He looked just like I did in hellhound form—only smaller.
The sight actually made me feel better. While I was watching his body literally rip itself apart, I had begun to regret forcing him to come here. Maybe Logan shouldn’t have to face the hound in him… but looking at him now, sitting there peacefully with all traces of pain gone from his face, I thought maybe things would be okay after all.
I made a sound in the back of my throat, wanting to know if he was okay.
His eyes flashed—not quite gold—like mine, but more of an orange shade, like the color of a flame. I blinked and looked back, but the color was gone. His eyes were once again human-looking, a soft hazel shade, full of vulnerability.
He made an answering sound and stood up. He was ready to go.
Shaking off my doubts, I stood and moved past him to begin tracking the deer. I really doubted that we would find it; he made so much noise shifting that he probably scared every animal in this wood within ten miles. But it didn’t matter if we found the deer. All that mattered was spending time in our hound forms so Logan could become more comfortable.
We moved through the woods as quickly and quietly as possible. I was more experienced than Logan, so I moved with more grace, but he seemed to learn fast, which I thought was a good sign. After a while, I sort of gave up on the deer, decided to have some fun and stopped abruptly in my tracks. Logan, who had been following behind, ran right into me.
I turned around, flattened my ears to my head and narrowed my eyes, giving him time to see what was coming. He seemed to brace himself and then I launched at him, both of us rolling across the forest floor. Because the trees were so dense, we didn’t make it very far before we smacked into one. Logan acted fast and pinned me to the floor, snapping at my jaw. I bucked him off and lunged, grabbing at his tail and pulling him backward, then flipping him onto his back and pinning him down.
He was breathing hard when I looked down into his eyes, my own eyes laughing. Gotcha.
He growled and snapped at me. I let him up and we went round and round across the floor, leaves and dirt flying as my brother and I enjoyed our guy time.
He moved well. He was quick and seemed to be able to anticipate my moves seconds before I made them. Because he was smaller than me, he could move more quickly and leapt out of my way when I pounced.
I was actually very impressed.
When I was first learning, I hardly had any control. Learning to move on four legs instead of two was harder than it looked. The sheer weight of my form was something I had to learn to carry; it wasn’t that I hadn’t been strong enough—I was—but learning how to move several hundred pounds was a challenge.
We were having a good time and it made me wonder why he had been so reluctant to shift. But the question was short-lived as the memory of his screams and the vision of his contortioned body drifted into my head. It distracted me and Logan took the opportunity to slam me into the base of a large tree.
Pain shot through my back and side and I growled, adrenaline surged through me and I swung my head around and locked my jaws around his neck. He fought me for a minute, but I held fast and then tipped him onto the ground to pin him. I had never set out to hurt him. All our sparring had been in good fun and learning how to move.
But that had hurt. He saw my distraction and took advantage. He was my brother but I had enough hound in me to let him know that I was the one in control here.
After I had him pinned, he went still and waited for me to take my teeth from his neck, which I did.
Instantly, he was up and staring at me with a challenge in his eye. I saw a flash of that flame color and then he lunged. I braced myself for a true fight this time, but to my surprise, he raced past me and took off through the trees.
I went after him, wishing I had my human voice to call out to him, to see what he was doing. But I didn’t.
So I followed him.
Logan was quick, but I could keep up. My legs were longer, giving me an advantage. I stayed back, just feet behind him, curious to see where he was going—what he was doing.
Then I picked up another scent.
The deer.
I heard it before I saw it. It was lunging away from us through the forest, eyes wide, knowing it was being stalked, and it’s only thought was to escape. It’s like it knew what was about to happen.
With a burst of speed, Logan disappeared through the trees. I heard a squeal and a thump. I raced forward, hearing my own heart pounding in my ears. Logan came into sight and he was standing over top the deer who was flailing about, trying to escape, its eyes wide and nostrils flaring in panic. It saw me and its efforts increased.
Instead of backing away like I would have done, he tackled it.
For the kill.
The deer let out one last scream and then Logan ripped its throat out.
He did it with such enthusiasm, I looked away.
The sound of tearing flesh and the smell of fresh blood made me queasy. I didn’t understand what happened. One minute we were having fun, being brothers, and the next, he was attacking me and killing wildlife.
In all my years as a hellhound, I had never killed any other animals. I certainly never ate them.
I looked back at Logan who was still enjoying his kill and a growl ripped from my throat. He looked up. I stared him down, without blinking.
He glanced back down at the deer and then he walked away from it, without looking back, to stand in front of me. Gone was the color of flames. His eyes were back to normal and they held not one bit of remorse.
His fur was matted with blood, dirt and leaves. I walked away without a sound and he followed. We walked in silence, the only sounds were that of the night and as we drew closer, the sound of the lake rippling against the shore.
There actually wasn’t much of a shore here at all. This was not a part of the lake accessible to the public. It just happened to be where the lake ended and the earth began. Without hesitation, I leaped right into the dark, cold water.
I loved the water. Sometimes it called to me. I was meant to swim and although I weighed hundreds of pounds, the water made me feel weightless. I remember when I first started changing; the water was the only place I felt truly like myself.
Hopefully, Logan would feel that way now. Hopefully, it would wash away whatever was going on inside his head. I poked my head up out of the water to look for him. He was still on shore, watching me swim.
I paddled over and pulled up out of the water, not bothering to shake the heaviness of the water out of my fur. I tilted my head toward the water and Logan shook his head.
Was everything going to be a fight with him?
Without even giving it a second thought, I charged him, and like a battering ram, pushed him into the lake. He seemed to hit like a ton of bricks and sink. Down, down, down he went until I thought he might not come back to the surface. Just as I was about to jump in after him, there was a commotion in the water and his dark head appeared. He flailed about, panic-stricken—like he didn’t know how to swim. But that couldn’t be because all hellhounds knew how to swim; we were waterproof. He caught sight of me and made a sound that could only mean help.