In the forest, beneath the moon, the wolves were howling.

Ash could smell the freak long before he appeared through the trees. He smelled of man-stink and rotten cloth. But beneath that was something else, something more freakish because it reminded Ash of his own true scent.

The freak was getting closer.

“You smell that?” asked Leaf.

“I do, brother. It sets my fur on edge. I thought we got rid of him. What’s he doing back here?”

Leaf said nothing. Ash shot him a look and Leaf’s tail went between his legs.

“I talked to him… I told him about Mother.”

Ash growled and boxed his brother on the ear. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “Go get Rock and Bone. Tell them the freak’s come home.”

*

When Leaf had told him about Mother, Shadow had tried not to care.

“She’s not my mother anymore,” he’d said, and instantly regretted it. For she would always be his mother: firm, gentle, strong. When the other cubs turned on him, he could count on her words.

“You’re not a freak,” she’d said. “You’re gifted.”

But she wouldn’t make them stop picking on him. That, she’d said, was up to him. And so he’d faced them, and fought them, and — after months of pain and humiliation — learned to beat them.

He had proven himself. But that only made things worse. No more challenges, no more fights. Just silence and cold stares. What little acceptance he’d had, as a brother and convenient victim, was gone. He’d had no choice: He’d had to leave.

And now, he had to come back.

Shadow walked on two legs. He wore the man-clothes the old female had given him when she’d found him lurking in her garden. She taught him about man-clothes. She taught him many things.

He couldn’t smell his brothers when he walked on two legs. But he heard the rustle of leaves, saw the swaying of bushes in the moonlight. They were here.

“Brothers,” he called. “I have come to see our mother. I have come beneath the moon. I have come without challenge. Will you let me pass?”

There were low snarls and growls from beneath the bushes.

“Who are you, who walks on two legs but speaks the tongue of a true wolf?”

It was Ash. He always had to turn everything into a challenge. Shadow had hoped this time might be different.

“I am Shadow. Cub of River, brother to Ash, Rock, Bone, and Leaf.”

“We have no brother,” snapped Ash. “You’re a freak.”

“As you say,” said Shadow, keeping his tone formal. He wasn’t here to fight.

“Will you let me pass?”

If he’d been on four legs, he would have smelled Bone circling around behind him while Ash was speaking. But if he’d been on four legs, he would have been lying.

Bone leaped on Shadow’s back, driving his brother forward onto his knees. Shadow’s man-clothes were torn, his back bloody.

“Get him!” howled Ash and the other three closed in for the kill.

“No,” snarled Shadow. He huddled on the ground, protecting his throat. His brothers’ teeth slashed and nipped at his flesh. One of them got a mouthful and tore.

“No,” said Shadow. He hadn’t come here to fight. He wasn’t a cub anymore. He didn’t care about challenges, or pack rank, or what his brothers thought of him. He just wanted to see his mother.

“No!”

Shadow stood. He staggered beneath the weight of his brothers, but stood firm as the change took him. He stood on two legs, but now wore the fur of a true wolf. Scents that had been invisible now washed over him. He smelled fear.

“Ash! I challenge you!”

At the words of challenge, the others back off into a growling circle.

“You can’t challenge me! You’re no true wolf. You’re a –”

Shadow pounced on his brother. He worked a clawed hand into the furry ruff where Ash’s throat met his chest, and heaved the wolf up towards the moon. Ash clawed and kicked no no avail.

“I’m a freak,” said Shadow. “A freak who has beaten you. Do you yield, Ash? Or do we mourn two deaths tonight?”

He tightened his grip on Ash, who stopped struggling. The smell of urine stung his nose, and he had his answer.

*

River lay on her side, panting up at the moon.

She’d spent the day inside the cave, where the cool air on her fur was a comfort. But the sun was set and the brilliant night sky was all the comfort she needed now.

Snarls and growls make their way through the forest.

“Oh no,” thought River. “He’s come home.” But her heart swelled at the thought of seeing him again.

More growling. Biting. Then the whine of defeat.

River waited. She closed her eyes — just for a moment. She wasn’t tired, she was just…

“Mother.”

River opened her eyes. They were dim with age, but there was no mistaking Shadow’s lean shape. And beneath the layer of battle-sweat and man-stink, his scent was still the same.

“You… shouldn’t have come,” she said. “I’m glad you did.”

“You’re my mother.”

She smiled with her eyes.

“You came on four legs,” she said.

“I came on two, for it was most honest. But there was a challenge, and now I come on four in honor of my mother.”

“Show me,” River whispered. “Stand on two legs for your mother.”

“As you wish.”

He was magnificent. His stood like a muscled tree, hairless arms and legs glistening in the moonlight. His face was smooth, his nostrils wide. He reminded her of some one. Her brother…

“Where do you live now?”

“A village in the valley. They have made caves from stones, and eat plants from the earth. I help cut the plants and they let me stay with them.”

“Are they… frightened of you?”

Shadow shrugged. It was a thoroughly human gesture.

“At first. But as I learned their ways, they grew accepting. Mina helps. She is an old female whose den I sleep in. You would like her.”

“I like her already. Are you happy there?”

Shadow looked up at the moon.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I miss the forest sometimes, and all the smells. So some nights I run on four legs. But I am happy.”

“Good.”

River’s eyes slipped closed again. She was content. Almost. There was one more thing she had to…

“Did I ever tell you why I named you Shadow?”

“No. I thought it was because of the black in my fur.”

River laughed softly.

“No, silly cub. I gave you that name because shadows are always shifting. As the sun or moon passes through the sky, the shadows grow larger and smaller. And if something crosses the shadow, it takes on that shape as well. It adapts. It changes.”

“You knew?”

“From before you were born. I could feel you changing inside of me.”

“And yet you cared for me.”

“Shadow, do you know what else is always shifting? Always adapting to fit the world around it?”

“No, Mother.”

“A river.”

There were more questions, but she was tired now. Tired of talking. Tired of listening. It was time for her to go.

In the forest, beneath the moon, the wolves were howling.