It's probably something I can change myself.  If- if I can turn back, perhaps I can control it and- and- and I'm just not skilled enough yet.

Once more, Mercy was called to sleep in her mother's bed and Harriet was allowed her own bed.  Her mind raced and she cast glances to her mother and sister but her ears told her what she needed to know.  At a certain point, there was an obvious change in their breathing that she was surprised she never noticed before.  A deeper timbre.  At the same time, their scents changed by the faintest degree.  She struggled to name what it was but it smelled calm.

Although she wanted to jump up immediately, she forced herself to wait longer, counting in her head until she could no longer wait.

Harriet stripped in the bedroom, laying her shift on her quilt before throwing the chest open and yanking the pelt free.  She placed it flat on the ground and lay on it with a groan vibrating on the edge of a growl as she rolled and rolled and rolled on the silver and brown fur.  She luxuriated in the way the fur felt against her bare skin.  She twisted to her belly, panting with excitement.  The girl raised her chest slowly and then lowered her head to lick the corner of where the beast's neck would be.  Finally, she shoved her crotch down once, twice, grunting as she grinded the edge of her clit against her mound.

"Control," she whispered before licking her lips with her wide tongue.  "I'll learn control."

She jumped up and snatched the pelt from the ground before leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind her.  Once inside the great room, she shut her eyes and listened past the wind to hear the faint, disrupted and wavering sound of feet crunching through snow.  She focused, furrowing her brow but soon a metal clank cracked through the air and she smiled.

Now she brought the pelt around and over her shoulders.

It began immediately and she groaned, dropping her arms to claw at her sides and hug her hips.  Pinching pain crawled down her back but she was beginning to enjoy it and she smiled while slowly rolling her eyes and showing her teeth.  The girl lowered herself to her knees with her left hand on the ground while her right tugged at the thick pubic hair covering her lower stomach.

She could smell her scent changing.  The beast was taking hold and her thin human scent grew complex.  But another aroma mixed with it and she sat back with her knees spread.  A bone wiggled at the base of her spine, causing her some discomfort as nerves connected to muscle and the flesh above as it writhed over the growing vertebrae.

Her throat vibrated and she growled happily as her hands tightened on her pubic hair.  She pressed and clawed and stroked herself until she could feel the soft fur growing beneath the hair.  The girl leaned back to watch as it spread, growing past the wild curls while lengthening.

Harriet blinked and found herself kneeling on all fours.  The gap in time confused her and she growled, shaking her head.  The pelt burned against the back of her thighs, digging deep before pulling out, encouraging the growth of muscle beneath her skin.  Dark brown fur pierced the skin surrounding her ankles but she ignored it and lowered herself, pressing her cheek to-

Her fingers plunged into her sex and she couldn't remember doing it.  More time had passed and she felt her hold slipping as she grunted and moaned.  She'd never touched herself like she was doing now.  She'd never known such pleasure could exist.  Rather than stop, she sped up, forcing her two fingers deeper and deeper.  Her short, stubby tail curled as it expanded, pulling the flesh surrounding it to grow as wide as her wrist.

She tried to vocalize her pleasure but the words wouldn't come and she growled instead while licking her lips.  Her free hand clawed at the ground beneath her while her cum dripped to the dirt, mixing to make little drops of mud that-

Now she knelt, clawing at her furry breast with one hand while three fingers slapped wetly against her throbbing, bulging pussy and-

She ran on two legs, brown fur dappled with white snow.  Racing through the open field to the forest nearby until she leapt, her tail whipping left and right and up until her claws bit into the trunk of a tree and it groaned beneath her weight.  Heavy drafts of snow fell from the impact and it bent until she let go and dropped.

She panted, her tongue against her jaw until she lowered herself, sniffing and huffing against the ground.  Harriet could feel the control available to her but it was remote, passed through several layers of interpretation that-

Teeth in the neck of a deer, bearing it to the ground.  She clawed at its belly and steam filled the air as it gurgled its last breath.  She tore into it, eating greedily until its blood splattered her dense, brown fur.  Harriet screamed her thanks, howling to the moon high above.

Seconds later another howl answered her and she immediately went on alert, twisting to stare in the direction of the other's voice.  She left her kill, treading nearly silently-

They stood on a hill in the distance.  Six of them.  Smaller than she'd imagined with narrow jaws.  Cream colored fur marked with brown.  They regarded her safely from a distance and she could read their fear in their posture, despite their number.  The faint threads of their scents only confirmed what she knew.

Harriet's golden eyes narrowed.  She lifted her broad chin and breathed deeply before searching the group for the male she'd scented.  An unmated male.  She licked her lips and growled, placing one hand in front of the other with her tail lashing behind her, lifting to show the tuft of fur barely covering her pussy.

Matthias, she remembered but her body continued to move and she lowered herself.

The six coyotes yipped and clustered together but Harriet growled and slowed.

Matthias! she yelled inside her own head.  She pulled every string she could until the beast stopped.  She raised her muzzle into a pained howl and the coyotes joined the voices, one at a time before turning and bounding away to-

Her paw rested against the trunk of a tree.  She could see her house and the building where they kept their goats.  No sentry walked the perimeter of the building so she grabbed the buck's antlers and dragged it behind her easily, stalking to the building until she trusted herself to go no further.  She left the deer where it would be seen and walked away, to the other side of their house.

She pushed as she walked and her bones crunched, causing her to snarl in pain.  Fur retreated from her chest, pulling back in patches to show bare skin.  Her tail drooped, resting against her wide, powerful ass.  The muscles at the base contracted, withdrawing the tail while bone dissolved.

Harriet stumbled when the padding on her right foot thinned, absorbed back into her flesh while the toes pulled tightly together.  Her left foot followed shortly after and the arch of both feet bobbed every other step until she walked with her heel touching the ground.  She panted and groaned, clawing at her flesh and massaging the skin.

Her muscles contracted but, not completely, leaving her with well defined lines along her arms and legs.  As the fur disappeared on her stomach, it left behind the ribbed, hardened muscles of her abdominals.

Raising her head to the moon, she growled while her jaw cracked and crunched.  Streaks appeared in her golden eyes as they faded to darkened amber.  Fangs creaked and slid back to reveal molars and incisors but the sharpened tips of her canines barely retracted.  She sneezed and shook her head.  The bridge of her nose collapsed down into a delicate curve while the skin smoothed over to a soft pink.  Her ears flicked while sliding down her skull.  Fur flaked away as they shrank down to the sharp tips she'd noticed earlier in the day.

Harriet fell to her hands and feet and the pelt slid from her back.  Sweat froze in the strip of fur still clinging to her spine.  She shook herself side-to-side like a dog and the strange, long mane of fur waved against her body.

Her nails were dark and sharp, running to a razor point rather than the broad white nails she was used to.  She stared at them while exploring her canines with her tongue.

"More," she rasped, closing her eyes.  She imagined her teeth sliding into her jaw and her ears smoothing into curves while her nails widened and grew clear but, when she opened her eyes, she still saw the dense obsidian nails.  She closed her eyes again and concentrated.  "Please."

The girl lay there nude, on all fours without a thought for how she would appear.  She groaned and grit her teeth but finally collapsed, bending her knees with her forearms touching the ice below her.

"Whatever it takes," she panted.

Finally, she stood and gathered the pelt, folding it as she walked through the whistling wind with the cold touching her body.

---

Harriet stood in the bedroom, next to her bed.  The pelt lay on the floor and both her mother and sister were sleeping but would wake soon.  She could hear the subtle shifts in their breathing.

Her shift hugged her painfully tight at the hips and the bottom of her ass hung freely below the hem.  She touched the muscles over her stomach and then up, squeezing her breasts while wondering if they too had grown.  And then up, she touched her soft lips to feel how they bulged over her canines when she closed her mouth.  The top fangs scraped against the bottom, leaving her with a slight overbite but it was manageable if she didn't open her mouth too wide.

She hid her ears first, pulling her coif on and employing the same tactic as yesterday, covering her ears with the hair until they stayed beneath the cap.

Her fingernails tore small holes in her clothes if she didn't handle everything carefully.  Her petticoat was next and she dreaded how it would fit.  Several minutes of grunting and cursing beneath her breath had her standing in the room, dressed completely.  Everything was wrong and too-tight and she missed the freedom of-

No, she told herself.  I can't think like that.  I can't.  I have to control it.  I have to.

Although she wanted to keep the pelt close, she placed it in the chest after she'd finished dressing.  Before the other two woke, she began her chores to gain mastery of her changes.  She found if she didn't bend her arms or legs or waist too much, it wouldn't hurt.  And yet it bothered her more and more and she felt her temper growing short.

Verity was surprised to see her daughter awake and working but the surprise was nothing compared to learning that a partially eaten buck was left on their property.

"It's a miracle, Elias," Verity whispered.  "How is it possible?"

"I'm not sure," the man said while sitting at the table.  He nodded to Mercy when she brought him a bowl and spoon.  Harriet snatched the spoon she'd gnawed on the day before and served herself, setting her own bowl down before helping others.  "Perhaps the beast came with the intent to feed on its kill before going for our goats but was startled when it noticed we were standing guard."

Harriet coughed and scratched at her throat, groaning in quiet pleasure when her nails clawed her skin.

"We'll keep the skin and some of the meat but give most to the others," Elias said, staring into the distance while nodding.

It's not for them! Harriet yelled in her head while staring fiercely at her porridge.  Despite her kill in the night, she was famished.  A small part of her, too tiny to hear, wondered how she wasn't bothered by the thought of eating a raw animal.  Of killing one. It's for my family!  I killed it for them, not everyone else!

The hierarchy of her family was crystallized in her mind now and she grew hot at the thought of sharing beyond her pack but she bit her tongue while grinding her canines together.

"It is a miracle," Verity affirmed.

"Yes, I think so," Elias nodded.

Harriet's lips trembled but she hid her anger with her bowed head in mock piety.  Her mother's prayer was exceptionally long and thankful before they finally allowed themselves to eat and both Isaac and Hiram were excited about the prospect of meat in their stew that evening.  Their happiness was enough to calm her anger and she allowed herself to finish her meal without speaking her mind.

Morning chores dragged on after breakfast and Harriet daydreamed.  The memory of changing was incredibly vivid in her mind but the gaps bothered her.  Not only because it showed a lack of control but also because she couldn't remember how it felt to touch herself.  She couldn't stop thinking about it - the bestial pleasure of the changes mixed with the raw sexuality of pleasuring herself and the extreme frustration of not feeling the release at the end.  She'd had a taste of an orgasm, her first, and it wasn't nearly enough.

The more she thought of it, the more turned on she became until she felt hot liquid smearing between her muscular thighs and the dull ache of her emptiness.  It was made worse by the very smell of her arousal.  It followed her everywhere, clouding her mind until she was certain everyone could smell her.

"May I gather kindling?" Harriet asked her mother when she could no longer ignore the urges of her changing body.

"Not alone, no, take-" Verity said while focusing on stripping skin from the buck.

"Father said they scared the beast away," Harriet interrupted.  "I don't think it will bother me."

"You'll watch your tone, Harriet Graves, unless you want a whipping," the woman said, glaring at her daughter.

"Mother," Harriet said with a short curtsy, faking contriteness.  "I've finished all of my other chores and everyone else is busy with theirs.  The walk and work would be good for me."

Verity continued her own task but finally nodded.  "Go speak to Elder Sampson before you start, to let him know about the meat.  Your father planned to go but you'll save him time.  And then gather the kindling."

"Mother," Harriet repeated, hiding her smile.

She walked quickly, licking her lips several times as she pretended to walk to the village.  When she was certain she was out of sight, she turned left.

The forest heightened her excitement.  She remembered hunting as the beast, dropping to all fours like an animal and it made her growl, an odd sound from her human mouth but it felt natural to her.

Harriet walked several paces into the forest and knelt, clawing her nails down the snow-covered trunk of a tree.  She needed to be on all fours.  Like in the memory of when she was changing.  Like the beast.  The girl shrugged out of her coat and pulled her petticoat up as high as it could and her shift went with it, pooling just below her expanded waist.  She grinned and then groaned as the cold air surrounded her burning pussy.

Reaching a hand beneath her, she slid it through her tangle covering her mound, touching her tongue to her teeth when she felt the slick, cum soaked hairs and then down, snarling and snapping at the air when she carelessly marked herself with her sharp nails.

Moving more slowly, she pressed a single finger between the throbbing flesh of her labia.  Her breath hissed out in a thin stream and she clawed at the ground with her free hand while rubbing herself.  She started slowly but began to speed up, faster and faster and faster until she pressed and her finger entered her slick, pink pussy.  She tensed, clamping against it by instinct and moaning.

Harriet's tongue slid from her mouth to hang freely when she began to pump the finger. She shoved her ass back in small thrusts while pushing her finger forward as if someone was behind her.  As if she were mounted and mated and-

She moaned harshly and a second finger pressed against her opening.  Her breathing came quickly, panting now until she whined while trying to force the second finger instead.  She pushed and twisted and then cried out when it entered her.  The girl bowed her head from the overstimulation but soon began shoving once more.

Harder.  She moaned and shoved back.  Harder, her palm slapped against her soaked labia and the surrounding hair and she snarled.  Harder and harder, she shoved without concern of her nails as the twisting knot within her belly trembled and strained and-

Her pussy quivered and crushed her fingers, forcing them out.  She gripped the tree with both hands in order to hold herself up while bending her head back to howl.  Her fierce eyes were raised to the sky with her canines bared as her human voice sang to the sky in a pale imitation of the beast's cry.  And yet it felt good and right.

A bone popped in her hips, breaking off her howl.  She groaned, lowering herself while reaching beneath to feel what happened.  When her palm brushed her labia, she shuddered and huffed but continued to reach up to press the loose, sore spot above her ass.  Her hand moved of its own accord, pressing against her pussy as she toyed with the tip of her hidden tail.

Small brown hairs pierced the skin around her asshole and down, creeping over her labia to join the hairs already covering her.

The girl moaned as the muscles tightened inside her pussy and a fresh string of her cum dripped beneath her.  She pulled her hand down to play with herself, rubbing the inner and outer lips.  With her fingers caressing the slick skin, she felt them harden and swell further, pushing against her hand.  Something clicked deep within her guts and she moaned, pressing a finger between the changing lips as they jutted from her body.

The bottom of her labia pushed upward before folding while the lips rolled inward, shoving against her finger as she began to thrust her hand once more.  The now free bone in her waist rose as muscle surrounded it and the skin dimpled above.  She grunted and licked her lips while sweat rolled down to the tip of her nose despite the cold.  Her thighs quivered as her clit became engorged, growing temporarily out of the hood covering until skin gathered and pushed it down, forcing it to join the folded lips.

Harriet pushed her finger against her tri-fold pussy, smacking the puffy distended, changed labia before grabbing them and squeezing them with a loud, quivering moan.

The girl rutted on all fours, snapping and snarling and moaning as her second orgasm built.  The forest was silent around her, as if holding its breath until she sudden collapsed, folding in on herself with her cum-soaked hand against her pussy.  Liquid spurted lazily from between her strange new lips while she shuddered and moaned.

She lay there, panting with her face against the snow until she felt able to move again.

It wasn't enough.  She needed more.  She needed more.  An image of the male from the night before appeared in her head and she groaned, clawing at her hard stomach while sitting back on her heels.

"Matthias," she moaned, clawing at the nearby tree to help pull herself up.

She walked from the forest, barely remembering to settle her shift and petticoat around her legs.  Her coat lay forgotten as she walked to the village.

---

Matthias Taylor swung his axe down against a stump.  The wood stuck onto the blade of the axe split easily and he knocked the cords aside before slamming the axe into another block of wood.  She watched him raise the axe again.

The smell of his sweat and pheromones was intoxicating.  It took an enormous amount of willpower not to tackle him now and she feared what would happen if she had the pelt with her.  Without it, she knew, as she scratched the lump of skin covered in brown fur low on her back, she was safe from changing. Safe from the beast taking hold.  And yet, she ached for him in a way she'd never felt.

As she watched, a new scent wound its way to her.  Feminine and young.  She craned her neck but needn't look far as Elder Sampson's daughter strode into view.  Harriet's brow furrowed.  The girl boldly walked up to Matthias until she stood before him and he stopped his swing.  He gave her a short bow.

"Good morrow, Constance," Matthias said.  Harriet's ears tweaked and bent briefly at the top.

Rather than answer immediately, the girl touched his arm.  Harriet lunged forward with her teeth showing but stopped herself in time and she dug her nails in the frozen earth beneath her.

"Matthias," the girl cooed as he took his arm gently away from her.  "I've spoken with my father."

He stood silently with a curious expression on his face.

"He's willing to give his blessing for our marriage," Constance continued.

Harriet's lips trembled and she growled while bowing her back.  The hairs lifted on the nape of her neck and then spread, more growing to join those already there.

"I'm already promised," Matthias told her.

"To the Graves girl?" Constance laughed with her fingers on her lips.  "My father is the richest farmer in town.  He has connections with Plymouth.  The Graves have nothing to compare."

She reached out, fingers from her mouth to his chest where she played with the ruffles around his doublet.  Harriet's muscles coiled and the seams tore along her thighs and waist to show skin dotted by short brown hair.

Matthias took her hand.  He held it briefly before moving it away.

"No," he said simply.

"A promise doesn't mean anything!" the girl huffed.  "You don't have to go through with it just because-"

"I love her," the boy said and Harriet froze in place, blinking rapidly.  "Even if there were no promise, I would ask for her hand.  Wealth matters not to me, Constance.  It means little enough in this world and nothing in the next.  But, love is eternal.  And I love her."

The girl stared at Matthias with revulsion.  Her lips compressed and her hands trembled into little fists at her side.

"My father is the richest-"

"I know who Elder Sampson is, Constance," Matthias nodded.

"He controls the village!" she shouted.  "You'd see your family cut off because of a foolish love?"

"Yes," he said immediately.  "But, it won't come to that, Constance.  Your father isn't a fool, regardless of how you've turned out.  Now, I have chores to finish, Constance."

"Damn you!" the girl shouted once more, kicking the stump and stalking away.

Harriet watched her, amber eyes cut with gold.  Her throat rumbled as her petticoat strained against her body.  She moved, crouched on all fours to silently track the other girl, ghosting her as she left the Taylor farm.  Wispy brown hairs emerged from her forehead and cheeks.

Constance waded awkwardly through the snow away while Harriet stalked her prey, slowly closing the gap until she leapt, tackling the girl to the ground.  The other girl's coif flew away to reveal curly blonde hair.  Constance screamed and battered Harriet but Harriet grabbed the girl's throat with her right hand while her left held Constance's right hand to the snow.

Harriet leaned in, burnished golden eyes reflecting the fire in her temper.  A string of drool formed at the corner of her mouth as she growled threateningly while tightening her fist.  Constance gagged and lifted her chin but her breath whistled from her partially closed throat.  Sharp nails bit into the girl's white skin.

"Constance Clarke," Harriet snarled.  The soft brown fur rippled down her forehead and along the curve of her nose as the rim of her nostrils cracked into pebbled fractures.  She leaned in until their faces nearly touched.  "Matthias is mine."

"Gck- gck-" Constance said as panic filled her eyes.

"If you so much as glance his direction," Harriet growled, squeezing for emphasis.  A seam over her forearm opened in the sleeve of her petticoat.  "I.  Will. Kill.  You.  I will tear you limb to limb until they can barely recognize you and they will blame the gray wolf for it.  Just.   Another.  Victim."

"Gck-" Constance said as the smell of piss filled the air.

"Do you understand?" Harriet said as enamel flowed down her incisors and they curved into fangs.

The other girl nodded frantically.  Blue tinged her the flesh around her eyes and cheeks.

"Nobody will believe you," Harriet told her.  "Your father is nobody.  The power he holds is a cloak he wraps around himself in order to feel protected from the wilds in a fragile little village on the precipice of death.  He will beg God to forgive whatever sin he's done that caused your death and then he'll move on.  Open your dull eyes to the world we live in.  To what we're surrounded by.  Nature would swallow us all and bury our bones for the next people to find when they come to settle here.  You're.  Nothing."

She clenched her hand until her nails threatened to pierce the girl's throat and Constance's eyes rolled back in her head.

With a huff, Harriet stood back.  She lifted her chin to sniff and nearly squatted over her to finish the humiliation until she realized what thought crossed her mind.  Shaking her head, she moved away and worked on calming herself.  She walked faster with each step.

Harriet's gums throbbed as her fangs retracted and reformed.  Her nose grew smooth over several minutes while the fur pulled back beneath her skin and her eyes darkened.  By the time she reached Elder Sampson's farm, her hair was tucked and neat and she appeared entirely presentable.  She knocked on the heavy door and stood back with her hands clasped before her and her head partially bowed.

Elder Sampson had the luxury of a farm as well as a richly appointed home within the village itself.  She wasn't sure who would answer the door at his farm but she'd decided on the way that it was very important to make the trip despite her original intentions.  If Constance did try to claim assault, she needed to appear first.  And to appear harmless.

Goodwife Clarke opened the door.

"Goodness, is that you, Harriet?  You'll catch cold, child!  Where's your coat?" the woman fussed.

Harriet curtsied deeply.

"Thank you, Goodwife Clarke but I'm fine," she replied.  "I came here in a rush on an errand from my mother and I've built up quite a sweat despite the weather."

"Well, come inside at least!" Goodwife Clarke told her, opening the door further.

"Thank you but I can't, Goodwife Clarke," Harriet answered.  "I need to be back to gather kindling.  My father found a buck, dead this morning and intends to share the majority of it with the town.  He'd like to distribute to those who need it."

"Oh, God bless you all," she said.  "I'll let my husband know and we'll make ourselves ready.  God bye to thee, Harriet."

Once again Harriet curtsied as long as she could without ripping the rest of her petticoat.  When the door closed, she turned and raced away, tracking her path back to the woods where she'd left her coat.  She'd forgotten about it until Goodwife Clarke mentioned it and her parents would be furious if she lost it.  Luckily, the smell of her sex was powerful and she quickly found where she'd dropped it.

Boundless energy flowed through her, fueled by her rage at Constance as well as the thrill of threatening the girl's life.  And stoked higher because she meant every single word of it.  She could see herself doing it as she mentioned it.  Tearing and ripping until the girl's remains were scattered.  And the thought excited her.  Her musk surrounded her again as she remembered Matthias' words.  She groaned and masturbated for the third time that day before finally collecting the kindling for her mother.

---

Dinner was subdued.  The men were lost in thought, wondering if the beast would be braver tonight while Verity worried over her husband and children.  Harriet focused inward, playing and replaying her plan in her mind while doing her best to keep from storming off.

Evening prayer included more thanks for the delivery of the deer while asking for protection without being demanding and recognizing that God's will be done.  Harriet barely heard the words and found herself only mumbling phrases while barely keeping herself contained in her seat.

Thin brown fur spread from the thicker hairs along her spine, spreading slowly over her shoulder blades until they reached her sides.  She rubbed her back against her chair until a sharp look from her father held her in place.

After what seemed like an eternity, the prayer ended and the men gathered what they needed to guard the pen.  Isaac seemed terrified while Zachariah appeared stoic but Harriet could smell his fear as well, a sharp ugly scent that made her angry for his sake.  Little Hiram was worried but only because the adults were acting unusual.  Her father wasn't scared at all.  She couldn't smell anything at all from him.

The women readied themselves for bed and Harriet prayed they would fall asleep quickly.  She ground her teeth at how long it was taking and yet again had to keep herself from just simply leaving.  It was growing harder and harder to care what anyone thought.

The very second she heard the change in breathing from her mother and Mercy, Harriet rolled from bed and opened the trunk.  She snatched the pelt and left without closing it, holding the fur against her side.  The girl grabbed her coat by the door, buttoning it over her shift while stomping into her shoes.

And then she left.

The wind battered her about the head and face but the cold didn't touch her.  Snowflakes melted against her cheeks from the fire burning within her soul and she occasionally crouched to her hands to sniff the air.  She knew the way to Matthias' house but the beast needed more than just memorized directions.  Scents and sounds were important to her now.  She would need them to survive and needed to be always alert.

The girl unbuttoned her coat as she drew near to the Taylor family farm.  Her body steamed when the air grew still and she welcomed the cold to cool her off.

No lights flickered in the home but the Taylor family owned three pigs and there was a light in the small building they used as a pen.  She dropped to her hands and knees and leaned forward, lifting her head to sift through the scent of pig and muck and feces.  It wasn't Matthias but his father and she growled in frustration.

I'll wait, she told herself.  They had five daughters and one son.  If the father was on guard now, he wouldn't be all night.  I'll wait as long as I need.

Harriet hunkered down in the snow, dozing but waking periodically to taste the air.  She knew she would hear the man leave, even if she slept, but she couldn't stop herself from checking.

The old man coughed inside and the light moved.  She watched it, crouched low and covered in a thin blanket of snow.   The door to the building opened and the head of the household shuffled out, mumbling to himself about foolish efforts when they weren't even needed.  Harriet's heart began to race and she panted, focusing her eyes on the door to their house.

Matthias stepped outside minutes after his father entered.  She growled happily while watching him walk to the out building and still she waited despite every wish to move.

And then it was too much.  She shook herself off in the snow and stood, walking to the lone door in the building.  She pushed the door and Matthias gasped until he saw her.  Confusion crossed his face.

"Huh- Harriet?  Wh- what are you doing here?" he stuttered, staring at her.  Staring down at her open coat and tight shift.  At the pronounced curves beneath.  "You- you-"

She shrugged out of her coat, letting it fall to the ground one sleeve at a time while passing the pelt to her other hand.  And still she came towards him without a word.

The two pigs cowered in the corner as far away from Harriet as they could be, moving as she moved in order to keep distance.  She ignored them and continued to approach Matthias until he backed up against the wall.

"You- you- you-" he tried to say.

She reached him and dropped the pelt before kissing him.  He was shorter than she expected, or she'd grown taller and her lips pressed awkwardly against his until he opened his mouth.  She'd wanted to lick his face and lips and neck as a greeting but slipped her tongue past his lips instead, gripping his head and groaning as she kissed him deeply.  She'd seen her parents kiss on rare occasions but never like this and she wondered why that was.

Tiny brown hairs dotted her forehead as she broke away from him.  He panted and wiped the back of his mouth but she gave him no respite, tearing at his breeches with her sharp claws while he tried to knock her hands away.

"Can't!" he yelled.  She held the front in two hands and pulled, bursting her own sleeves apart while tearing his trousers down the center.

The man's cock stood at attention and she growled, grabbing it with one hand while gripping his doublet with the other and kissing him again.  She'd bathed her little brother before and been around livestock but she never expected a cock like his.  It was warm in her hand, thick and circled by veins and the skin of his uncircumcised cock pulled back.  She tugged at it while kissing him but he kept his mouth closed so she licked his cheek and moaned in his ear.

"Harriet," he groaned, grabbing her wrist but his strength was fading and no match for her even if it wasn't.

She could feel her pussy growing hot as she stroked him so she pulled him down.  He resisted for a moment but his knees weakened and he groaned again while going to his ass.

"We can't," the man said but she cut him off by kissing him again.  She was growing to love the way his tongue felt against hers and he began to kiss her back, her broad tongue wrapping and twisting around his narrow tongue.

She squeezed and pulled his cock once more but then released him and he breathed a sigh of relief until she slid her nails into his doublet to tear through it and the shift beneath, revealing a lean form.  She growled a happy moan and kissed his chest while grabbing his cock again.  She couldn't get enough of it, of feeling it against her palm and-

"D- d- don't-!" Matthias shouted.

His cock jerked in her hand and thick gouts of milky white cum sprayed out, surprising her.  She ducked back as it splashed against his chest and stomach but when the smell hit her, she swayed, lips trembling and a low, growling moan issuing from her mouth.

Harriet pulled his cock to the side to lean forward.  She sniffed the thick hair at the base, nuzzling into the fold between his cock and thigh before going higher, pausing at the first puddle of warm cum on his stomach.  She lapped at it and groaned, lashing her tongue out at full length.  It grew rough and extended further as she cleaned him and swallowed his cum.

Hairs pierced the back of Harriet's shift as it grew taut on her body.  She took her time, lapping up every bit of his cum until, with the last drop, a tear appeared at the nape of her shift.  It ripped down her back and she growled, reaching back to finish it and toss it aside.

The girl licked Matthias' tiny nipple and he jumped but she was already moving in order to kiss the curve of his neck.  She lowered herself, pressing her distended, folded pussy against his cock as she kissed him again, swirling her tongue inside his mouth while sliding her ass back.

"Ohh!" Harriet gasped.  The movement electrified her, completely different than when she touched herself.

Matthias bit his lip but his hands raised and he focused on her breasts, reaching for them while she grabbed the pelt at her side.

"It's so soft," the man whispered, squeezing her breast gently.  Harriet groaned and took his hand, moving it until his fingers were against her nipple.  She squeezed and he pinched her, causing her to jerk in response.

Lightning echoed down the nerves of her body, branching in two to strike along her milk lines.  Six bright points echoed the strike and she bowed her back while rolling her head with a growl.  The skin over those six points began to grow wrinkled.

The fur on her forehead marched down, rippling over her unmarked skin and down to the bridge of her nose and over to her cheeks.  Her gums began to ache but she ignored it while raising the pelt up and over her shoulders.  The entire time, her rhythm never stopped.  She rocked her ass down, rubbed her swollen pussy against his shaft until she reached his testicles and then up, jumping when his head grinded against her hidden clit.  And then she flexed down again.

"What's- what's happening to-" he said, caressing her face before hissing and throwing his head back when the head of his dick briefly opened her tight pussy.  "Oh, God!"

"Yessssss!" Harriet snarled as the pelt latched onto her.  The remaining silver fur faded to white before detaching and brown fur pierced her flesh and the pelt to replace them.  She growled and snapped at the air above the man before laying herself over him, covering both of them in the pelt.

Her movements grew short and sharp in the lowered position and she gasped with every thrust.  With her hips lowered, his cock continuously opened her velvety soft pussy before slipping back out again.  She clawed at the ground beneath him and her nails folded, pinching the skin beneath as they curved outward into proper claws.  Harriet licked Matthias' sweating cheeks and he grabbed her back but then cried out and pulled his arms away, instead reaching for her face to look into her eyes.

"Love.  You." Harriet growled as her cheekbones snapped and the flesh pulled tight over them.  She licked the inside of his wrists while lifting her hips with a downward thrust.

"There's- you're-!"

His cock entered her and she howled as fur emerged from her throat.  It was a high, thin howl of pleasure that sent a flock of nearby birds to flight and caused the pigs to ram against the door in a futile attempt to escape before they raced back to the far corner.

He grabbed her ass by reflex and his fingers dug into the fur covering them and the soft skin and hard muscles beneath.  His thumb flicked the base of her tail and she growled, rocking hard enough against him that he cried out in pain.

"Ssoorrrrrrrry," she growled, licking his lips and nose and eyes with a huff while slowing her pace.  She never imagined how it would feel.  Her fingers alone were enough to make her wild but this cock, deep inside of her emptied her mind until all she could think about was rutting wildly until she collapsed from exhaustion.

Her shoulder blades bulged outward, pushed by dense muscles that rippled down her back, shoving her vertebrae forward in a wave until her short tail lifted in a curl.  His hand found her tail again by accident and he gripped it in the confusion, driving Harriet wild.

Sweaty fur spread from her mound, growing beneath her pubic hair and up.  She pressed against him, rubbing her scent into his body as her teats began to twist into place.  When they hardened and grinded against him, she jerked, losing her rhythm momentarily as they bent against his body.  They dragged as they lengthened and fur grew up to surround them and then overwhelm them.

Harriet raised her chest to press her breast against his mouth, rubbing her nipple back and forth against his lips to encourage him as she continued to ride his cock.  Her cum splattered the both of them, coating her fur and his legs.

Wetness flicked against her nipple.  She looked down and slowed as Matthias kissed her nipple and licked it tentatively with his tongue.  It was brief but purposeful and she bent again to kiss him.  Her short muzzle was awkward against his mouth but her tongue filled him and she licked the inside of his mouth instead. He closed his eyes to concentrate on holding back his second orgasm.

Matthias' hands lay against her side, fingers clenched into her fur.  She leaned back and her golden eyes widened as he suddenly pushed even deeper into her.  The girl bounced experimentally and whined, placing clawed hands against her betrothed's chest.  Her sense of touch began to fade as calluses formed along her fingers and palms.  The skin filled out, growing white as it expanded.  She rubbed her hands against his body as the padding grew leathery and soft.  Black flecks appeared on the puffy white skin and they expanded in an explosion until the paw pads beneath her swollen, long fingers were the color of dull obsidian.  Tendons pulled bones apart within her hands, forcing her to snarl in pain as they expanded to fit her new frame.

"I'm- I'm- I'm-"  Matthias groaned.

He exploded within her and she froze, clawing bloody marks on his chest as her pussy clenched against his pulsing cock.  She twitched and then cried out, suddenly pushed over the edge into her own orgasm. Harriet curled into Matthias but she bucked and kicked her leg out from an overpowering spasm.  And still he filled her with his hot cum.  She smelled it inside of her and felt how sloppy and wet it made her.

The pleasure vanished as cramped bones pushed against her boots.  She whined, rocking her hips again and squeezing Matthias' cock but the pain flared.  The girl slid forward and Matthias shouted when his overly sensitive head slid against her incredibly tight pussy.  It popped free to slap against his stomach and she rolled, snapping and clawing at her boots.

Claws twice as large as the ones dotting her broad hands pierced the tips of her shoes.  Matthias scuttled away from her while she tore through her boots, slicing through leather and laces in an attempt to make space for her expanding feet.  She kicked, sending her right boot flying but the left burst, splitting at the sole to show her fur-covered foot.

The flesh of her feet moved as bones traveled and slid and pulled, widening her forefeet while her heel slid back.  Harriet snapped at her toes, grabbing one foot to pull into her mouth to bite at the skin that pained her.  The fur continued to grow dense as her toes swelled and the skin grew loose beneath her toes.

Just as the padding for her feet began to expand, her ears twitched, sliding through thick locks as they lengthened into fur-lined points.

A voice.  A deep male voice.  She stood and then crouched, balanced on her forefeet with thick lips trembling over deadly fangs.

"No!  Don't!  That's my father!"  Matthias cried out, reaching for her.

Harriet whined and looked at him, licking his cheek one more time before barrelling through the door, cracking the frame and knocking Goodman Taylor to the ground.

As she fled, she heard the terrified voice of Matthias' father asking him if he was hurt and screaming at the sight of the marks she'd left on him.

The night was a blur of emotions that completely shut her humanity out and she slipped into the void.

---

A loud voice warbled just outside her hearing.  Harriet groaned and stirred and then snapped awake when hands clenched her arms.

Her father stared at her with horrified eyes.  She lay naked before him, within the woods.

"Harriet!  Oh, Harriet, what have you done?!" he yelled, shaking her but she snarled and shoved him away.

"Stop it!" she yelled, pushing herself up to stand.

She was the same height as her father now.  He dropped to his knees and now she could smell the fear on, sharp and wide.

Claws tipped her outstretched arms, curved and deadly and her arms were covered in scattered brown hair.  She looked down her body to see a trail of thick fur that led up to her belly button to surround it but her eyes focused on the tiny nipples in two columns down the front of her belly.  She reached for them, sure that she was mistaking them for something else until something moved above her ass.  She slapped her lower back and yelped when she felt the pull of her short tail.

Even standing straight and looking down she could see the bulge of her folded pussy lips.  White cum was frozen to the spray of brown hairs on the inside of her thighs and her nose told her it belonged to Matthias and had leaked from her pussy at some point in the night.

"Father-" she said, reaching for him but he fell backwards and raised his hand in front of his face.  "No!  Where- where is it?!"

Harriet turned and turned but the pelt was gone.  She dropped to the ground and breathed in, scenting for it until realization hit her.  It smelled like her and had since the first time she wore it.  And yet she could smell no trace of it.  And it had always been beside her when she woke.  Always.  It was her skin.  Her second skin.  It was the method that allowed her to change and perhaps the only way she could change back.  And now, it was gone.

"Who are you?" her father asked with a quavering voice.

"I'm- father, I'm Harriet," she said.

"No daughter of mine looks as you do," he told her.  "Your voice- it's deeper and- and- you-  The devil has taken you.  I've lost you."

"Father, no," she told him.  "No, there- there was a skin.  A pelt.  And- and I wore it- and it changed me and-  I didn't want to but we needed-"

"The devil has taken you," he said again, more firmly.  He stood now as he gathered his righteousness.  "Will you come with me peacefully?  Until the minister can come?  If any part of my daughter still lives, you will."

"Father, I'm not-" she started to growl but stopped and grinded her teeth.  Her fangs felt longer than before.  "This isn't the devil.  This is a blessing.  A-"

"Don't you say that!" her father roared.

"Listen to me!" Harriet yelled and her voice did rumble as she pounded the tree next to her.  It cracked and groaned and swayed under the impact.  The crack continued and a split snapped at the very tip before racing down.  With an unearthly groan, half of the tree fell to her side and she jumped at the impact.

Her father's face grew white.

"Wuh- will- will you come with me," he asked, more quietly this time.

"Yes," she said finally, though her nostrils flared and her breathing sharpened.

---

Harriet sat within the privy.  On their return, her father had warned her family and she listened in shame to the screams of her mother and sister and the wailing of her little brothers.  Her hearing brought their voices with painful clarity.  Verity had begged to see her but her father rebuffed her vehemently, yelling that the very act of asking went against God.

Hiram's sobbing was the worst of it.  Harriet came close to going to him to ease his worries but she knew it would only make it worse for him.  Her own fate was sealed but Hiram was blameless.  If she tried to see him, she would drag the boy down with her and mire him in her sins.

But, as she sat within the privy, covered with nothing more than the tattered remains of a ragged quilt, her mind began to wander, as it always did.  She thought of her father's words, of his condemnations and accusations and she wondered if it were true.  She'd stolen.  She'd taken on the form of a beast.  She'd killed, she was sure of it.  That first night, at the Browne's farm, she was sure that was her doing.

And threatening Constance.

Harriet growled and clenched her fist until the pain of her claws against her palm helped to calm her rage.  Even now, sitting in self contemplation, she struggled to find fault with her actions.  The woman had tried to tempt her betrothed away from her.

"Should've killed her," she growled with narrow eyes.  If she were hanged for her deeds, there was a chance the harlot might still work her wiles and bewitch the kind hearted boy.

It took no time for the beatings to commence with a branch shorn of bark. Hiram fell silent immediately and Harriet gnashed her teeth.  Isaac cried louder at his turn until the pain proved too much.  Mercy quieted by simply being forced to watch.  Harriet could hear it all from where she sat. Afterwards, father sent them away to the village to stay with widow Swan.  She heard him give directions to Zachariah to lead them while he waited for the minister and the young man accepted quickly.

She listened to them as they readied themselves, picturing them in her mind.  Her mother would help Hiram in her absence and she teared up at the thought of never seeing the child again.  And then she growled while wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

There was no pact or covenant.  She'd sworn no oaths nor betrayed her own kind.  She'd done no wrong, indeed, had only helped by providing food to her struggling family.  Her rash actions the first night were quickly tempered and controlled and with more time-

Harriet shook her head.  The pelt was gone.  There would be no more changes.  She was stuck, partially changed and all knew what she was now.  None would offer shelter or succor.  Any stranger who looked upon her face would see the fangs and ears and knew she was something other than human.  Something that didn't belong in the light of God.

She slammed her fists against the platform to her sides.

I don't feel wrong! she yelled internally.

There were no wicked, tempting thoughts filling her.  She'd listened internally on the walk back to her farm and the entire time she'd been kept prisoner. Nothing whispered to her to kill her family or others.  Her only actions had been to follow the natural law of things.  Her father hunted with makeshift traps while she'd hunted with teeth and claws.  She shared her bounty willingly, holding herself back from eating the deer whole, even though she knew she could.

And Constance.

Another growl.  A threat of violence had no teeth without intention behind it.  The girl wronged her, so how was her punishment any worse than what the others would do?  Time in the pillory for all to mock and leer at, a symbol of wickedness made public?  She'd threatened her privately with no intention of further action unless needed.  It was kinder, if anything.  A nip on a impertinent pup's neck to remind them of their place.  Nothing more.

"Matthias," she said, turning her head while pressing her legs together.  Even now she could feel her sex between her thighs.  Her arousal woke slowly at the memory of the night before, uncoiling low in her stomach before twisting in knots and making her shiver.

He loves me, she thought.  And I him.  What more is needed?  Do the animals wait late in their childbearing days, seeking the blessings of others?  No.  They feel the urges and they mate, raising their brood and hunting and mating and breeding until they are plentiful.  Why then, should I?  He declared his feelings, I knew mine, why should we wait for more?  What is the point in it?  If we were like the animals, we would be joined years ago, with our own children.

The more she thought of it, the warmer she grew and she pictured herself with a round stomach.  And then on her hands and knees before Matthias. And then above him, as she had before.  Over her. Cleaning him off.  She would bear the memory to her death and smile.  She'd felt complete with him inside of her.  It was pure and raw, without the layers of societal niceties and formalities.  Just a man and a woman, in love.  Enjoying each other's bodies.

Her scent tortured her and she growled while clawing her legs.

They were leaving now.  She heard the crunch of their boots and the soft whisper of linen against leather as well as the way the wind flowed around them.  Their scents followed soon after and she inhaled as deeply as she could to remember them.  They passed the privy but one set of footprints stopped.

"I don't know if you can hear me," Zachariah whispered, his voice nearly lost in the wind.  "I love you, Harriet.  And I know you.  I'll never believe him."

She cried as they left, leaving her father behind.  Hours passed while her tears dried and her mind continued to spin.

A new scent caused her to sit up.  She knew it must be the minister.  It was old, as he was, and sickly yellow.  It left a lingering, oily taste in the back of her throat and she understood now why she struggled to trust him before.

The door to their house opened.  She craned her neck with her eyes closed and ears tall but could hear nothing until footsteps approached.

"Father," she said.  He smelled of blood.

"Demon," the man spat.  He opened the privy and she saw the knife he carried.  That hurt more than his words.  "Come with me."

She followed as he led her into the house.  The minister's jaw dropped while his eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

"This is- no, yes, I can see it," he nodded.  "Harriet."

She said nothing but returned his stare boldly.

"Tell me," he demanded of her.

Harriet considered saying nothing.  She considered striking him. She considered running.  Instead, she spoke, giving the truth until she came to Matthias.  He would survive her and her truth would damn him.  Instead, she stated that she attacked him in retaliation for what Constance had done, until she heard the man's father coming.

"A witch, then," the minister said, the word a curse on his lips.  "Wearing the skin of a beast to become the beast.  Reveling in the sins of flesh to live as an animal and reject the teachings of the Bible."

Harriet laughed.  She couldn't help it.

"You laugh?  Beast?" the minister said with a deadly monotone.

"I stole, yes," she told him "And I wore the skin when tempted but it was a blessing.  I provided for my family, for the village.  In one night, in one hunt.  I harmed no one-"

"Constance told her father-"

"Constance is one step removed from an adulterer!" Harriet growled.  "Matthias was my betrothed.  He was MY man.  MINE!  And she had the audacity-"

"It shows its teeth," the minister said with a rude smile.  "Its true nature.  The beast will always show its true nature when faced with a man of God.  It cannot hide within its own skin when called out."

'It has teeth, the little one.'

Harriet blinked twice.  Her tongue roamed her canines and she looked down at her arms and the line of brown hair running from her wrist to her elbow. She shivered and more hairs lifted from her nape.  Her breath hissed out in a slow sigh as she smiled.  Fur emerged from her shoulders and the backs of her fingers.  She stared at them and then waved them before her eyes.

"I don't need the skin," she said suddenly.

Harriet dropped the quilt.  The minister gasped and pulled back.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Elias yelled, standing forward as veins stood on his neck.  He brandished the knife when Harriet took a step towards him.

"You're wrong, father," she told him. "But I don't know how to convince you.  You're a good man but you can't see everything."

"Don't- don't come closer!" he yelled but she took another step and his face fell while his voice took on a pleading tone.  "P- please, Harriet, my-"

"She means to kill us both!" the minister hissed, shoving Elias towards his daughter.

Elias fell forward, off balance and his knife struck out towards Harriet's heart.  She grabbed his wrist with blinding speed and turned, causing the man to yelp and drop the knife. With her other hand, she pressed against his back and slammed him to the dirt floor.  She crouched beside him and leaned towards the man while her ears stretched and canted backwards at an angle.

"I will watch over you all," she told him. "Harm none, for they are blameless and give my love to Hiram, always."

"No," Elias gasped.  His hand clenched her hand but she stood while he continued to lay beneath her.

"You see!" the minister shrieked.  "Your own father forsakes you, demon!  Witch!"

"You're deaf as well as blind," she said, biting back her own tears as the scent of her father's pain filled her.  She stalked to the old man and he stumbled backwards from her, knocking over chairs until his back was to the wall.

"You c-" he gasped as her hand closed over his throat.  He slid against the wall as she lifted him and her jaw clicked.  Her tongue slipped between the gaps in her gums but she soon felt the sharp fangs piercing the pink flesh.  She smiled at her reflection in the terrified man's eyes, watching the fur march down her growing muzzle.  She bared her teeth at him and breathed out with a huff of hot air.

"I could kill you now," she said, agreeing with his earlier words.  "I'm a beast and you've wronged me.  It's within my rights."

She rose to her forefeet, pushed upward by the growth of her paws.  The minister rose with her and spittle bubbled on his protruding lips.

"I curse you all," she growled.  Her words were beginning to fail her but she needed to finish.  She had so much to tell him but she only one thing mattered more than the rest.  "I'll rrrun farrrr, farrrr away.  Neverrrr find me.  Neverrr catch mmmrrrrrr."

She felt his throat crunch and she knew that it would take nothing at all to kill him.  Her teeth ached for his throat but he was just a man, soft and defenseless.  A hair more pressure and his life would end.  She dropped him and howled until the windows vibrated.  And then she turned to her prone father to stare at him with clear, golden eyes and a careful, measured nod.

Harriet's lengthening tail wagged slowly behind her as she walked to the door and unlatched it.  She threw it open to welcome the freezing wind as it ruffled the fur spreading over her body.  The girl ran and then pushed herself further. Her spine cracked mid-jump.  When she landed, she was four legged and bounding easily through the snow.

---

Matthias stared at the trees beyond his family's farm.  Barely a week after Harriet had visited and the village was still in an uproar.  The gossip snaked its way through town until there were several versions of the events.

The most popular was that the trader was no other than Satan himself.  He coerced and cajoled poor Harriet with his sweet, honeyed lies before bedding her and birthing a demon within her soul. She'd wrecked havoc, stomping through farms on fiery, cloven hooves with a forked tail and red skin, the devil's plaything for eternity.

He shook his head and scratched his neck before lowering his hands to the crotch of his trousers to touch the slight bulge at either side of his cock, just above his testicles.  He scratched at the furry sheath, working his fingers around to the line of skin that held his cock to his belly.  It itched fiercely but not quite as bad as when the sheath first grew in place three days ago.

An enormous brown wolf watched him from the trees.  She, for her scent told him what he needed to know without seeing between her hind legs, was beautiful.  And even without the scent, he would know her.  He would always remember the feel of her fur in his hands.

He caught glimpses of her every day, always at a distance.  Always watching.  Fierce and proud.

The village suffered.  Josiah was long buried.  Constance could scarcely stand to leave her father's home.  The Brownes returned with a sickly sow and, after hearing what happened with Harriet, even mentioning the Graves family near them brought out barely restrained furor.  The minister saw demons in every corner now and his sermons reflected it.

Meanwhile, the Graves family withdrew.  And flourished.  Nobody in town would trade with them or share their food but they had no need.  Elias' appeared to be an even better hunter than Josiah and others outside the village would trade their meat and hides.

The rest were a snake eating their own tail, refusing to believe they were rotting from within.  He knew of two families who planned on returning to the colony once winter was over and more would follow while the rest would hold out until the wilderness reclaimed its land.

Matthias bent to pull his feet from his boots, kneeling while staring at the wolf.  He stood again, on toes that barely felt the cold.  The man picked up his axe, bounced it once in his palm and then dropped it.  The wooden handle clattered behind him as he strode into the forest.  He tore at his ruffles and unbuttoned his doublet, baring his hairy chest.  As he continued to walk and undress, the brown wolf swished her tail.  And changed, crouching as fore legs bent and cracked into furry arms.  She stood and shook the thick mane of her hair as it retreated to show pale flesh beneath.

His pace quickened and she came to him, grabbing him up into a twirling hug while pressing her lips to his mouth.

Finally, they pulled apart and she took his hand, leading him toward the tree line.  Dense brown fur spread along her back while curly black hair grew from his neck and down over his shoulders.  The pair vanished into the shadows of the snow-covered forest but, soon, the female's howl sang sweetly in the air, joined shortly by the deeper howl of her mate.