FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Pursuit and Capture

A Wulfen Blood Novella.

This story appears in Wulfen Honor as part of the longer manuscript. This is an expanded, modified, and compiled version of those story segments with additional story and action. That, at least, was my intention. Then the story started writing itself. I meant to keep it short, I promise!

_ _

Serena Wolfe was enjoying the outdoors for what would probably be the last time

before winter set in and she would have to both return to school and put her motorcycle up on blocks for the cold season. Thus, she was riding her Russian-made "Wolf" motorcycle one last time.

The "Sapient Species" order was in force, so for the first time in her life, she was riding her motorcycle as the werewolf she was, rather than in her Smoothskin persona. It was wonderful.

She was still encased in riding leathers and helmet, and very little of her fur was visible, but that didn't matter; and wonder of wonders her leathers still fit decently when she was in fur. She didn't have to hide any more. That was what mattered.

Still, when she had stopped for gasoline, the stares of the people at the discount gas station had made her decide to refuel at the Wolf Bend gas station instead so she had only partially filled the tank and driven off.

"Stupid jerks," she thought; "I've bought gas there forever, and now they stare at me like I'm a freak? Last time I get fueled up there; I'll walk instead if I have to."

She glanced into her rearview mirrors and saw a truck headed for her. She pulled over into the slow lane to let it pass, and instead it changed lanes and almost clipped her rear tire.

Almost. As soon as she saw the move, she was opening the throttles and speeding up to get away from them. They stubbornly followed, again closing the gap between her motorcycle and their front fender.

Another car was pulling up; a faded and rusted blue Chevy that she recognized; it belonged to Greg--a friend from college. It had been at the gas station, but he must have been in the mini-mart when she had left. Now here he was too. Good.

As she crept away from the pickup, gaining speed only slightly faster than the truck did, Greg moved into the space between them and began to slow down, getting her more space and time to get away.

She sped away as her friend kept his jalopy between her motorcycle and the truck and soon she was ahead of them both, as Greg kept blocking the truck's attempts to pass and catch up with her.

"Good old Greg," she thought, "he's a real friend. He'll get me a chance to turn around and head for home. I do not like that truck at all."

Soon, she was crossing the highway's center divider, an unpaved open strip of land between the two ribbons of concrete, and then was watching as Greg's car and the truck speed away from her in the opposite direction as she ran for home and safety.

The "low fuel" light began flashing in her speedometer, and she reached down and flipped the fuelcock to the "reserve" position. The light went out.

She was still speeding for home when a glance in her rearview mirror again showed the same truck had apparently also crossed the highway divider and was again chasing her, with the rusted blue Chevy chasing it.

She began to worry. This had gone from being some hillbilly jerk off chasing a werewolf to something that sent chills down her spine. This was looking more and more like an attempted kidnap with her as the target. She downshifted, using gasoline but gaining power and acceleration.

The truck kept coming, and the Chevy was starting to smoke. Somehow, Greg got in front of the truck again, and again began to slow down; trapping the truck behind his now dying car.

A glance ahead showed a relieving sight; the unmarked offramp that led to Wolf Bend or the ranch, depending on which way one turned. She didn't care; this was safety!

She made the offramp and was stopped on the shoulder when she heard a loud crunch behind her. Looking back, she saw the truck had hit Greg's rear fender, making his car hit the concrete offramp abutment and spin off into the culvert, flipping over and coming to rest on its top with steam pouring out of the engine compartment. The truck sped under the viaduct spanning the highway and fishtailed around one hundred eighty degrees against traffic and was heading for the onramp and Serena.

She had yanked her cellphone out and had pushed 911 as soon as she had stopped, and the voice of the local Sheriff's dispatcher finally came out of the unit, recognizing the number and asking the problem..

She told them what had happened, and as soon as she had an acknowledgement, started toward town as the truck was approaching up the onramp. Unfortunately, there was no outbound traffic to stop it or slow it down.

She had traveled less than half a mile toward town before the engine quit and reaching for the fuelcock, she realized that she had already flipped it and she was out of fuel. Stopping and leaving the bike, she began running and stripping off her leathers and the clothing under them. She was down to her underwear when a whisper of sound in the grass made her drop flat. She was still trying to get out of the now vegetation-tangled panties her mother had made her wear when pain shot through her left leg just under the buttock. Yanking the cotton underwear off she ran on four feet for the shrubbery and made it to the relative safety of the brush and the concealment it provided.

Her hand came up bloody as she explored her hip, and she gritted her teeth as she felt the bullet hole in her outer thigh. There was a sound of someone approaching, so she moved carefully away from the area and back to the highway, away from town and the more sensible way she would have gone, hoping to throw off pursuit.

With any luck at all, she would have healed and lost the bullet by the time the Deputy showed up. Gritting her teeth again, she moved carefully toward the highway, thanking her father for the training in "stalking game" she had endured and as a result, she made no sound.

She crept seemingly forever in the twilight world of the brush-row until the sound of a siren started lifting her spirits. Finally, she reached the highway and slipped out of the brush, and still on four feet, limp-scurried toward the upside-down car and the Sheriff's cruiser stopped behind it.

She stood and began to run but her leg didn't feel any better, actually it felt worse and slowed her to a limping shuffle. Her hand came away still bloody when she checked her thigh; something was seriously wrong, since the bleeding should have stopped by now and it hadn't!

The deputy, Carl Nemeier, saw her and waved but then suddenly motioned down and she dropped. Two bullets whispered past where she had been standing, followed by the double crack of a pistol half a second later.

Carl returned fire and for a moment, there was a small war above Serena as she huddled in a depression that offered some protection to her from the flying lead above.

The firing stopped. Carefully, she looked back where she had been and saw a man holding his stomach while his gun dropped from his fingers. He sank to his knees and then fell facedown onto the earth.

Carl called out to her and she responded by rising and limping toward him as fast as her legs would carry her. At the upside down car, she nearly fell into the deputy's arms and was half carried to the passenger side of the cruiser, where he helped her sit on the seat and went back to the trunk to get the first aid kit.

There was a sound from the road and Serena looked over to see the truck pulling up and two men getting out of the cab, both armed with rifles. She dropped down to the ground after grabbing the microphone from its rest and called for help. The dispatcher replied that there would be more cars there in minutes, but she and the deputy would have to hold on until then.

Carl scuttled over to her and said; "You'll have to patch up yourself, there's more trouble coming and I have to try to stop them. Stay low."

Then he stood, pistol ready and called out to the approaching men; "Drop your weapons! Sheriff's officer, drop those guns now!"

He got his answer as they quickly separated, then one called out; "Give over the dog, and we'll let you live. An animal isn't worth dying for, and we have steel core bullets in our rifles; they'll go right through the car or that armor you're wearing."

Carl replied, "Drop those rifles now, or I will fire on you; this is your last warning!" He squatted down as he spoke so he presented less of a target, using the trunk and rear wheel of his cruiser for more protection.

There was a shot, and the windows shattered on both sides of the cruiser, scattering glass onto Serena as she huddled behind the vehicle. Then she saw something, something wonderful. She reached up and grabbed it, the Sheriff's department shotgun; and racked a round into the chamber. She had wrapped a bandage around her thigh but she was still bleeding. There was definitely something wrong now, the wound by now should have spat out the bullet and healed but nothing like that had happened.

She waited, terrified and hardly breathing; ears and eyes and all her senses maxed out listening for--what, she didn't know.

A bullet chunked into the driver's door and sprayed her with seat-foam as it passed her on the way out. There was a pistol shot, and then nothing.

Her heartbeat was deafening her, yet she could hear the wind blowing in the grass.

There was a sound of crunch, crunch, crunch, growing closer and closer; boots on gravel. Then faintly but getting louder in the distance, sirens; multiple sirens.

A mutter of "shit," near her and then the sound of boots going away as the would- be abductors stopped and started to back up to their vehicle.

She thumbed the safety off, then in one movement stood, aimed and fired at the nearest one, barely twenty feet away. He folded and toppled forward, laying there in a quick growing pool of red. By then she had chambered another round and was about to fire as the second fleeing man dropped to the ground, clutching his thigh. Then she heard the pistol report, delayed in time and adrenalin as Carl fired to disable, and hit.

It was over. She set the safety and settled the shotgun down, then limped over to the inverted vehicle. She crawled in through a broken-out window to reach Greg, hanging upside down in the belts and unconscious, his arms against the ceiling of the car, now its floor. She didn't know why, but she had to do this.

A hesitant touch, a flicker of something, and the wolf whined for the human in such distress. She tentatively rubbed her cheek against his; more flickers. She should do something, but she couldn't think what it was; so she just stared at the human dying before her eyes. It was getting darker, and she felt very tired. She wanted to sleep, now.

Then there was a voice.

"Serena, is he alive?" She turned toward the source of the voice, another human; and stared. She knew this human. He was a friend.

"Crap, she's going feral with blood loss. Serena! Reach out to me!"

She did and a hand grabbed hers and dragged her out of the car. She tried to bite the human but she was so tired. She just wanted to be with the male in the car. Her male. Her mate. He was dying.

The light went away then, and soft painless dark wrapped her up.

Mother?

_ Yes, daughter?_

_ Should I go back?_

_ Yes. There is much yet for you to do._

_ What if he dies?_

_ You will grieve. Then you will rejoin him here, after a time. There is still much to do, and you must do it._

_ Yes, Mother. I love you, Mother,..._

_ And I, you; my daughter. Return now._

_ _

"forty over ten and holding" "wrap that bandage tighter" "I'm running the Ringer's wide open" "piggyback another bag, we need volume" "pressure's rising, now seventy over thirty, still rising" "get ready to shock over the spleen, cut that fur away now!" "one-seventy joules--now"

EEEYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Serena awakened. She was on a hospital bed. Her right hand didn't hurt. That was the only part of her body that didn't ache, burn, hurt, or itch.

Her eyes roved over the place where she was. She knew it. This was the Emergency Room at Wolf Bend hospital. There was a bag of something, dripping into an intra-veinous catheter in her wrist. She tried to sit up, but got dizzy and had to lay back down.

"You're awake. Good."

She recognized the owner of that voice, as he came into view. It was Joseph, a Healing Servant attached to the hospital.

"What happened to me?" she asked, still puzzling over what she remembered.

"Well, you nearly bled to death, for one," Joseph replied calmly. "Fortunately, the ambulance crew did the right thing in shocking you over your spleen, causing it to release the stored red cells it had in it. You're anemic, still; and you're still being hydrated, but you're going to live." There was something he wasn't saying.

"What about Greg?" she asked. "I want to see Greg." She was worried now.

"Gregory Massey is critically ill," Joseph said quietly, "He was nearly killed in that roll-over, and his spine is severed at mid-chest level. He is getting the best that we can give him, but I think he isn't going to make it. I've tried, but even I can't heal everything, and that's what he needs."

She felt fear, and conquered it. "Would Crossing him help?" she asked in a very controlled voice.

"That is about his only hope. That will allow our Mother-Beloved to heal him, as She heals all who come to Her, one way or another," Joseph replied.

"Then I wish to request a Compassionate Crossing for Gregory Massey. I will be his donor, his sponsor, and guarantor... Did I say that right?" she asked the Servant.

"That is the proper formula, although your donation will be an honorary three drops of blood; since you really don't have that much to spare," he answered calmly. "I'll see to the preparation myself."

Before he left, Serena asked; "Why didn't my leg heal? Why didn't it stop bleeding? What went wrong?"

The Servant turned back to her, a white Werewolf in green scrubs.

"The bullet we removed from your leg was silver plated; deeply so, and had expanded to nearly half an inch in size. Silver is poison to us, just like the movies show. The silver kept killing the R-cells as they tried to seal the wound and killed the tissue around it so you didn't even clot. You will recover fully, now that it's gone. You were very, very, lucky, Serena. You almost died."

He paused, remembering something else; "Your parents are on their way. We called them as soon as we had you stabilized and transported here."

She groaned. Her mother would--then a memory surfaced of another one she called mother. She lay there, wondering.

A little while later, Luther, the Chief Servant and Healer at the hospital looked in on her.

"How are you doing, Serena?" he asked as she stared at the ceiling.

"I want to see Greg--no, make that I have to see Greg and I don't know why," she said in a tight voice. "Something is happening and I don't understand it and I'm more afraid than I was at the highway."

The words released her tears and she wept as Luther held her.

When the tears were done and the Servant had given her a box of tissues, he said; "Let me raise your head. If you don't black out, I'll push your hospital bed to young Massey's room. Let me warn you, though; this won't be pretty." Shaking his head, he continued; "He wasn't as tightly belted in as he needed to be, and took a lot of head trauma. He is still strapped to the backboard from the ambulance and frankly, I don't see how he survived as long as he did in that upside-down car."

Looking straight into Serena's eyes, Luther said; "Don't expect him to be awake. Don't expect anything. He is loaded with more drugs than is safe for Crossing, and some of them have strange side effects in us. If he lives, it will be something of a miracle; even with the Crossing Over and the Healing we've already done."

Cold fear invaded Serena's stomach as her head was raised and the hospital bed adjusted to keep her upright. Things went blurry for a second, then settled down as she rolled her eyes from side to side trying to stay awake. She succeeded.

After waiting a moment, Luther released the brake and started pushing the hospital bed she was in toward the hallway and the hospital rooms that it served.

Wolf Bend hospital was a moderate-sized hospital, serving a moderate-sized community. They had fifty beds, and any room became an intensive care room when needed.

Greg's room was an intensive care room now, sited directly across from the nurses' station. There was a deputy seated in the hallway by a door farther around the circular care section. The two surviving would-be kidnappers were in it, and as Serena was rolled by that door, she felt an intense desire to enter it and kill everyone in that room, messily and slowly. She started to growl, deep in her throat, pulling lips back from sharp, long fangs and staring fixedly at the door as they passed.

Luther put a hand on her shoulder, calming her; and the killing rage abated-somewhat.

It dissipated completely as her bed was pushed into Greg's room, replaced by fear. She couldn't see Greg, other than a hand emerging from bandages and a bruised and broken face at the head of the bed. She could remember him, though; heavyset and always either dieting or exercising to try to shed the fat that clung to his frame like an oversized pair of sweats; with a heavy jaw, narrow nose, thin lips, a high forehead and wide-set eyes. They were kind eyes, though; and a sort of olive-green in color. His hair was a sandy brown and already thinning at nineteen years of age. Now, there was a tube in his nose and another in his mouth with an oxygen line running into it. Three bags of fluid dripped into the I.V. portals in his wrists and backs of his hands. One of them was blood-red: Joseph's blood; the blood of a Servant to start the Crossing Over process.

"You wanted to donate?" Luther asked as he maneuvered the hospital bed along side the other bed. She nodded, afraid to speak.

Luther went to a cabinet on the wall and returned with two syringes and an alcohol pad. Shutting off the I.V. drip on her wrist and removing the tube, he inserted the needle of the first and drew clear fluid from the portal, followed by blood. The second syringe now was inserted and three c.c.'s of her blood were drawn, then the first syringe was reinserted and the fluid and blood pushed back into her veins. He restarted the I.V. drip, adjusting for faster flow to clear the portal of any remaining blood.

Wiping the portal on Greg's free wrist, he inserted the syringe and then guided her hand to the plunger, which she pressed, thus pushing her blood into the blood flowing from the bag and mixing with it.

"Donation complete," Luther said; and returned to the cabinet to record it and dispose of the used syringes.

There was a sound behind her and she looked back to see her parents' look of surprise and concern as they witnessed her act of donation. They crossed the room in moments to stand by her bed, many questions in their eyes.

"I had to, he saved my life;" she said as she broke down again in her mother's arms.

Harry, her father, asked Luther; "What happened? They didn't say much over the phone, other than there had been an accident. Was it the motorcycle? That was Greg's car we saw on the way in; was he involved?" He was in Smooth, still a bit skittish of showing fur off the ranch property or outside of town.

"From what we learned, there was a kidnap attempt; and young Massey here kept the would-be kidnappers from causing Serena to crash, by using his car to block them while she ran for safety," Luther explained, "and they forced his car into the abutment at the offramp. Then they came back and tried to shoot her, only she got away. She was wounded, though; and almost bled to death because the bastards used silver-plated bullets."

Harry was beginning to growl, and the shift was beginning as he grew angrier and angrier. He was being echoed by Marina, his wife and mate, who still held her daughter in her arms. She was shifting as well, anger causing the rush of adrenalin that was the shift's major reactive trigger.

Luther continued, "Deputy Carl Nemeier was the hero of the thing, he shot two of them, and your daughter got the third with his department-issue shotgun, six double-ought pellets right through the abdomen: pretty good shooting. He's dead, by the way; the one she shot."

"We got to them just in time, and Serena is the first Wulf to be shocked over her spleen to get it to release the stored red blood cells. That saved her, because she was going feral from blood loss and would have died right there. We just don't have enough Wulfen blood products available, and Smoothskin blood doesn't have the specialized cells needed to repair the damage in time."

He glanced at Serena, resting back on the upright section of the hospital bed, now, saying; "I think your daughter is Bonding to young mister Massey, though. That's good, actually; since it means he has a fair chance of surviving. The Bond wouldn't have formed, otherwise."

"Bonding? Serena?"Marinaasked in astonishment, followed by, "She's too young!" Then, a moment later, "What if he dies, anyway? Will she follow him?" Now there was worry in her voice.

Luther shook his head, his ears down; "Not likely: the Bond isn't that strong, yet. What it will do, though, is give him a bit more strength through it, and that may be the difference between living and dying. If he dies, she will grieve, but she will go on with her life."

"That's what she said," Serena mumbled to herself. "We'd be back together in..." She stopped and carefully thought about the memory that the words had retrieved.

"What did you say, dear?"Marinaasked, "Who said what?" she queried her daughter as she held her hand.

"Nothing, mom; just a weird memory." Serena was going over what she did remember from the time after the light had gone out.

She reached out to touch Greg's hand. There was a faint tingle as skin met skin. Slowly it grew stronger, and just as slowly Greg's eyes began to open. He couldn't talk, but he was awake--somewhat. He looked over at Serena and the tingle in her hand grew stronger still, evoking pleasure in her whole being, different from the pleasures she had sampled before.

Her jaw dropped, followed by her ears; and she gazed on her mate, someone she had known...before. Before what--that she didn't remember, other than she knew this man, this male, this person; and they were back together again, as promised. She leaned back and dropped into sleep; her hand and his still clasped.

Harry looked at the pair of clasped hands. "Looks like we've got us a new son in the family," he rumbled. "I surely didn't expect that Greg would be Serena's choice, though."

Marinawas still concerned. "She's too young," she declared, "why, she hasn't even finished college yet."

"I really don't think we have much of a choice," Harry replied; "That's a Bond, all right; just like ours, only just a little sooner for these two."

It was then that he realized that he had shifted unknowingly and reached back, to feel torn cloth and loose thread.

"Aww, nuts;" he grumbled, "this was one of my favorite shirts, too," as he examined where the sleeves had come loose from the body of the shirt as his shoulder blades moved under them.

"Harold DeWitt Wolfe!" his wife stormed, "our baby is Bonding and you're worried about a shirt?" she was glaring, ears backed and lips pressed tightly together.

"Well, yeah;" he replied, "The shirt is something we can do something about. Our daughter's Bond isn't. By the way, hon, you might want to do something about your blouse..."

Marinalooked down, seeing that her blouse was ruined and gaping open in front, with the remains of a lace bra in pieces hanging out of it.

Werewolves changed shape drastically and became much more muscular when they shifted. They usually either stripped or changed clothes first.

"I paid fifty dollars for that bra!" she said in frustration, "and it wasn't all that old!" She deflated like a balloon as she calmed down. "When did I shift? I don't remember shifting..."

Luther said quietly; "It was when I was describing the accident, I believe. At least, that's when Harry started his shift."

"Well, next time, warn a guy;" Harry grumbled, "I liked that shirt."

"Oh, Harry;"Marina sputtered, "you've got half a dozen of those shirts in the closet at home. I can probably fix this one; it looks like it was just the seams that gave way." She started fussing around with his garment as he winked at Luther.

As she fussed, she glanced at her daughter and their new son-in-law, or son; as the Wulfen didn't bother with the legalese. He was their son, just as she was their daughter now; especially as his parents had died in a house fire while he had been at college.

"Harry," she spoke quietly, "they are so young, but yes; I can see the Bond too. We'll just have to make room for them and hope it works."

Harry had been thinking. "Y'know," he said, "Serena said there was this fella in College that was always helping her out with stuff, and giving her a place to get fuzzy when she couldn't deal with being Smooth anymore? Betcha this is him: Greg. I was thinking it was one of the guys around here, but Wulf; y' know? Now, I think Greg was the one she was writing about. We'll have to ask her when she wakes up."

"When can she be released?"Marinaasked Luther. He glanced at the sleeping girl for a moment and said; "Tomorrow, probably. Her leg will be healed by then, and she will have made enough red cells to keep her going. I'm giving her two packed units of Smoothskin red cells tonight, and that ought to keep her alright until she makes more on her own. Just keep feeding her, that's all."

"I don't think that she will be leaving the hospital, though; not with her Mate-in Bond Crossing Over here," he added. "You might bring her something to wear, although I remember she usually doesn't wear much at all, most of the time."

Marina sighed, "Maybe her new husband can keep her dressed, as I surely couldn't. Well, she's a mated female now, and maybe that will make her a little more sensible about things."

Harry chuckled, "It didn't seem to affect you that way-Ooof!" The "Ooof" was from his mate's elbow connecting with his ribs somewhat violently.

He glared, "Hey, I didn't say you weren't ladylike or anything," he grumbled as he rubbed his abused ribcage. Marina gave him an icy glare. "I was always a proper lady, old dog; and don't you forget it."

Chuckling to himself, Luther continued; "In the meantime, we can always give her some scrubs. They're comfortable and she won't be getting fur into sterile sites that way." The antics of the Wolfe's were legendary. Harry played the "dumb farmer" to the hilt, while having amassed a sizable fortune in the Futures market and from diversifying ranch operations. Marinawas always annoyed with her mate over something, but was his strongest supporter in times of trouble. She had also made quite a lot with the Buffalo- meat business, and was a shrewd marketer of the ranch's products as well.

They both had advanced degrees; his in Agriculture and hers in Business Management. Yet they played the yokels so well that even friends were taken in sometimes. They were the perfect Mating-Bonded pair; two people with one spirit.

Luther smiled. Young Gregory was Bonding into a perfect family for his aspirations and dreams, and the Servant knew that the man had been deeply in love with Serena since high school.

He said a quiet "thank-you" to the Goddess; Lunara, Mother-Beloved, for the blessings She had granted to these good WolfKindred.

He lowered the back of Serena's hospital bed-bed and slipped a blanket over her sleeping body. Then the three Werewolves left the two mates-to-be in the quiet of the hospital room.

Later, as Serena was waking from a strange dream that had included Greg somehow and a child as well, she glanced over at him on the hospital bed and in the dim light could see the first signs of the Lupus-Inceptor virus taking hold in is system. He had "measles"--"Werewolf Measles", to be exact; spots all over his skin (what she could see of it) that would become fur follicles when he shifted to Wulfen. He seemed to be breathing better as well and the bruises on his face had started to turn colors as the virus stimulated the healing properties that had lain dormant in his Smoothskin body. He would start making I-cells and R-cells to stop _I_nfection, and _R_epair the damage to his muscles and bones and organs.

She mused over their previous times together at college, where he was an oasis of freedom in a Smoothskin world that had her ready to scream at times. He was always ready to ask his roommate to spend a night at his girlfriend's while Serena went Wulf in the dorm room and they ate pizza and watched movies. He had always been a steady presence in her life since high school; and as she watched him breathe with the machine's help, she realized her best times had always been with him, not family, not the girl-pack, no--him.

Earlier on the highway, he had offered up his life for her safety and escape without any hesitation. Oddly, she seemed to remember he had done that before...but when escaped her.

She knew what his coat would look like, she suddenly realized. It would be a spotted grey/smoke with a granite head and points, contrasting to her mixture of browns and golds and reds that resembled a layer of autumn leaves.

"This isn't our first time," she realized, "We've been together before, whenever that was. Now we're here and together again, just as Mother promised we'd be."

Her eyes widened and her ears flipped and flopped as she realized that she had known Greg before, in another life; and as Mother-Beloved had promised, the Bond was eternal.

Her lower jaw quivered as she realized that she would never be alone again, and the tears that followed were of joy, not confinement or sorrow.

When she had finally settled herself up in the bed, and found the box of tissues that Luther had given her she looked around and as she had slept, someone had brought a set of hospital greens for her to wear. There was a note as well, and after turning on the bed light she read the note her parent had left. The curtains had been pulled on the glass door/wall that faced the nurse's station, leaving the room dark.

They would be back tomorrow. Push the call button and eat something. Wear the scrubs, please, went her mother's handwriting. She chuckled at that, mom was so-o-o predictable, she should have been Jewish. She chuckled a that, a Jewish Werewolf Mother.

Then she read her father's scrawl under his mate's neat penmanship. "We're fixing up for you and Greg" it began. "When you and he are ready, we'll move you into the bigger bedroom and Grandfather Paul can have your old room when he's here; which ain't often. We've got a proposition for you two, once you're here; about school. I think this will make both of you happy, but don't let Greg know; you know how he is about 'charity'. And, baby; I'm real happy for the both of you. The years I've been in Bond with your mother are the happiest I've ever had, and I'll pray that you two are even happier. Love you, Dad."

"Yeah, Daddy," she whispered, "I love you, too," in a voice rough with emotion. Then she pushed the call button.

In less than a minute, a nurse was in the room and asking what she needed.

"Well," she began, " I need the bathroom really, really bad," and the nurse smiled and asked her if she thought she was able to stand.

"Let me see," she said as she put feet carefully on the floor and tried to rise.

Her left leg ached as her weight went onto it, but it was a healing ache; as she knew from many tumbles and spills around the ranch.

She stood, an upright wolf in appearance; whose body was modified for either an upright or horizontal stance. The leg held, and the nurse assisted her to the bathroom and waited for her to take care of things.

In the bathroom, she turned on the light and checked her leg. There was a pressure bandage there, and her left side below her ribs bore evidence of having been shaved recently. The whitish skin was tender there, and she wondered why at first, then remembered the shock delivered to her spleen...which was just there, under the bare spot.

Standing again and washing her hands, she also saw other little bare spots on her torso; realizing that she had been on an EKG while she was unconscious. Drat! She wanted to be pretty for Greg, when he woke up, not like this.

She knocked on the door and the nurse handed her the scrubs, which she donned as much to cover the shaved spots as anything. As she had repeatedly said to her mother, "Nobody can see anything, anyhow," yet, with patches of fur missing, she felt oddly naked and relished the cover that the scrubs gave her.

The nurse helped her back to bed, then quickly checked Greg's equipment; explaining that every bit of data the machines were gathering was visible at the nurse's station as well.

"Doctor has left orders for you to have an iron meal and later, you'll be getting two units of Smoothskin packed red cells to reduce your anemia," the nurse said as Serena took Greg's hand again, "and aboutmidnight, Healing Servant Collins will be in to start the Crossing monitoring for your mate. Do you want your meal heated or just microwaved?" she asked as Serena settled back into her bed.

"Microwave it, I think," Serena replied as her stomach advised her that waiting to heat the food would be entirely too long.

Five minutes later, she was presented with two pounds of liver and other organ meats, along with greens and turnip pieces spiced with bacon. There were other treats as well, but Serena literally wolfed down the meal and settled back in her bed, replete. The head of the bed had been elevated again so she had a better view of Greg and the many connections and tubes that snaked under his covers. He was still asleep, but it was sleep, not coma; she decided and relaxed beside him again. She realized that their Bond was telling her about his condition and presumably telling him about hers. She sent love to him through their shared hands and felt it returned to her, as deep in his pre-Crossing slumber, he felt his mate's gift.

She made a dainty burp (she had eaten rather quickly) and dozed, sharing the unique Bond that formed between Wulfen mates if they were lucky.

She was awakened by a white-coated Servant a bit later, who introduced himself as Healing Servant Bart Collins. He was an easy going, affable Werewolf who had a female Smoothskin assistant named Terry Ryder. She was a cute blonde girl of maybe eighteen or twenty, with a sweet face and happy eyes. Intrigued, Serena asked the young woman why she was learning what was essentially a Wulfen vocation.

"That's because I intend to Cross-Over myself," she replied with a smile. "I have a brain tumor that is inoperable and is resistant to Healing too. That leaves me with the opportunity to Cross and be done with it once and for all," she said with a grin. "I've admired you guys and been Kindred forever, but I never thought I'd have the wherewithal to afford a Crossing myself, even though I have a four Sponsors as to my nature and propriety. Then I got sick, and the cause was found by my Pack's Healing Servant and supported by a couple of MRI's that showed a little mass up under my medulla, right where we could see it, but not get to it without either paralyzing me or killing me. That's when my home group of Kindred got together and offered me Compassionate Crossing as a way to save my life and accomplish what I had thought was a hopeless dream."

Amazed by what she was hearing, Serena asked her to continue as the two were disconnecting Greg from all the machinery in preparation for his own Crossing Over. Even the airway that had helped Greg breathe came out, since he was already breathing on his own. Soon, outside of the EKG and some I.V. ports, he was disconnected-other than the urine catheter.

"Not that much more to say, really," Terry replied, "other than I want to become a Crossing Assistant afterwards; that's because all Assistants have to be Crossers themselves."

"I didn't know that," Serena said with some surprise, " and what's the reason for that?" This time the Healing Servant answered.

"Crossing Assistants spend all their time monitoring their Crosser, and because they've Crossed themselves, they know instinctively when there is something going wrong," Servant Collins replied. "We like each other, and work together well; so I'm teaching what can be taught prior to her Crossing. Additionally, I'm her lifeline when she has a seizure; that was the original problem that brought us together. I control the seizures when they happen, and Terry can tell me pretty often when one's going to hit, so I can stop it early, well before she gets in serious trouble."

Terry grinned at the Servant. "He's my big white fuzzy rescue-wolf," she said with a giggle.

"All humor aside, we need to get this guy tubed pretty soon," the Servant said quietly. "I hate to stick another tube down his throat just after I pulled his airway, but we have to be able to get gastric access to feed him as he Crosses."

Serena watched as they fed another tube up his nose and then down his throat to his stomach. As the end passed down his throat, the Healer put a hand over Greg's adam's apple and concentrated while he pushed the other end of the tube up the man's nostril.

He grinned, "Got it!" and quickly fed the rest of the tubing into Greg until he came to an odd 'bump' on the side of the tubing.

Terry was waiting and handed him a large syringe filled with a clear fluid, which he inserted into the bump and injected several c.c.'s of something into the bump itself before removing the syringe and gently tugging on the tube and pulling it out a few inches. Then the tube stopped moving.

"What's that?" Serena asked, pointing at the syringe.

"Saline fluid," Terry replied. "There is a balloon on the stomach end of this gastric tube and we just inflated it so it won't get pulled out as his muzzle forms. We'll also put some petrolatum on this end of the tubing so it'll just slide into his nostril as his muzzle elongates."

"Now, Ms. Wolfe," the Servant said, "I need to hook you up to a couple of bags of packed red cells to get your anemia under control. They are Smoothskin donations, but you need the oxygen transport most, and you'll make your own I- and R-Cells in a few days. My question is, do you need the bathroom first? Now is the time, before you have a couple of bags of blood hanging over you." He waited for her answer.

"Yeah," she said; "I guess I'd better. Will I need help there and back, like before?"

He took her arm in his hand and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Let's see," he said, "Terry will be there if you get dizzy, and I'll go get the blood for you."

As he exited the room, Terry helped Serena up from her bed and walked beside her as she gingerly navigated the way to the restroom by herself. Being digitigrade was not helpful if one was unsteady on one's feet, but she managed to walk almost normally this time. She also noticed the her thigh wasn't aching any more unless she stressed herself some way. On the way back to her bed, she asked; "How close are you two?"

Terry giggled again, a little nervously, and replied; "Well, I like the man a whole lot, but he's got this thing that it wouldn't be fair to me, because for him Healing always comes first. He doesn't seem to realize that I wouldn't mind; that I would be in somebody else's bed a lot more than I'd be in ours. After all, that's how an Assistant operates; in the Crosser's bed right beside them and watching with everything she's got."

Suddenly she looked wistful, "Like, if he'd only realize that I want him as a mate because we're in the same vocation and we could be so much better and more effective together..."

Serena sat on the edge of her bed. "Maybe if you asked Mother-Beloved for help--like maybe a White Coat to go along with that Crossing Over your going to..."

She suddenly put a hand to her mouth and asked, "Did we bump your Crossing? Were you going to be the next Crosser, and then Greg and I..."

Terry shushed her. "It's another Crossing's experience, and it's only a week. I won't die or anything, I'll just have Bart ease my headaches for me instead of taking the morphine. I don't want anything that would compromise my effectiveness as an Assistant for your mate; and he's a lot worse than I am anyhow."

Serena asked her, "After we're all well, could you and Bart come out to the ranch for a visit? I'd like to get to know you better before I go back to college, and you and Greg could practice gait-working together."

Thanks, Serena;" Terry replied with a smile, "that would be nice. I think even 'Mister Healer' would enjoy a day or two in the country, and I know I would."

They hugged and Serena scratched where her fur had been shaved.

"What happened?" Terry asked when Serena showed her the shaved areas.

"Well, these little ones were where the ambulance people put the EKG electrodes, and this big one is where they shocked my spleen to make it dump the extra red cells and everything that it held."

"You got a Brulay spleen-shock?" Terry asked in wonder. "I read about that but I hadn't heard of it being tried other than in test applications."

The name Brulay got Serena's attention. "I wonder," she said as a cold chill took her spine, "if they tested Greg for a Brulay reaction. My brother almost died of that, Crossing at home like we traditionally did. We don't do that any more."

Terry shook her head. "They would have done a Brulay reaction test first, before administering the inoculation. You can't get the permission without presenting a Brulay test strip with the potential Crosser's name and number on it." She got up and went to the cabinet and took down the chart and brought it back to Serena's bedside.

"See here?" she said, pointing to a box on the form that said "Brulay results" on it. The "negative" box was checked and Servant Joseph's signature was under it.

"That went on all Crossing documentation after the Conciliator almost died, trying to Cross Over to complete the Blessed 'Three', the people who are going to lead us to brotherhood with everybody," Terry explained.

"I know," Serena said quietly. "He's my big brother, Bobby Wolfe. His mate, Belinda almost died as well; I was there."

Terry's jaw dropped in awe. "Wolfe--Serena Wolfe? You're the Conciliator's sister? Your sister is Bonded to the Healer? Oh, wow..." something like worship came into Terry's eyes.

What might have become a sticky situation was dissolved by Bart returning with a box of supplies and two plastic bladders of blood.

"What you have to go through just to get some warm blood around here..." he grumbled, then "Well, let's get you hooked up so you can get better," he said in a more relaxed manner.

The blood bags were placed in an insulated jacket and a heated packet was slipped between them, then they were connected and the tubing was readied for attachment to the I.V. port still in place in Serena's wrist. The Servant opened the valve and blood began to drip into the tubing until it was full, then the needle on the end of the tubing was inserted into the portal and the blood flow was set for a drop every second. Serena felt a growing sense of warmth in her arm as the heated fluid entered her veins.

She turned in her bed to watch as Greg's final preparations were taken care of, then the Healer asked, "Would you like him to wake up now, so you can talk? We've been keeping him asleep to conserve his energy, but now it's a moot point."

Serena asked, "Before you do that, could I ask a question?"

The Servant nodded. "What?"

Serena blushed and asked, "Is it possible to stimulate fur growth? They shaved a big patch under my ribs so they could do a Brulay shock-something. I'd like to see if I could be pretty for Greg, once he's Crossed; and, well..."

"You were the one who got the spleen-shock, weren't you?" he asked.

She nodded. Terry whispered something in his ear.

"Oh, you're that Wolfe? The Conciliator's sister?" the Servant smiled and said, "You want to be pretty when he wakes up, right?" as he glanced at Greg's bed.

Serena nodded.

The Servant came over to her bedside and she showed him the bare areas. He nodded and warned, "It'll itch a lot, and you can't scratch it until I'm done."

"I don't care," she replied, "they just make me feel--funny. Like we feel in Smooth, sort of embarrassed. Just something to cover that awful bare skin."

Terry snickered, "I got lots, wanna see?" Serena stuck out her tongue at her. Then she felt an odd, tingling sensation that quickly became an itch. Looking down, she saw the Healing Servant's hand just above the shaved area on her abdomen, and it was glowing! Under that glow, her fur was sprouting vigorously, growing longer as she watched. The itch was maddening, but the sight of her fur covering her bare white skin was worth it. Finally, the large area was done and looked normal as he transferred his attentions to the smaller, shaved EKG areas. They itched too but finally the fur was filed in and she felt normal about herself again. She thanked the Healer.

"My pleasure," he replied. "Can't have you feeling uneasy as you two Bond, because he'll feel that as well and skew my readings on I him." He grinned, showing a full set of wolf teeth. "I just wish all my problems were that easy to deal with."

He returned to Greg's bed and did something there that glowed as well, but Serena didn't see what it was, as she was at the wrong angle.

Slowly, the young man in the bed began to stir and fuss slightly in his sleep then suddenly he tried to sit up and failed with a cry of pain. He twisted his legs and tried again, and was successful, and slowly he moved his torso to a more or less upright position.

Terry pressed the button that brought the head of the bed to an angle of around forty-five degrees and he settled back on it with a sigh. He looked around in confusion for a moment, and then relaxed a little when he saw Serena beside him in her own bed, with an I.V. in her arm.

He continued to scan the room and finally said; "Well I guess I survived after all."

He looked at Serena and an odd reaction crossed his features.

Finally Serena broke the silence with, "Hi, Greg." His eyes closed for a second and then he returned her greeting with, "Hello, Serena. How--are you all right?"

"Yes, Greg; I am," she replied, puzzled at his formality with her. She asked him, "Greg, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said sadly. "Other than I wrecked my aunt's car and I won't be able to go to work for a few days."

Looking over at the Healing Servant, he queried, "I will be okay in a few days, won't I?" with an undertone of fear in his voice.

"About a week, roughly;" the Servant replied, putting a hand on Greg's shoulder to calm him. "Now, what's got you tied up in knots?" he asked, phrasing the command like a question.

"My aunt's got financial problems, and we need my income from the store to keep us afloat," he said vacantly. The Servant removed his hand and Greg stared and asked, "Why did I say that?"

"Because we needed to know," the Servant replied. "Don't worry, I've spoken to the Sheriff, and both of those men have warrants out with bounty on them. I don't think that your aunt will be in trouble much longer, after the Sheriff speaks to your bank. In fact, I believe they will be happy to advance her the funds she needs to cover your expenses."

Greg's eyes grew wide. "But--but I didn't do anything except try to protect Serena from them. If anyone gets the rewards it should be her; not me," he stammered.

"Greg," Serena asked gently, "what do you remember?"

He looked over at her with haunted eyes; "Why?"

She remained mute, simply staring.

"We were someplace, and we were having fun and you and I were married and..." he stopped speaking as tears rolled down his face as he stared at her.

"Greg, I love you," Serena said quietly, and reached out her hand. He took it.

"Don't, Serena;" he begged, "I couldn't...I can't...I'm..."

She let him feel how she felt through their growing Bond. His jaw dropped.

He whispered, "Mating Bond ?" hope warring with fear in his soul. She calmed him.

"Thank-you, Mother-Beloved," he whispered. He looked back at the Servant and asked, "What happened to me--to us--I don't remember..."

"Well, why don't you ask your mate; then let us fill what we know?" the Servant said quietly.

"Serena?" he asked.

"You saved my life, Greg. You got me a chance to get off the highway and call for help. They pushed your car into the abutment, and then it flipped over and wound up part-way in the culvert by the road. They shot me with silver, and I almost bled to death.

I went feral and only wanted to be with my mate; with you, Greg. They had to drag me out of your wrecked car to treat me." She let her emotions flow along their Bond as she spoke.

"When I woke up here, I was still very sick; and then the Servant told me you were dying. I asked for Compassionate Crossing for you, and that's why you're here now. You are going to become like me, and we'll live at the ranch with my parents. Maybe we'll go back to College together, or maybe not. I won't go without you. That's what happened, Greg."

The young man's eyes moved to the Servant's, asking mutely.

"You were dying," he said gently. "Ms. Wolfe set up the Crossing for you as your mate.' Then his eyes grew gentle, "Greg, you were a mid-chest spinal separation that the Healers here couldn't fix. You were bleeding internally, and too weak to survive surgery to fix it. Your brain was swelling inside your skull, and again we could help, but not heal that, either."

He paused, letting the information sink in. "I can vouch for the fact that you and your mate are in Bond together, and that the Bond is growing. You still have a long week to endure as you Cross, but that is my specialty, as a Healing Servant."

"You've been prepped for your Crossing. You have already healed your severed spine, and your body is still healing the rest of your injuries so that you may Cross successfully."

Then he grinned, "Besides, there are three nasty kidnappers that are going to be permanently out of action, thanks to you and your mate. Because of the nature of your injuries and how you were injured, there will be no charges for your Crossing Over; the Community is saying thanks and welcome in that."

"Now," he asked, "shall we get to your Crossing? You're already in stage one and will be moving into stage two in a little while. One of us will be with you all the way, all the time; and I suspect your mate will be here as well." Then he grinned and said, "Welcome to the fuzzy side of life, brother."

Greg turned and asked "Serena, are you sure--you really..." That was all he managed to say before she kissed him and stopped his questioning.

* * *

Out at the ranch, Luther was still talking with Serena's parents, Harry and Marina, drinking de-caf coffee in the ranch house kitchen.

"...and it's my impression that they had some sort of bond ever since high school. I've known young Massey for most of his life, as his parents were both Kindred and Believers. He's always had a weight problem, hereditary, I think; since he's been fighting a battle with his body over it since grade school. He's very athletic, to the point of overdoing it; yet he stays puffy and fat-looking no matter what."

The Servant sighed at the memory, "He even tried laxatives and purging, and I was called out to his home when he seized due to an electrolyte imbalance in his blood. He came very close to passing that time, and I was weeks getting him to eat normally again." "I think that's what came between him and your daughter, actually. Poor self image, to cap a phrase. It was in high school that he started backing away from her, which was also the time when Serena blossomed into the beauty she is today. I think he was embarrassed by his appearance."

Harry put his coffee down and looked puzzled; "I know Serena said she was puzzled about why her boyfriend was acting the way he was, but I didn't realize that she was referring to Greg. That was when Martina had that 'thing' with Paul and Bobby left home forHollywood. We really didn't give Serena's boyfriend problems the attention they deserved, I guess."

Marinaspoke up; "That was when she was complaining that several of the young wulfen men were making fools of themselves with her. A Smoothskin like Gregory wouldn't have stood a chance against them, especially since our young males tend to be very aggressive with anyone they perceive as the 'competition' for their intended conquest." She sighed, "I guess it's our wolf coming out in us. Still, they act like young fools when they see a pretty female; and Serena was very pretty. Gregory wouldn't have even had the advantage of being Wulfen himself, and our romantic conflicts can be pretty rough even for us, when lust overrides reason; not that they had much of that," she said accusingly.

"So he wound up being the odd man out," Luther summarized, "and over her time in College she was too interested in herself to give the remains of their relationship any chance of survival. I understand that Greg did give her a place to relax in her fur in his dorm room, but by then he had assumed the submissive posture and Serena would have seen it as just that; submission. Her natural instincts would have been to accept it as her due as a superior, and it appears that that is exactly what happened."

Harry stared at his coffee cup and ruminated, "Then Greg sees one last chance to show her how much he cares, and almost dies as a result. At least that woke our daughter up, from what I hear."

He looked up at the other two Werewolves at the table and said, "She was bleeding to death and yet she crawled into his car and had to be yanked out of it to get her to the ambulance crew. She was willing to die beside him rather than live without him. I think that's when the Bond started really forming, if it hadn't already formed and just been ignored because it was still so weak."

He chuckled, "Well, that part's over. There's no doubt that she and Greg are meant to be together, and from what I know of Greg; he's a good young man and will make a damned fine Wulf."

Luther nodded; "He was always asking about Serena when he'd see me, since I handle the Moon Songs out here most of the time. He left college early because when his parents died in that house fire, his aunt was out of a home as well; since she lived with them. Her only income is social security disability payments because she can't hold a job, due to her arthritis. I've treated her several times for it, but Healing doesn't work as well on Smoothskins as it does on us, so all I can do is relieve the worst of her symptoms.

"He's got a job at the market pushing carts and stocking shelves and doesn't make much money, yet he pays her more than half his income as "rent" on their two room apartment, and that still doesn't do much more than cover the very basics." He rubbed his chin; "I wonder what they will do now? I spoke to their bank, and since the two survivors are wanted felons with rewards on them, the bank will advance the aunt money for her bills against the rewards. He has a big insurance payout coming when he reaches twenty-one, from his parents' life insurance; but that's a year and a half away."

Harry was puzzled. He asked, "How is it that Greg is getting the money since it was the deputy Nemeier who actually took them down?"

Luther grinned, "A little creative bookwork: as a Deputy; Carl isn't allowed to collect a reward like that, and Serena was the victim--or would-be victim, that is. Greg, according to the report, 'actively participated in the apprehension of these two wanted fugitives by preventing them from attacking your daughter by the use of his vehicle as a shield, and was seriously injured as a result'. It all depends on how you look at it."

"The community is assuming the costs of his Crossing and the other medical treatments because those three animals are known to have abducted five Wulfen and sold them for medical experimentation, hence the rewards; and hence the community is saying 'thank-you' to the new Wulf who assisted in their capture by paying his medical expenses, including the Crossing Over costs."

"You think Greg will give his aunt some of the reward money?"Marinaasked cautiously, one ear up in curiosity.

"If he's the young man I know so very well, he'll give it all to her," Luther said around a smile, "after all, he has his reward in his new mate. Plus, he's got a streak of pure Wulfen honor running through him so wide, I'm certain he's wolf-souled and just smooth for a part of this life. Remember, I'm his Servant in town."

Marinasat staring for a moment, then said; "Now, that makes sense. The way he'd act around us at the market was submissive wulfen behavior, now that I think about it. He'd decided he was submissive to us, so he gave off all the submissive signs, only I didn't connect it up because he was Smoothskin." She nodded, "That makes just perfect sense."

"And as her mate, he assumes Serena's stature in our pack," Harry concluded. "Good, since that makes my little idea all the more workable."

"Do I want to know what that idea is?" his mate asked, giving him a jaundiced look, ears backed; "or would I be happier in blissful ignorance?"

Luther stifled a chuckle. They were at it again.

Harry grinned, "Oh, just that I think they both still have about the same amount of time needed to get their degrees in college, and since our daughter is majoring in Agriculture with a minor in Law, and I recall that he was headed for a Business degree; and it worked so well for us..."

"Harry," his mate replied, "for the first time in thirty years I think you're saying something sensible. I must be getting old."

Luther lost his battle with his sense of humor.

* * *

Serena awakened with the feeling that somewhere, something was vaguely wrong; but the where of it eluded her. She looked over at Greg and he seemed to be sleeping well, with Terry at a tiny desk beside him, where she could watch over them both.

Bart, the Healing Servant had removed her I.V. bags and the needle as well sometime last night, sending her back to sleep with a touch on her forehead. Now, he was resting elsewhere while his Assistant-Trainee kept watch over them both.

Terry had seen her movement, and came over to her bed and asked her if she needed anything.

"A trip to the bathroom, and--what time is it? Is itseven a.m.orseven p.m.?" Serena replied, since this room had no external windows and the drapes were drawn over the glass wall and doorway.

"Seven a.m.," Terry replied, "and let's see how well you can walk. Your last blood count was just up into the low-normal range."

Serena carefully sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. No dizziness; good. She stood on her paw-feet and waited for whatever was going to happen. Nothing did, other than her feet got cold from the tile floor. Finally, she took a step, then another; then marched toward the door marked "Bath Room" and made it easily, as Terry walked beside her watching her gait.

A fuzzy grin, then Serena entered the little room and closed the door. Later as she was washing her hands, she looked at her teeth and grimaced.

Opening the door, she asked Terry if there were any tooth-brushes and floss available. Terry smiled back and went to one of the cabinets that lined the wall and returned with floss, toothpaste, and the special two-ended tooth-brush that Werewolves used for their dental hygiene, all in a sealed packet.

"Anything else?" she asked, entirely too "perky" for this time of morning.

"Well, I'd like a tail-hole but I don't know if that's okay with these scrubs," Serena replied diffidently.

"No problemo," Terry said with a grin, "these are one-use Tyvek scrubs, essentially disposable. Let me get a marker and some scissors while you get your pants around your waist just where you want them."

After Serena adjusted her pants for location, she felt Terry pressing around the root of her tail through the pants and glanced back over her shoulder. The girl was marking points on either side of her tail root, parallel to the waistband of the pants.

"Now, drop your britches," she commanded and Serena complied, watching again as Terry took a pair of scissors and cut a two inch wide "vee" in the seat of the pants, using the marks as starting points.

Quickly, Serena drew them back up and pulled her tail through the new opening, settling the clothing into place with a smile.

"Thanks," she said, "that's so much better!"

"It really is that important?" Terry asked curiously. "Well, I'll find out pretty soon, won't I?" she said with anticipation.

"It's a funny feeling when your tail is trapped, like you're stuck in something," Serena explained. "Once you've Crossed, come on out to the ranch and I'll show you how to do it to regular clothes. It's a comfort thing, really."

Terry nodded and returned to her desk, while Serena attended to brushing and flossing her teeth.

Soon, feeling much better, Serena returned to her bed and looked down on Greg. His feet were changing, the first major change of the Crossing. Soon, his feet would look crippled on a Smoothskin; but perfectly normal on a digitigrade Werewolf.

The sense that something was wrong still persisted, though.

Carefully, Serena touched his feet and the feeling of wrong grew stronger.

"Terry," Serena said, "there is something funny happening here. I feel that there is something wrong with Greg through the Bond. Is that possible?"

"Well, at first, the Mating Bond is very intense," Terry replied. "What do you feel?"

"Something is wrong, but it's general. It gets stronger when I touch him. His feet seem to be changing properly, though, and I can't see anything else."

Terry paused and thought for a moment. "Bart will be back after breakfast, and breakfast will be here any time, now. Do you think it will wait until then, or should I wake him early?"

Serena thought for a moment, then said, "It may just be nerves on my part. If he's going to be here in a little while, I can wait. He doesn't seem to get much sleep."

"We sleep in shifts," Terry explained, "and he taught me a Servant meditation that makes three hours of sleep seem like six. That way, we both are well rested and clear for our Crosser. I'll note your feelings on the chart, since there is a certain amount of sharing that goes on with the Bond." She then did exactly that, and got out her stethoscope and blood-pressure gear and started checking her sleeping charge's life signs.

"Is this much sleep normal?" Serena asked as Terry checked Greg over carefully.

"Well, this is a Compassionate Crossing, which means he was sick already, and Crossing itself is pretty taxing on the Crosser's body; so I'd venture a guess that right now, he does need all the rest he can get." She finished her tests and entered the information on the chart. "He's within normal levels so far," she concluded, "so let's wait for Bart, then."

Serena nodded. If there was anything wrong, the Healing Servant would find it.

Breakfast came, and with it her parents. Serena gobbled down her food quickly, as it seemed that mother and father had something important to say.

She received the shock of her life when her mother said, "I think we have done Gregory a disservice. We didn't realize what there was between the two of you, and when you needed us we were wrapped up in your sister and your brother too much to see.

We'd like to have the two of you live with us on the ranch, and take the ranch over in time, if you would."

Serena knew she had to say something intelligent in reply, so she tried, "Huh?"

Harry asked her, "Who was your friend in high school until the Fisher twins and Jody Weston started hitting on you?"

Serena had the answer immediately; "It was Greg." Her ears dropped as she continued, "He was my best friend until my senior year, and then just sort of disappeared once Jody started asking me out. Then there were Gary and Jerry Fisher, then I graduated and went to college..." her voice faded away.

Then, "Oh, Goddess, I've been such a fool! Jody as much as boasted that he'd scared Greg away, that he 'wasn't man enough to keep me' and I just listened! Then Gary and Jerry were such fun and I all but forgot about Greg!"

Two runnels of blood dripped on the sheets as she clenched her hands tightly enough to drive her own claws into her pads, as she ducked her head in shame, ears flat and backed in submission.

A deep growl rose from her throat as she swore, "Never again. Not even if the Bond wasn't there...Greg is my mate and that is that."

From the adjoining bed came a question, "Whuzzat?" Then, "Serena, are you okay? You sound awfully angry at something." Greg had awakened in response to the feelings flowing between them.

"Yeah, Greg, I'm okay; but be careful, you're mated to a prime fool of a female," she said, quickly turning to see him.

He was pale, but awake and smiling at her. She reached out and saw the damage to her hand-pads and stopped with an "eeek!"

To Greg's confusion she held her hands up to catch the blood. "Bloodspill!" she warned, then meekly realized that outside of Terry, everybody in the room was already Wulfen. Her ears dropped even lower and their insides pinked with embarrassment.

Terry was there with gloves and pads and gauze. She quickly put the gloves on herself and then proceeded to bandage Serena's pads and wrap them with gauze tightly to hold them in place.

"Sorry," Serena apologized and Terry just shrugged her shoulders in dismissal. "You haven't done anything I haven't seen before. You need to remember your nails are pointy, not flat!" she mock-warned as she smiled at Serena and started cleaning things up.

Harry looked at the assistant and asked, "And you are?" curiously.

"Terry Ryder, assistant to Bart Collins; Servant-Crossing Specialist. He should be here any time now. Can I help you?" she queried.

"I've seen you around here, haven't I?" Harry asked.

"Probably; I was a Greenie in high school, a Nurse's Aid through community college, and now I'm studying to be a Crossing Assistant, after I Cross-Over myself," she replied with a smile.

"Do you remember my son, Bobby Wolfe?" Harry asked, entranced by this young Smoothskin girl.

"Wolfe, Wolfe--he broke his leg falling out of a tree?" she replied after thinking a moment.

"The same one," Harry replied with a chuckle. "He's the Conciliator, now; along with his mate Belinda. Quite a Crossing there, you wouldn't believe how close he came to dying."

"Ohhh!" she squeaked, "when? Is he all right now?"

Harry asked her, "Do you remember that real strange storm last month? Snow and everything, all out of season? That was when."

He was prepared to go on but his mate tapped him on the shoulder and hissed; "Our Daughter, remember?"

"Oh, right." Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Hi, Daddy," Serena said, completing the thing by waving a little.

Since Greg was now awake and looking rather puzzled, Harry simply spoke out.

"Greg, since you're going to be family now; my mate and I would like to offer the two of you a deal. Here's what it is; you two complete your education on our money, then you start taking over the ranch, a little bit here, a little bit there; until you two are running the place and we get to retire and go have fun. How about it?"

Greg was speechless until Serena said, "We accept," then she turned her head to her mate and asked, "We do, don't we?" There was a question in her eyes for Greg alone to answer.

Greg finally replied; "Yeah, I guess so. Wow." Then, "Are you sure, sir?" he asked Harry.

Harry replied, " There's one condition. You don't call me Sir. Dad, or Harry is just fine and my mate's eitherMarina, or Mom: Ok?"

"Yes, Si-Harry, Dad; uhhh--Okay," he replied, perplexed but responsive.

Marina walked around to the side of the bed and kissed her new son on his cheek, but then drew back in surprise. "He's hot," was all she said, but there was fear in her voice. Normal Crossings did not raise body temperature.

Terry was on it immediately, putting a thermometer-stick in his mouth even beforeMarinahad stepped away. She looked into his eyes and felt his ears and then went to the room telephone and called a number and said something into the mouthpiece quickly.

By the time she was back and taking a reading on Greg's temperature, the public address system was paging; "Healer Collins to room one-fifteen stat.--Healer Collins to room one-fifteen, stat. and Terry was writing her findings in the records.

Greg was looking frightened. Serena was looking terrified. Harry and Marina converged on their daughter's bed and on Greg's as well. Serena took Greg's hand and held it tightly, feeling the sickness coursing through her mate's body.

Moments after the call had been made, a white Werewolf ran into the room and pulled back the curtains, followed by another, this one Bart Collins, the Crossing Specialist. He made a beeline for Terry and her notes.

"What's happening," he queried and was told; "His pulse is up to ninety-five, temperature is one hundred-two degrees. Eyes are red-rimmed and ears are pinkish and very hot to the touch."

Terry looked over at the family group and said quietly, "I don't know what this is; it isn't Brulay's Syndrome--it's too early in the Crossing for that. He checked out okay not fifteen minutes ago; then, suddenly this happened.

Serena scrabbled up as the two beds, which had been touching, were pushed quickly apart and hers was moved away from Greg's bedding and settled against the glass "wall" that fronted on the nurse's station. On the floor and on her feet, she hurried to Greg's bed as more and more medical people filled the room.

Harry and his mate stepped out into the hall and stood by the central nurse's station and watched the activity with fear and trepidation, while inside the room Serena held onto Greg's hand as she watched him sink into a coma. The last words he whispered were, "Serena, I love you," then his eyes closed.

Three Healers were working on the young man and being puzzled at what they found. There was no evidence of the allergic reaction that was Brulay's syndrome, no evidence of infection, and no evidence of occult organ damage. What there was, was a feeling of poison, and a violent rejection of something, but what that something was, was a mystery.

Terry sought out Serena and asked her what she was feeling as Healing Servant Bart listened.

"Nasty metal taste in my mouth," she replied; "and I feel like I want to throw up but there's nothing there. It doesn't make sense, but my heart hurts like a cramp, and my sides ache like I've been punched just under the ribs on both sides of my back.

She stared at Greg as he sank deeper into sickness and felt terrified because she didn't know what to do. She grabbed Terry and froze with terror as her mate fell deeper and deeper into coma.

Suddenly Terry grasped Serena's waist and whispered, "Hold me; I'm going to seize. Don't distract Bart, your mate needs him too much and I can..." suddenly she stopped talking and bent backwards like a contortionist and began to shake violently.

Terrified, Serena howled and got the attention of literally everyone. Bart was there and taking Terry into his arms as Serena watched the other Servants and Servant Healers fight for Greg's life.

Harry strode into the room and not-too-gently pulled his daughter out of the maelstrom as she watched helplessly while Greg and Terry both fought for their lives.

Her father swept her up into his arms and she wept her fears into his chest while her mother held both of them.

Then Bart was lifting Terry onto Serena's bed and calling for a transfusion pump while the other Servants seemed to have managed to get Greg into more stable condition. The fear on the Crossing Servant's face was very visible as his face went into a snarl and his hands flared with the moon-white light of healing, and his assistant's form no longer twitched and writhed.

A Smoothskin Doctor ran into the room, followed by a number of nurses and a strange looking machine with hoses wrapped around it.

Finally, Luther walked over to the family and explained what had happened.

"We loaded him up with antibiotics after the accident, and then started the Crossing immunity-suppressing drugs without checking to see if they were compatible. They weren't," he said as Serena started weeping again and holding her father's hand in a bruisingly tight grip. "We have the reaction to the drugs suppressed to a degree, but we're going to try dialysis to flush the remainders of the stuff out of his system."

He turned to Serena, "Your description of what he felt was the first clue. He has too much potassium in his system. We are much more sensitive to potassium than Smoothskins and that's what is poisoning him. Fortunately, he isn't far enough along that the potassium is that toxic yet; that much potassium in one of us would kill us instantly by means of heart failure. Doctor Stevens is going to inject some medication to chelate the potassium in his system and tissues and render it much less toxic; but he's still in serious trouble and may not survive. There are other medical problems as well."

Marinaasked, "What happened to the Assistant, Terry? She held Serena's waist, and then had a seizure..."

Luther sighed, "Terry is very ill. She has a tumor in an inoperable area of her brainstem, and Servant Collins was going to start her Crossing yesterday. Then Greg showed up, and she said to Cross him instead of her; that she'd wait," he said sadly. "She may have waited too long. Collins is stabilizing her by will alone. The transfusion may be too late."

Serena was in agony. The girl Terry was on the way to becoming a good friend of sorts. She had given up her slot in the Crossing schedule for Greg, and now might die.

No.

"Luther, can we Sing?" she asked the Servant, who nodded and said, "There is a small hill next to the hospital just for that. You want to sing for Greg, right?" There was a questioning look in his eye.

"I want to sing for both of them," she said quietly. "I want to ask Mother to spare them both. I want--no, I need to do this. Greg is my life, but she gave up her chance of Crossing to try to save him. I can't live with a debt like that, I just can't..." and broke down again against her father's chest while her mother pressed her cheek against her daughter's neck.

Luther nodded, as if having had a question answered for him.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

They left the hospital at the back door, by the cafeteria; the rear entrance. Less than a minute's walk took them to a little hump in the ground, a rise of perhaps ten feet, but still a hill for ritual purposes.

There, they removed their clothing, and did the little shift the made them quadrupeds. For now, they were just wolves; their Goddess's wolves, of Her pack. With Luther leading them, they trotted up to the top and stood for a moment, then began to Sing. Where real wolves deliberately sang out of tune, to make it appear there were more of them, these wolves sang in an inhuman harmony; and the sound opened a pathway between their world and Lunara's place of peace and renewal.

She came to their entreaty in song.

Serena gingerly stepped up to her and,

They were in another place and time. Aleet-hra wept in her mother's arms and begged that the two souls be spared the passing.

_ "You ask for two lives, daughter?"_

_ "Please, Mother; yes."_

_ "Gregory is your mate, yes; but what is this stranger, this Smooth-of-the-Skin person to you?"_

_ "She gave up her place to Gregory, that he might live. I stand in her debt."_

_ "This was done freely, by her. Are you certain that she would want to live on in flesh, Aleet-hra?"_

"It isn't just her, Mother, it is Bartholomew as well. They love each other and are only now realizing it. They complete each other, even as Greg completes me and I, him. Her passage to the home-place would be a thing between Gregory and myself, our debt that could not be honorably repaid."

_ "Then I shall call them before Me, that I might know their true will in this and act accordingly. Tell the mortal Doctor Stevens that he had no knowledge of what would happen with his human drugs, and that I hold his dedication to his way of Healing as highly as I do my Servants. He berates himself for that which he could not have known. I shall stop the Crossing that his medicines caused to misfire, and you shall complete it when your mate is healed and well."_

_ "Thank-you, Mother."_

_ She felt a kiss on her forehead, then she grew heavier and heavier, darker and colder_ and then she awoke with her parents kneeling worriedly around her.

"Mother?" she whispered, and tried to stand. Martina helped her to her feet and dusted her off.

"You were out for a minute, there, Serena," Luther said worriedly. "I forgot that you were still convalescing from your injury as well. Are you feeling strong enough to stand?"

She nodded and came to her feet, feeling oddly heavy and unbalanced. Slowly, they made their way down the hill and reclaimed their clothing.

Fearfully, the group walked back to the hospital's back door and let themselves in. A few minutes later, they were back in the care-ring and Serena wobbled toward the room that was now quiet, her father following.

The dialysis unit was pumping Greg's blood out, filtering it, and then returning it to his body. He was asleep, the fire of fever was out, and his color was better. Servant Joseph was watching the machine, but there was no joy in his eyes. His ears were down, and his very aura was one of sorrow and sadness. Looking around, Serena didn't see her bed, or Servant Collins.

"What happened?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Terry died," the Servant replied morosely. "Bart is almost suicidal with grief. He took the bed over to the morgue; I'll get you another one. At least your mate Gregory is still alive and responding well to the treatment. Doctor Stevens is upset, too. He blames himself for..." The Servant stood and stared at Serena' forehead.

He stepped over to her, leaving the machine shooshing and humming behind him.

"What's that on your forehead?" he asked. As he looked closer, he sucked in his breath.

Harry was standing beside Serena and glanced over as well, and his ears flipped in surprise. On her forehead was the imprint of two lips-- human lips--only in lunar white against the darker gold of her fur.

Servant Joseph recovered first. "That's the Mother's kiss, not the Goddess' kiss. I've seen one other, and that was on--well, it was someone really special."

He gave Serena an odd look and asked, "You Sang?" Serena nodded, starting to remember things.

"Oh, Goddess," she gasped, "Daddy we have to go to the morgue or wherever Servant Collins has taken Terry's body." When he stared at her, she shook his arm and begged, "Please!"

Turning to Servant Joseph, Serena asked, "Where did they take Terry? Where did they take her body?" The Servant told her were the morgue was in the hospital and gave her some simple directions on how to get there.

Harry gathered her mother and they all headed to the room in the back of the hospital that served as both morgue and autopsy room.

Inside that room, Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins was staring at the wall. Behind him was the bed with Terry's lifeless body in it. In his hand was a special knife, borrowed from the surgical gear. It was a scalpel, deeply silver plated. It would cut Wulfen tissues for surgical repairs when Healing was insufficient to bring about a cure, the tissues thus cut remained apart until pressed together.

He was thinking about how deeply to cut into his forearm when he heard a sound. It came again, his name; being whispered by someone. He turned, not in a mood for any jokes when he saw on the bed a white-furred werewolf; not Terry's body. The Wulf struggled to a nearer upright position and spoke again, with some difficulty.

"Bart?" she asked, "Why don't you say anything? Why am I here? What happened? I remember passing out..." she saw her forearm and her eyes widened.

"Bart, what's happened to me? Did I Cross--I don't remember anything..." and then she was being held, kissed, and touched by her mentor and friend as he cried tears of happiness and brushed his hand over her ears, pointed and totally Wulfen; as was she.

The doors opened and Serena with parents in tow entered the room, seeing the two together. Her jaw dropped and she slowly advanced toward the hospital bed-bed with the new Servant in it.

"Terry?" She asked numbly. The white-furred wolf turned her head toward her voice and smiled, "Serena! Look, a miracle happened! I remember asking you to hold me up, and then I was here in your bed and--and Bart said he loved me and wants me to marry him." There were tears of joy in her eyes as she spoke and she was shaking slightly. Beside her stood the Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins, with tears in his eyes as well.

The next thing Serena was aware of was looking at the ceiling of a hospital room. She had a headache. Glancing over, she saw Greg asleep in his bed, minus the machinery and equipment other than the usual Crossing hookups.

Her father's voice caught her attention and she turned her head toward it, realizing she was back in a hospital bed and there was a very sore spot on the back of her head.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said as her mother hugged her and kissed her carefully on the cheek.

"Wha-a-a?" she managed to croak out of a very dry throat.

"As in what happened?" her mother replied, "You fainted and hit your head. Servant Collins almost did the same, but his new mate held him up until he was able to telephone for help. She has Crossed Over in a Goddess-granted miracle, and now is helping her mate with your mate, Gregory. That's what happened. They had you on oxygen and x-rayed your head but there was no damage, other than a goose-egg. What were you thinking, young lady? You aren't even discharged from the hospital, and you are running all over the place like you owned it. I'm just glad that there was no more damage than the bump." She glared at her daughter, then carefully winked.

Harry chuckled and said, "Yep, the x-ray showed solid bone; just like a good Wolfe skull ought'a. I'm just sorry we were too far back to catch you."

"How's Greg?" she asked, daring to hope. A scraping sound startled her and she looked over at the source; a young Servant in hospital greens, leaning on a walker as she got used to not having heels to balance on.

The Servant smiled and replied, "Well, you remember how he was before everything got so exciting? That's how he is now, thank the Goddess." She continued over to Serena's bed and carefully sat on the edge, turning to face Serena.

"Somehow, I think you were involved in this, and you have all my thanks. I remember being somewhere and answering some questions, then I was waking up on your bed in the morgue. Bart and I are going to be a team, helping people Cross; and you know that Healers aren't celibate like the old Servants were. We're getting married, and my first daughter will be named Serena. Now, one question; can Greg and I work out on gait training together, out at your place? I feel awfully clumsy, and not being here in the hospital would help me a lot. It's, well; embarrassing."

"Sure," Serena replied, and the two werewolves hugged.

"This is all so strange," Terry commented as she held out her arms and stared at them. "I'm very aware of scents and things taste different to me now. I used to like the Pizza the hospital kitchens made up for the late night crew, but I tried a slice and it tasted awful--bitter, you know? Colors are fainter and lights are brighter; I used to think it was dim in here; but now there is plenty of light...and I can almost 'see' with my ears!"

Harry chuckled and asked, "How's your nose? My son almost went cross-eyed after he Crossed Over, trying to see the thing. Oh, and try the pesto pizza the kitchen makes, what you were tasting was the garlic in the tomato sauce; we don't tolerate it very well."

Terry nodded and put a hand to her nose. "I keep seeing this thing in my peripheral vision and trying to focus on it, which makes Bart laugh. He says in a day or so, I'll be okay and not even notice it anymore; and that most Crossers have the exact same problem."

She turned back to Serena, "The Crossing seems to have stopped. The Inceptor virus probably died out, what with all the stuff happening to your mate. We can re-start the process after he finishes healing up, which with the accelerated healing that has already occurred, will probably be in a couple of days."

"How about me?" Serena asked. "When will I be released from here as a patient so I can start being the mate watching her mate become a Wulf?"

Terry chuckled at that. "Probably tonight," she said. "Doctor Stevens will do the release, since you are officially his patient."

At the mention of the doctor's name, Serena remembered something, something that she had to tell the physician.

"Why was she given to a doctor?" Serena's mother asked, "wouldn't a Healer be more appropriate for a werewolf?"

"All the Healers were busy trying to stabilize Greg and the two criminals that the Sheriff brought in," Terry explained, "and since we weren't sure why she hadn't healed up, she was given to Doctor Stevens for surgery and the removal of the bullet. He did a superb job making sure that there weren't any bits or pieces of the bullet still in the wound, once he saw it was silver plated."

"I still can't believe," Harry grumbled, "that somebody would intentionally make a bullet that would cripple or even kill one of us out of a regular hunting bullet. That was deliberate. That was calculated, almost evil. I'm glad they were all caught, 'cause you don't want people like that running around."

"Talk to the Sheriff," Terry replied; "what we were briefed on about these people is so far beyond evil that it rates its own niche. They were mercenary Hunters."

Three werewolf jaws dropped. There were people who still saw werewolves as instruments of the Devil, as monsters, and as evil incarnate, but after the Sapient Species executive order, they had to stay quiet, since now werewolves could take them to court and sue them for defamatory statements.

Now, a Wulf could legally defend him or her self from these people, even if it meant killing them; since now the law recognized them as citizens, with all the rights of Smoothskin citizens. Then no longer had to hide in the shadows, afraid of discovery. They were finally a free people, with the same human rights as anyone else.

Now, the discovery that there were Hunters that stalked and would kill them for money was especially frightening and angering as well.

That decided Harry. "I'm not going Smooth any more," he said with finality; "I am what I am, and I'm proud of my People. From now on, I'm Harry Wolf--without the 'e'. I'm not going to hide when I drive into town, I'm wearing my Goddess-given fur; and anybody that don't like it can stuff their dislike, for all I care."

Serena waited for her mother to explode. Her jaw dropped when Marina Wolfe said, "For once, old dog; I agree with you completely. We are acting like it was still the time of the Scattering, and it isn't. The Day has come, and we are a free people." She grinned, "Now I can get rid of all those Smoothskin clothes in the closet."

Then she grew worried. "Harry," she said, "this is twice in twenty-four hours that I've agreed with you completely. I need to see the doctor; I must be getting senile with old age." Harry laughed and kissed his mate.

The show was on, again.

Serena grew puzzled, and asked Terry; "Where is Greg's aunt? I haven't seen her here once. Is she all right?"

Terry shrugged, "She's pretty crippled up with arthritis; to the point she's been in a wheelchair when she's visited her nephew. She was here when he was brought in, and she was here yesterday as well; but you were either asleep or away both times. She has to borrow a ride from someone each time, since that was her car that got wrecked."

Serena was shocked; she hadn't known that Greg's aunt was that badly off. Harry made an offer, saying; "Look, we'll loan her a car to get around with, since it was our daughter that her nephew was saving when her car was wrecked. That'd be only fair..."

Serena said, "I'll tell her when I see her if you guys aren't here. I didn't know either." The thought that Greg's aunt was that badly disabled worried her; how would she get around when Greg was out at the ranch with her? Then she had an idea.

"Loan her my Saturn," she said. "It's an automatic, and it's easy to drive, and there is plenty of space in it. Since it's a crossover, the seats are high enough for her to get in and out of the car easily enough, and it gets great gas mileage."

"The VUE?" Harry asked. "That sounds like a good idea. You can drive the Volkswagen, since your sister isn't here and since you sold it to her for the down-payment on your motorcycle."

"Where is my motorcycle, anyway?" Serena asked her parents. "It wasn't damaged or anything, it just ran out of gas."

"Your motorcycle is at home," her mother said grumpily. "We picked it up at the Sheriffs' impound lot and took it home yesterday, and your father and I had to lift it into the bed of the pickup."

Then a crafty look came over her face, "What are you going to do now that you have a mate? That bike only seats one, you know." She did not like the thought of Serena on a bike, after what had almost happened.

Serena replied loftily, "I'll either get him one, or trade it for a sidecar model. We will run together even if its on rubber tires."

Her mother looked like she had a mouthful of cold, stale kibble, while Harry snickered.

Her mother deflated like a balloon, then said; "Harry, we need to go to the market while we're in town, Serena seems well enough; but the ranch needs the supplies." She sighed and turned to Serena and said, "Be careful dear; and pay attention to the doctors. You may feel well now, but remember what happened to you in the morgue when you outran your energy." Then she surprised her daughter by giving her a kiss on the cheek and hugging her hard, like she had when Serena had been small.

As Serena sat there surprised, her mother gave hertwo fiftydollar bills and suggested that she might want to get something to wear for her mate when he woke up.

Then they were gone.

"Something to wear?" Terry asked in surprise. "What did she mean," she asked as she used the walker to get her back to Greg's bed and her desk.

Serena followed, still in her paper scrubs, pulling up a chair to sit in.

"Mom has this thing about being properly dressed," she explained, "which in her case means everything, including panties. At the ranch, I usually just wear a vest for pockets and some moccasins on my feet. It isn't like anyone can see anything, since we're covered in fur all over; but mom has a fit, saying 'I'm not an animal and I should wear something'. I do, usually, but not enough to suit her."

Terry got an odd look on her features and asked Serena to watch Greg for a moment while she used the bathroom. She was back very soon with her decision, "You're right. I remember myself as Smoothskin and nudity would bother me in a situation like this, but you really can't see anything. I'm more covered than when I was wearing sterile scrubs and a mask; just in my fur. This is something I will have to get used to: clothing as a tool or convenience, rather than as covering.

"I also noticed that I can't touch my little finger to my thumb anymore. Is that normal?"

Serena nodded. "We don't have what the Smoothies call a "precision grip" in that we can't touch our ring or pinkie fingers to our thumb; only our index and middle fingers will reach. Yet, because of the different leverage provided, we can grasp much tighter and our hands ar a lot stronger than the average Smooth-skin's. We are on the average about fifty percent stronger than Smooths, and a lot faster in the reaction department.

"That isn't free, though; we need half again as much food as the average Smooth, and some of the things that you used to be able to eat won't be edible anymore.

Terry looked thoughtfully at Serena and asked, "You mean like the pizza? If it smells bad, don't eat it?"

Serena nodded; "Exactly. Our sense of smell is a lot different from a Smooth's, and not just stronger; it's more analytical. You can literally tell people apart by scent." She rubbed her jaw and asked, "Before, did you drink much? Like beer or wine or distilled stuff?"

Terry replied, "Some beer, enough to bet a nice buzz on, and wine with Sabbath meals and the High Holy days; but the distilled stuff? Other than Vodka, no. Why?"

Serena answered, "Because we don't digest distilled alcohol, that's why. It literally goes right through us; in one end one out the other--and the 'out' part is not fun at all. Wine and beer, we can handle and digest, and get buzzed to relax." Then something Terry had said connected and she asked, "Are you Jewish?"

"Yeah," Terry replied, "but the family is part of a Reformed Temple. Most of the

old dietary laws are ignored, to the point that we eat shrimp and some pork." Her eyebrows rose, "I guess that I'm due for a change in religion, aren't I?"

"I didn't know Ryder was a Jewish name."

"It was Ryderowicz; but my grandparents changed it, when they arrived in Americain nineteen thirty-seven. They are orthodox, and not that happy about mom and dad's changing of tradition. They call them 'Christians'." Then she snickered at the memory. "Still, they support them and I hope they will understand the reason I Crossed Over. I may be a Werewolf, but I'm still their granddaughter, and we discussed this very possibility not too long ago. They were eastern European Kindred, and 'came over the ocean' with six families out of the old pack; to get away from what they saw happening inGermany."

"Wasn't that before Hitler started drafting German Werewolves?"

"Barely, and we were Polish stock. From what I learned after the war, the German WulfenKinder slaughtered their Polish cousins without mercy. They weren't 'Wolf-Children', they were devils."

Serena was shocked. "I'm sorry," she said; not knowing what else to say.

Terry shrugged. "The rest could have come here as well, but didn't think that the Germans were serious about the 'lebensraum' stuff. They chose to stay, despite our warnings fromAmerica." Her face closed; "They were fools. From what Gran'ma and Gran'dad said, you'd think that the Germans were going to say 'Hello' and just pass them by. They were in a world of their own, and it killed them."

"That reminds me," Terry said, "I have to call home when Bart comes to relieve me. Mom and Dad deserve to know that I went ahead and did it, and that I plan on marrying Bart. They were a little un-resolved on my Crossing, even though I would die if I didn't."

"But I don't care. I have someone who I love and loves me back. I have a Mother-Beloved who watches..." the words died in her throat. "I saw Her. I was with Her, and She asked me if I would help Bart with his task in this life and I said yes." She held up her hands, now more like extended wolf paws with thumbs and stared at them, turning them over to look at the backs of them as well. "I'm beautiful," she whispered. She turned to look at Serena; "You were there, too; begging for my life, and you hardly knew me. You were asking Her to give me my life with Bart, so we could serve Her together." A white-furred hand grasped a copper-toned one and Terry said; "Thank-you, Serena. I want you to be my friend; for what you did for us. Would you and Greg be--our children's Sworn Parents?"

Surprised and humbled, Serena could only nod in agreement as emotions flowed through her. Finally, she could say, "Yes; if you and Bart will be ours..."

Suddenly Terry stiffened and looked at the clock. "Oops, I'd better get Greg's numbers before Bart comes in. I'm late!"

Serena watched as the new Servant gingerly stepped over to the bed and took Greg's vital statistics, then carefully walked over to the chart and entered them.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Serena asked, "After all, you're just Crossed Over."

"Bart checked me over," Terry replied. "I'm in fine shape, like I was born this way. No bone density problems, no weight loss, no osteoporosis, nothing. Besides, I'm a terrible patient, ask any of my doctors," she said with a grin. "Anyway, I like what I'm doing, and I'm not having any problems; other than my balance, which Bart says is normal. That's why I want to do my gait-training out at your place; nobody to point and snicker after I fall on my fuzzy new ass for the third time in as many minutes."

Serena giggled, "Do what I'm going to do with Greg, be under him to catch him." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Terry snickered.

Lunch arrived, and with it Healing Servant Bart Collins. While Serena ate, Terry and Bart awakened Greg. He managed to struggle into an upright position with the help of the mechanical bed.

Serena had pushed her bed back into easy reaching distance of Greg's bed and kissed him as he finally got the cobwebs out of his brain and achieved full awareness.

He was a lot thinner already; the Crossing having taken nearly fifteen pounds off of him. He looked entreatingly at Serena's meal and she shook her head. The last of the food was gone when Serena sat on the edge of her bed and took Greg's hand.

"What happened to me?" he asked. "Was that part of the Crossing?"

Servant Bart answered; "You had an unexpected drug interaction. We gave you some medicine to assist with the first part of the Crossing, an immunity-inhibitor. What we didn't do was take into account that you had a load of antibiotics on board already. Each of them used a potassium salt as a carrier, in itself harmless to either Wulfen or Smoothskins, but when mixed; the potassium started to leach out of them and deposit into your tissues and bloodstream. Potassium is deadly to us, and harmful to Smoothskins. Your body tried to expel it, but you were so weak that it didn't work the way it was supposed to, so you started to have a fever and muscular problems. Following so far?"

Greg nodded. "I got poisoned by a bad drug interaction, right?"

"Right," The Servant replied. "We gave you some medicine that bound the free potassium up and rendered it harmless again, and then dialyzed you until your blood showed a normal level of minerals, including potassium. Then you were made to sleep and hopefully recover from something that never should have happened." He pointed to a bandage around Greg's left arm; "That's where we hooked you up and, well, washed your blood clean."

"Now, hopefully, you'll continue healing and we'll restart the Crossing process again to finish you up. In a little while, you'll be a Wulf, like your mate.

Greg looked around, "Where's Terry? Did she get in trouble because I..."

Terry stepped gingerly away from Bart and put her hand on Greg's arm. "I'm Terry," she said. "A miracle happened, and I was Crossed by Mother-Beloved's own grace. I'm still your Crossing assistant, though; and we will get you Crossed Over: I promise."

Greg's eyes were huge as he saw someone who had been a Smoothskin girl the last time he had been awake. "Wow," was his only comment.

Terry chuckled; "We're going to have something in common, once you're finished Crossing. Gait training. I still fall down a lot and now I have to use a walker to help me with my balance."

Greg's eyes widened as he took in the new Servant. If he looked this good, once he'd Crossed...

A pair of fingers gripped an ear and brought his face around to Serena.

"Hell-oo, there" she said; "Mate here, remember?"

He responded by taking her hand and kissing it, rubbing his cheek against the fur and causing Serena to close her eyes and shudder in anticipation.

An idea formed in her mind, a very pleasant one.

"Ahhh, Servant Collins;" she asked, "Did you say Greg would have to restart the Crossing procedure?"

The Servant nodded. "We'll do the transfusion as soon as he checks out as healthy enough to proceed." He put his hand on Greg's chest and closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment. "That would be sometime tomorrow or the day after, most likely. He has done quite a lot already in the rebuilding of his body. Letting the final healing take place after he's recovered some energy and healed at a more normal rate will complete everything and make his actual Crossing easier on him as well."

"We'll remove the tubing to make him more comfortable, and keep him on a high energy/low solids diet to help replace some of the body mass he's already used up. Then when he's ready, we re-start and take the Crossing to completion."

Greg sighed in relief, asking, "Does that mean I get something to eat?"

Terry shook her head. "Sorry, but the high energy/low solids stuff is liquid. It's meant to be poured down your nasal tube, but you can drink it, too. I hope you like sweet, because it is."

"Maybe if you add some soda-water, I can convince myself that it's a soda. Got chocolate?" Greg queried.

Terry nodded. "Sure we do. And I can get some soda-water from the soda machine in the cafeteria. Actually, that doesn't sound too bad."

Serena asked innocently, "Does he have to start by means of transfusion? Isn't there another way...?" Then she wiggled her ears.

Terry and the Servant both chuckled. "Oh, yes, Ms. Wolfe; that way would work, too. Tomorrow night? You must be sure the ahhh- inoculation is thorough, though."

"Oh, we will be, won't we, Greg?" she asked her mate, who was blushing redder than Serena thought a person could blush. Then he kissed her fully on the lips.

"Your mate wants you for herself, sooner; rather than later," she whispered in his ear, which got him redder yet.

"We'll transfer him to the Crossing suite this evening," Servant Collins said, and we can remove the catheters now, to make you more comfortable." They set to it.

"What's a Crossing suite?" Greg asked, and Serena explained, "A queen-sized bed, for one thing, and a complete bath. I so want to shower off this sickness, and I bet you do to, don't you; Greg?"

"Oh, yes, Serena;" Greg replied, "I want to get this thing behind--behind us. I've always wanted you, but I never had the nerve to ask. Now, the most beautiful girl in the universe is going to be my mate. Goddess, 'Rena; this is everything I've ever wanted."

"Me, too; Greg, me too." Their tender moment was interrupted by Terry.

"Okay, Greg," she said, holding a cup of water out to him. "Nasal catheter first. When I tell you, I want you to drink a mouthful of water straight down, it'll wash the gastric juice off the catheter so you don't have a burning nose, ok?" She first used a syringe to deflate the balloon that held it in place then started pulling the tubing out of his nose. When she said "now", Greg drank; and the end of the catheter slid out of his left nostril. He sneezed and Terry handed him a tissue.

Then Servant Collins lifted Greg's sheets and whistled.

"Good thing the Crossing stopped," he commented, "because your sheath has already formed, meaning your Crossing was going 'way, 'way out of sequence. That could have killed you all on its own."

Seeing the question in both his patient's eyes, he explained; "Crossings happen in discrete steps, each step being something the body can handle, each step allowing another part of the body to rest after it has changed. Out of sequence, things can get out of control and the demands put on the Crosser's body usually exceed the ability of that body to handle it. Then the Crosser starts spiraling down to death-by-exhaustion. Your sheath shouldn't have formed until just before your tail erupted, and after all your extremities had changed. That was probably the result of the antibiotics, too. Poor Doctor Stevens, he's going to blame himself for this, too."

Serena spoke up; "Mother said that she holds his dedication to saving lives no less then yours, Servant Collins. Please tell the Doctor that, would you?"

He nodded, "The poor guy could use a lift. He's almost sick over what happened to Greg, and anything would help..." he paused. "You say you spoke with our Mother-Beloved? Wonderful. That will help greatly. When he comes to change your bandages, please say that to him. It'll mean a lot more, coming from you."

Serena nodded.

"Now, Greg, when I tell you, push with your bladder, so it's releasing when I remove the rest of the catheter. That way, no dribbles. You'll be a bit irritated for a while so don't worry if it itches when you pee; that's natural in a guy."

He deflated the catheter and started removing it. When he said "Now" Greg tried to empty his bladder, then relaxed it as the catheter slipped free without a drop of liquid spilling on the sheets.

"Okay, lovebirds; 'till tomorrow night, you're free. Enjoy it. Terry and I have some...talking to do, among other things." The Servant grinned at them as they embraced and kissed for the first time free of tubing and impediments.

The two Servants quietly left the room, Terry waving to Serena as she left, still using the walker. Healing Servant Crossing Specialist Collins put his arm around the new center of his universe, and held her close as they entered the passageway.

There was happiness.

Later that afternoon, Serena and Greg had a visitor. It was Greg's aunt. Serena winced when she saw the woman; who was not that much older than her own parents, being wheeled into the room in a rundown wheelchair.

Her fingers were knobbed at each joint, and her wrists were enlarged as well. She was obviously in pain, but still managed her way to the pair in the adjoining beds.

"Is it true?" she asked; "that you two are getting mated?" There was hope in her eyes.

Serena nodded, blushing in her ears; while Greg smiled widely.

"Yeah, Aunt Emma;" he said, "we are. There's this Bond-thing between us..."

"You mean a Mating-Bond?" the old woman asked, "ohhh, I'm so-o-o happy for you! When did it--I mean when did you realize that..."

Serena answered, "I think it started when we were in high school, but I was so stupid and selfish that I didn't realize it until Greg almost died trying to save my life from some mercenary Hunters." Her ears drooped in shame.

"Now, now, Serena;" the elder said, "you were young and I'm told that Bonds when you're that young aren't very strong. You were busy with making a life for yourself. Now, though, you have a partner to share that life, and I'm happy for the both of you."

"Aunt Emma," Greg said, "I'm sorry I wrecked your car. I'll replace it, though. There were rewards on both of those people, and Serena arranged to get the capture credited to me, so I'll get the reward money."

He drew a breath, "And I want you to have it all. It'll help until the life insurance pays off on mom and dad."

"Oh, Gregory, that's so kind; but what will you do then?" his aunt queried.

"I'll manage. I'll be moving out to the ranch, so I won't need much money, and there is probably work I can do out there," he responded.

"Greg," Serena said quietly; "you're my mate. What I have is yours, and yes; there is work for you at the ranch, and we'll share it. We'll get paid, and you'll discover that ranching is a seven day a week job. We'll make plenty of money, although it works out to around five dollars an hour; once you count in all the hours we'll work," she grumbled. "There's always an awful lot to do."

Greg chuckled. "Well, there are the side benefits..." and had the pleasure of seeing Serena's ears pink up nicely.

They had an unexpected visitor: Terry. She entered the room and asked, "Have you guys seen my stethoscope? I think I may have left it here," and started looking in the cabinets along the wall. Her walker scraped as she moved, looking for her property.

"Miss Terry?" aunt Emma asked, "Is that you? You've changed!"

"Yes, Ms. Massey, I..." her eyes met the elder woman's eyes and like a sleepwalker, she approached the woman in the wheelchair and took her hands in her own.

She began to glow, brighter and brighter until the two were difficult to look at directly. Then she was staggering over to lean against Serena's bed.

Emma Massey sat still, looking like she was in shock, then raised her hands and stared at them. The knobs and swellings were gone, and her wrists were normal sized as well.

"They don't hurt," the old woman said. "They don't ache any more," as she experimentally wiggled her fingers. "I haven't felt this well in ages. I don't ache!"

Serena and Greg had moved to help support Terry, who looked exhausted and surprised.

Healer Collins rushed into the room and hurried to his mate. "I felt a tremendous surge," he began, "and the I felt your fatigue. What did you do?"

Terry pointed to the older Smoothskin, who was now standing while looking shocked and amazed.

The Healer approached the woman and gently took her hand, then assumed a posture of "listening".

"It's gone," he said, awe in his voice. "I can't feel any rheumatic damage anywhere." He turned to face the three people he had come from.

"What just happened?" he asked them, as he went to the telephone and called someone.

"She glowed," Serena replied. "Really bright," Greg added.

Bart stood as he put the telephone down. "Glowed? As in Healing light?" he asked. There was strange hope in his eyes.

Both people in bed nodded.

He stepped across the room to his mate, Terry. "Looks like we don't need to test you for you're your abilities," he said; pride in every word. "You're a Healing Servant; just like your mate." They embraced and kissed.

Luther entered the room, followed by Doctor Stevens.

"What happened here?" Luther asked.

"Well," Serena began, "Greg's aunt came here to see us, and Terry was looking for her stethoscope, and they glowed, and--" she stopped, seeing the puzzled look on Luther's face.

Greg took up the story, "My aunt came here for a visit, and we were talking when Terry came back in looking for a stethoscope she misplaced. Terry and my aunt seemed to lock eyes, and then Terry took my aunt's hands and started glowing until it was almost too bright to look at. Then she was leaning on the bed, looking exhausted; and my aunt said she didn't hurt anymore. Then Servant Bart came in, apparently because he felt his mate's energy drain and then everybody else came in asking questions."

"I said that," Serena grumbled. Luther hid a smirk, as he was well aware of Serena's 'compression of information' capabilities.

Doctor Stevens asked Luther to check Emma Massey to confirm what he had found by examination of her hands and wrists. Then he came over to Serena and Greg.

"I want to apologize for almost killing you," he began; "even though Serena's message made me feel a bit less guilty. I plan to go over our newest medicines with Luther to see what is safe to use on possible Crossers in your condition. It also appears that Ms. Massey's rheumatoid arthritis is totally gone. Considering that she was treated for it by both Smoothskin and Wulfen disciplines, I don't know how it happened, but whatever happened, I'm very grateful."

Serena took the doctor's hand in hers and told him, "Mother said that She held your dedication as highly as any Servant's. You weren't responsible for what you couldn't have known."

Then Greg spoke up.

"Aunt Emma caught Rheumatic fever in her early thirties, and it almost killed her," Greg explained. "What it did do was destroy most of her joints, so she had to quit her job and live as an invalid for the next ten years. Mom and Dad had her move in and provided for her, along with the Social Security stuff, but she was always in pain and couldn't get around very well. After the fire, she moved into an apartment, but pretty soon found out she couldn't afford the rent. I left college and got a job so we could both make ends meet; which we did-barely. I was a bit worried about her, since I planned to move out to the ranch with you, Serena."

He looked over at his aunt, now walking easily back and for the for Luther, and sighed; "Looks like that problem resolved itself, thanks to Terry and our Goddess."

Luther returned to the group looking very pleased. "I think I have an answer for you, Doctor Stevens; Greg. Healing Servants use their own bodies as a reference for their healing work. The problem is that we are not quite the same as our Smoothskin counterparts, internally or externally. We don't have a 'reference' for some human diseases because they don't occur in us."

Then he smiled widely, "But, a Crosser who becomes a Healing Servant is different. They 'remember' their other human forms, so they can treat things that Wulfen-born Healers can't, and most Healers are born to the People of the Wolf. I've had the pleasure of meeting two Crossed Over-Healers, and both are able to do things we just cannot do; Terry being the second, and Robyn Terrell, mate of the Warrior, is the first. Furthermore, according to the grapevine, one in three Crossers is Crossing Over into the White Coat of the Servant." Both Serena and Greg were surprised to hear that.

"There are more Servants now than at any time since before the Scattering, and the numbers keep increasing," he said with great pleasure. "And since they are Smoothskin in origin, they can extend our Mother-Beloved's healing to more and more people; thus making us less a threat and more a beneficial relationship."

Serena got the attention of Emma Massey and she came over, curiosity on her features. "Ms. Massey," she began, "since Greg wrecked your car, rescuing me; I'd like to loan you my car until you can replace yours. Will you accept? Please?" She tried her "puppy-dog" face on the woman to help her decide.

The older woman relaxed and said, "Thank-you, Serena, I'd be very grateful. It's just a little too far from where I live to the market, and farther to town. I will be very careful of it. Again, thank-you."

She gave Serena a conspiratorial wink and whispered, "You know, Gregory has been sweet on you since high school. It was too bad that that rowdy young Jody Martin pushed himself in between you two. Well, you are back together, and that's what is important." She smiled and gave Serena's hand a little pat of friendliness.

Serena smiled back.

Doctor Stevens got her attention and asked, "Shall I check your leg and see if you're ready for discharge?

She dropped her pants and extended a leg with a pressure bandage on it. The doctor cut away the gauze and looked. Then he smiled.

"Not a sign of anything, other than a tiny scar where the bullet went in. Under your fur, it'll never show." He stepped back. "As of now, I'd say you were free to go, but I know you don't want to be away from your mate, so why don't you get freshened up in the shower; and when you're back, you two can talk until Greg is transferred to the suite. Then you can watch television and relax. Oh, and your parents said they'd be back this afternoon before they returned to the ranch. Your mother said something about clothing..?"

"She would," Serena grumbled. Then a thought struck her. "Where is the clothing I was wearing when those creeps tried to catch me? I had leathers and stuff under them, too, along with boots and a helmet. Where are they?"

"Probably in property; I'll call and see," the Doctor said.

A minute after he left the room he returned laden with three plastic bags saying "Patient's Belongings".

"Are these it?" he asked as Serena dug into the nearest bag, while Greg looked on in confusion. She looked fine in hospital greens, he thought.

As the people began to disperse, and Terry left being 'helped' by her mate and mentor, Serena took inventory of her possessions.

"Got it!" she said in triumph, waving a pair of bloodstained panties over her head."

"Huh?" Greg queried, suddenly curious. He moved over in his bed to see.

Serena had a pair of white panties with a large bloodstain on the left side, and the leg elastic was cut in two by what looked like a bullet hole.

"That was close," he muttered, and Serena looked over and smiled. "No, she said; "that is perfect."

She explained, "Mom has this thing about being properly dressed. She seriously gets on my case if I'm not covered top to toe with something other than my fur. My preferences are a vest for the pockets and moccasins for my feet, with a sunshade if it's real bright and sunny. She grinned.

"Those bastards used my underwear as a target. I can use these as a trading point on underwear," she elaborated, thinking fast.

She turned to Greg; "Do you think I'd look good in a thong? Or maybe a string bikini set of panties?" She stopped her questions because Greg was turning red again.

A sense of mischief seized her. She slid out of the paper hospital green-wear and stood nude before him; "Or would I look better like this?" she asked as she pirouetted before him.

Greg saw a humanoid she-wolf with small breasts, slim hips and long legs before him. Her hair was cut in a longish pageboy and she was covered top-to-toe with fur; copper-brown on her back, tail, and head, and dark tan on her belly. Other than fur, nothing showed. She was incredibly sexy.

He was about to speak when, "SERENA MARIE WOLFE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" echoed through their room. Mother Wolfe had arrived.

"Aagk!" Serena choked and all but leapt for Greg's bed. She turned and saw her mother in the doorway with her father in tow and half a dozen hospital people staring through the glass wall of their room. She had forgotten the wall-and the drape.

"Oops, free show," she muttered as her mother bore down on her like an angry avalanche and Greg put his body between his mate and her mother.

"It was my question," he said quickly; "I asked her what she looked like!"

"She didn't have to show half the hospital,"Marina said angrily.

"It was an accident," he insisted, " we forgot about the curtain!"

"It's the principle of the thing," her mother growled, "she's not an animal. She is going to learn that or I'm going to lock her in the kennel until she does!"

"Mrs. Wolfe," Greg said, lowering his brows and squaring his shoulders, "we could stay in town and I could go back to work at the market." He was nose to nose with an angry Werewolf and wasn't afraid in the least.

"Honey," Harry said quietly, "I think our new son has won. Let it go, while we still have a daughter."

Marinasighed and drooped. "It's just that she's so young," she began, "and innocent. We worry..." the eyebrows came down, "Serena Wolfe, are you laughing at me?" her mother asked in a dangerously honey-sweet voice.

Serena was at the head of Greg's bed with both pillows over her head and a strange whuffling sound was emerging from beneath them.

"Probably inhaled a feather," Harry decided. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Serena's head popped up from under the pillows with a repentant look on her face, "Yes, daddy, I'm okay. I got some dust up my nose. Sorry, Mom; I didn't realize that anyone could see..."

"That's what you always say," her mother said morosely. "Look, dear, you're mated now, and you have to uphold your mate's position in life."

Serena slid up beside Greg and cuddled up to him saying, "Yes, mom; I know. It's just that we got such good news that I felt excited."

"What good news is that?"Marinaasked, worried but mildly curious.

"Greg's aunt is all right, as in she was healed. No more arthritis. No wheelchairs. She can walk!"

Her mother looked puzzled. "I thought that the best Healers in the hospital couldn't do any more with her disability. How was she healed?"

Greg took over as Serena cuddled closer, wrapping an arm around him. "The new Healer, Terry, healed her," he explained. "It was something to do with the fact that she was a Crosser, and still remembered her Smoothskin body; so she had some sort of reference to use to heal my aunt. She really is better. She walked out of the room and folded up her old wheelchair and pushed it out." His voice had risen as he had spoken to finish in a falsetto squeak.

Harry snickered, "Is that why you're turning so pink? Or is your new mate affecting you a little?" His eyes were twinkling.

"Uhhh, yes, dad," Greg said in that odd falsetto. He reached down and lifted Serena's hand off the inside of his thigh.

Marinastarted snickering, then Harry started laughing; and finally they were all roaring with laughter.

"Just like you, honey;" Harry commented as they tried to sober themselves up. "Your daughter is just as fascinating as you are."

Serena rested her jaw on Greg's shoulder and whispered, "Welcome to the club."

Marinahad picked her daughter up some new underwear and Serena shook her head at it.

"Nope," she said; "let me show you something," and slid off Greg's bed and onto her own, fishing around in the plastic bags her recovered things were in. Then she found them and held them up.

"Look," she said, holding up the panties with the blood and bullet hole in them, "that bastard used my fuzzy little ass as a target, thanks to these undies. I might as well paint my ass bright red as wear another set of these."

Marinawas horrified, handling them gingerly. Harry grew grim, staring at them.

"But, you have to wear underwear," her mother said, aghast.

"Thongs!" Serena said. "Or better yet, micros! Less to aim for and I'm still covered, even if you can't see anything,"

"It's the principle of--"Marinabegan, then stopped. Looking like she had just bitten something sour unexpectedly, she asked, "All right, how much?"

"The hundred you left with me, I can use that!" she said brightly. Besides, I got my wallet back and my cards are all still in it. No problem!"

Marinalooked at her daughter for a long moment and muttered, "All right. Why do I suspect you had this planned all along?"

"I didn't mom, I swear!" Serena promised. "I didn't even think of it until I got the panties back," she said 'innocently'. Harry snickered. Greg chuckled. Her mother glared, and accepted defeat.

As the two women were talking over something else important, Harry slipped over to Greg's bed.

"Greg," he asked quietly, "did you mean that, when you said you'd go back to the market, whenMarinawas after your mate?"

Greg looked up at the Werewolf who stood just under seven feet tall and nodded. "I understand that, ahhh, mom has some issues over Serena's dress, or lack of it; but she was getting too angry with my, uhh, mate, and I had to stop it somehow. If you're asking if I'd have done it, yes; I would. It wouldn't be easy, but we'd survive somehow."

Harry gripped Greg's hand in his and shook it. "Welcome to the family, son; and I'm proud of you. Serena has a man for a mate." There was a smile in his eyes.

Then he opened his wallet and handed Greg a picture of a pretty Wulfen girl in a tight satin top, a micro-miniskirt and boots. The skirt was so short that her tail didn't need a relief slit in back. She was giving a "come hither" smile to the camera.

Greg looked up, puzzled. Harry explained: "It ain't that Serena is the wild one of the family. That picture's Marina, her mother, and my mate," he clarified. "It ain't that she's some bluestocking, it's that Serena is just like she was at that age, and that scares her. Plus, well, Serena's our baby; and always will be. Her mother is trying to protect her baby from some of the mistakes she made back then, only Serena is plumb

determined she's gonna make them anyhow. That's why we're both so happy that the two of you are together." He looked at his wife and mate and sighed, "Having you to think about, maybe she'll slow down a little, and that would take a weight off both of our shoulders."

He took the photo back and looked over at his mate of many years. "She's still just as beautiful as she was back then, and like you; I'm the luckiest man alive. I'm glad it's you, Greg, I'm glad it's you." He gripped Greg's shoulder for a moment then left.

Oddly, Greg felt exactly the same at that moment.

Terry chose that moment to show up, still using her walker, with a tray attached to the front of it. A bottle and a glass and a can were sitting on it.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"Marinaasked in a worried voice.

"I feel fine," Terry replied, "and Greg Massey is my only patient. No strain, most of the time I'm sitting down and reading about my new body. Doing this keeps my behind from getting numb."

She scraped her way to Greg and said, "Soda number one; chocolate. She winked and said, "Look in the bottom of the glass."

Greg did and smiled, "Ice Cream! Perfect for a soda. She sat on his bed and they mixed the ingredients together.

"What is that?"Marinaasked.

"Looks like they're making a chocolate soda, to me;" Harry commented.

"That's what it is, sort of;" Greg replied. "I have to eat this stuff every couple of hours to build my energy levels. It's what they feed Crossers and people who can't eat."

He took a sip. "Not too bad," he said. "At least, better than what this stuff tastes like by itself." He began to drink it through a straw.

Terry asked him for a taste and produced a spoon. She tasted it and didn't cringe too badly, although the tip of her tongue stuck out between her front teeth.

"Ughh, too sweet even now," she pronounced. "But without a Wulf's taste buds, I guess it would work."

"Are you the Servant that healed Greg's aunt?"Marinaasked. Terry nodded.

"It was the strangest thing;" she said, "like I was being pulled to this old woman by something, then I was glowing and tingling like crazy. Brad says it happens that way sometimes, that a Healer's gifts will overtake them and make them heal someone, whether they want to be healed or not. He says I need to study and meditate, and learn to use this newly granted ability of mine under my control, not it's control."

"Well, you did a very kindly thing then, controlled or not. Emma has been crippled up ever since that fever she had," Harry told her, "and it was a shame that she couldn't work or do much of anything when it flared up."

"She couldn't even knit when her hands were bad,"Marinaadded, "it was a real tragedy for the whole family. I'm glad she's better."

"Yeah, Luther is at her home right now, testing her for her daily living capabilities. He says that she is stable for now, but may need repeat treatments to keep the healing going," Terry replied, "which is a good thing, since that means I'll have a job here."

Greg detected a note of bitterness in her voice and asked, "Did you talk to your parents yet?" He felt a sense of sadness in this new Servant.

Terry nodded. "They didn't take it well. They asked why Bart just couldn't keep doing the things he was doing; why did I have to Cross? When I tried to explain, they didn't seem to understand that I had died and been brought back to Serve our People; that I had been asked to do this. They just kept asking why I hadn't asked them first? Like I had another choice in the matter? The local Temple paid for my crossing, but my parents still ask those questions." The bitterness was more pronounced, now.

"I thought you said your people were Kindred?" Harry asked. "Want sort of a reaction was that?"

"You have to understand, Mr. Wolfe; that the Wulfenbruderen is the European version of the Kindred. They're different, very formal and very proper. Even the Pack I came from is that way; they all came over fromEurope after World War Two and they're still thinking like they live over there. There is very little intermixing, and when I was first referred to Bart, I still thought that way, too. I thought he was rude and forward until I met more American Werewolves and saw just how stuffy my own people were."

"Then I fell in love with him. I was horrified, that just wasn't done; and yet I was so happy that I had found somebody I could share with..." she looked downward at her feet, "Well, I'm different, now. I have a mate, and I'm alive, and I've learned about the Goddess--you know, they even discourage non-Wulfen from singing or praying to Her.

"She is ours, they say. You have your Lord, go worship your God and leave us with ours, they say," she growled angrily.

She dropped her ears in anger and drew her lips back in a snarl. "They are all old fossils! That's what they are. My parents and two of the Pack Elders are coming to examine me, to see if I am fit to be Wulfen, like they have any say in the matter."

"Fit to be Wulfen?" Serena asked in amazement. "Isn't the fact that Mother accepted you and gave you a new Life-task and a mate to do it with enough?" She walked across the room and sat beside Terry to lend support.

"Not according to them," the new Servant replied. "What they believe doesn't make much sense, and I don't know much of it; since I was a human, then. They keep their liturgy locked away from our impious human eyes."

Harry muttered, "There's something funny going on here, only nobody's laughing." His ears were backed and he was rubbing his lower jaw in deep thought.

"I think,' he said, "that Luther ought to hear about this. There's never been any 'liturgy' that I've been aware of; on Moon nights, we just Sing. She decides what the program's gonna be."

'That's another thing," Terry said quietly, "they don't Sing, other than one of the High Servants. Even then, we humans weren't welcome there, unless we were sick and needed divine healing. Once that was done, off we were sent; after having been warned not to divulge what had happened, other than the obvious."

"The only reason I know this much is that the High Servant sang over me when I started having seizures," she concluded.

"He didn't try healing you?" Serena asked, aghast. "Even a plain vanilla Servant has some healing capability."

Greg asked an odd question; "What was he wearing during this, and what were you wearing?" He watched Terry as she spoke; carefully.

Terry glanced over at him oddly and then replied, "I was wearing a black linen robe that was way too big. It had a hood and it was pulled over the top of my head so I almost couldn't see. He was wearing a light blue robe; linen again, I think, and he had a two colored scarf around his neck with the ends crossed over each other. He looked silly," she sniffed. "He never even touched me, he just stood there rocking back and forth."

Greg's eyes were half closed and he was staring into space.

"Did you recognize any of the words he sang?" he asked.

Terry started to answer, then stopped; then started to answer again, "It sounded vaguely like what I heard at Temple during services," she said, thinking deeply; trying to remember. "It felt like one of the pastoral prayers the Cantor sang on the Holy days, like Passover or Yom Kippur. The words almost sounded like Hebrew, now that I think of it; but the accent was off," she continued.

"Was he wearing the phylacteries?" Greg asked. Serena's ears perked at the odd word.

"I don't think--no, he was!" Terry said. "They weren't the usual ones with scripture written in them, they were gemstones! But yes, he was wearing phylacteries, one each arm and one on his brow!"

Serena was confused and looked it. One ear was up, one was down; and she wore a look of confusion on her face.

Harry asked, "What's a phy-phy--whatever you said?" His ears were sharply forward, focused on Greg.

"What Terry is describing is right out of the Kabala," he explained. That's a Jewish mystical path of supposedly great magic and power. Now, why is a Werewolf using something that isn't even part of his tradition?" he asked. "I'm a Smoothskinned child of Mother-Beloved. That is my belief and my tradition. Why is a Wulf using a Jewish magical system?"

He glanced at Harry; "A phylactery is a box with scripture in it on a piece of paper. It has ribbons or strings and you tie one on your forehead, and one on each arm above the elbow. I had 'comparative religions' in College, the first semester; and I remembered that from class."

"What is all that supposed to mean?"Marinaasked, now quite confused.

"The word of thy God shall be upon your forehead, and upon your right shoulder and upon your left shoulder, and you shall pray to the Lord God of Israel..." Terry recited, "Remember, I was Jewish," she said; "Well, sort of," she amended, then: "Well, I used to be..."

"A Jewish Werewolf," Harry said quietly. "Now I have seen everything," he muttered.

"I said I used to be," Terry said softly. "I wasn't that much into it; that was my parents' thing. It seemed to be so full of 'whereases' and 'therefores' that it seemed more

like a contract than a belief system. My parents were only lukewarm about the Laws we still observed, themselves. It was as much a social thing as a religious experience."

She rubbed her chin for a second, then commented; "It was different for the Wulfen, though. They acted very orthodox; like only eating ritually slaughtered meat, observing each Holy day--in fact, they had more days of Obligation than we did. One of them got upset that mom and dad had a 'Hanukah bush', like a Christmas tree. An Elder came to our house and lectured them about 'hewing to the faith of their ancestors' to the point that they took it down. He even made a big thing about putting silk slippers on his feet before he came in, and putting a silk sheet on the chair before he sat. He also took them to task for not having a new mezuzah on the doorpost. It was supposed to be replaced every year after Yom Kippur, and they hadn't. He was such a bonehead about things, sometimes..."

"I know what Hanukah is," Serena commented; "but what's a mezuzah? Why did he put on slippers and use a silk sheet?"

Terry explained, "A mezuzah is a little container that is fastened to the doorpost or the gatepost of a Jewish house. It contains a blessing written on paper. You touch it when you enter, as a blessing on the house and the people in it. I don't know about the silk, that doesn't seem Jewish to me."

"I do," Greg said. " Someone who is ritually pure can't touch anything that is impure, or he loses his ritual purity. Silk is supposed to be an insulator against that sort of thing. That's why he wore the slippers, and used the sheet as a chair cover. Bet he didn't touch anything else in the house, did he?"

"You're right, he didn't," Terry said. Then she grew angry and muttered, "Why that 'holier-than-thou'..."

"If he was working the Kabala, he probably was," Greg replied. "Kabalists take 'purity' very seriously."

"And you learned all this in a Religions class?" Harry asked. "Mighty thorough, if you ask me; not that I doubt you in the least."

Greg blushed; "Well, some of it comes from online Gaming. That was all the entertainment I could afford. They make the rules just like real life, and I was a sixth-level Mage that used Cabalistic magic, so I had to learn about it from the Library, here in town. The Game Masters know this stuff, and if I did something wrong, I either lost life points or I died; so, I learned in self-defense."

Serena queried, "You learned this for on-line Gaming? How accurate is it?"

"As accurate as the Wolf Bend public library's books are," Greg replied. "It kept 'me' alive, and gave me something to occupy my spare time."

Serena looked past Terry to Greg. "You're going to have something else to occupy your spare time now; Me!" she said with a slight leer. "So don't plan on a lot of gaming unless its special gaming..." she wiggled her eyebrows at her mate.

Harry commented, "I didn't think you could turn that red so fast," as he watched Greg's response. Greg laughed a little but still blushed.

Serena's mother had a different idea. She stepped across the space between them and pointedly handed her daughter her clothing with a stern look on her face..

Serena pouted, but got dressed.

Terry chuckled and gathered up the glassware and the can and loaded it onto her walker tray again. "Time for more study," she announced, and scraped toward the door.

Looking back at Greg she asked, "Two hours?" and Greg nodded and she scraped out of the room.

After she had left the room, Harry shook his head and commented, "She's just Crossed, and here she is back on the job. It's just amazing, that's what it is."

Serena looked at her parents, then at her mate. "What do I do?" she asked curiously. "If I'm released from the hospital, how do I stay close to Greg? I really don't want to leave him."

Greg replied, "Well, you could shower and clean up. I know that's what I'm going to do as soon as they'll let me. Then when I get transferred, we could watch television or talk..."

Serena nodded, "Are you saying I stink? 'Cause I do, even to me."

"That actually sounds like a good idea. We Wulfen don't bathe as often as Smoothskins do because we can really dry out our skin that way, and we don't sweat much," she explained, "still, I could use a good clean up and get my fur all soft and silky for my mate's hands..."

Her mother spoke sharply, "Serena, Greg is not ready yet. Wait until the doctor at least releases him to complete his Crossing before you start seducing him."

"He could brush me," her daughter retorted, "he did that in College, when I was ready to scream from staying in Smooth for days on end and having to hide everything else from my roommate. He would brush me and we would eat pesto pizza and watch movies on the television."

Then she sighed, "That saved my life, because my roommate was Kindred but not used to having a Werewolf living with her, and she asked so many questions I was almost rude to her; and I'm not like that."

She looked over at her parents, saying; "Look, I don't want to do anything that will hurt my mate in any way. There is a separate bed in the room for the Assistant's use; I'll sleep there, tonight."

Then she looked at Greg straight on and asked, "Would that be okay with you, Greg? Would it upset you if I spent the night there, because if it will, I'll sleep somewhere else."

Greg took his mate in his arms and replied, "That will be fine, just so long as you are there with me. I don't want to be without you, ever again." Then he kissed her on the cheek.

Serena melted into his arms, much to the amazement of her parents. Then she said "I'm hungry. Could we get something to eat, then I'll go shower."

Harry nodded his assent, and Greg squeezed her for a second. "Eat well, and get pretty, and then I'll brush you like we used to do. I think I'll take a nap while you're gone, because I am T-I-R-E-D. Wake me when you come back, ok?"

"Okay, Greg, I will," Serena replied. Then she got up and walked to her parents and said "Let's go."

Greg was settling down as they left his room, and Serena stole one glance back.

He was so beautiful. She loved him so much. She walked straight into the doorframe.

"Akhh," she gasped, stepping back and re-attempting her exit, which was this time successful.

Harry chuckled, and whispered, "Did that myself, when I was first in Bond with your mother. She thought I was clumsy."

"You were, silly old dog," Marina replied. "You needed me to keep you from walking off the singing hill, more than once. That's one of the things that I loved about you from the start, you were completely focused on me; to the exclusion of everything else." Then she cheek-rubbed him in a Wulfen kiss.

Serena was hailed from the central nursing station. She went over to see what was wanted.

"Miss Wolfe, could you please go to the Admitting office and sign out?" the clerk asked. "Doctor Stevens has released you and they just need your signature on some documents before you leave."

"I'm not leaving," she replied, "but I'll sign off what they want. My mate is still here, and will be Crossing tomorrow night." She had a thought, "Can I use the hospital shower, please? I'd like to clean up a little."

The clerk smiled at her and replied, "Oh, of course. Check with me when you come back and I'll make sure that you aren't disturbed. We usually shower patients in the mornings, so there shouldn't be a problem now."

"I left some fresh clothing on your bed," her mother advised her. "Be a good girl and wear it, please", she said pointedly.

"Yes, mom," Serena replied. "I will."

They continued down the hallway to the offices and Serena asked them to wait while she signed the paperwork. They sat, watching the hospital activity as the afternoon passed. Serena had just rejoined them when there was a slight sound behind them, and a Deputy asked them to please stand by the wall for a moment.

A man in a wheelchair was being transported, in leg irons and handcuffs. As he passed them, he stared at them with raw hatred in his eyes. His eyes stayed on them until it was no longer possible for him to turn his head and see them.

The Deputy returned. "Sorry about that, but this one is fit enough to be taken to jail. He is one of the kidnappers that Deputy Nemeier shot in the leg. The other is a belly shot and is still here at the hospital."

Harry asked, "Taking him to jail? He isn't going to be happy there, since half the jail crew are Wulfen."

The Deputy shrugged, "That's his problem. He isn't going anywhere, since the Feds are also interested in him and want him held until they can pick him up. There are three federal warrants out on him, and if he gets convicted; he's looking at life in prison.

That's just the sort of place for him, if I have any say about it. He's a career, hardened criminal. Good riddance." Then he nodded at the family and left, to catch up with the rest of the transportation crew.

Marinatouched Serena on the shoulder to get her attention and asked, "Was he one of the men who tried to abduct you?"

Serena nodded. "He was. He was lucky. The one I got died."

"That was good shooting, dear," her mother replied. "Appropriate, too. We have every right to be on the highway, and if they want to think we're easy targets, they need to reconsider."

They walked into the cafeteria and Serena realized just how hungry she was, but her growling stomach was silenced when she saw a white-furred form in the back of the room, at a table by herself-and obviously in pain from the way her shoulders were dropped and her face obscured by her hands.

Serena glanced at her father, who nodded; and they walked over to the table where the newest Servant was seated.

"Hi, Terry," Serena said by way of greeting. "We're hungry and we're going to get an early supper. May we sit here?"

Terry looked up at them with eyes red rimmed and cheekfur that was still wet from her tears. "I won't be much company," she replied, "I've been talking with mom and dad and what they say isn't good."

"That's why we're here," Harry explained, "you're still new and haven't made many wolf friends. We'd like to be considered for that honor. Have you eaten yet?"

Terry shook her head.

Marinasaid, "Bad news isn't so bad on a full stomach. Let's get you a meal, and then we'll talk." Looking around, she asked, "Where's Bart? Shouldn't you two be together at a time like this?"

Terry shrugged, "He had to go over to the jail to make sure that the medical people there knew what that kidnapper would need by way of treatment. He's the junior Servant here, so he gets the run-around jobs."

The Wolfes had been gently guiding Terry over to the serving line, and she took a tray and put silverware and a plate on it.

Harry glanced at it and asked, "You just getting a snack? That plate isn't big enough for a Werewolf's meal."

Terry looked confused and asked, "What do you mean? This is the size plate I always take."

"And you're still a little hungry after you finish?"Marinaasked gently.

Terry nodded, a look of puzzlement on her face.

Serena switched Terry's eight-inch plate for a twelve inch one. "This is a wolf-sized plate," she explained with a smile. "We're big eaters, we need more food than our Smoothskin counterparts."

Terry's eyes widened and her jaw dropped a little in surprise, but she accepted the dinnerware.

The noise had brought two servers from the kitchen, and under the Wolfe's guidance, Terry got a wulf-sized meal; two pounds of buffalo meat (almost raw) similar sized portions of rice, greens, and a small bowl of cottage cheese. The Wolfes had similar orders, although Serena asked for and got buffalo liver for her meat entrée. To drink, they either got tea, water, or lemonade.

Returning to their table, they ate in near silence; Terry's eyes widening at just how much she could put away in one setting. After the meal, and after Serena bussed the dishes to the "return line" to be washed,Marina asked Terry what her problem was.

"I've been talking to my parents, and I got a surprise; apparently there are no female Servants among the people we're allied with. Daddy seemed to think I was mistaken about what I was; because he kept saying I couldn't be a Servant: God had said that only men could be Servants.

"They kept asking me why I had Crossed without their approval. When I said that I had died, and Mother-Beloved had brought me back; they said that it must have been a dream, because God is male-not female. They also said that if I were a Servant, that the Elders would declare me herem, 'cast out' and they would have to disown me..."

She began to cry again, saying; "I wish I had stayed dead, then at least I wouldn't hurt like this..."

"And what would your mate have done?" Serena asked, much to her own surprise. "Servants don't follow their mates. He would either have suicided or been left behind, maybe for a century or more; since Servants don't age in Mother's Service. He'd have been achingly alone for all those years, and you'd have missed him too; the place of peace wouldn't have held much peace for you, only loneliness. This is the best, because you'll have all those years together; as Mother promised."

"Then Bart will be my life," Terry declared. "If my parents put themselves away, that's their problem, not mine; and it'll be the fault of the Elders, not their own choice.

Harry was staring at his daughter. This was not like her, what she had said. Then a memory surfaced, of the Promise; that those who were Bonded would always be reborn together, find each other again, and live in the Goddess's own happiness. Serena and Greg were returned, to be together in the world again, and this was one of the results. Prior life memories were beginning to resurface and weave them together again. He whispered a thank-you to Mother-Beloved for the gift given to his daughter and his new son.

He also noticed his mate's head lowered and knew that his thanks weren't the only thanks being given.

He spoke: "I'm gonna have me a little talk with Luther. I don't want my new son's Servant-Specialist being sent all over the place while he Crosses. You two need time together as well, and out at the ranch, you'll get it. You'll get it here, too; if I have anything to say about it. Luther sometimes doesn't think past what's the protocol when it comes to his staff here, and I intend to remind him that you two have a specific right to be together, just like any other newly-Bonded couple does. The White Coat isn't a reason not to respect that particular tradition."

"Would you?" Terry asked hopefully. "He's only a little distance away, but I miss him terribly right now."

Marinareplied, "We'll both talk to Luther. He may be the Senior Servant here, but he's still a Servant; and he's working in a part of the hospital we specifically endowed as a memorial to Harry's brother, Frank. He was a Servant, too; and died in service to Lunara's People. That old wolf gets wrapped up in the business of healing and treating the sick and forgets that Servants are people like everyone else."

Serena looked at her parents in amazement. "Daddy had a Servant brother?" she asked in surprise. She had known that Daddy had a brother, but not that he had been a Servant.

"He died rescuing children from a school bus that had gone off the road, tipped over, and caught fire. He shifted, ripped the exit door open, and started pulling children out of the wreck and literally tossing them to safety. Then his fur caught fire..." Marinastopped for a moment, remembering. Wulfen fur was flammable, very much so. Francisco, Harry's brother had died saving Smoothskin and Wulfen children in a wreck he had just happened upon. His body was so badly burned that it was unidentifiable, other than by his car's registration. "He was a great man, and a great Servant," she concluded respectfully.

Harry grew sober, remembering. He and Marina not even mated when the call had come. Then he focused on the current problem.

"I'd like to be there when these so-called 'Elders' show up," he said. "Do you suppose that you could have this 'examination' take place at the ranch? I'd like to have the both of you where I can see you when this happens."

"You mean like stay out there for a little while, while I learn to use this new body of mine? Terry asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. "You and your mate," he replied.

"But Luther;" Terry began.

"Will approve it," Marinadeclared. "He claims he owes us, and if there's a scheduled Crossing, there are other Servants to do it. Bartholomew would only be needed in a Compassionate Crossing situation, and those aren't common occurrences."

The pain in the newest Servant's eyes was being replaced with hope, and she smiled shyly; and said "Thank-you."

Supper was over and her parents were departed as Serena and Terry walked back to what had been Serena's room, toeclaws clicking on the tile. Terry's walker scraped along the flooring as they talked, until Serena spied an unused wheelchair folded in the corridor.

"Wait a moment," she asked Terry and went and opened the wheelchair and brought it back to her new friend.

"I can walk," Terry said; but Serena shook her head.

"Take the handles", she advised; " and push the chair. That way you get your balance, and can walk more normally at the same time!"

Terry tried it and a smile grew on her muzzle. "It feels odd, since there's nobody in the chair, but this is much easier than that walker," she said, folding the walker and letting Serena put it back in the storage area.

They continued to the care-ring where Greg's room was located. As Serena started to ask the clerk about the shower, Terry got her attention.

"Use the Crossing suite!" she suggested. "It has a shower and a tub, and the selection of shampoos and soaps is a lot larger."

The clerk echoed her advice, and Serena went with Terry to the Crossing suite, the room at the entry to the care ring, and Greg's destination later in the day.

The Crossing suite was a large room that had a queen-sized bed in it, with a smaller cot and desk as well. There was a large television on one wall, opposite the head of the bed. There were cabinets lining one wall, all marked with the their medical contents. There was also a door in the wall on the right side of the bed that said 'Bath-room'.

Serena puzzled at the television until Terry explained, "We have graded sets of "Werewolf 101" on CD's. That's for after the Crossing is complete; as an education for the new Wulf. I might use them too, with you guys; once Greg's crossed. That way I can learn about what I've become, too."

"Oh, absolutely," Serena said, then; "you know, I might learn something there, too. Being born doesn't make for expertise; sometimes I surprise myself. Of course, you're welcome to share this with Greg and I; after all, you're both going to be learning how to walk on your toes together while I watch."

Terry commented, "I remember you had a suitcase on your bed. Does it have clothing in it? I could get it while you clean up; after all, I have this nice chair to carry it in."

"Thanks!" Serena replied. "I'd forgotten Mom brought it, and--Oooh! There might be some of my soap inside. Let's both go."

They returned to Greg's room. He was still asleep, and stayed asleep as Serena and Terry loaded both the "Patient's Belongings" bags and the suitcase into the chair and the two of them returned to the suite with their prizes.

Opening the suitcase, Serena chortled with pleasure at finding the special herbal scent non-drying shampoo and the conditioner she preferred to use, as well as brushes and combs and skirts, as well as two pair of trousers; along with an assortment of Serena's tee-shirts and two blouses. There was underwear as well, which Serena moved to toss away when Terry stopped her.

"If you don't want those," she said, "I found out that I don't have anything but these scrubs to wear. We're the same size, so could I have them?"

Serena realized that was the truth; Terry the Smoothskin was not the same as Terry the Servant. She literally had nothing of her own to wear.

"Sure," she said; "In fact; pick out an outfit to wear after you've showered, too. Between what I was wearing, and what mom brought, there is enough for three of us; so enjoy! In fact, why don't you get a shower after I do, so when Bart returns, you'll be all nice for him."

The look of gratitude in the Servant's eyes was reward many times over.

"Come on and look at what a Wulfen shower is like," she said, "it is different from what you're used to."

The shower itself was the same, as were the soaps and shampoos. The drying system was decidedly different, though.

Serena showed her the water vacuum, a long hose that went into a fixture in the wall. "You use this to literally vacuum the water out of your coat, after shaking yourself," she explained. Next was the dryer, again a hose but with a different nozzle on it. "Use this to almost dry your coat, unless you want to look like a poodle," she instructed. "The air isn't as hot as a hair dryer, so it doesn't fluff you out too much."

Then she indicated the towels. "Use these last, to finish your fur, and use a brush to set it so it lays properly," she said, indicating a shelf of brushes in sterile wrappers.

"That looks like a lot of work," Terry muttered; and Serena nodded. "That's why we only wash on odd days, unless our fur is nasty with dirt. We're fur bearing people, and caring for that fur is a major job."

She added, "In Smooth, you shower daily; and you should wash in Smooth at least once a week, to get your skin really clean."

Terry looked sad, "I don't know how to get Smooth again," she said quietly.

"You will," Serena promised, "after you learn to be fuzzy. Until then, you're actually safer this way, because you'll remember you aren't your old Smooth self anymore. This way you'll learn to be what you are a lot easier."

"The Werewolf teaching the Crossing Assistant," Terry chuckled. "That's something I was going to have to learn anyhow." "Thanks, Serena;" she said. "I think we're going to be friends, I really do."

"We already are," was Serena's reply.

Serena took her shampoo and conditioner and took them into the shower stall, then returned to the room for her brushes, where she stripped unselfconsciously and was ready to return to the bath when she saw that Terry had gotten out one of the CD's and was watching the TV. The one she was watching was about the Werewolf Birds and Bees...and Wulfen Sex practices.

Serena grinned and went to shower.

Forty-five minutes later, she strode out into the Crossing suite a new Wulf. Clean fur made a big difference in her self-image, and by now she was squeaky. She smelled pleasantly as well, and scent was a major factor in Wulfen relations.

She pulled on a pair of shorts, added a vest, moccasins and was dressed, at least to her satisfaction. She knew she had an exhibitionist streak, but enjoyed it carefully; when mom wasn't around.

Terry was gone, but there was a note for her.

"Dear Serena; she read: I've gone to give Gregory his second serving of "Soda" as he calls it. Brad is delayed at the Sheriff's office and I want to shower before he returns. If you find this note, I'll be back very soon. Gregory is to be transferred to the suite after dinner, about six or six-thirty; just so you know.

Thank you for being a friend. I need friends. ---Terry.

Serena read it and smiled. She felt a kinship with this young woman, and admired her determination. She thought for a second, then reached into the suitcase for something special, and got it out. This would make Terry's evening more...pleasurable.

It was a good thing mom didn't know about it.

She was buffing her claws when Terry returned to the room, much more cheerful. When Serena asked how Greg was she said, "He's awake, and wondering where you are."

That brought a pleasurable tingle to Serena's back and she replied, "I'll be there in a moment. I just want to wait for your shower, in case something goes wrong or you need something. Showering for us can get confusing very easily, especially if you aren't clear on what you do, and when you do it.

"Thanks," Terry replied. "I was a little worried that I'd do something wrong."

Serena handed her a bar of soap-like substance. "Try this, it's bar shampoo; and it smells heavenly. Then use the conditioner, all over, like the shampoo; not just on your head. Then call me and I'll walk you through the rest of the sequence."

Terry nodded and undressed and took the bar. She entered the bathroom, and soon Serena could hear water running.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard her friend calling, and entered the bath area.

Terry stood in the shower, dripping wet.

"Now, shake," Serena instructed. Terry wiggled and looked confused, and

Serena grinned; "Think of yourself as wet, wet, wet; and shake your head vigorously."

Terry looked puzzled, but complied; and suddenly her entire body shook vigorously, just like a wet dog. She looked dumbfounded when it was over.

Serena grinned, "That's an automatic reaction to being wet, but you have to think of yourself as wet to make it work," she explained. Terry thought for a moment and then said, "Well, that makes sense."

Next Serena had her go to the water vacuum. "This is a relatively new thing for us," she explained, "but it gets out a lot of what shaking didn't."

Terry vacuumed herself, sitting on the provided stool to do so. "Wasn't there something like this on the television for pets?" she asked. Serena nodded; "That's where we got the idea; and don't forget your butt." Terry looked surprised, but vacuumed that area as well, along with her tail.

Next was the air dryer, and Serena cautioned Terry about over-drying her fur.

"It doesn't seem very warm," the new Servant commented. "Hot air would set your fur at an angle and make you look like a poodle," Serena replied.

"Now I towel and brush?" Terry asked and Serena nodded. "Brush with your fur, not against it. It'll fluff out as it finishes drying," she advised.

Leaving Terry to brush her teeth and finish drying, Serena got out her clothing and set it up for her friend.

Terry stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and asked, "Underwear?" Serena handed her a pair of hers with the reinforced tail slit in the back. Terry quickly put them on and Serena showed her what she had in the way of clothing.

Terry chose a pair of tan slacks (again with tailslit and snap cover) and a light green blouse and quickly donned them. Looking in the mirror (there was a full length one on the wall) she gasped, "This is wonderful! Bart will love it!"

Serena handed her a pair of moccasins (her spares) and after a little coaching, Terry was wearing them. Fortunately, they were of a size. Finally, Serena shared her treasure, a tiny bottle of something that made Terry gasp as she sniffed it.

"What is it?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Amber-Musk, in a special base. You apply a tiny bit at the back of your ears," Serena explained. "You've seen us 'kiss' by rubbing cheeks. That puts Bart's nose right where he can smell it." Then she grinned.

Terry took a tiny bit on a clawtip and applied it where Serena had suggested.

She looked in the mirror again, "This is so wonderful," she said.

"How do I look?" she asked, hope in her voice.

"Bart's gonna die," Serena promised.

They both grinned. Bart was doomed.

Greg was watching television when an apparition slid into his room at the hospital. It looked like Serena but this was a different Werewolf entirely. This was beauty and grace in a vest and shorts.

"You're beautiful," he gasped. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"No, you are," he insisted. She took his hand and held it to her cheek rubbing the fur against it, savoring his scent.

"I love you, Greg" she whispered throatily. "I hate having to wait, but this gives us time to talk...about us."

"Okay," Greg replied as his mate pulled up a chair and sat.

"First," she said, "I need to apologize about the way I treated you in high school--No; wait, I need to do this," she said as he tried to speak.

"I was bedazzled by Jody, like all the others. I never thought about how you had been there for me ever since tenth grade. You were so dependable, so sure; and I craved someone spectacular; like Jody. Well, I got spectacular; but that was all I got. Then the twins were making me feel like a princess times two, and I lapped that up as well.

"Back in college, there you were, dependable quiet Greg; but by then I realized that dependable and quiet were a lot better than spectacular, better than being a princess."

She took his hand in hers.

"When your parents died, and you left College, I was annoyed that my pizza-buddy was gone, and I missed your brushing; I really did. But I didn't miss you, because you were SmoothKin, not Wulfen. I let our physical differences blind me to what I really felt. You were Smooth, not mate material. I was so stupid there."

She raised her hand as Greg tried to interrupt again, and he subsided.

"Then Bobby came back with a Wulfen girl, Belinda. He didn't see the differences between them and neither did she. When he almost died, with Brulay's reaction, and I saw his mate in the Crossing bed with him, waiting to die as well; I began to realize that our outer shells are only that; shells. We are inside them, not outside.

"When I saw you in that upside down car, I didn't see a guy I knew who had gotten hurt--I saw my mate, dying. And I was willing to die right there with him, to bleed out and follow him wherever he went."

"I understood what Belinda was feeling, then: that we were part of a whole; and that whole shouldn't be broken, ever."

"That's why I want to ask you to marry me, Greg. In a church, with a minister, in front of everybody we know; because I don't ever want to face that big alone again, ever.

I want you with me, and me with you. We run side by side, now and forever."

"Will you do it, Greg? Marry me?"

He took her hands and held them in his, looking deeply into her gold-rimmed irises. He spoke.

"Yes, Serena; I will, and...mmmphhh" She was hugging him and pressing his face to her breast and weeping for joy. Her fur smelled of herbs and wildflowers and there was a scent that was intoxicating that he couldn't identify as well, maybe it was just her. He didn't know, he didn't care. They would be together.

The tableaux held for a few minutes, and then someone entered the room.

Terry coughed to get their attention. She was wearing a lab coat over her borrowed clothing with the badge from her old scrubs now on her breast pocket

"Time to move you Greg," she said gesturing to the wheelchair she was pushing.

He nodded and disengaged from Serena and waited as Terry lowered his bedrails. Serena was already gathering up his things and watched as her mate staggered and crawled to the edge of the bed. Remembering that he had had two broken legs, she hurried to the bedside and gently lifted him off the bed and into the wheelchair, then went back to her gathering together.

Terry stood there dumbfounded. "You--you just lifted him off the bed and into the chair," she said in an amazed voice.

Greg chuckled, and said, "She's strong. That's important in a farm girl. If the tractor busts or the mule dies, we'll just hitch her to the plow and do forty acres a day."

Serena snickered. Terry asked, "Will I get that strong?"

Serena replied, "Yes. You may be that strong now, but you'll need to train yourself to make it work right. We're a lot stronger than Smoothskins, and we're more robust as well. You'll never get sick again, probably; and if you're hurt, you'll heal faster as well. That's part of our Divine heritage, right from Haouu; Father Wolf, the god of the North Wind."

Terry stood there, her mouth working but no sound coming out. Finally, she asked, "Are you serious? I accept that Lunara is Mother-Beloved, but there's a Father Wolf as well?" Her eyes were huge and Serena took her hands and held them.

"We'll play the History CD for you," she said. "You'll be amazed at who you are now descended from, with your miraculous Crossing Over. Don't let those 'Elders' get you upset. You outrank them in divinity."

The wide-eyed Servant was pushing Greg over to the Crossing suite when Bart showed up. She looked at him with love, and he returned it. They embraced while Serena took over Greg's transport.

"Watch," she whispered to Greg as Bart "kissed" his mate wolf style and froze, eyes half closed, as he sniffed her ear.

"Whatever that is you're wearing is wonderful," he said in a husky voice. "As wonderful as you are, Terry." Then he kissed her, human style; and she responded with obvious pleasure and passion.

Greg looked up at his mate and she looked down simultaneously; and they both smiled as she continued into the Crossing suite and the queen sized bed in it.

"Okay," Greg said as he waited, "what did you give her to wear?"

"Mom brought the clothes, and my suitcase was already half packed," she replied innocently. "I just gave Terry a little bit of an Amber-Musk solid perfume to dab behind her ears." What she didn't say was that the perfume also contained a hint of a female's "heat" scent. It was below even Wulfen conscious sense, but it worked. She had ordered it from an "Adults Only" Werewolf-friendly website without her mother's knowing, for the "right guy". She had never thought that Greg would be the "right guy", or that it would be redundant as a raiser of passions.

Still, she was going to try it, one of these nights.

Greg was settled into his new bed as Bart and Terry came into the room and told the two some good news.

"Luther has scheduled me to oversee your Crossing, along with Terry as Assistant. She will be in bed with you part of the time, feeling for anything wrong. Once she's got her feet back under her, she's going to finish her training and then be tested to see just what Healing she's best with. We'll be here, and we'll be together." He was smiling already as he also said, "I'm to go out to your family's ranch, and start Terry's gait training along with yours. Then Terry will be certified as a Crossing Assistant and spend a year doing it for real. After that, we'll test for her granted special abilities, and get her trained in those."

"The best part is that we'll have our contracts here for at least five years, maybe more. We can settle down and raise a family; and we'd like to ask the both of you to be our children's Sworn Parents...that is; after Greg Massey has finished Crossing."

Serena whooped for joy and hugged both Terry and Bart, while Greg shook hands with Bart and got hugged by Terry.

Bart broke the spell by asking if he could "read" Greg, to determine his state of health and how much longer they would have to wait.

The Servant sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on Greg's chest and assumed a "listening" posture for several minutes; eyes closed and ears pointed straight ahead as he sensed his way through his patient's still healing body.

He looked surprised by what he found. "The viral healing is still going on. You are going to be perfectly ready by this time tomorrow. I want to get as much of that liquid "food" into you as I can, so we have a head start on your body's needs as you Cross." He indicated Greg's midsection, where it was obvious that he had already lost weight, "We don't want you starving as you Cross Over, do we?" he said in explanation.

"No, I don't want to starve, Serena would never forgive me of I did," Greg replied with a grin.

Bart told them, "It's about end of shift for me--and Terry, so I'll leave orders for you; and I--We will be available if anything happens." He looked at Terry and said, "Perhaps we might turn the second bedroom into a storage room?" and she blushed her ears crimson. "For a while," she replied softly, "then it will be a nursery;" and it was Bart's turn for red tinted ears.

They bid each other good night, and as Bart and Terry walked away, Greg asked; "Maybe we'll need a nursery too, some day?" and Serena hugged him. That would be later, after their degrees and after the ranch was in their keeping. Still, there would be a future for them both, and they would share it together.

The evening was a quiet one for the two of them, as they sat and talked over their lives and what their plans would be, once Crossed and mated.

Serena grew more and more at home with Greg, as of she had known him for a lifetime, rather than the few years she actually had. Greg was apparently feeling the same, as they would comment on the television shows and fill in each other's sentences.

"I wonder what it will be like, making love to you;" he said quietly. "I've dreamed about it, but now that it's barely twenty-four hours away; I'm feeling apprehensive, just a little."

Serena wore a dreamy smile as her hand slipped under the sheets and Greg nearly fainted.

"That's what I thought I heard. You have a Sheath!" she said happily.

"Okay, here's how it will go," she said, "first time, I'll be in Smoothskin, like my mate. Then, after that; I tickle you with my tail. It's traditional," she explained; inventing a tradition on the spot.

She briefly wondered if Greg had a spleen that stored red blood cells too; like the Wulfen did, as that would explain the deep crimson he was right now.

"This is going to be the longest damn night," he said through gritted teeth.

She replied, "But we'll make it. I want you, too; but I won't do anything that might endanger you--not this close to having you as my mate, my Wulfen Mate. I can wait, and so can you. That'll make it all the sweeter. Besides, there's more to this than sex. Daddy offered us a gift of completing our education, and having the ranch in our hands in less than a decade. We need to show him that we're mature enough to do that, so mom and daddy can go play. They've earned that, and we need to be able to let them have it without worrying about how we'll do."

She swallowed, "Greg, could we wait until we've finished our education and earned our degrees before we--have babies?"

He was sober and thoughtful now. "Yes," he said. "I want your children, but I want to be able to be a father to them, not a student. I'll wait if you will," he said looking deep into his mate's eyes.

She nodded, "We will, then. Running the ranch is a big job, but my parents did it with three children, so it can be done. Until then, we can...practice..." she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I can get the necessary herbs from Gold Beauty, so my heats don't 'take'. When we decide it's time, we'll just stop the herbs."

Greg nodded and yawned hugely. "That wasn't you; I'm just tired," he apologized.

"So am I, it's been a busy day for me," Serena agreed.

He looked at the clock, "I'll get another dose of stuff in a few minutes, then I'm for sleep," he decided. Serena nodded, asking; "What is that stuff, other than super food?

"It's got protein and calcium and vitamins in it," Greg said, thinking carefully; "but it's mostly sweet. I guess I'm going to get tubed up again, day after tomorrow; so at least I won't have to taste it. The soda water makes it barely drinkable, but that's all."

As if he'd spoken a magic word, an orderly knocked on the door and came in with a can, a bottle, and a glass.

"Doctor's orders," he said. "Does that soda water and stuff make that taste any better?" he asked, unconsciously repeating Greg's own comments.

Greg nodded. "It cuts she sweet and makes it a little less slimy," he said. "Want a taste?" he asked, and to his surprise both Serena and the orderly did. Looking at the can told him it was butterscotch this time. He mixed and they tasted.

Serena's reaction was similar to Terry's; "Too sweet!" she complained.

The orderly, however, commented, "Not that bad, really. Sweeter than I like, but better than this stuff usually tastes." He offered a cup full of pills, saying "Doctor said you're supposed to take these as well."

Greg looked cross-eyed at the small pile of large pills and asked, "What are these things?"

"Supplements, Vitamins, and Calcium," the orderly replied. "For your Crossing, to provide what this stuff doesn't," he said gesturing at the now empty can.

"With that much calcium, I'll be as hard as a rock," Greg quipped.

"Take your pills, honeeey," Serena said, grinning.

Greg chuckled a bit and did as requested. Once his "meal" was over, he asked, "Are you going to do this all night with the food?"

The orderly shook his head, "Nope; this is the last feeding until six, tomorrow morning. Doctor wants you to sleep. Do you want a sleeping pill?"

Greg shook his head as he yawned again.

"Then I'll be going," the man said. "Sleep well."

He left and closed the door behind him.

Serena had readied the Assistant's bed for her use and walked carefully over to Greg, in the big bed.

She seated herself and took Greg's hand in hers.

"This is the last night we sleep alone," she said, "and I want you to know that I'm counting the hours until I share our bed with you; just like you are. Sweet dreams, honey; sweet dreams."

They kissed and she rose and turned out the light, leaving only the nightlight on for navigation.

They lay down and let sleep claim them.

_ He was cold. The wind was blowing through his ice-filled fur and chilling him deeply. He knew he wasn't going to make it. Aleet-hra was safe, with their son Teron behind them in the cave he was plugging with his own body. Tiny, yes, but there was just room for two on the layer of insulating leaves that carpeted the floor. He was starting to feel warm, the "deadly warmth" that some charitable god had provided for those who were freezing to death. He would have wept, but there were no more tears left; they were frozen in his cheek-fur, those last few._

_ He would have liked to see his son grow up, really; he would have. He would have regretted the words he had said to the boy, but now there were no regrets left. He looked up at the almost invisible Sun-Child hiding away from the storm in his blanket of clouds. He looked out, over the world being changed from fall to winter by these early snow storms. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, that his mate and his son might survive. Then there was nothing..._

Greg gasped and almost awakened; then, leaving the dream behind, he went back to peaceful sleep.

_ Aleet-hra was grieving, Teron at her side; as the hunters returned with her mate's frozen body. It would be cremated under Father's directions and the ashes blessed. _

_ "Where is father going?" her son asked, watching the procession wend their way to the high place, where Stanaq's lifeless form would be given to the fire, to return as a skin of ashes and bone shards._

_ "He is going away, Teron; and I wish I could accompany him."_

_ "Could I go with you?" her son queried._

_ "No, my son; you couldn't, so I must stay here."_

_ "Will father ever come back?" The child's innocent questions were an agony for her. Her throat ached with grief unsung._

_ "No. One day I will go to him, after you have grown and taken a mate of your own and given life a new body to inhabit. Then we will be complete again, we two." _

_ "Will that be soon?" Teron looked up at her with questioning in his hazel eyes._

_ "Too soon, for you; and not soon enough for me. We must be very much closer to each other now; we are going to live in Mother's house."_

_ "Why? We have a house, and it's almost finished."_

_ "Because it takes two Wolf-People to do the work to finish it, and we are alone now."_

_ "Will I be a Wolf-Person?" Teron always marveled at his parents' coats and their ability to run after the deer and catch them._

_ Aleet-hra knelt before her son and said, " In the spring, the birds return. In the summer, the grasses dry out and we harvest them. In proper time, my child will grow fur and become a Person like his parents. Now, you are young; and Father's blessing is not yet ready in you. In the fall, the leaves turn; and in the right time, you will wear the Wolf's fur and the wolf's body, like your father did and your grandfather does." She kissed the last remaining part of Stanaq, and their mating; her son._

_ "You mean when I grow up, I'll be like you." Hope, now._

_ "Yes, Teron, you will; and you will find a wife who will bear you sons and daughters, who will ask you the same questions you ask me. And so the world will go on."_

_ She smelled the wind, and the odor of smoke on it and more; and she felt very alone and empty. Mother had promised that they would be together in this world again, and in the next as well; and that was now all she had to look toward, the reunion with her mate and life: Stanaq._

_ She took her son's hand and they walked toward the big house her Mother lived in, leaving the ruins of her life behind and moving on to whatever was next._

_ _

Serena whimpered and a tear ran down her cheek, soaking into her fur. She almost awoke, but rolled over and went back to sleep instead.

"Mister Massey_, wake up_; come on, Greg; I raided the last bottle of soda-water for you, at least wake up and drink it."

Greg woke to see Terry's white-furred face inches above his own and his eyes popped open as he awakened fully.

He sat up as she stepped back and put a hospital table across in front of him. The can said strawberry, and there was a bottle of soda and a glass on the table's surface.

"I'm sorry there isn't any ice cream, but I brought you a couple of creamers to use in its place," the young Werewolf told him as she set the two containers on his table as well.

"Thanks, Terry," Greg replied, looking around. "Where's Serena?"

Terry pointed at the bathroom. "In there. She woke up just as I came in and headed for it as soon as she was on her feet."

Greg felt an uncomfortable urge as he mixed the ingredients of his home-made "soda" in the glass. "Is she going to be in there very long?" he asked.

"Need to go yourself?" Terry asked. "Well, take these pills and drink your drink, and I'll get a urinal for you. We're still watching your electrolytes and volume." She rolled something new across the room to a cabinet, and extracted an oddly-shaped jar-like container, put it in the new something's basket and rolled it back to Greg, who was taking the pills and drinking the "soda" to wash them down. He decided he didn't like the strawberry very much.

"What's that?" he asked, and Terry looked down and grinned happily.

"This," she explained, "we borrowed from Rehabilitation. It's for people who need more mobility than a walker will provide, and don't need a wheelchair. I know it looks like a grocery cart mixed with a bicycle and a hand cart, but it works great!" She indicated a pair of bicycle-type brake handles under what looked like wheelchair handles. "These are brakes for each side, so I can lock one side when I turn. They work like bicycle brakes, if I squeeze; the wheels lock. There's a fold-up seat if I get tired, and a basket so I can carry things." She was obviously proud of her new "wheels" that gave her some stability on her new digitigrade feet.

Greg finished the drink, and looked at the urinal. At first he couldn't figure it out, until Terry explained, "Remember, you 'point' up now; this redirects the flow into the basin in the bottom."

Then it made sense. Put the thing over his sheath and let go. He tried, under his sheets, and all the urine went right in and not a drop spilled.

He handed it back to Terry, who took it; put it in the basket, and said she would return in a minute after taking samples for the laboratory.

As she left, Greg noticed she was wearing different trousers and asked her about them.

She stopped and said, "Bart got them for me last night. The store was still open and they were already altered to fit someone with a tail. I feel so pretty!" Then she turned and headed out of the room and let the door close behind her.

Serena spoke from across the room, "She is so happy. Probably just like we are."

As she walked over to Greg, he replied, "Yeah. In a way, I feel sorry for her; if just getting a couple of pairs of pants is so important to her."

"Greg," she said quietly, "It isn't what; its who. You should realize that."

Feeling mischievous, he responded, "So, if I get you a broom for a gift, you'll think it's special?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, it'll be special, all right;" she replied. "The first broom to smack a Smoothskin into orbit will be very special." Then she laughed and kissed him 'good morning' on the cheek.

She sobered quickly. "All that crap we heard yesterday, right here in town or nearby; it makes me wonder about some things."

"She's probably fromHighland," Greg mused. "That's the biggest Jewish settlement around here, and the one with biggest European group pf people."

"Huh? How'd you know that?" Serena queried.

"The market received for their kosher stores for warehousing, and I made deliveries there," Greg replied. "They have their own kosher butcher shops and get the meat sent over from Hardee's, who keep a slaughter-and-piece line for kosher purposes only. I delivered for them, too; using one of the market trucks. I had to go there, get a couple of guys; then take them over to Hardee's and get the beef or buffalo and the sheep parts. They loaded the truck; I wasn't allowed to. Then I drove them back and they unloaded the truck. I usually got a free lunch out of it, and man--kosher food is great! I may have seen Terry over there, too; now that I think about it."

"Did you see any of these 'Elders' over there?" Serena asked.

"I don't know," Greg answered. "There were some really old guys there, and some of them looked Hassidic; but none of them were fuzzy or anything, so I really don't know. Most of them had beards, anyway. Who ever heard of a Werewolf with a beard?"

"You got your soda, and I need breakfast;" Serena said. "I'll go to the cafeteria, and I'll be back as soon as possible."

She kissed Greg again and left the Crossing suite, headed for breakfast, wearing her usual 'dress-up' clothing; a vest, shorts, and moccasins.

It was there that the Deputy found her.

Deputy Sherry Danvers sat down across from Serena as she ate her usual huge breakfast and waited for Serena's mouth to be not full of something.

"Hi, Cherry," Serena said happily, "Long time no see. What's up with the law in town?"

"It isn't 'Cherry' any more," the Deputy grinned, " I have a boyfriend now."

"At long last..." Serena replied happily. "So, what brings you to my table? Nothing left to steal; this wolf eats too fast."

"You know I don't do that," Sherry replied; "not unless I want to break out in 'fuzzy'. I need you to identify somebody from the attempted kidnap."

"Sure," Serena replied. "I only saw two people really well, and I shot one of them."

"So I heard; good shot, too--you saved the taxpayers a bundle in trial fees."

The Deputy set out six pictures in front of Serena. "Choose the one you saw Deputy Nemeier shoot."

Serena looked and tapped a photo with a claw. "That one."

"You sure?"

"I didn't pick out your boyfriend, did I?"

"No, that's him."

"I know, I saw him go past yesterday when they transferred him to jail."

"Damn, that might make your identification invalid."

"Huh? I saw him get shot, and I saw him yesterday. Same guy; ugly as a sick buffalo dump."

"You have such a...concise way of describing people," Deputy Danvers commented sarcastically.

Serena snickered, then asked; "Could you do me a favor, Sherry?"

"What?"

"I need a ride into town and back real fast, sometime today," Serena said.

"I take lunch at ten o' clock. Would that do? You'd have to ride in my cruiser," the deputy said.

"Fine. I like those Cruisers you guys use; especially the special stuff," Serena grinned.

"Like the shotgun?"

"Yeah."

The deputy snickered, "Just don't fix up your car that way, that's police-only."

"Oh, Poo!" Serena mock-grumbled. "Ten o' clock then?"

"Or just after. If I'm writing a ticket, I may be a bit late," the deputy warned.

"Okay," Serena replied. "I just need to get some underwear and stuff."

Deputy Danvers stared at Serena. "The Werewolf that could give Lady Godiva competition wants knickers? Were you hit in the head, 'Rena? What's up?"

"Mom said I could wear thongs, and I want to get some before she changes her mind," Serena explained. "Plus, I'd like to get a few things for Greg...to take off of me."

"Damn, girl; I heard you were getting mated. It's Greg Massey, then?"

"Yeah," Serena replied happily. "It's Greg."

"Best wishes to the both of you then, when's he Crossing?"

"Tonight."

"Ohhh: you two are starting traditionally."

"Yeah," Serena responded happily. "Repeatedly so."

Sherry snickered, "Then I'll make sure not write any tickets, so we have the most time for you to pick things out."

Serena offered her hand, "Thanks Sherry, you're a good friend."

Sherry shook hands with Serena and stood up. "Gotta go, see you at ten, sharp!"

"I'll be there," Serena promised.

She literally pranced back to the Crossing suite, encountering Terry in the hallway and marveling at her new "wonder walker", then she saw her new clothing.

"Oooh, nice!" she said as Terry opened her lab-coat and showed her.

Terry blushed her ears pink and replied, "Bart got them for me; three complete sets of clothes. I picked them out, and he paid for them. We also got sleep-tees; mine says 'Taken' and his says 'Very Taken'. Last night we wore them..." The blush got deeper.

"That's why you were watching that CD yesterday!" Serena said. "How was it?"

Terry looked surprised; "You mean you haven't...?"

Serena was now the blushing one; "Naaah. I was told--well, I was promised that my mate would be someone really important to the People; so I saved myself; not that I'm innocent, mind you. Greg's going to be surprised at what I know."

Terry answered Serena's question; "It was the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. Bart was so gentle and patient with me... I understand what the Mating Bond does now; I lets you share everything with your loved one; it really does make 'two souls into one spirit." She wore a look of profound joy and peace that Serena envied a little.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Terry asked suddenly. "I'd like to talk a little."

"Sure," Serena replied. "I can't stay too long, but I'd like at have a little girl-talk with you."

Armed with cups of tea, Terry told Serena about something she had heard from a friend; and yes, her parents lived inHighland. As she spoke, Serena's eyes grew wider.

Five minutes later, Serena and Terry were in the Crossing suite with Greg, and both females were worried.

Greg asked, "Okay, what's got you two so upset? Serena is worried, and I've never seen her worried like she is now. What's up?"

Terry explained; "I got a call from Ariel this morning, and he said that a friend of his, Schmuel; saw our Chief Elder and some of the other Servants in the trees around the housing tract they live in, and they were doing something weird. Really weird."

"They had a chicken in a cage, and the Chief Elder gestured at the chicken and said something inaudible, and the chicken disappeared into a pile of dust. Then they brought out a dog; I think it must have been one of the strays that live in the undeveloped area aroundHighland, and he did the same thing; and the dog turned into a pile of what looked like ashes.

"He called me to warn me, because he heard my name being discussed, and since you seem to know about the Kabala, I'm asking you."

Greg's eyes grew wide and he paled at this revelation. "Call Luther," he said; "we need to know if this is a Servant's ability or if it's something else."

Luther was in the room within five minutes after Terry had called.

"Hello, Greg," he said; "Terry says there's something you need to ask me about Servants. What is it?" The Servant's eyes were curious.

Greg asked him, "Is the invocation of 'Holocaust' a Servant's ability?"

"What makes you ask that?" he queried in a cautious voice. The curiosity was gone, replaced with concern and worry.

"Terry, tell Luther what you were told," Greg requested. She did.

Luther went to one of the chairs in the room and sat, a worried look on his face, his ears down and flat. Steepling his fingers, he said; "There are stories about the Warrior being able to do that; to 'burn from within' and leave only ashes. There are also legends about a type of Servant called a 'Guardian' with those abilities as well. There haven't been any 'Guardians' in centuries; possibly because they stayed behind in Europeduring the Scattering to guide the last evacuees to the New World. Now, some Councils use the term for their internal Wulfen security people, but it's a name, only that."

"I can assure you that these misguided Werewolves are not Guardians," he said quietly. "As to what they might be doing, I have no idea."

Greg spoke up. "I may have an idea. I told you I studied the Kabala (Cabala) as part of my gaming; because my character was a Cabalistic Mage. There is a Cabalistic act that can do this; you either invoke one of Yehovah's names that is destructive, or you call upon one of the 'warrior angels' and indicate what impure thing you want destroyed; and it is, by means of the 'All-Consuming Fire' or Holocaust."

He shuddered, "I thought all that stuff was just legends; folk stories. Now, unless there is another explanation; it isn't. It's real," he said in a bleak voice.

"Greg," Luther commented, "to most people, we were legends and stories before the Day came. Even now, some people still refuse to believe actually exist, even when they see us in our fur standing next to them. So, don't discount stories; they might be all we have to guide us."

"Well, I'm not going to be afraid," Terry said. "They wouldn't do anything to a living being, it goes against all they preach."

"Maybe," she muttered, " Schmuel was mistaken, or saw them trying a stage-magic trick to impress their faithful. I don't believe that even Chief Elder Mordecai Weiss would do something like that, even if he is a cranky old man. He was the one who sang over me, and do you know what happened? Nothing! So, I'm not going to take this all that seriously. I have my mate in Bart, and that's real and that's enough."

Serena took her friend's hand and said, "Yeah, that's enough," even as she was looking worriedly into her own mate's eyes.

Terry looked at the wall clock and said, "Time for another soda, Greg. What flavor do you want?"

"What I don't want is strawberry. Anything else is okay, and chocolate would be best," came his reply, and she left for the cafeteria.

"If you hear anything else, let me know," Luther requested. "I need to do some research on this, to see if there are any more records of unusual Servant abilities. I tend to agree with Terry on this, anyway; as invoking the Holocaust was always a last-ditch defense." He left the room, although he first eased the mental states of Serena and Gregory. He did not want this to dilute the sacred ecstasy that they would experience when they came together to commence the sacrament of Crossing again. That moment in life was too special to be marred by fear or concern on the part of either one of them.

In the cafeteria, he eased his new Servant's mind as well. She had enough on her plate as it was; having Crossed instantaneously, at the Goddess's will; like in the old days. She was her mate's other half, and that was the most important thing as their Bond grew into maturity, not some outlandish fears of dark magic.

He knew magic was real enough, though; even if there were very few users of it anymore. Perhaps that was for the best, since power like that could corrupt even a saint; given enough time.

"I was worried there," Serena commented as Greg sat in the bed, brushing her.

"Me, too;" her mate replied, "fortunately it turned into a lot less that I was afraid it might have. Still, those 'Elders' sound like first class creeps."

"They might be, but they are the Elders of a religion we respect. They're just classic 'holier-than-thous' with attitude," she summarized.

Terry came in and said "Oops, did I interrupt something?" as she saw Serena stretched out and Greg brushing her legs. Her ears pinked.

Serena shook he head. "Doesn't Bart do this?" she asked, curiously.

"Well, yes..." the new Servant blushed her ears pink again.

"Serena is a brush-slut," Greg chuckled. "Anything for a good brushing she doesn't have to do herself."

"Wait'll you're fuzzy," she said menacingly, "and I'll show you what a good brushing feels like. You'll be a bigger slut than I am."

Terry was laughing now, at the humor she heard. It felt so good to laugh.

"Here," she said, placing the can, glass and two plastic cups on Greg's table and sliding it over to him. "Make your drink and take your pills," she mock-ordered, going to the Assistant's desk and sitting down and starting to fill out forms.

Serena slid around and looked at the table, now across Greg's legs. He looked in the glass and said "Chocolate ice cream! Neat!" and started mixing the soda in the cup and the drink in the can with the ice cream in the glass.

He read the label, "Mocha this time. This ought to taste good," he muttered as he made his soda again.

Serena looked at her watch and stood up. "Gotta go with somebody to get something," she said; kissing Greg. "I'll be back, and don't you dare brush anybody while I'm gone," she said with mock seriousness.

Greg nodded and drank his drink. It really didn't taste too bad this time. He resolved to ask for Mocha in the future; it was less sweet.

"What are you doing?'" he asked Terry, who was still at the desk.

"Pre-filling out forms," she replied. "Since the Day, you wouldn't believe how much extra paperwork has just magically appeared, and as Assistant, I'm responsible for all of it, while monitoring your Crossing at the same time."

"Did you say you'd be in bed with me?" Greg queried.

Terry's ears went pink again. "It's different, now that I'm fuzzy; but yes: I'll be right beside you, or beside your mate; watching you. As a Crosser, I'll take what I've learned and mix it with my experiences as I Crossed--although I don't have any of those, and watch for the least sign that the Crossing isn't going right. I will literally be responsible for your life as you 'make the dangerous Crossing' and Bart isn't here. We'll take shifts, sleeping in the Assistant's bed so both if us will be available if anything goes wrong, or even tries to."

"Wow," Greg said as he thought about what was involved. "No wonder that Lifestyle Crossings are so expensive. There are two trained people involved constantly."

"It can be even more than that. The Board of Directors is considering building aCrossingCenterhere in 'Wolf Bend, theWerewolfCity'. Then someone like Bart would be in charge of four or five Crossers and Assistants, all at the same time, and there'd be a clerk doing what I'm doing right now."

"It'd be better, since that would mean that we were being accepted and admired by the public, but it'd be worse, too; since the specialness of Crossing would be somewhat commercialized.

"Right now, the State and the Fed are minimally involved, because it's still considered a religious function. Once we go for wholesale Crossings, that's out the window and we get regulated."

She sighed, "I still don't know which is better, but however it works out is how it works out. Still, having a clerk would be nice."

She looked at Greg and asked, "Could we watch one of those history CD's? I'd like to learn more about me and my new people."

Greg nodded, curious as well.

Serena made the cafeteria just in time, seeing Sherry coming in the other doors and hurrying to meet with her.

"C'mon, girl; let's go;" the Deputy said. "I want some lunch, and I want to watch you try on the 'trash'. She grinned as she started the engine.

Serena grinned back, as she slid into the passenger seat of the Sheriff's cruiser. "I want some legit' stuff too," she replied defensively. "Mom said I could get thongs, because that S.O.B. with the gun used my undies as a target." She snickered, "I didn't tell her that the hole was from where they caught on a branch. Mama didn't raise up no fools, here."

"Girl, you are just plain sassy!" the deputy laughed.

Serena laughed back, "Damn right;" as they pulled out and headed for the commercial center of town.

Sherry called in "lunch" and was granted it by the dispatcher after she had parked and they were getting out of her Sheriff's cruiser.

"We have an hour; and I need food, so where are you going?" she asked Serena.

"Nicole's," Serena replied. "They stock some of the best things in town."

"Yeah, if you're a stripper," Sherry admitted. "Be careful now, you know Greg is a quiet type." That word meant that Greg was..."inexperienced". "You don't want him to pop his cork, now," she warned seriously.

"Oh, yes I do," Serena replied happily. "Just when I'm ready to catch it."

They both laughed, and went into a fast-food burger stand.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, still laughing. "How you can eat so many onion-rings is beyond me," Sherry admitted.

"Big mouth," Serena said, pointing at her muzzle. "Besides, they make them good here."

"I know," Sherry replied, "I had some of yours."

Serena stopped dead. "You actually stole some of my food?" she asked in amazement. "Why you wolf!" she exclaimed, "I thought you were afraid of getting fuzzy?"

Seriously, Sherry said, "Actually, I'm considering it; along with my boyfriend. Since you guys came out, we law-dogs don't have to stay Smoothskin now. We can get fuzzy and not blow the secret. There isn't one, anymore."

Serena gripped Sherry's arm. "If you do, I want the donation. You and I would be two bitches to reckon with, then."

"You're serious," Sherry said quietly, surprised. "I'd be honored to have you as my donor," she declared in all seriousness.

"After what we managed to do in high school, there isn't anyone I'd be happier to help Cross Over," Serena replied; "other than my mate, Greg; and--Sherry: we're Bonding, Greg and I."

That was all she got out before the deputy was hugging her and rubbing her cheek with her own. "Good for you two. It looks like fairy-tales can come true, here in Wolf Bend," Sherry said happily.

Then she got serious. "Here's Nicole's. Let's go drive our guys crazy with lust." Serena nodded, "Oh, yes; by all means, let's."

They entered.

Fifty minutes later, Serena was walking into the Hospital again; headed for the Crossing suite. She had bought two dozen thongs that missed being g-strings by an extra three-eighth's inch width of elastic, altered for a tail. She had bought a set, a gold trimmed Baby-Doll top with matching gold lame g-string, and a peignoir (it was too expensive to be a nightgown) that was held together in front by one clasp just under her breasts, and three lacy 'why bother' bras.

She was armed and armored for tonight, and many nights to come.

The door opened to reveal Greg and Terry watching a history CD about the earliest legends of her people. She'd seen it before; but now, something stopped her. It was the story of Aleet-hra and Stanaq. Quietly, she set her bags down and settled on the bed to watch. It was old, with drawings instead of actors; and the artist was quite good.

When the scene of Aleet-hra and Teron came up on the screen, watching Stanaq's body being carried away to be cremated; an ache of loneliness seized her and her hand sought Greg's and found it. Just touching his hand brought her to tears of happiness: it wasn't going to happen that way again! She reflexively took her mate in her arms and they both embraced tightly, as if to ward off some chill.

Terry didn't seem to notice, wrapped up in the history of her new people.

Later, when the disk was finished, Terry said "wow" in a subdued voice and turned to see Greg and Serena still locked together.

"Ohhh, I'm sorry," she began, but Serena shushed her. "We're just romantics," she explained, "big fuzzy-wussy-romantics."

Terry grew misty-eyed and then glanced at the clock and "eeep'ed" saying, "I need to get Greg his next meal. I'll be right back?" she said, phrasing it as a question.

"Absolutely," Greg replied, "and could you please get me another mocha? That was the best tasting of the lot."

Terry nodded and left.

"That was quite a story," Serena began.

"It isn't something that can happen now, though," Greg replied quietly.

"No, it isn't; is it?" Serena agreed, "not a chance."

She got up and reset the television to the local news channel for thenoonnews.

Terry returned with Bart, who had news of his own.

"First, your parents are going to be here in about an hour; just a bit of warning there, so you don't get embarrassed or anything. Then, if my check on Greg Massey reads the way I think it will; you two can restart the Crossing after they leave," he said to their appreciative ears.

"Just let us know," he requested, "so we don't interrupt anything, okay?"

They both nodded and he made contact with Greg's chest again and sat "listening" for almost six minutes.

He stood and turned to face Serena and Greg and smiled, saying; "It's on. You are go for restart," while he grinned happily. Reaching into a pocket, he brought out a hotel "Do not disturb" knob hanger and put on Greg's bedside table.

Terry let Greg mix his soda and take his pills, then took the remainders, wiggling her eyebrows as she left, closing the door behind her.

Greg sat staring for a second. "That was my last meal," he said, "my last meal as a Smoothskin."

Serena kissed him and he reciprocated, not holding back in the least.

When they broke for air, he gasped "Wow!" then, "You've been eating Onion Rings!" he said accusingly.

Serena held up her hands in surrender; "Guilty--but only two plates, I swear!"

"Does that mean I can eat them once I'm Crossed?" he queried.

"Oh, you'll be able to eat all sorts of things," she replied; "just not garlic."

"Because it's bad for us?" he asked, and she replied, "Well, yeah; and it stays on your breath forever."

Harry and Marina knocked and entered the Crossing suite with a few gifts for the new couple.

Greg and Serena were watching a history disk about the Scattering, but it was shut off once the Wolfe's had entered; Harry with a suitcase.

"Hi, baby," Harry said, hugging Serena, while her mother waited her turn.

Harry greeted Greg with a handshake and a hug, then said "We brought you something you'll probably have use for in a couple of days."

With those words, he opened the suitcase and offered Greg some odd-looking pants . There were a selection of Tee-shirts, a vest, and two pair of moccasins as well.

"The trousers were for Bobby, but he had some of his own to wear. They are adaptable to several sizes and leg lengths and look good on a Wulf, and they have built in suspenders. The Tee-shirts will fit most of us, unless you're tall like me. The moccasins are adjustable, sorta; and they'll give you something to wear on your feet."

"Mind you," Harry said; "these are for after your Crossing's completed. I don't

imagine you'll be wearing much during the Crossing process."

Serena was showing her thongs to her mother who was disapproving, to say the least. She was measuring the elastics against a thumb-claw and muttering to herself.

"When I wore these, we called them G-Strings, and no decent wulfen girl would be caught dead wearing them," she muttered under her breath.

Serena looked up and asked, "You wore these?" Her mother nodded imperceptibly. "Now, if you could hear that, why couldn't you hear me calling you to do the dishes, hmmmm?" she wondered.

Serena ducked her head and offered, "Background noise?" Her mother was not amused.

"Bad echoes?" Serena kept offering suggestions as to "why" until her mother reached up and clamped her muzzle closed.

"Don't suffocate your daughter; dear," Harry requested.

"You've heard of Gold Beauty, the Puman, haven't you?" Marinaasked Greg after releasing her daughter's muzzle. Greg nodded; he'd heard, but never seen the reclusive Were-Pumas living on the reservation near theWolfCreek ranch.

"She came over this morning and gave you and Serena these," she said, opening her purse and handing them their gifts from the Puman Shamaness.

"These" were two matching neck-thongs, with two horn plaques on either side of a piece of amber with a design deep inside the fossilized tree resin. The design was of two intersecting circles, side by side like a sideways "eight" with the circles interlacing each other. Greg gasped at the beauty of the things, and Serena gasped at the meaning they conveyed; two lives forever linked, separating and finding each other again. Not incidentally, it somewhat resembled an "infinity" symbol.

"Wow" came from two throats at almost the same time. They exchanged neck-thongs and Greg tied Serena's around her neck where it fit perfectly in the hollow of her throat. She tied Greg's around his neck, and it hung a bit low, but "it'll fit better once you've Crossed Over, Greg; our necks are bigger around."

"How would she know?" Greg asked, and none of the Wulfen would answer him, other than saying, he'd find out when he met her. He got the feeling that they held Gold Beauty in very high regard, mixed with outright awe.

Harry looked at his watch and suggested that it might be time for he and his mate to leave. "We're going to the bakery, and we want to get the bread while it's still fresh," was the excuse he gave. He winked at the two, and they both blushed.

He gave Greg a hug that almost squashed the air out of him and shook his hand again, welcoming him to the family; while Serena and her mother had a surprisingly teary leave-taking. Marinarealized that her 'baby' was now another Wulf's mate, and Serena realized her childhood was effectively over.

ThenMarinawas hugging him as tightly as her mate had, and he received a surprise kiss from his mother-in-law; or in Wulfen terms, mate-mother. She whispered a blessing and then Harry and his mate were leaving the room.

And the door closed.

It was time. Greg spoke first; "Uhh, Serena, I'd like to take a shower first, before we..." Serena cuddled closer and asked, "Want some company?"

* * * * *

Later, as he held his reverted mate in his arms, after their first bout of love- making, he was humbled at the sense of completion he had felt. Her skin was damp from their exertions and her breathing in his ear was the most peaceful sound he'd ever heard.

Then he felt something happening, as her body began to change, to shift as he held her until when she raised her head, he was looking at a wolf's face with love in her eyes. The wolf smiled at him.

"Shall we inoculate you again?" she asked in a playful tone.

"Yeah," he replied, "gotta be sure we're well inoculated, don't we?"

That got him a lick on his nose, and a tickle with her tail.

"Am I better than a transfusion?" she inquired, cheekily.

"Oh, exponentially," he said, "exponentially."

Eventually, their passions spent in totality, they slept.

Terry knocked on the door at six in the morning, and received no answer. Opening the door a crack, she looked in.

In shock, she let the door close again and on wobbly feet ran to the nurses' station and called Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins.

He looked and let the door shut on its own again and called Luther.

Luther called Serena's parents.

Greg finally awakened to see a werewolf's head on the pillow; her long, furred body stretched the length of the bed.

He glanced at his own form and was shocked. He raised a hand, his; only it was furred and his fingers were Wulfen fingers, not human ones. He sat up and there was something in his vision that pulled his eyes into a cross-eyed position.

Touching it revealed it was his nose. He had Crossed over.

He turned on the table light and whispered loudly, "Serena! Serena! Wake up!

"Hunh? Whaaa? Greg? What is it? What time is it?"

"Serena, roll over carefully; something's happened to me."

"What happen...Greg! YOUV'E CROSSED!" Her shriek went through his ears like a red-hot ice-pick, making him cringe; and then she was all over him.

Her eyes were enormous as she stared at Gregory Massey, Werewolf. She was laughing, crying, touching and holding and then she kissed him.

That was like three cups of coffee and an ice-cold needle shower. He was awake now, more than awake.

She saw a Werewolf in several shades of gray, from light to charcoal; with a wide ruff, almost a mane around his neck and shoulders; with hints of spots along his flanks.

Stanaq looked at his mate, Aleet-hra; and rejoiced. Aleet-hra beheld Stanaq, and was in incredible joy. They were together again as Mother had promised.

Greg saw Serena almost faint with happiness, a happiness that he shared through the sacred Bond. He now knew why it was a Wulfen Sacrament. It blended two souls indisputably into one spirit.

Carefully he sat up and pressed the "call" button.

Terry almost stumbled through the doorway, her jaw hanging wide open. She pushed her little cart-thing up to the bed and asked in a quavering voice, "Is that you, Greg?"

Dumbly, he nodded; while his mate rejoiced.

"He did it, Terry; he Crossed in one night," Serena continued rejoicing.

Terry flipped the seat on her cart-thing down and sat, saying "Wow."

Healing Servant Bart came through the door with Luther; both Servants were walking very carefully as they approached Greg.

"How are you, Greg," Luther asked carefully.

Looking embarrassed, Greg replied, "I gotta pee; really bad, that's how I am."

That simple statement broke the tension, and they all started laughing; even though Greg really did need to pee, and badly.

Serena helped Greg up and guided him to the bathroom as the others tried to compose themselves.

Suddenly, Terry gasped, "He's going to pee? He doesn't know..."

A shriek sounded from the bathroom and both Servants and one Assistant followed the sound to the restroom, yanked open the door;

And revealed two wet and very embarrassed Werewolves. Greg was scarlet-eared in embarrassment, and was in the process of trying to lift one foot out of a wet area when he tumbled into his mate and they both fell flat on the floor. A semi-squashed voice called out, "I'm okay."

Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins looked around the room and muttered, "If I had a nickel for every time this has happened..."

Terry was trying to help Greg get up when her footing failed and she sat down on Serena, who "oof'ed" and then "aaak'ed" when Greg followed Terry down to land on top of his mate as well.

"I don't do triples," Serena grumbled as she raised her head and looked around herself and the two bodies on top of her.

Terry was near tears as she tried to apologize and help both of them up, only to fall again.

Bart stepped up and directed, "Okay, all three of you into the shower and wash each other off. Nobody's hurt, and if I were doing my job properly, this would never have happened."

Terry whimpered, I--I'm sorry, Bart," and Bart just bent and kissed her, then started helping people into the shower while Luther called housekeeping for a fast cleanup.

Once in the actual shower, they all took advantage of the handrails on the walls and took turns spraying each other off. Terry stripped out of the paper scrubs she was wearing since she was at last officially on duty and deposited them in the trash can by the shower entrance, then stepped back in.

As Terry was soaping Serena's back while Serena soaped Greg's back while Greg was soaping her back, she asked; "Is what I think happened what happened?"

Greg replied, "Well, I was trying to bend over to get things into the bowl, and then Serena goosed me, which made me to fall forward and hit my nose on the toilet seat, and that made me to try to stand up and then my whatsis came out of the sheath, and I lost control and let go, getting us all wet."

Serena objected, " Didn't goose you, I was just trying to help get your sheath pointed farther down when you lost your balance and fell."

Terry muttered, "Yep, that's what I thought happened," and accepted the shower head from Greg and started rinsing off Serena.

Eventually, Terry got out and dried herself quickly, then put on the fresh scrubs that somebody had left for her and wobbled out.

Greg and Serena took a bit longer, Serena having to show Greg how to use the water-vacuum, the dryer, and then the towels and the brush. Finally, attired in the hospital gowns left for them, they gingerly made their way back out into the Crossing suite, just as Terry finished explaining what had happened to them all in the bathroom to Harry and Marina.

Serena made eye contact with her mother, who immediately started to laugh uproariously. Harry was chuckling as well, but he managed to get up and assist the two now cleaned-up wulfen to their Crossing bed; while Serena glared at her mother, ears flat to her skull and horizontal.

Luther was sitting at the Assistant's desk, while Healing Servant Bartholomew leaned against the wall. When he saw Greg he apologized, saying; "This happens with almost every guy the I've Crossed. They don't quite get the fact that they are pointers now, not danglers; and the process of urination has to be addressed differently. Your sudden Crossing got all of us jangled somewhat, so I didn't take you into the john and show you how to do it. I'm sorry I forgot to do that."

"How do you do it?" Greg asked, somewhat puzzled.

"You sit, then bend forward and pull the sheath down into the bowl, and then let go. Then the stream goes right where it belongs, into the toilet bowl," the Servant explained.

Greg muttered, "Well I got the 'let go' part right, anyway."

Harry gave his new Wulfen son a looking over, lifting the back of his gown to see his fur. "Spots! That's an old_, old,_ set of markings; and your ruff may be wider than mine. Gregory, you may just be an ancient line of Werewolf, now living in the present. Anyway, you're a damned good-looking man."

Rubbing his jaw, he added, "You'll fit right in, too. The last set of spots in this neck of the woods was Founder Damien Wolfe, one of the founding fathers of Wolf Bend and the Wulf that staked out the original Wolf Creek Ranch. You're already part of the family."

He grinned and shook Greg's hand, then returned to his mate.

Serena got up and went to speak with her mother, while Harry got up again and settled beside Greg.

"Would you take that gown off and let us see just what sort of Wulf you've Crossed as?" he asked.

Greg took his gown off and let Harry and the others look. A fully-clothed Smoothskin had more exposed skin than he did, nude. His fur was a totally-covering garment that made other clothing into a matter of utility, rather than necessity.

Harry saw a muscular Werewolf of about six feet-two inches in height, with a charcoal gray head, cape, and sleeves (the back and outer limb areas). His belly and the inside of his limbs were a light smoky gray, along with his inner ears, chin and throat.

There were light areas along his ribs that resembled spots, although they were barely visible. His cheeks started out smoke gray and darkened as they met his cape and hood. There were faint spots there, too. His ruff was charcoal at the top of his head, and shaded to lighter gray as it neared his chest and shoulders. His hands and feet had black pads and gray claws, and his tail carried his cape and belly colors along its length, where an almost white tip joined them.

His eyes were hazel with a gold ring around the iris, like his mate's brown/gold ones, and he had "spectacles" of medium gray over and around his eyes, which shaded darker as they met his cheeks.

Serena glanced over at him and for the first time saw him in good light, dry, and not moving or holding on to her. She whistled a classic "wolf" whistle, and Greg smiled and winked back.

Greg saw his mate now through wolf eyes and was struck by her beauty. Absolutely gorgeous, her fur was the color of fallen leaves and patterned like that was as well. Her belly was very light tan, and those colors carried all over her body to her tail. There were patches of al most-white in her inner ears, and she had spots of tan around her "eyebrow whiskers" or vibrissae. Her nose was light brown, and her eyes were brown with the Wulfen gold rings around the irises.

He fell in love all over again.

There was one constant, though; everyone looked slightly different, colors weren't as deep or as saturated as he remembered. He asked Servant Bart about that.

"Your eyes changed when you did," the Servant replied. "You lost color saturation and gained night vision in exchange, as some of your cones became rods; and rods only see in black and white."

"So the cones see colors and rods see in gray-tones?" he asked.

"Exactly," the Servant replied. "Cones are less light sensitive than rods; and the cones that became rods as you Crossed are more sensitive than your original rods. A full-moon night will look like a moderately overcast day to you now. That's why we meet and are so active then, we can see better. We can also see a little way into the infra-red as well, so residual heat will show up as light areas. We are superbly adapted to the night; and it's a good thing we are, because before the Day, that was the only time we were really free to be ourselves and not hide in our Smoothskin forms."

For the first time, the totality of his change settled on his shoulders and a great excitement grew within him. In a flash Serena was beside him and leaning against him while her arm circled around his waist, drawing them closer together.

"We are together again Stanaq, and we have many years together this time," Aleet-hra murmured.

_ "I will try not to be so stern with our children this time, beloved; and this time I will be by you always, not out hunting to fill our bellies," Stanaq replied, settling against his re-born mate._

Greg leaned against Serena, basking in her scent and warmth, as she rested her head against his, their ears brushing. Serena's hand stole across his inner thigh, and he took it and held it.

"Two miraculous Crossings in as many days," Luther said, wondering; "what will happen next?"

That stirred a memory in Serena, and she straightened up and turned to face the Servant.

"I remember when we sang, and I was with Mother, that She said She was stopping the Crossing, and it would be complete when we restarted it. I guess She meant just that," she commented.

"Apparently so," the Servant replied. "And it's odd, that ever since that time, she's referred to Mother-Beloved as just 'Mother'. No longer any doubt of who she was..." the Servant thought to himself.

He said, "I've taken the liberty of ordering a First Meal for Greg and breakfast for the rest of us. It should be here any time. Let's get another table or two and some chairs, and get ready for it."

Servant Bartholomew added, "Greg needs to have his long bone x-rays to determine his calcination. He may be all right, that's what happens in Crossings of this type; but the Warrior had to take extra calcium for nearly a week because his bones were still brittle. So, after breakfast, I've got the x-rays and density tests set up for him. He might actually go home today, if everything is all right."

Luther glanced at his watch. "I need to call his aunt, in case she wants to see him. If so, I'll go get her and bring her here, as well as take her home later. She is certainly going to be surprised.

Marinaspoke up, "You won't need to take her home. We took two cars coming in; and one of them is Serena's VUE. She can drive that back home by herself."

"Thanks, Mom," Serena said, "that saves me a trip to town to do that, although I'll still have to take Greg to the Credit Union and put him on my account."

That puzzled Greg, but he tried to cover it by saying something intelligent; "Huh?" was what he managed.

"I have my money--no, that's our money now; at the Agricultural Credit Union. I want to put you on my account. You're my mate, so its as much yours as mine, now."

Slightly embarrassed, Greg replied, "But you don't have to..."

Serena looked deeply into her mate's eyes. "Yes, I do," she said. "We run together, we hunt together, we share our kill together: we're Mated. That's how it is."

Recognizing the "don't argue" phrase, Greg nodded in agreement.

In the meantime, a table had been brought in and some chairs as well, and they were settled around it. Moments later, breakfast arrived.

There were entrees on platters, and smaller platters served as plates. Greg got a cafeteria tray full of food, mostly meat; along with a grain he recognized as buckwheat and cornbread.

Terry had brought him a small cup of pills and set them beside his tray. Coffee was served, and a taste told him it was de-caf. He asked why.

Harry answered, as Serena's mouth was full of food.

"We are much more sensitive to caffeine than Smoothskins are," he explained, "and the little bit of caffeine left in de-caf affects us the same way that regular caffeine affects Smooths. Regular coffee is too strong for us, you wouldn't sleep for a week after just one cup."

Greg's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Terry advised, "Take your pills, you'll need them."

"What are they?" he asked.

"A fiber-based laxative and a weak stimulant one as well, and there's a vitamin and a mineral pill to replace what you used up Crossing. There is a calcium pill as well, and a high-lipid fish-oil capsule," she replied.

"I need a laxative?" he asked.

"After all that low-residue liquid you drank, yes you do," Healer Bart replied. "Unless you like being constipated..."

Quickly, the pills vanished down Greg's new mouth.

He looked at the pile of food before him. "I can't eat all that," he muttered.

"Oh yes you can," Serena replied, her mouth emptied now, as she stole a strip of bacon from his plate. "Just start eating." She nibbled her prize.

He had special utensils with big handles, which he soon realized were necessary; as he felt like he was wearing thick gloves on his hands.

In less time than he thought possible, the tray was empty, save for bones. He wondered why they had included bones in his meal, until Serena asked, "Aren't you going to eat those? You should, you know."

She then proceeded to take one of the bones and start chewing on it crunching it between her teeth until it was gone.

Aware that the rest of the Wulfen had done the same, he tried one, a small one. Crunch! it went as he crushed it between his teeth. Then again, and again; until the tray was empty of everything. The bones had actually tasted good!

Replete, now he was about to settle back when Terry motioned to him to stand, which he did.

"Toothbrush time," the Crossing assistant said, and walked carefully toward the bathroom. He tried following, but it was so weird! It was like he was walking on tiptoe.

He made it to the door, but just barely.

He saw that Serena had stayed at the table. She had been watching his "tail".

Once inside, Terry motioned him to sit on the toilet seat lid, and he did. She got a basin and filled it with water, and set it on the counter in front of him. Then she took a plastic package of toothpaste, a two ended toothbrush, and heavy floss; and set them out before him.

"Okay," she said, "now, you're going to learn to brush your new teeth right. You won't get cavities any more, but your teeth will get yellow; and the food trapped between them will give you 'garbage breath', and we don't want that, do we?"

She then proceeded to take him step-by-step through Wulfen dental hygiene, using both ends of the toothbrush as well as the floss; making him brush until she was satisfied his teeth were clean and sparkling.

"Back in the old days, this was one of the things that would give us away, hiding in Smoothskin," she explained, "so we are very careful of our mouths and teeth, since they don't change when we do. Your teeth will stay just like they are whether you're in your natural form, which is this one; or passing in Smoothskin as one of them. We used to do speech training so our fangs didn't show, but we don't have to do that, anymore."

Then she brushed her own teeth, taking half the time he had.

He was reading his toothpaste tube and said, "Hey, this is dog toothpaste. Do we have to use this, or can we use regular?"

Terry drank and spat into the basin, and then answered, "Remember, until the Order, we had to hide; and the brushes came with the toothpaste, so we used that." She wiped her muzzle with a paper towel, and continued, "We can use any toothpaste there is for cleaning, even the organic ones that use soap. A lot of Smoothskin toothpaste will be flavored too strongly for you, though; so using natural toothpaste is best, it cleans, tastes okay, and gets your teeth white. You don't need fluoride, though; your teeth won't absorb it."

"Now, you had an accident earlier on when you tried to urinate. Do you remember the proper process? Tell me," she said gently but firmly.

"Sit, bend forward, grasp the sheath and point down, and let go. Is that right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Now for the other one," she said, "squat on the toilet seat like a dog would," she explained. "We have to do it that way, since if we sit like a Smoothskin, we'll get nasty stuff in our butt fur; but if we squat; we usually don't even need toilet paper. We stay clean."

Then she made him do it, correcting his positioning until she was satisfied. It actually felt more natural that way and he noticed the ends of the "horseshoe" were wider than normal; with places for his feet.

Next she explained sheath sanitation, necessary in a sheathed male. The turkey baster surprised him, but it made sense.

When they had returned to the Crossing suite, Serena grinned and asked if he felt better now. He shrugged, "At least I have some idea of how to keep my teeth clean," he replied.

Then she asked him, "Did you fall off?" with a snicker.

"No, I didn't. Terry showed me where to put my feet and how to stay stable. I also figured out why the toilet seats have those funny wide areas at the front. They're for our feet," he replied, and got a little cheer from his mate.

"Wonderful," she said, "now I don't have to housebreak you." They both laughed at that.

Luther had departed, as had the table and extra chairs, and Servant Bart was seated beside Terry's desk. The telephone rang, and he answered it. He smiled, and out it down.

"How'd you like to find out if you can go home today?" he asked.

Greg was all for that.

Servant Bart left the room for a moment and returned with a wheelchair, gesturing for Greg to sit in it. He did, but had to wiggle around because there was no room for his tail, which was springy.

Once seated, The Servant asked for him to open his gown a bit and then put his hand into contact with Greg's fur and flesh. He was "listening" for only a minute, and then smiled and nodded.

"We just need the x-rays," he said; "and you're done."

"You're sure?" Greg asked.

"Absolutely," the Servant replied. "It has to do with your tail."

"My what?" Greg asked, certain he had mis-heard.

"Your tail, silly," Serena replied. "The tail is the last thing that develops on a Crosser, right?" she asked the Servant. He nodded.

"The tail is the last part of the body to finish the Crossing Over. Usually, a new Crosser's tail is just like a rope hanging from their waist. In a few days or a week, it becomes mobile and springy and you can even wag it. In fact, that's one of the restrictions on new Crossers: No unescorted walking, no walking without a balance-aid, and no sex until they can wag their tail. Yours is springy and quite mobile, so I checked for bone density and it felt normal. Now we just need the hard-copy of the x-ray, and you're done."

"Wag my tail," Greg mumbled. "Not very scientific, but if it works..."

Serena bent over and whispered, "No sex either. You'd better wag your tail, or get me some rechargeable batteries." Her tone was very similar to her mother's.

For some reason that struck Greg funny, and he started laughing. Serena glared, and Harry snickered; and even Terry had her hand up to her face, covering a smile.

Twenty minutes later, Greg was looking at a computer monitor. The hospital had a digital x-ray, a gift of Bob Wolfe and his mate; and he was being instructed in what he was seeing.

"Red is good density," the x-ray technician was explaining; "and white is poor density. Your bones show you are just slightly low on density in some areas, but you're well in the normal range for a Wulf. Your long bones are as dense as most Wulfen, and denser than some; especially the older people, the retirees. You guys do get osteoporosis, but it's easier to control in you; according to the doctors. All we need now is Doctor Stevens to okay your scans, and you'll be released."

Doctor Stevens was busy, so the party went back to the Crossing suite and Greg got dressed. He held up a pair of boxer shorts and said, "You're kidding, right?" as Harry told him to put them on backwards.

Apparently not, because they went on and fit well enough, and the fly let his tail out. Next was a tee-shirt, which fit well enough in the shoulders, but billowed around his waist--his wonderfully narrow waist: which years of dieting and exercise had not given him. The pants came after the tee, and after fiddling around with the waist straps, he put them on and then turned and snapped the top-cover that opened for his tail. Next, the suspenders went over his shoulders, because as a Werewolf, he didn't have any hips to speak of. Serena's hips were slender as well, although there was a slight widening that his didn't have.

Over the Tee-shirt went the vest, loose but usable. Then, came the moccasins, sans socks, and he needed Harry's help in lacing them up. They fit his feet well enough, but fastened around his hocks; what would have been his instep/arch area were he still plantigrade with a heel...and his heels ( what remained of them) were covered with sparse fur and the remains of calluses and dry skin. He suspected they'd soften and get more fur as time passed.

He was dressed. Stepping over to the mirror, he was amazed at what he saw. Shoulders like a pair of football pads, muscular arms, a barrel of a chest, all tapering down to an almost skinny waist. The trousers made his legs look longer than they were, and his feet were slightly pointed outwards as he balanced on them. His legs would never be straight again; rather, they would always be flexed and ready to move.

A chair was brought, and he was pressed gently down in to it asMarinaplied her talents with scissors and comb and brush to make some sense of what looked like an overgrown lawn on his head.

Mother Marina asked him, "Would you like your hair short, or would you like braids on the sides in front of your ears?"

It took Greg a moment to realize that his hair had grown a lot, much more than he'd expected; and after thinking a moment, he borrowed a comb and combed his hair so he could braid the hair in front of his ears down in front of them, and then proceeded to braid that hair into one braid in front of each ear so that they reached his jawline.

Both Serena and her mother looked at him carefully, and Serena nodded. She liked them, and her mother agreed; Greg looked well with the braids contrasting the fur of his ruff.

Greg was quietly trying not to freak out: he knew nothing of braids or braiding, yet he had just made two of them in moments without a false motion on his part.

The Wulf in the mirror looked back, somehow more mature and stronger of face than he had looked minutes before. Gradually, as he calmed down, he decided he liked the wulf in the mirror, too.

He resolved to speak to Luther, though, at his first convenience.

Things were completed with rubber bands at the bases of his braids, and he took one of the laces out of the spare moccasins and turned it into a band to restrain the hair across his forehead.

The Wulf in the mirror now looked older, stronger, and a little more the barbarian than he had planned on, but he really liked the look. The look in Serena's eyes said she liked it, too. The gift from Gold Beauty now settled exactly where it belonged, just where the hollow of his throat reached his breastbone.

He wobbled out of the chair and over to the bed and sat down, his tail tight against his butt and wrapped to the right.

His new family were looking at him with approval, especially his mate. Serena turned on the television, and they watched the morning shows until Doctor Stevens came into the room with his aunt.

She looked over her nephew and passed judgment: "Gregory, you look stunning. More mature, stronger, and you still have those kind eyes. I'm glad for you and Serena; and the Sheriff has given me two warrants for almost twenty thousand dollars; which were the total of the reward for those two terrible men."

She knelt before her nephew, now Crossed and Wulfen, with a mate; and hugged and kissed him...on the cheek. There were tears in her eyes, tears of happiness for him.

He hugged his aunt back and promised, " I'll always be there for you, aunt Emma; you're the last I have of mom and dad, and you're my link to them. I'll keep track of things, and if you need anything, I'll do everything I can to get it for you. Stay well."

"We'll be over in a couple of days to pick up my stuff, so you get your apartment back; and Serena's loaning you her car, so don't be a stranger out at the ranch, ok?" There seemed to be something in his eye, right then.

Serena hugged his aunt as well, and handed her a set of keys, saying; "Mom drove the VUE in this morning, so it's ready for you to use. It's the burgundy one."

Aunt Emma hugged back and whispered a thank-you in Serena's ear.

Then Doctor Stevens handed Greg a clip-board and a pen. "Sign the highlighted lines and fill in the addresses and you're out," he said. As Greg complied, the Doctor commented, "normally, I'd say 'see you soon,' but that doesn't seem appropriate right now. So, I'll see you when I see you." Harry nodded and chuckled.

Healing Servant Collins opened the door and asked if Greg was ready to go. When Doctor Stevens nodded, Servant Collins walked over to Harry and said "We'll be out to the ranch this afternoon. Will we be in the way if we stay? We can commute..."

"Nonsense," Harry replied; "Staying out there will let you and your mate have a sort of a honeymoon, and you'll get more training time in as well. Plus, I think you'll like Serena's cooking; her mother taught her well.

"Cooking?" Serena asked warily, "Am I supposed to cook for everybody?"

"Of course not," her mother said; "You'll help me with the meals, that's all. You're going to be busy helping Greg get his feet under him...and occasionally doing some dishes."

Serena pouted to no effect, other than having Greg hug her.

The last paper was signed, and the last bit of luggage was collected. Greg was presented with a pair of "Canadian-style" crutches that clipped to his forearms for assistance in his balance.

He stood, and using the crutches for balance, began to walk out of the hospital, his mate at his side lending a hand now and then. It was odd, the way that he walked; because there was no heel strike, only smooth motion.

The world was different as well, once outside. The sun was warm, even though there was a dusting of snow on the ground. The air was a chilly thirty-seven degrees, but he was warm and comfortable in his fur.

Sounds from the highway a mile and a half away were clearly audible when he flipped his ears in that direction, and everything smelled of something; the world was a riot of scents that his nose was busy cataloging for him.

Sight was the most different, in that he still saw in colors; but they were muted colors and shadows were less dense, with more detail. He stood for a full minute, taking everything in: the trees that surrounded the hospital, the cars that rumbled by, and the sounds of the breezes in the electrical wires, while he could smell the snow and the wind brought scents of birds, animals, and people.

He just stood, his jaw dropped; wondering at the new world that Crossing had given him.

Marinaslipped up to him and commented, "Incredible, isn't it? I can't begin to imagine what this must be like for you; but for me, the whole world is whispering and singing and dancing: and all of it just for me. It's wonderful, just wonderful, the world that Mother-Beloved's gift has given us as Her wolves."

He nodded, "Yeah, it is, mom." She hugged him and rubbed cheek.

Then he stepped onward to the jeep that his new father had brought around so they could get in. He and his mate got in the back, and his mate-mother climbed into the front, and they all locked their seat belts; Greg was the most careful about this--both for him and his mate. The jeep was open and as Harry accelerated out of the parking lot, Greg decided he was going to sniff as Harry drove.

He did, all the way back to the ranch, much to his mate's annoyance.

* * * * *

Greg was on a treadmill, set up on the front porch of the ranch house. He and Serena had already moved into their new bedroom and bath, a mirror of their parents' bedroom, and on the opposite side of the house. He was still bemused at calling his mate's parents "Mom and Dad" but that was Wulfen custom and that was that.

They had barely been moved in when Healing Servant Collins and his mate Terry had arrived, driving one of the hospital pickup trucks that was loaded with exercise and rehabilitation gear.

He had watched while his mate, her father, and Healer Bart had unloaded the truck and moved everything in and around the house. There had been a set of free weights and the treadmill he was on now, as well as Terry's rolling walker and one for him, too. There was a balance pole like tightrope walkers used in the circus, several oddly shaped things with scales and dials, and three video cameras and two flat-screen monitors as well as a laptop computer with all of its bits and pieces.

Somehow, all of it had wound up where it would work and not be in the way of anyone.

The house already had a workout room with a couple of machines and a stationary bicycle. He had a "route" that took him to most of it as part of his "rehabilitation" after Crossing.

Much of it, he knew, was to let him learn about his new Wulfen body. He had been amazed to see Serena working out on the elliptical machine in nothing but one her thongs--until her mother had shown up. Then Serena had worn a tee-shirt and a set of wulfen shorts. She could lift over three hundred pounds!

Those had amazed him as well. They fit around his waist (what there was of it) and had a hole for his tail, and were held in place by two tie-strings that secured them well, but left him almost as unencumbered as he would have been unclothed. Serena had mentioned they would let them "go quad"--whatever that was.

It was easy to use the treadmill, as long as he could hold on to something for balance. Nothing to hold on to was, however, a very different story. He had already tried twice, and each time he had fallen and the machine had unceremoniously dumped him off of itself; and the way it was placed meant that he was dumped off the porch as well.

That, he thought, was deliberate. Serena had been watching the second time it had happened, and had laughed so hard she had gotten the hiccups. "Only fair," he thought.

Werewolves loved physical humor; not so difficult to comprehend when they themselves were so hard to damage...as he was coming to understand.

Now, he was "building coordination in his pedal extremities", or, learning to walk again. He had been doing this for twenty minutes, in five more minutes he would be done. Then he would stretch and cool off for five minutes, after which he would go in for a drink of water and head for the elliptical machine.

Terry came out onto the porch to stretch and get ready for her time with the treadmill. Somehow, she had managed to turn a pair of bike shorts into a pair of side-zip shorts the could pull on without getting her fur messed up and laying the wrong way. She was also wearing a short strap-tee top that matched her shorts and contrasted with her moon-white fur. The result was spectacular, and had Serena eyeing her and making calculations in her mind. Terry looked like she was wearing a coat of navy blue paint.

Time was up, and Greg slowed the machine down and stopped it so he could get off. He was panting slightly, but only comfortably warmed up.

As she began her treadmill exercise, Greg asked her how she was doing.

"Pretty good, I think; at least Bart is happy with my progress," she replied.

"I wish I could say that," Greg replied. "About the only thing I haven't done wrong is step on my tail."

"Remember, I've had a day more experience than you have," she reminded him, " and there's a point where it starts getting easier, you just have to reach that point."

He nodded at her and entered the house, going from wall to furniture to cupboard for balance; headed for the kitchen and the glass of water. Bart had specified that he was to drink at regular points of his workout, and mom had provided a pint-volume beer mug for him to use.

He was about to enter the kitchen when he overheard, "...and before we left, two of her friends called and said essentially the same thing; that this 'Chief Elder' was doing something that turned animals and objects into ashes in seconds, and was making plans to do the same to Terry if she failed this 'inspection' of his. Apparently they won't tolerate female Servants among themselves, and are prepared to do something permanent if she fails their test. Luther is worried about it, although he hasn't said anything to me on the subject..."

The talk stopped as Greg entered the room and went to the refrigerator and got out the water jug. Playing the innocent, he poured his mug of water and then refilled the jug and replaced it. He downed the cool water quickly, nodded to his family and Servant Bart, and left them to go to the workout room and the next step of his schedule of activities.

He started by working with the free weights, his mind a beehive of activity. He was seated on the weight bench doing curls when Serena came into the room, once again in a thong and a vest.

"Is there something bothering you...Ooooh! do you realize how much you're lifting?" she asked, an odd look in her eyes.

"Uhhh, no; he replied, "I didn't count the weights. It doesn't seem that heavy."

Serena was counting and adding up things, "You're curling three hundred fifty pounds," she replied, then she bent and kissed him; "My big strong mate..."

He dropped his jaw for a second, then commented, "It doesn't feel that heavy--are you sure?" he asked, setting the weight bar down.

She nodded, saying; "I counted twice, because I was so surprised. That means," she muttered, thinking; "that you will probably be able to bench-press around five hundred pounds, maybe more. We're stronger than most people think."

"Including me," Greg replied, eyes wide. "How much can you do?" he asked curiously.

"I can curl about two seventy five," she said; "press four hundred, and dead-lift four-fifty. Of course, being female, I'm not as strong as my big strong mate..." she replied, trailing her finger claws through his chest fur.

"Mmmmff," Greg 'mmmfed'; as her claws trailed lower along his belly.

"'Rena, I have to do this routine, the Servant said so," Greg said in a tight voice.

"Poo, you're no fun," she pouted. Then she gave him an arch look.

"We can wait until tonight. Then, we'll howl..."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said accusingly.

His only answer was another arch look and a kiss.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Is there a way we can go into town tomorrow?"

She thought for a moment, then replied, "Yeah, we can say you need clothes, and I want to put you on our account, and mom will probably give us a grocery list. Is this about what's got you so uptight?"

He nodded and told her about what he had overheard.

"Well that's interesting," she commented, "didn't Terry say something about it earlier?"

He nodded, "Yes, she did. We didn't take it seriously, although we did call Luther in for information."

"Or Luther didn't want us to worry," she commented. Seeing her mate's confused look, she told him, "Servants can mess with your head. That's how they kept Smooths who saw us from telling the whole world we existed, by making the memories dreamlike and unreal. They also approved people for the old Kindred, back when it was secret. They can do a lot of stuff that doesn't get talked about much, maybe because they mess with that as well; and Luther is the oldest and most capable Servant in Wolf Bend. Even Gold Beauty defers to him in purely Wulfen matters, and that is very unusual. There are stories about how he was with the first batch of settlers here; and Gran'thr Paul was his student before he was Accepted as a Servant."

She rubbed her jaw, thinking; "If Luther was concerned enough to mess with us and Terry; he's concerned, and we should be, too."

"You want to do some research on that Kabala stuff, don't you?" she declared.

"Well, yeah," he replied.

"Good," Serena decided. "You can tell me more about it, then. Terry is a friend, and I don't want her hurt." She was about to say more when her mother entered the room and started growling; "Serena Marie Wolfe, there are guests in the house! What are you doing undressed like that?"

"Talking to Greg?" she replied weakly.

Marina was now very angry with her daughter and stalked across the room and was going to slap some sense into her when Greg erupted, fangs clicking sharply together scant millimeters from her hand; deflecting it from Serena's cheek.

Everybody froze for a second, then Greg's hands were around his muzzle and he was mumbling apologies to a stunnedMarinawhile an astonished Serena looked on.

"No, Gregory," Marina apologized, "it was my fault. She is your mate, and what I was about to do was wrong, very wrong." She knelt and asked, "Will you accept my apology?" as Greg tried to sort out what had happened in his mind.

Marinacontinued, "I'm proud to see my daughter has a strong defender and protector as her mate. I'm proud to be your mate-mother, Greg."

He reached out and they hugged closely. Marinawhispered, "If she gets too ornery, tell me; I know all her weak spots," as Serena groused, "Mom!"

Serena continued, "Why can't I wear something like Terry does?"

Her mother replied, "You can, but that isn't it. Next time you're in town, get yourself some bike shorts; just don't wear underwear around the house when we have guests, that's all."

Serena grinned, "Okay," and pranced out of the room, theoretically to dress.

Marinasat on the floor and looked up at Greg and asked, "Does it seem that she agreed a little too easily to you?" One ear was cocked at an angle as she thought.

Greg nodded. "Yes, it did," he replied; then, "Tomorrow, I need to go to town for clothes, and Serena wants me on her account. Would it be all right, do you think?"

Marinanodded. "I need to get some more groceries, anyhow. Harry keeps wandering away in the market and I always forget something. I'll give you two a list at dinner, okay?"

Greg nodded and began to do his workout again, only Marinainterrupted this time, saying; "Three hundred fifty pounds to curl? Oh, my; you're going to be strong! Serena has a wonderful mate in you; you're almost as strong as Harold was at your age, and you're just starting out as a Wulf." She departed with a happy glow in her eyes as Greg continued his workout, wondering when the White Rabbit--or maybe the Red Queen--would show up.

The question of "town" was resolved at dinner when Servant Bart told them, "Terry and I need to be at the hospital tomorrow morning for a staff meeting. I hate to deprive Greg of his rehabilitation time, but we can't be here; and I'd rather not have Greg working out un-monitored."

Serena answered, "Well, Greg and I need to go into town for some clothing for him, and mom has a grocery list she wants us to get; so don't worry. Nobody will miss anything."

Harry chuckled, and warned Greg, "Don't wander off in the Grocery store; Marinadoes it regularly and we forget stuff."

"I wander off?" his mate sputtered, "Why you silly old dog, you're the one that can't keep straight where things are located. I told you to get me fifty pounds of corn meal and whole-wheat flour, and I found you in the garden section looking at fertilizer!"

"Well, they both come in fifty-pound bags, don't they?" he replied, unconcerned. "I was on my way to the bulk goods section and stopped to look at something, that's all."

Terry was smiling hard and trying not to laugh, while Greg was watching for the White Knight or maybe Alice herself.

Serena just rolled her eyes and went with the flow.

Later, as they were getting ready for bed, Greg commented "It's certainly 'interesting' living here," and Serena replied, "You mean insane, don't you?"

She continued, "Mom and Dad have always been like this. They have fun with each other this way, and it kept all of us kids sharp. Daddy pretends he's a little slow, because when he lets down the mask, he is so smart he frightens some people. Mom's the same way.

"There was a 'lot' of cattle that they bought, the first year that they had the ranch from his parents, that had hoof-and-mouth disease. They lost almost the whole herd and

because of the risk of contamination; even the meat wasn't saleable. They almost lost the ranch.

"In two years, they were back breaking even, and were making decent profits in four years. They worked almost around the clock, and Daddy had a heart attack; yet they kept up until the ranch was safe and solid enough to have their children, Martina and me; and they adopted Bobby when his parents were killed. Marty and I were supposed to be twins, but something bad happened... That's why there are just the two of us: Wulfen usually have a lot of children, but the second time Mom had trouble and only I was born, they decided to not try for any more kids.

"They have the Bond, too; so the pain mom was going through, dad was experiencing as well. They care for everyone on the property; and when one of the worker's families get sick, we pay their hospital bills. They even see to home-schooling the ones who can't go to the public schools. They even endowed the Hospital wing we were in, as a memorial to the Wolfes who have been a part of Wolf Bend since Founder Damien started a town where we and our smooth brothers and sisters could live together without the fear that was everywhere else.

"They're crazy, but they love and care about everyone they can reach; because that's what Mother said we should do; and they're doing it.

Serena sighed, "Yeah, they're crazy sometimes, but it's a good crazy; and your mate is a little crazy that way, too, Greg."

He took her in his arms and replied, "Yeah; it's a wonderful crazy..."

Later, Terry and Bart heard a paired howling echoing through the house. She kissed him and soon there was more howling coming forth through the building.

Harry's ear twitched as he heard the second set of joy-songs and he rolled toward his mate and commented, "Looks like there's love in the air, hon."

"Sounds like; you mean, silly old dog," she replied sleepily. Then, "Harry, young Greg almost took my hand off this afternoon, protecting Serena. That's a big relief to me, because since he's a Crosser, I didn't know if he'd protect her reflexively or not. He will; and that's a load off my mind."

"He's a good man, through and through," Harry said, "and that coat of his is just like Founder Damien's was. I hope he doesn't have the tragedy that Damien faced, though."

"You mean the fire? After all his work and planning for the town and the ranch, his mate burned to death in a fire, and he took the Reunion cup and never saw what he had made; or how it thrived. Poor Wulf, at least Mother-Beloved re-united him with his mate in Her place of peace, where they're together today."

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. Maybe they're back."

"Do you think...? Greg and our daughter?"

"He's got the same coat exactly, just like it's described in the family history; and Serena has Sally's 'coat of fallen leaves'. If it's them, that'd be nice; since they'll get the chance to enjoy what they started."

"Harry, do you think...?"

"Hon, I think I love you. That's what I think."

"Silly old dog: go to sleep."

"Yes'm."

* * * * *

Greg's first introduction to ranch life was waking up atfour forty-fivein the morning, when Serena's alarm clock went off. Not knowing where it was, he turned on the light and looked around for it. Finally seeing it, he reached across the bed to it and "Ooof", put his hand into his mate's stomach, trying to shut it off.

Serena asked him grumpily, "What is it about my stomach that seems to attract heavy things, especially you?" as she got out of bed and scurried for the bathroom.

Greg waited patiently for her to finish, then made a beeline for the room itself.

When he was back, his mate was seated at the mirror brushing her hair. Seeing him, she called him over and looked at his braids of the day before. "They'll do," she said, "but you need something better than rubber bands for the bottoms--or get rubber bands that match. Green on your right and red on your left don't work for you." She handed him a brush and he began to brush her back, making her arch and glance back at their bed with a sigh.

She got up and started rooting around in a drawer while Greg tried to make his fur lay down and look decent. The thing that most affected him was having to brush his face; that was new experience for him.

Serena returned and put two sets of bangles on the vanity in front of him. One set were small spring-loaded rings that would clamp the ends of his braids in place, and the other was a set of larger rings with silver mounted howling wolf silhouettes on them. He clipped the smaller set around the bottoms of his braids and the large ones level with his eyes; somehow that seemed right. A strip of rawhide held his hair up, off his face, and confined the shoulder blade-length hair in back.

Moving to the closet, he took a pair of shorts but was stopped as Serena reminded him they were going into town, and shorts were a bit late in the year since there was already snow on the ground.

Instead, he dressed as he had to go home the day before; shorts, trousers and a shirt, but this time it was one pilfered from Serena's brother Bob's storage: a light blue denim with epaulettes on the shoulders. The trousers had come from Bob's clothing as well; and while they were loose, suspenders held them up. Soon he was dressed, although he was wearing moccasins again: Bob's shoes were for a Smooth and didn't fit.

He did have socks, though, this time. A vest completed the ensemble, leaving him dressed. He next picked up the things he'd removed the night before; his wallet, Swiss knife, hankie, keys, and change went into pockets and he was dressed.

Serena was still dressing and he sat and watched. She had taken a pair of Levi's and turned the legs inside-out before sticking her own legs into them, then by unrolling the trouser legs, she managed to the get near skintight pants on without messing up her leg fur in the least. She snapped the tail vent shut and then finished fastening them together. A shirt came next, and soon she was dressed and ready for breakfast- which she would prepare a part of.

Out of their room and into the kitchen, Greg started the coffee maker using the de-caf grounds and water from the tap. They had their own well, and the water had a wonderfully refreshing taste.

Serena started a burner under a large pot of oatmeal that had been put to soak the night before and now just needed heating. She also started the large restaurant griddle heating for eggs and scrapple and whatever else was to be fried that morning. Then she drew a cup of coffee and sat down. Greg copied her and sat beside her.

Greg asked a question; "Why do you have such a big griddle for the few of us? Wouldn't a frypan be better?"

She shook her head, "Not really; since we're covered with fur: flammable fur. Mom has forearm protectors for herself, but open flames are just too risky for me. So, we use the griddle for heating stuff we eat, and the flames are under three-eighths of an inch of steel plate; nice and safe. Some Wulfen even use electric stoves for the same reason. You'll find out we have an instinctive fear of fire."

"What fire?" her mother asked as she entered the room, dressed similarly to the way her daughter was. She donned an apron and put two odd things over her forearms before addressing the stove.

"Oh, Greg just wanted to know why we use the griddle rather than open flames," Serena replied.

"Because we got this thing for dirt cheap at an auction,"Marinaexplained. "It uses more gas, but it also heats the kitchen and part of the ground floor of the house. If one of the families needs to have something slow-cook all day, they just set it in the back and it'll be done when they return."

Serena's ears were down and tight as she realized she had been out maneuvered, and her lower lip stuck out in a pout. Mom had overheard.

"Then there's the fire thing, too;" her mother said, rubbing it in for effect.

Greg snickered. Serena turned and glared at him, seeing the braid decorations and the rawhide for the first time. She stared, then decided she liked the effect. Exotic. Wild. She would get him some more hair ornaments, she decided. Her mate was pretty, and she liked that.

Bart and Terry stumbled in around five-twenty; looking sleepy and slightly disheveled. Greg handed both of them coffee and sat back down. Marinastarted setting out hotcakes and syrup.

Serena joined her mother at the stove and soon steaks, ham, eggs, omelets, fried scrapple and oatmeal were vying for diners' attention on the table. Harry showed up and got coffee, then started loading his plate, as some of the night crew came in and sat down for their breakfast, also loading plates and cups.

Greg waited until Serena was free and then the two of them loaded plates together, whileMarinasat down beside her mate and had her breakfast with him. The amount of food set out had been enormous, and Greg saw both Smoothskins and Wulfen quickly enter the room, get a meal and then leave.

Seeing Greg's confusion, Serena explained; "Unjoined or single hands get breakfast and dinner here if they want. It's a Wolfe tradition for the hands when they're here. We serve around fifteen or sixteen people at these meals, and mom is so fast at things she could give any short-order cook a real challenge. I'm good, but I'm still learning."

"Actually, dear, you're getting quite good at dishwashing," he mother added from across the table, "as you should be; you've had enough experience."

Serena looked like she'd just bitten into a lemon.

"Don't you guys have a dishwasher; I mean a machine--not a person?" Greg asked, and Marinareplied, "Oh yes; I couldn't get along without it. We assign dishwashing as a disciplinary measure; not because we have to do it that way."

Serena grumbled, "Thanks, Mom," and her mother replied, "You're most welcome, dear."

Greg realized he was going to be staying on this side "of the looking glass" for a very long time, being mated to Serena; but it was beginning to be a little bit fun.

Servant Bart and Terry stood in the doorway and waved to the Wolfe's, having gotten dressed and ready to go into Wolf Bend for the their Staff meeting at the hospital.

Greg and Serena waved back, and Harry and his mate wished them well, as they left the room.

Greg looked at his watch; and it was nearly seven o'clock--apparently time flowed differently around here as well.

One of the hands, a scarred up Werewolf, walked around the table and Serena introduced him to Greg as her mate. His name was Jose, and he was a Mexican plains wolf in coloration and ancestry as well.

He shook Greg's hand enthusiastically, saying, "Senorita Wolfe has a husband now, this is good. You have some time, you come see me and I teach you the blade for fighting; so your lady is always protected. I teach Senor Roberto too, Geraldo's son; and he save his lady from a very bad man with it."

Serena added, "Bobby is his best student, and he really did save Lindy with what Jose taught him. He's teaching me as well," then she had an idea, "we could learn together: Jose says that two blades working together are better than just two blades."

Greg considered it for a second, then said, "Okay. Once I can stand up and not fall over, that would be good training to have, if just to be able to move properly."

"You fall over?" Jose asked in curiosity. Why do you do this?"

"He's a new Crosser," Serena replied; "not used to being on his toes yet."

Jose looked Greg over carefully and said, "I think you are not new at this. I think you are espirito antiguo, and Serena is your mate. This is very good, it is la Promiso de la Madre, and you are living it. Muy bueno, senor y senora, muy bueno."

He shook Greg's hand again and left for his bed, having been on night duty.

Harry rumbled, "Jose is almost ninety, yet he's as agile as a twenty year-old. He's taught knife fighting to three generations of the Wolfe family, and he isn't slowing down a bit. He'll probably make one-twenty at this rate."

Greg's eyes widened; "I never thought to ask, but how old do we live to be?" he queried.

Harry rubbed his chin as he thought; "Oh, a hundred years or so, usually more; usually up to a hundred and twenty or so, lessn we do something stupid. We're what you call robust; that means we're tougher than usual. I think that our R-cells have something to do with it, 'cause we don't show age much, either. Anyhow, you and Serena have a long and happy life ahead of you; and Greg, come to think of it, so do Marina and I," he said with a wink.

That made Greg stop and think. He was going to live half again as long as he would have as a Smoothskin. That was probably why there were Hunters; a medical company with that knowledge alone would have a license to print money...as much as they wanted. He shivered involuntarily.

Harry saw it and nodded. "We aren't that much safer than before the order, other than now, we can get the cops on the case faster. Which reminds me; do you shoot?"

Greg nodded. "I got training from the N.R.A. in gun safety and handling. I have my grandfather's bring-back from World War Two; a Luger with a six inch barrel and three magazines. I'm pretty accurate with it."

Harry was impressed; "A naval Luger! Nice, but you might want something a little more concealable. C'mon down to my little gun room and I'll se what fits you. Marina can keep you trained, she's an N.R.A. certified instructor. Of course, around here, there's a lot of gun people that get fuzzy at times. Sorta comes with the territory, if you get my meaning."

Greg did.

As he got up from the table,Marinaasked, "Gregory, may I borrow your mate for some dishwashing? She won't be long..."

Serena objected with an "Ohhh, Mom!" and a pout as Greg chuckled. He nodded and followed Harry to a door in the floor that he'd pulled open.

As they descended the stairs revealed, Harry commented, "Marinatold me about her mistake yesterday. That was mighty fine response, but please, Greg; she's my mate. She'll respect you for that, but please, don't do it again. I'm still First on the ranch and I'd like it to stay that way until we retire."

Greg apologized for snapping at his mate-mother, and Harry shook his head saying, "No, Greg, you did what was right. If you'd pinked her, I'd still be on your side, but you gotta understand, the Wolf runs deep in us, as you found out. Once is protection; twice is a challenge." Greg saw a hint of that wolf in his mate-father's eyes and nodded agreement quickly. What he'd seen went beyond savage; it was the ancestral wolf and all the wolves that had lived since then. He hurried along into the room Harry had entered.

It was an Armory; to use the correct word. Harry had an "03-collectors" license and had "collected" an arsenal that was amazing. There were also modern weapons, all on racks and all double-locked up. Harry was unlocking a stand-up gun safe.

He looked around, and Harry, seeing him; explained, "These are dry cellars, cut out of solid limestone by Founder Damien and his people. They pretty much run all the way under the house. I'll show them to you one day soon. There's a room we never use though--that's where the fire that killed his mate fell into the cellar, taking her with it.

It's where we go when we want to think about things, it's claimed that their spirits are still there, and it's a sort'a shrine for our family. It's special; you'll see when I show you: now," he said, "take a look at these."

"These" were an assortment of pistols and revolvers, all of the "compact" variety, on a table by the safe. Greg looked at and handled several of them, but one pistol seemed to be the most comfortable of them all to his new hands. He held it and tried pointing it after asking Harry where the "safe direction" was.

"That's a Taurus 24/7 nine millimeter," he said. "It has night sights and comes with a seventeen round magazine. Feel right to you?"

Greg nodded. "It feels like part of my hand, and the sights line up naturally for me," he said; and Harry put two magazines and two boxes of nine millimeter ammunition on the table, then added an 'in-pants' holster with an extra magazine carrier. He also got out a smaller pistol, a KelTec P-11, that was tiny in comparison to the Taurus along with two magazines and two more boxes of bullets. There was an odd holster, too; and Greg puzzled over it until he realized it was a pocket holster for the smaller gun.

"Backup?" Greg asked and Harry nodded. "If you lose the Taurus, the KelTec is a good backup pistol. It's 'close up' only, but it holds ten rounds and it's a locked breech gun. It's light and easy to use, once you get used to the trigger. There you are, armed and dangerous. Wear it and get used to it, and have the Sheriff give you a concealed carry card once you're in town; you can fill out the papers later, and we'll pay the fees.

One of the reasons thatMarinagets on Serena about clothing is that her gun is usually in them and she's running around unarmed."

"As you found out, that's dangerous."

"We are always armed when we're in town; you may not see anything, but it's there. The town's safe enough, but getting there and back can be a problem," Harry said quietly. "As her mate, you're her guard and she's yours. You can practice later, but for now; load up and arm yourself; after you show me where the controls are on your pistol."

Greg did ( they were pretty obvious) and Harry showed him how to put the holster inside his pants with the gun butt angled forward. The KelTec went into its pocket holster in Greg's vest and he settled everything in place.

Harry gave Greg a word of advice: "If you think you need to use it, use it! Your mate is going to depend on you for that."

Harry closed and locked the safe and they returned to the kitchen.

"Come spring, we're taking a little vacation over to a fellow-I-know's GunSchool, you and Serena included", he said. "It'll be a week of intense training, but you'll emerge a better shot and a safer shot, too; and so will your mate. In the meantime, Serena will take you to our little firing range and drill you on your marksmanship and your control; 'cause as soon as she turns twenty-one, she'll become an N.R.A. instructor like her mom, and your mate's a crack shot; just ask her why she's taking pre-Law in college."

Now in the kitchen, Greg asked Harry, "What is it that you do? I noticed a workbench in the gun room."

Harry chuckled, "Oh, I'm just a sort'a gunsmith. I have to be, to keep all the firearms on the ranch working. If you're interested, I'll teach you the trade; it's a guaranteed money maker in this county."

Serena, now finished with her dish duty, commented; "Yeah, especially since you're the Sheriff's department's official service technician. They ask you what to buy, too, when the department's changing issue weapons or thinking about upgrades."

Her father shrugged, "Just doin' my civic duty, that's all," he replied.

He glanced at his watch and said, "I gotta get out to the high pastures pretty soon; one of the night guys said they'd gotten a radio message saying the snow's getting too deep there and the hands want to move the market herd closer in, where there's better wind protection. That'll take me the better part of the morning to do, so why don't you kids go to town and I'll see you for dinner."

Serena and Greg agreed and when he started toward the door, Serena grabbed an ear and pulled him back. "Teeth!" she said in a no-nonsense voice, so they both went back to their room and brushed their fangs and shredders.

"We brush after breakfast and after supper," she said, "and floss after lunch if we can. Our saliva starts digesting what's between our teeth almost immediately, and that was one of the things that gave us away when we were in hiding; so we keep our teeth nice and clean as a defense."

She glanced at his new pistol and nodded in approval. "Taurus makes a nice line of guns," she said. When he asked what she carried, she flipped her vest back and showed him an unfamiliar pistol butt sticking out from her inside-the-pants holster. "It's a Springfield XD, she said; "Thirteen rounds of forty-five a.c.p. and a four inch barrel. Since I'm more petite, I can hide a bigger gun than you can."

"Were you wearing it when..." he began, but the pinking of her inner ear-skin answered him. He let the matter drop.

She didn't. "My leathers are too tight for concealed carry and I didn't want a roscoe on my hip showing I was carrying something," she replied. "All I had was my Millennium in a jacket pocket, and against a rifle, it was useless. That's why I ran and stripped off."

She turned to look him straight in the eye; "That's something I will never do again, so help me. If you hadn't been there, I...would have just disappeared." There was a haunted look in her eyes.

"Let's go to town," Greg suggested as a distraction.

"Sure," Serena grinned lasciviously, "but won't that make us late to the bank?" she inquired, making a double-entendre out of it.

Greg sighed and followed her out, leaning on his "Roll-Walker" for support. He had been using walls and furniture for his balance assists in the house, but they were leaving the house.

As they passed through the kitchen on their way to the back door,Marinalooked at the thing and nodded in approval. She and three other Wulfen women were working on lunch and dinner preparations for the day.

Outside, Serena walked across a snow spotted concrete pad toward a large building with what looked like an enclosed porch on it. Entering through a side door, he saw two rows of vehicles parked inside a heated garage, for that was what the building was. She thought for a moment then started to select a set of keys from a rack; then stopped.

"What car would you like to take?" she asked her new mate.

"Whatever you were about to choose," he replied, and she took the keys off the rack and initialed a paper tag and hung it in their place.

Her choice was a Volkswagen Thing in yellow and black like a school bus, with a fiberglass top. It looked like a fun little car to Greg.

"Wanna drive?" Serena asked, and he nodded and took the keys. He put the walker in the back and climbed in front adjusting the seat for himself. Serena got in the passenger side.

"Look at these," she said, pointing at two buttons on a box that was attached to the dash. "This is my brother's idea. The red button starts a fan that sucks air near the floor outside, so there's less of a buildup of exhaust in here. The black one opens the doors."

"Doors?" he asked and she nodded, saying "Just watch and see."

He started the car and let it idle for a minute to warm up after pushing the red button. Somewhere a fan started. Then he drove to the doorway and pressed the black button, and the door opened upon an enclosed area about twenty feet long with a door at the end, the interior of what he'd thought of as a porch. There was a flashing light at the end of the area and he drove toward it. Suddenly, the light turned into a red "X" and he stopped. The door behind them closed, and the door in front of them opened, letting them out without losing the warmth inside the garage, as the red "X" became a green "+". It was like an air-lock, or an entry vestibule in a house. He tried to whistle at the cleverness of it, but his new mouth turned it into a raspberry instead. Serena snickered.

"Bobby did this, all of it," she explained to him. "My brother figured out how to cut the heating costs on the garage by two thirds this way. Then, he left;" she said sadly.*

Greg caught the tone in her voice. "You were sweet on him," he said softly.

"Yeah," she replied; "but all he saw was Martina, not me. When she had that "thing" with that visiting Healing Servant, I tried to catch his eye, but he just left." Then she brightened; "Now, I'm glad that he did, because I found you." Her hand found his and gripped it briefly.

Greg put the car into gear and drove down the ranch road toward the county road and the town.

At the road, Serena got out and opened the turnpike gate and Greg drove onto the verge and waited while she closed the gate and got back in. Then he put the car in gear and headed toward Wolf Bend.

They arrived forty minutes later and headed for the Credit union, after Serena had asked to go there. Greg wasn't totally happy with what she wanted to do, but she insisted

that it was what was proper for them to do. He relented, since he had an account there too, to add to their account.

* Bobby or Robert Wolfe is the adopted son of Charles Clark, Harry's friend.

Once inside, the transfers went surprisingly fast. He got a new debit card, and she changed the names on her (now their) checking account. An employee of the Credit union accompanied them to the indoor money machine and asked Greg to use his new card, to make sure it worked.

"Draw a couple of hundred dollars and get a receipt," Serena asked; "we'll need it for your new clothes."

Greg did, puzzled at the concern he saw in his mate's eyes. When the money and receipt arrived, the employee returned to the inner banking area and Serena gestured to Greg to keep the money.

He glanced at the balance in the account. He glanced again then started counting left from the decimal point. There were five large figures showing, and eighty-seven cents.

He looked back at Serena, who said quietly, "If you want, you can have it all. It's ours, but you can have it."

"It's only money," he replied, "and you're worth a million times that much."

That got him a kiss, and an explanation: "Part of it's an inheritance from a family friend; that's why I'm studying pre-Law. The rest is family money, corporate dividends, and my shares of the ranch income. We're worth a couple of million; total--but lots of it's in investments. We have about half a million in spendable stuff, and it's WE, Greg, not me."

He hugged her close and said, "It's trash. I'm holding my wealth, right now." That got him a teary kiss and a sense of intense joy through their developing Bond, as she laid her head on his shoulder for a moment.

He said, "I have a little surprise for you," and Serena looked blank. He handed her his new debit card. "Look at the name," he said.

She gasped and hugged him yet again, after reading the name "Gregory Massey-Wolfe" in the name field. "This way the ranch stays in the Wolfe family," he explained.

"I'm going to change my card's name too," she decided. "That way we match."

Their first stop was at the Sheriff's office, which seemed unusually busy for the time of day, where a Deputy gave Greg a "Carry Identification" card and several forms to fill out. Greg was a little worried at some of the looks they got, but Serena seemed not to notice, so he decided he was being overly sensitive about it.

Then it was off to the stores and his new wardrobe in the Thing, puttering downBroad street, the main street of Wolf Bend. They found a parking place in front of the bookstore, next to the biggest department store in the town.

Wolf Bend served a rather large community of werewolves and their Smoothskin friends, the residential areas being settled back in the countryside and scattered around the city's surprisingly large central business district. It was a town where Werewolves walked the streets in their fur, and nothing was said about it. Ostensibly a "private community", it held a discreet but large population of people.

Damien Wolfe had been one of its founders, and it was his idea of brotherhood and trust that had made the community work as well as it did. It was one of the few places inNorth Americawhere Wulfen and Smoothskin were friends and equals, and always had been. It was also the oldest community of its type in the world.

Now, with the advent of the Sapient Species Protection order, that was changing. The Three were in the world again, and the Day was at hand.

The werewolves were coming out of hiding, surprising friends and intriguing employers who had been deceived by their sophisticated "hide-in-plain-sight strategy for decades and more. One day your cubicle-mate was an ordinary-looking person and the next day he was a living legend. Friday, your friendly letter-carrier was an athletic looking woman; Monday, she wore fur and had a tail.

Yet, they were exactly the same people. Only their exteriors had changed.

The Smooth world was coming to terms with the hidden populations in their midst, and they were doing so in a surprisingly pain-free manner.

One thing was certain; the Wulfen could never go back to hiding again. That was their Goddess's intent. Her children had to be integrated into Smooth society, and soon. The "why" was known only to a very few...and they weren't talking.

InTexas, an artist and writer who had drawn a series of graphic novels featuring upright wolves was becoming well known and rather wealthy. The "desktops" that had been repeatedly "commissioned" by several parties were now appearing as actual clothes, for actual wolves.

She had guessed and wondered; now she knew.

All this was mist in the breeze as Serena and her mate bought clothing and other items of personal use. He got a pair of sturdy boots made for Wulfen feet and a pair of pull-on dress shoes as well. By the time, they were done, many hundreds of dollars had been spent on clothing that had been purchased, then altered to fit people who weren't "people" shaped at all on a commercial scale and re-sold. They weren't cheap.

All Serena knew was that Gregory was her beautiful mate and now he had clothing to show how beautiful he was. She was in a glory of happiness.

Greg was expectably stunned. He had never planned on having this many clothes to wear, all at once, in his life; and now he was carrying a collection of them back to their car on his roll-walker that almost blocked his forward vision.

He was wearing the boots, having stowed the moccasins in their box, and Serena had bought him a myriad of hair and fur bangles to braid into his hair.

When she had suggested lunch, he had asked, "Do I have to try it on first?"

She had laughed and taken him to a burger stand. There they had hamburgers and onion rings and sodas together, and Greg had asked, "What kind of beef is this?" after his first bite.

"It isn't beef," Serena had said, "it's buffalo. This place gets their meat from Wolfe and Hardee packing; and we cut them a deal for using buffalo, just to help build the market. Tastes good, doesn't it?"

Greg nodded. "It's just better," he commented as he stole a few onion rings off his mate's plate.

"It's richer," Serena replied, stealing them back. "There's less fat and a lot more flavor, as well. Finally,Buffalocost less than half as much to get to market weight. It's win-win all the way around," she said, reaching for a pickle-slice and finding none.

She looked up as Greg smiled and ate the last one. "You're learning our customs entirely too fast," she muttered, and her mate just chuckled.

Next was the library. While Serena read a romance novel and watched her mate, Greg plowed through book after book on the Cabala and its teachings. He made notes on a scratch pad and kept referring to them as he read.

"Well, I can say one thing," he replied after some hours, "that the classical Cabala is not what he's using; but I think I know what he is engaging in. It's a spin off of the Cabala and European stuff called Ceremonial Magic, and it can be nasty. It takes the Ceremonial stuff and adds the Cabalistic Sefiroth for a focus."

He shook his head, "And I didn't believe in magic. I thought it was part of a game universe, not part of this one. It's chaotic, that's what it is; and it doesn't belong in our reasonable universe with reasonable...Werewolves; heck, we're not "reasonable!"

He made a fist and rested his jaw on it as he thought. "If this stuff works the way it seems to work; it goes like this; First, this guy concentrates on "Din" or power. Then he starts repeating and repeating a specific command in the name of that power, while keeping it close to himself. Then he releases it and boom! It's done."

Then he sighed, "At least that's what seems to be happening here. That's the only method that makes sense. It's like pumping up a balloon bigger and bigger and then letting it go. All that pumping gets out in one blast of air and the balloon goes flying. It's like that toy rocket I had as a kid; half-fill it with water, then pump air into it, and release it and watch it go. The water creates more thrust because it weighs more than the air, but the air is the propellant."

"Of course, I broke Mister Jones's upstairs window with it, and he not only made me pay for it, he wouldn't let me have the rocket back," he summarized with a bleak look and drooped ears.

Looking over at Serena he admitted, "I really can't find anything that matches up with what we heard or Terry heard. There are half a dozen things that almost work, but then something happens and my theory goes up like that toy rocket and busts reason's upstairs window." He rubbed his forehead. "My brain hurts. Could we go home and try again later?" he begged.

Serena got up and went to him. "Look, Greg; you've been researching this for what, a few hours?" she pointed out; "while he's had years, maybe. Don't expect to save the day right out of the gate; keep looking and see what you find." She nudged him; "You know, I could help you--pre-Law is one research job after another."

Then she had an idea; "Why not use the computer at home? We've got a fast hookup, and the Internet is loaded with more knowledge than any single library. Look there!"

He sat for a moment and then agreed, "You're right. I can search a lot faster that way, and yes; you can help--once we figure out what it is we're looking for."

He stood. "Let's stop by the apartment and get my laptop. That way we can both research simultaneously."

They took the Thing and drove to the apartment building that he and his aunt had been living in. Using his keys, he let them into their old apartment. His aunt wasn't there, although there was plenty of evidence she had been recently.

Serena commented, "The VUE isn't here either, maybe she's out; enjoying her mobility. I know I would, in her shoes," as Greg gathered his laptop parts and the Luger and its parts together in a cardboard box after leaving his aunt a note.

"How did the gun survive the fire?" she asked curiously.

"It wasn't in the fire, it was in the part of the house that didn't burn," he replied. Actually, calling it a fire is a misnomer; they died of carbon monoxide poisoning when the heater in their room started leaking and the fire started only when the wood around the leak caught, and started the real fire on the other side of the wall from them."

His ears drooped as did the corners of his mouth and eyes. "They weren't even burnt. They were in bed, sleeping, like. They never woke up, that's all." He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "They never even knew they were dying, they never knew anything." His shoulders drooped. "I talked with dad the night before, hours before; and I didn't know..."

Serena took him into her arms and let him weep, grieving as he hadn't had the chance to do since his parents had died. She took in his pain, and in its place went her love for him. Slowly, the pain he felt left him; and he felt his mate's love for him replacing it with life. Thus was the blessing of the Mating Bond.

He kissed his life, and they went back to their car.

Aleet-hra stroked Stanaq's hair. "I never had the chance to say how much I loved you, then. This life will be different." Stanaq rubbed her cheek with his own, promising the same.

The "magic doors" worked to let them into the garage as readily as they had let them out. Greg loaded his roll-walker as high as he dared and Serena carried the rest. Once inside the house they both headed toward their bedroom to unload.

Having unloaded and either hung up or put away Greg's new wardrobe, they went looking for everyone and found them on the front porch. While the porch was open to a degree, there were infra-red space heaters that kept the surfaces warm and shutters that kept the winds from blowing across the porch.

The atmosphere was tense and worried, and both Servant Bart and Terry were unusually somber.

Bart told them what had come up in the staff meeting.

"We've been informed that several major street gangs have taken over the business of kidnapping Werewolves for sale for medical experiments...nationwide. That's who we had in jail, and in the hospital, and the guy that Serena killed," he said, "every one of them a known gang member."

" There has been an increase of activity along the major cross-country highways in the past weeks; and in Hollywood, the Warrior's mate was kidnapped and only his direct intervention kept her from being on a plane to another country, probably either China or North Korea.

"The Sheriff has given us some suggestions about how to make ourselves less likely to be victims of this horror, and we need to ask you for help. Neither Terry or I have any experience with firearms, and Mrs. Wolfe's name came up as a certified firearms instructor, so we need to ask her for advice on what kind of firearm to get, and how to properly use it.

"Going back to 'passing in Smooth' won't work anymore; these people are willing to rough up people who just look like they might be Wulfen on the chance they might find one of us instead. If anybody tries to get involved, they're beaten or maybe stungunned. They are using Tasers and stun guns on us and we are no more resistant to them than anyone else is; that's how they captured the Warrior's mate, with a Taser. Every time she'd resist they'd shock her again."

He looked over at Harry and said, "The Sheriff's asking for volunteers from the ranches around here to patrol the roads for a twenty mile distance from the Wolf Bend offramp; and there are signs being put up indicating the offramp goes to a town and not just a county road for people who are running from capture. There will be a cruiser parked by the highway twenty-four hours a day from now on."

Harry replied, "I'll give the Sheriff a call as soon as you're done, then start rounding up the hands to see who can volunteer for road duty. There will be people from the ranch watching over the road, you can count on that."

Bart seemed to relax a little, then continued: "Last night something weird happened at the hospital and the jail. There was a lawyer who said he was representing both of the suspects and they agreed he was. He spoke with both of them, and this morning the suspect in the hospital was found dead for no apparent reason; and the one in jail has disappeared."

"What?" was on the lips of every startled Wulf there as the Servant continued his explanation; "The surveillance tapes of the jail showed the leg-wounded one shifting--as in turning into one of us, and that's impossible. He was tested and he wasn't a Wulf! That's how he got out, he was in a Smooth jail cell, not a reinforced one for one of us, and literally tore his way out. There was a small bottle of something and a bit of broken glass on the floor, and that's all. He went out the back right past the jailer, because the jailer knew we didn't have any Wulfen in jail at the time."

"How did he manage to do that?" Harry asked with his mate echoing his every word. This was frightening.

"I don't know, Servant Bart replied. "They called in Luther to see what he could pick up, and he took the bottle and the swept up bits of glass and before anybody could stop him, headed out to the Indian settlement to see a Golden Beautiful or someone like that."

"He's goin' to see Gold Beauty," Harry said, and Marina nodded in agreement.

"Who's that?" Servant Bart asked, and Harry replied, "Someone who's their equivalent of a Servant. She's...special; real, real special."

"You honor me, Harold Wolfe," a husky voice from behind the group said.

They turned as one, and standing there was the first Puman that Greg had ever seen, outside of a few photographs.

She stood as tall as Marina Wolfe; but where Marina was slender and muscular like the wolf she was named for, Gold Beauty was lush and full bodied; looking like a human in a skintight cat-suit, with real fur and a Puma's head on a muscular neck and shoulders. She wore a Buffalo-skin draped over her like a Roman would wear a toga; and the power residing in her was apparent even to Greg. She carried a medicine staff as tall as she was, bedecked with feathers and stones and odd carvings near the top.

Greg was stunned and stood there gripping his walker absently while his jaw was dropped wide. Servant Bart and Terry were similarly impressed, he noted with the single functioning part of his brain that was left, while Harry, Marina and Serena seemed more relieved than anything else.

"Uhhh, Welcome, Gold Beauty;" Harry said while the others were recovering from their surprise, " be welcome to share our fire and roof and our table," and the tone of his voice said he meant it.

The Puman smiled in return and walked to Serena, and rubbed cheek. "So, Swift-Foot has taken a mate," she said quietly, her voice a cross between speech and a low purr. "This is a good thing. May I meet the one whose spirit completes yours?" Her tail rippled in amusement.

"Yes, Lion-mother," Serena said respectfully, as she took Greg's hand. "This is Gregory Massey, my mate."

Greg was looking into a pair of slitted pupils that seemed bottomless. He felt her gaze almost as a physical thing. "Gregory-mate-of Swift-Foot, you are truly with your mate again. This is as it should be, as the Promise commands." Then she rubbed his cheeks with hers on both sides of his face and stepped back with a genuine smile on her features. "This is very good, and comes in the proper season," she commented and then turned to the Servants.

"The one you speak of is treading the path of blasphemy of the worst kind, the destruction of the soul itself. He will be dealt with," she said, and everyone knew she had just pronounced a death sentence.

She gave Greg a cheek again, then turned and said, "Even now, the one who has doomed himself approaches his destruction. Stay within walls tonight, for there will be hunters outside when the sun sets."

She stepped down the short stairs from the porch and walked behind a shrub and somehow just vanished. It was as if she had simply stepped through a door, only there was no door there.

Harry stood and said, "You heard the lady. When she comes calling like this, you listen and do what she says. Let's have an at-home evening," he advised as he entered the house. Marina had already gone in, as had Bart and Terry.

Greg and Serena entered the house as well, and Harry shut the door behind them, then shot the bolt, a two-inch wide strap of steel that was cradled by more steel.

Serena was disturbed by that. "He's only done that once before," she murmured to her mate, "and next morning we saw why." She glanced at him, "Greg, this is not normal for me; but I'm genuinely getting frightened about this," which Greg could feel for himself.

"Don't worry," he said to comfort her, " dad's just being practical, if there are going to be some of Gold Beauty's people hunting this guy. Anyway, he'd be crazy to try to come here, as far as we are from town."

She looked him as if he had grown another head. "You didn't see what we found that morning," she replied, "I did, and I spent months trying to forget it."

He felt a chill with those words, his ears going wide with apprehension.

Marina came back into the room, "I just finished telling the hands to stay inside," she told Harry, " and not a one of them asked why."

"The stockmen will be safe," Harry muttered to himself, "since they all wear her blessing-charm. Everybody else will figure out what to do. We're as good as we're gonna get," he decided.

Returning to his previous theme, he asked Servant Bart and Terry to accompany him downstairs to his "little gun room" in the cellars.

Once down in the armory, he queried; "How is it that neither one of you have firearms experience?"

Servant Bart explained, "I'm not from around here. I grew up in the Chicago area in a small Pack. You just can't get pistols in that part of the world, or carry them if you already have them. I have a little experience with a twenty-two caliber rifle from the Boy Scouts, but that's about all."

Terry answered, "Mom and Dad don't like guns. They are members of the Violence Prevention Center organization and want the city to make firearm ownership harder for people to do. They have friends in the Jewish community that support them, and if Highland was a separate township, it'd probably be gun-free, or really restricted." She frowned; "That's another thing that is going to make trouble for me with them, because I can see why guns are necessary if you're a Wulf."

Harry shook his head in wonder, "Don't they realize they're in a rural area and farmers like me need firearms as tools, not just as weapons?" He thought for a moment then said, "Probably not; I recall Highland as being pretty much a little city in itself, especially with the large Jewish population. Well, that's their problem; no 'Gun Control' law is going to pass with the current city council, since most of them are werewolves. It just makes more trouble for Highland, that's all."

"I know," Terry replied sourly; "Mom and Dad used to complain bitterly about the lack of Sheriff's people out there. They say that the Sheriff's department doesn't care if they get robbed or not, because there are so few deputies around."

Harry chuckled, "Staying safe is somebody else's job, not theirs. I've met a few of those people, and they make me wonder who they think is responsible for their safety, if not themselves."

He shrugged and said, "Let's take a look at some easy to use stuff, shall we?"

Supper was on the table and Marina was glaring at the trap-door waiting for her mate, while Serena and Greg were finishing the setups. Dinner was "roast buff" and vegetables. Finally, she went to the door and barked down the stairway to get her mate's attention.

Faintly, they heard, "We're coming, hon," as Harry replied.

"That's a unique way you mother has of calling her mate," Greg observed, and Serena snickered back at him.

"What can I say?" Serena replied in a whisper, "My mother really does bark," and she stifled her giggles at what was a Smoothskin insult.

"That's because Harry recognizes me that way," her mother replied icily, "and maybe I could use two dishwashers tonight, hmmm?" Then she winked.

Terry was first up the stairs, followed by Servant Bart, and then Harry; who closed the trap door. Terry and her mate were carrying boxes, and set them carefully aside before washing up at the kitchen sink, side-by-side with Harry: one did not come to Marina's table with dirty hands.

As they sat down, Servant Bart asked Marina Wolfe if she would give them training with their borrowed firearms.

"Of course," she replied; "tomorrow afternoon we'll go to the practice range. I'll teach the two of you, and my daughter will teach her mate." Then she asked them, "Revolvers or Pistols?"

Terry looked over at Harry, who replied; "Revolvers, dear. Terry has a Smith and Wesson in thirty-eight special, and Bart has a forty-four. I gave them two hundred rounds each, and cleaning kits; and I also brought a cleaning kit for Greg's stuff as well."

"Good," his mate replied, "Revolvers are perfect starting-out pistols. They are simple to use and usually don't jam. Did you give them the same rounds they'll be using for protection?"

Harry nodded, his mouth full of food.

"Serena will be teaching me?" Greg queried. Marina nodded; "You two need to be able to work together; and having her do your training will help that along."

Serena herself chucked Greg under the chin; "When you're ready to strangle me, just let the Bond tell you that I'm doing this for us, and that I lo-o-ove you," she replied with a giggle.

"Ummm-hum," Greg replied, eyeing his mate with a jaundiced eye. "You're just going to use that to pick on me, I know."

Serena just snickered, and stole a slice of his roast.

It was amazing, he thought; what that serum did for him. He'd accepted the capsule from the Contact and mixed the contents of the packet with the vial of powder and drank it, as he had been briefed.

It had turned him into one of the dog-people, and made him stronger and faster as well. He'd opened the door and just walked out of the jail, right past the dog on duty without a hitch. One dead dog giving a human a leg up; nice doggy.

The capsule also had a map and directions to the Canadian border, good. His track also led him right past the dog-girl's house and family. He had a score to settle with them.

He couched in the brush, watching the house in the distance; its lights bright and welcoming. Good, they didn't know. He'd traveled over thirty miles in the four hours since leaving his hideout, and he'd make the border with plenty of time to spare.

Time to spare while he settled a debt with the bitch and her family. Julio had been a fellow member, a brother; and she had shot him in two.

Like he might do to her, after he finished with her. These dogs had a weakness; two actually--it took them time to go from human to dog, during which time they were helpless; and they were knocked down by electricity easier than humans were. And he had a stun-gun.

He'd be in Canada by morning, and they'd all be dead. That's what happened when dogs killed people.

Being city bred, the lack of activity at the ranch house didn't register with him; nor did the silence around him tell him he was not alone.

He crept toward the house, using his enhanced senses to hear what was ahead and see in the dark. He was less than two hundred yards from the front porch when he heard something moving in the brush near him and froze.

The moon was a bare waning quarter, but there was plenty of light for his eyes to see a shape moving through the brush. That was wrong; it was moving right through the brush itself like it was made of fog or something, not solid. He watched as the form stalked past, apparently unaware of his presence.

Then he felt hot breath on the back of his neck...

In the Greatroom, Marina was showing Servant Bart and Terry how to clean their revolvers and lubricate them. Serena was doing the same with her mate, Greg; stripping his Taurus down and then reassembling it, and then doing the same with the KelTec. Harry was sitting, listening; his ears trained on the windows and the front door.

Then a cat scream and a human scream and a wolf yelp erupted simultaneously; and Bart had swept Terry behind himself and was feverishly loading his revolver while Greg slammed a magazine into the disassembled Taurus and sprayed ammunition all over the place while Serena had drawn her Springfield and was covering the door, in a perfect isosceles position.

Marina was facing the door too, hackles up and ears back in fighting position; a snarl on her face and a 1911 in her hands.

Harry was relaxed. Looking at the rest of the people in the room, he said; "It's over, folks. Time to calm down."

Marina was first to actually relax. Bart was next, opening his revolver and lowering the hammer by thumb pressure while he pressed the trigger.

Terry was shaking all over; her pistol aimed while the chambers were still out on their crane, empty.

Harry glanced over at Greg and commented, "Y'know, Greg, it works a whole lot better with the barrel in place."

Greg looked up at Serena. Serena looked down at him. Their eyes met, and they both erupted in laughter, which took over the entire room. There was a slightly hysterical note to it as fear and adrenalin bled off, replaced by relief.

He stared at the empty magazine and the bullets on the floor. " I swear, this has never happened to me before," he began and was interrupted by Serena who replied, "That's what they all say..." in a droll voice.

The laughter this time was entirely humorous.

Then Serena apologized; "I made a mistake, Greg, in having both of your pistols apart at the same time. You never want to do that," while she holstered her pistol and bent to pick up the rounds on the floor. Fortunately, they hadn't rolled far.

Terry asked, "Is it really over?" as Bart gently guided her pistol hand down to the table and made her let it go. She was still trembling with fear.

Marina gently stroked her head, and told her; "For tonight it's over, yes. As long as there are people who want to abduct us and kill us, it'll never be completely over; but we can safeguard ourselves and our loved ones if we're aware and trained." She knelt and looked Terry straight in the eyes and continued; "That's why you're going to train with us, doing the same things over and over again until they're reflex. Under stress, sometimes reflex is all we have to keep us safe and in one piece; so that reflex needs to be right. You did take a nearly perfect firing position, though; and that's good. You have the right instincts to protect your mate and yourself."

Then she looked at Bart. "Never try to fire a large bore pistol one-handed. You could lose it or break a wrist. That revolver takes both forty-four special rounds and forty-four magnum rounds, and even one of us has trouble firing a forty-four magnum one handed--and hitting what we're aiming at."

Terry asked, "Does my revolver take bigger rounds, too?"

Marina replied, "No; that's a model Ten; a thirty-eight special. The design is over a hundred years old, and it's one of the sweetest revolvers Smith and Wesson ever made. It's quite adequate for your defense with the right bullets, and the recoil is a lot less than your mate's gun. This one is one Harry got at a gun show and fixed up for Martina as a carry-piece, until she got a 1911 commander like her mother's gun. I know for a fact it's very accurate and has a very good trigger."

"Oooh," Terry said; " I thought this one felt better than the other ones I handled. You don't mind if I use it?"

"No," Marina replied, "We want you safe, you and your mate. Did Harry talk about backup pistols?"

It was Bart that replied, "Yes, he did, but then we decided that we'd learn to use these first. Learning one thing at a time works better than trying several things at once, as I ought to know. I almost lost Terry because I was trying to juggle Greg and her and rounds as well. That was my greatest failing in my apprenticeship; spreading myself too thin."

Terry hugged him; "Then I'll keep your schedule for you, and there will be time for us, along with everybody else. I get first call on your free time, and second call on your Crossing work, and total call on everything else."

Across the room, Greg was showing Harry and Serena his father's Naval Luger. Having taken it apart, he let Harry look at it and asked his opinion.

"There's a little wear on the bluing, but otherwise it seems nearly new. That isn't so uncommon with these; because they were so tightly fitted, they were very susceptible to dust and dirt. They didn't get used that much, and had a closable holster that covered them to keep them clean." He looked down the bore and whistled; "I would say it's nearly new and the barrel is in perfect condition. Fire it much?" he asked.

Greg nodded, "About three hundred rounds last year, on vacation from College.

It's a pretty accurate weapon, especially after dad worked on the trigger and had it plated."

"Plated?" Harry asked, and looked at the piece of metal carefully; "I see; that would improve the trigger's release by quite a bit. Could we give it a try tomorrow?"

Greg nodded, "Certainly, although I warn you, it only feeds full metal jackets reliably; that wasn't changed. It also works best with hotter rounds than standard, like military loadings, not civilian stuff."

Harry grinned, a picket fence of a smile; "We'll use the Wolf or there's some S&B stuff I have. Both are full metal jacket and military loadings."

Serena made a face, "that's three pistols apart at once..." and Harry replied "Relax, willya? We're covered, there is no more danger, and I wanted to see what that Luger looked like," he then nodded to her, "But you are right, that's what we did teach you."

Greg was puzzled. "I don't get it," he complained, "what about having everything apart at once?"

Harry explained, "If you're gonna carry, you carry. You don't take all your stuff down at once, and you always have a backup. I goofed there, you should have kept one of them usable."

"I see now," Greg agreed, "Apart isn't protection, it's a pile of parts," and Harry nodded; "Exactly."

It was later, after they had all gone to bed that Greg asked Serna if she knew what had happened outside.

"There will be a dead body that's been ripped to shreds," she replied. "I don't know what did it, other than Gold Beauty made sure we weren't involved. Mom will call the Sheriff tomorrow morning, and someone will have to go find it. I hope that 'someone' isn't us." Then she nibbled his neck and he forgot any other questions.

Terry lay beside Bart and wondered at what they had heard. "It was terrifying," she said, "all those screams together;" and Bart spoke softly, saying; "not the screams, no, the dead silence after was what frightened me the most."

* * * * *

Morning came early as ever, although this time Serena didn't get leaned on, and they were dressed more quickly. Greg wore some the clothing they had bought the day before, a properly fitted shirt, and properly tailored jeans with suspenders to keep them up. He also wore his new boots with wulfen style socks.

Serena slipped into a pair of loose trousers of odd design with an elastic waist, a shirt and her moccasins sans socks. She also helped Greg redo his braids, terminating them with spiral clips at the ends and larger ones at his temples.

Surveying her work, she decided Greg was just plain beautiful, no matter what he wore or how his hair was done.

Stanaq said, "So, you gift me with the serpent of wisdom? I'm honored," while Aleet-hra enjoyed the effect. "Not only wisdom, but of Right wisdom," she replied.

Greg got the coffee going and also started heating the oatmeal that seemed a staple of breakfasts at the ranch. Serena suggested that he also make a pot of regular coffee for the Sheriff's people while she went to pull back the bars on the front and rear doors.

She glanced out the front door and saw nothing at first, but the circling of birds over a patch of brush a couple of hundred yards from the house caught her eye and alerted her as to where the Deputies needed to look.

She relayed that information to her mother when she came into the kitchen and continued the setting-up while Marina called the Sheriff's department.

Soon the kitchen was buzzing and Harry made his appearance along with Terry and her mate.

Servant Bart got Greg's attention and said, "I'd like to see you walk this morning before you start your rehab regimen. You were in town yesterday and did a fair amount of walking around, I'm told. Last night I saw you using a lot fewer balance-assists than you were the day you came home; and I'd like to see just how much you've improved."

Greg felt nervous for a moment, then nodded his agreement. Harry suggested that they all walk out to the place where Serena had seen the circling birds, and Servant Bart accepted the idea.

Thus, after breakfast, Greg and Bart and Terry were walking carefully through the brush, with Harry in the lead. Greg and Terry had sticks to help them with their balance while Servant Bart took the rearmost position, watching them as they negotiated the semi-arid winter land. It was for the most part, flat; something for which Greg and Terry were most grateful.

Harry stopped and raised a hand, halting them. "Terry, you'd better stay back with Bart, but I want Greg to come up here with me for a moment," he called back to them as he stood on what appeared to be a slight rise with some low frost-killed grasses on top.

Greg advanced carefully, picking his way through the scrub until he was beside his mate-father and looked where Harry was pointing. He immediately wished he hadn't.

What there was of the body was scattered in pieces, semi-connected with bits of skin and tissue. Parts of it looked like Wolf or Wulf, parts of it resembled a Smoothskin, and some parts were too mangled to tell.

Keeping his breakfast down by sheer willpower, Greg asked; "What did this?" in an awed whisper, followed by "who was it?" A whiff of cat musk answered the first question, and Harry answered the second with; "Remember th' guy that did an impossible shift and walked out'a jail? I think this was him, poor bastard; trying to get to Canada."

"What?..." Greg tried to ask, but couldn't finish.

Harry answered anyway; "You remember Gold Beauty saying that he was 'treading a blasphemous trail'? That was her warning to us. We aren't the top critters around here, and this is proof of it. What killed him might not even be of this world; but some other one lost to the past."

He pointed to a depression in the earth which Greg saw was a footprint, huge in size; and something in him whispered "Cat" in a cold, unearthly voice.

Harry explained, "Last time this happened, it was one of us who raped and killed

a Puman girl in town. They had to come to town then, for kerosene and suchlike. Gold Beauty warned us back then, too; with similar language."

He sighed, "Gold Beauty is a mystery, she is. She negotiated with Founder Damien for the land for both the ranch and the town, in English. Her own people say she's ancient: part spirit, part person; and that she was here before the white man even came to these lands. If you listen to the legends, she was here before the last buffalo herds were killed off, and even before then. She used to tell me of hunting the 'Great Snake-Nose', and the only thing that brings to my mind is some kind of elephant, like a Mammoth. I truly do think she's at least that old."

"Last time it happened, I took Serena out to see the body, so she'd pay attention to the lady when she spoke. She did more than that; she's got herself a Name among the Pumans by helping them hunt winter antelope and deer for food."

"I was surprised when she greeted you the way she did, 'cause she's usually kinda distant with people she doesn't know. Yet she greeted you and gave you her scent to wear; just like you were some long-lost cousin. I think she has plans for you and Serena because of what she did."

"Since you and Serena are gonna be taking over the ranch, I'm glad she likes you; 'cause Greg--She runs things out here, not us. Keep that in mind and you'll do okay."

"What's keeping..." Servant Bart's voice was stilled as he and Terry climbed up to them and looked down on the body parts strewn over the landscape. Terry swallowed and started turning greenish around the lips and inside her ears, as well.

"Last night?" the Servant asked and Harry nodded. "I don't know how he did it, but he was Wulfen by his appearance here; at least partway. He has a soul, and that soul belongs to our Mother-Beloved now, may She grant him mercy and justice."

He raised his head, and began the Song for the Departed, and soon Terry and Harry were joined in, leaving Greg wondering at the harmonies they generated. Soon, he too, joined in; somehow knowing the tones and syllables required.

They were returning to the house when a deputy and the coroner passed them and asked them to stop.

"Hello, Sherry; good to see you," Harry said; pumping her hand enthusiastically.

"Don't tell me," she began; and Harry nodded sadly. "Whoever he was, he got the local powers angry with him, and they set him down hard. You'll need a shovel and some plastic bags for what's left," he advised.

"Crap," the deputy swore, "I'd heard about the last one, but I wasn't an officer at the time. Is it really that bad?" All four Wulfen nodded.

"And I suppose nobody saw anything last night?" she asked half-hopefully.

"Nope," Harry said. "We were having an at-home evening," he answered diplomatically, omitting the warning.

The deputy rolled her eyes, "And I suppose going out to the Puman village will be pointless, too; since they won't tell me anything," she muttered.

"Take a good look, then ask if you really want to know..." Harry advised, "after you see the footprints..."

"Which start abruptly and end the same way, with unmarked soil all around?" she queried. "You've been briefed, then;" Harry replied, "It's just like last time."

"Crap," the deputy said again and gestured the coroner to come with her and watch while she took pictures.

"She's not going to be happy," Greg ventured, and Harry replied; "She'll get by; I suspect the Sheriff sent her out here to give her a lesson in law-enforcement in these parts. It ain't by-the-book out here, no way."

Back at the house, Servant Bart gave them his appraisal of their gait improvement. He was quite happy, his wolf ears relaxed and at ease.

"These unusual Crossings are more unusual in the way the Crossers learn themselves, too," he began; "Going out, both of you used your sticks quite a lot; but on the way back you hardly used them at all. You're learning your bodies about twice as fast as normal Crossers do, which is apparently normal for your type of Crosser."

"You mean there have been more?" Terry asked, her ears forward.

"Over the past ten years, yes; about twelve of them. Each time it was apparent that our Goddess was involved, and each time the people who were involved made their recovery in record time. Exactly what this means, I don't know--although my teacher said it was a sign that things were beginning to change; for us and for the world at large."

"The number of Crossers that Cross as Servants is another indication that things are changing. As I mentioned, one-in-three Crossers; anyone who has any medical, spiritual, or psychological training is Crossing into the White Coat and they seem to know something the rest of us don't. What it is they won't say; other than Mother-Beloved asked each of them to be Her hands in the World, and they all were overjoyed to agree."

Terry sat motionless for a moment, then said, "That's exactly what She asked me! I remember now, that She asked me to help one of her children who was overworking himself to..." she paused, 'think of himself, too; that his knowledge was vitally necessary to help bring her lost and wandering children back to Her; to help them remember their past."

"That was you, Bart; and I said yes, because we'd be together..." then she was in his arms holding him to herself.

"Ahhh," the Servant queried in embarrassment, "do you remember anything, Greg?" he asked while holding his mate.

Greg sat, thinking; "No," he replied. "I remember something about a 'promise', but--it's still unclear to me," as his ears telegraphed his distress.

Bart thought for a minute, then offered; "Perhaps the 'promise' is the 'Promise of the Bond'; that those who form a Mating Bond will be reborn so that they may find each other again in this world and renew their lives together."

Greg was dumbstruck; he'd heard the same words from someone else...

Serena had been passing through the room on her way to the kitchen, and hearing those words; paused. "I think that's it," she said quietly, as all eyes turned to her; "it's like I've known Greg forever; much longer than high school and college; like we've had our lives together for always."

Greg slowly nodded in agreement. "There have been dreams..." he began; to which Serena gasped, "you, too?"

Servant Bart nodded; "That does make sense about your quick learning; because you aren't really learning, you're remembering. You just need more time together, and more exercise to strengthen your newly changed muscles. The exercise will strengthen your muscles and memories at the same time. What we need to do is more strengthening, and your gait will resolve itself, if that's what has happened."

Greg glanced at his mate for a moment, then asked, "So more treadmill and more together time is what you recommend?"

The Servant nodded; "Exactly. That's what I'm doing with Terry; I thought she reminded me of someone, and now I know she does," he finished with a happy smile on his face.

And so for the rest of the morning, Greg and Terry alternated with each other on the treadmill and in the weight room. It did seem that each time he walked or jogged it was getting easier for him to keep his balance, as he stopped using the horizon or vertical surfaces and instead depended on his inner-ear balance organs.

By lunchtime, both he and Terry could walk the length and width of the great-room without having to hold on to anything. They still wobbled; but by shutting their eyes, they could regain their balance.

"Too bad I can't just walk with my eyes shut," Terry complained, "but then I couldn't watch Bart's tail..."

"My what?" her mate asked, his ears pinking slightly; to which Terry just giggled while he rolled his eyes. A Werewolf's tail swished as he walked, being moved by his leg and gluteal muscles. It was a natural response to their stride.

Lunch was made interesting by Bart's telling about his observations and what he'd read about other miraculous Crossers.

"Does that include the Warrior?" Harry asked, and at the Servant's blank look, Harry explained that Tom Aldren, the Warrior, had Crossed in less than four days. "Was he a quick study in gait and Werewolf 101?" he queried.

"Not that I remember," Harry replied. "He had some bone density issues that kept him in bed for a few days, replacing the calcium in his bones, and his mate was annoyed that he couldn't wag his tail for nearly a week. That might have been part of why you didn't hear of it."

"Wag his tail?" Greg queried, "What has that to do with anything?"

"The tail and its muscles are the last things to completely Cross Over," Bart explained, " and there are certain--ahhh, activities that aren't allowed until the Crosser can 'wag his tail', thus showing him completely Crossed and all the changes are completed."

"Poor Robyn," Serena giggled, "having to wait all that time..."

"For what?" Greg asked, then blushed as Serena wiggled her eyebrows and gave him "that" look. Terry giggled as well, while Bart cleared his throat and blushed his ears.

After lunch it was time for more walking, only this time to the shooting range set up half a mile from the house in a tiny box ravine. They were carrying their firearms in holsters strapped around their waists, and the ammunition for them in small buckets, which would be used when they gathered up their spent brass to bring back with them. Both Harry and his Marina were avid reloaders, and Serena reloaded some of her ammunition as well. They were also equipped with safety glasses and hearing protectors.

The rules of range safety were strictly enforced by every member of the Wolfe family.

Greg had Serena as a "balance aid", putting his hands on her waist when they traversed particularly rough ground, just as Terry held onto Servant Bart for her balance.

They were almost at the ravine mouth when Greg's toe caught on a bit of rock and he fell, taking Serena's pants with him to the ground. She stopped, and was helping him up when her mother caught sight of the fancy rhinestone-bedecked thong that Terry had given her. She was about to explode, but then remembered that Serena was Greg's mate now and hence Greg's problem.

Instead she simply asked pointedly, "Does it light up in the dark too?"

Serena blushed (a first!) and stammered that it had been Terry's gift to her, and that she was wearing a similar one.

Terry nodded enthusiastically, and Servant Bart stared and then asked, "Oh, really?" while his ears went very pink. Terry grinned at him, her tail in a tight upward curl, like a husky's.

Serena snickered, as did her mother. Bart was an excellent Servant, but rather naïve about some things involving his new mate.

Once at the shooting range, Marina used one of the old cable spools that served as tables marking the firing line to set up her ammunition and other materials, while Serena used the spool next to her mother's for her own things.

Marina held up her 1911 and dramatically ejected the magazine; then pulled the slide back to eject the chambered round, locking the slide back in its rearmost position.

She then put those items on the drum's upper surface.

"Nobody goes past the firing line until every pistol is open and empty, rule one;" she stated. She then helped Terry and Bart to do the same with their revolvers.

"Rule two" she said; "I'm the Rangemistress. Nobody fires unless I say so, and when I say 'weapons down,' you empty them and put them back like they are now."

She continued her lecture while Greg took out the Luger and emptied it, placing it beside his mate's Springfield and his Taurus. Their backup pistols were also sitting empty on the spool's upper surface.

Marina held up a target, a simple three-inch red dot on a sheet of cheap paper. "This is what we'll be shooting at. There are already some gongs and metal targets downrange, but we aren't using them today. Today, we will practice hitting these targets at twenty five feet of distance, using our pistols and revolvers. Write your names on your targets, and then go set them up on the first set of cables. I'll give you some clips to attach them with."

"Serena, you work with Greg, and I'll work with our guests."

Greg and Serena wrote their names on the paper targets and then carefully took them out to the first set of cables and clipped them in place, both on their upper and lower edges. Then they returned to the line.

They waited as Terry and Bart did the same, only they had two targets each to put up.

Then they started shooting.

Later, back at the house, Greg and Serena went over their targets in their bedroom before dinner, comparing them while Serena dissected Greg's shooting skills.

"You're a pretty good shot," she said, "but you tend to mash the trigger sometimes. That's because the Luger has such a different trigger pull from the Taurus, I think. Too bad the Luger is so big, because you're excellent with that. You kept all your shots in the red, except for the ones you pulled. We'll work on it together and you'll be putting them all in the red before you know it, with either pistol."

"Poor Terry and Bart," Greg chuckled, "she shot his revolver better than he did, and he got better results with hers.

"So, they switch," Serena replied with a shrug, "Daddy gave them their guns based on their size, not their guns' caliber. They can switch permanently, or Daddy can give them other ones; now that we know how they handle them."

"I'm sorry about your pants," Greg began.

"Mom would have found out anyway," Serena said dismissively, "She's good at that. At least they're washable." Then she caught his eye and asked, "Do you think they're pretty?"

Greg blushed and replied, "Yeah, when they're on you," and his mate smiled.

Serena repaid the complement by running her claws gently through his fur from chest to belly, and he shivered in delight.

Then she sighed, "It's about dinner time. Afterwards, do you want to take a shower?" she asked with arched eyebrows,

"Oh, yeah," Greg replied, "Feeling clean is such fun;" and she snickered.

Later, Greg was reading and she was buffing her claws while they rested in bed, showered and 'clean,' when suddenly there was a loud howling that made Greg levitate a little.

"What was that? he asked, his eyes wide and staring. "Mom and Dad," Serena replied calmly. Seeing his astonished look, she asked; "Did you think they were too old or something? They're barely fifty, not even 'mature' yet. Mom says she prefers 'quality' over 'quantity', but with us, we get both; don't we?" she asked dropping the buffing board and kissing her mate...

Later still, more howling echoed through the house, and Marina rolled over to Harry and grumbled, "Now we've done it; they'll be doing that all night and not getting any sleep, or letting us get any, either."

"Well, then Hon'," Harry rumbled, "Why not make use of our time then?"

"Silly old dog, I love you," she whispered as he took her into his arms.

* * * * *

Three days later, Greg was "stable in gait' as Servant Bart said. So was Terry; in that they both could walk, run, jog, and even carefully shift into "quadruped" and make their way easily and evenly.

They were standing on the porch and Serena was about to give them a demonstration of high speed, when in the distance, they saw a car approaching on the private ranch road.

Terry did some quick counting, and then gasped, "It's today. The Elders are coming today to judge my fitness for being Wulfen." There was panic in her eyes.

"Don't worry," Brad said, comforting her, "you're a Servant, and completely trained in gait and you're my mate. Whatever they say won't have any effect on us, or your work at the hospital."

Greg asked, "Why only one car? I got the impression that there would be almost a parade;" while Serena went inside to get her parents. Fortunately, they were both there, at the house, instead of being out running the ranch.

Harry stepped out onto the porch and looked at the approaching automobile, and said; "Hey, that's Luther. Why's he coming out here, it ain't Song night?" with a hint of worry in his tone.

They soon found out, as the Servant, clad in a dark Wulf-cut suit, parked and hurried to the growing group of people on the porch. Marina was there, as well as several of the Wulf and SmoothKin ranch wives and mates who had been working in the kitchen.

"Inside, please;" the worried looking Servant said.

Once inside, he explained his worry to the assembled group of people.

"Rev Mordecai Weiss, the 'Chief elder' of the Jewish Wulfen showed up at the hospital and demanded to see Maria Theresa Ryder immediately. He was not happy to learn that she was out here at the ranch," he began; as Terry sobbed and clutched at her mate.

"He and his other 'students' are coming out here to 'test' the 'fitness' of Ms. Ryder to be a Wulf of the Congregation," he said. "There's more; I think he's somehow managed to gain his Servant's 'special' powers: the ones even we don't discuss a great deal."

"What do you mean, 'special powers'," Harry asked carefully, "as in what power are we talking about?"

Luther lowered his head and replied, "We Servants are granted certain abilities by our Mother-Beloved in order to do our duties--the ones not involved in 'healing' or 'counseling' or leading Songs. One of them is the ability to command, to use certain specific words with more than the usual effect." He was plainly unhappy discussing this.

"You see it most often in our ability to confuse memories, to make encounters with us seem 'dreamlike' and unreal. We used that a lot, before the Order, to protect the secret of our existence..."

"And maybe make things seem less important than they really are?" Greg asked angrily. "Like you did with us?"

Luther nodded; "Yes, I did ease your reactions when you were discussing this at the hospital. You needed to get your feet under you, not worry about worry about what I thought was 'hocus-pocus' at the time. I was partially wrong there; yes, but you needed to practice your gait training much more than you needed to concern yourself with what should be Servant's matters. There are other things we can do as well as 'ease' tension."

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously. "Show me what you mean, Luther."

The Servant glanced at Harry and replied, "Well, since you just volunteered, Down." He didn't even raise his voice.

Harry found himself on the floor and couldn't get up.

"Try getting up," Luther said nervously; "you'll find you can't."

Harry did try and found the most he could do was to raise his head a little.

"You see?" Luther asked.

"Yeah, now can I get up?" Harry queried.

Luther said "Up" and Harry was on his feet with no knowledge of how he got there. "Impressive," he commented.

"How does this affect Terry? She's our guest, along with her mate, Servant Bart," Harry asked, curious now.

"Not even other Servants are immune to it," Luther explained. "That's part of it."

"What else?" Harry asked, starting to worry.

"There is a command called Burn, and I think Greg and Serena know what that means," Luther said sadly.

Terry said, "You turn to ashes instantly," in an empty voice. "That's what happened to the chicken and the dog Ariel called about, isn't it?" Her eyes were bleak as Bart held her close to himself and snarled at Luther.

"What about it being a--a 'Guardian" or 'Warrior' thing?" Greg asked, his anger rising. "Why didn't you say that any Servant could do it?"

"Because we don't want that knowledge going around," the Servant said, his head bowed. "Just knowing that we can do it has caused a lot of suffering for others in the past..."

"I can see that," Harry muttered to himself, then; "How did you learn that this Weiss character can do it, and why did it surprise you so much"? he asked Luther.

Luther sat, his head bowed for a second, then explained; Ariel Bergmann called the hospital for Terry, and the call was routed to me. He told me what he had seen, and added that Rev Mordecai also did that to an entire side of beef, with one word; ashes, just ashes." He ran his fingers through his hair and for a moment looked very old.

He swallowed. "Mother-Beloved's gift is given unconditionally, to all Her children. Some don't abandon their old religious ways, at least not for their first lifetime.

In this case, Her children forgot who they were related to; and carried on their old ways; generation by generation, up to the present."

"The Servant's White Coat is a mark of spiritual attainment, not a favor given out to those Mother-Beloved decides She likes. Mordecai was a very devoted man, devoted to his people and the God they thought they still served, thus She granted him the Servant's mark, the Lunar White Coat of fur that marks us out among all our brothers and sisters as people who serve Her by serving them. That's where the term Servant came from; Serving our People as a Service to our Mother-Beloved."

"When Mordecai received his White Coat, I think something went wrong in his mind somewhere. He started making changes in things, using his White Coat as his divine authority, making his congregation even more insular and even more fundamentalist in nature."

"It affected the Wulfenbruderen as well. Many left his pack, while the ones who remained were more and more like their Wulfen brothers and sisters; staunchly puritan and exclusive."

Luther glanced at Terry, "your parents are not completely in his grasp, but they are nearly there. They're coming out here to order you to leave your 'goysche lover' and come back home with them as a dutiful daughter should."

"How can they?" she growled, now angry; "We're Mated! We're Bonded! What are they thinking?"

"I don't think they are 'thinking' at all," Luther replied. "They're just following the path of least resistance and trouble. Remember, they see Mordecai as their spiritual leader and as someone who should be obeyed in all things."

"Just like they always have," she growled bitterly. "No backbone at all; well, they're in for a surprise, because I won't give up Bart! I'll lose them first! We're MATED!" she screamed; hackles up, ears back and teeth bared for a fight.

"I know," Luther replied; "I know."

"They're coming," Jenna Hosteen, a Navajo Wulf said, looking out the window.

"They're here," Luther said, his eyes looking elsewhere.

Harry spoke, "Everybody outside, I want this Mordecai fellow to see he's dealing with the Wolfe pack, not just a bunch of yahoos. You all know the drill."

"C'mon, Greg," Serena said quietly, "and make sure your 'piece'

is loose in its scabbard."

Nine Wulfen were waiting as the four cars stopped in the driveway and both Smoothskins and Wulfen got out. Two Smoothskins walked up to Harry.

"Thank you for taking care of our little girl, Mister Wolfe;" Samuel Ryder said. "We'll be taking her home now." He glanced over at Terry.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, the barest hint of a growl in his voice. "She isn't 'your little girl' any more; she's another Wulf's mate, in Mating Bond."

"Is there trouble, Schmuel?" a honeyed voice asked as a white coated werewolf strode up. "Is this non-believer causing trouble?" he asked, as though reciting lines in a play.

"Yes, Rev; he is," Samuel replied in a distant voice.

The white furred Wulf looked at Harry, and Harry saw madness in those eyes...madness and power. He began to reach for his pistol.

"DOWN!" came the command, and everyone but Terry was flat and unable to rise. She stepped over her mate and straddled him. Greg was struggling to get his gun out, but even then, he couldn't raise it enough to hit anything. Serena was similarly helpless.

From her position over Bart, Terry said coldly, "I have no parents. I am this Wulf's mate. Try to separate us and you will die."

"Oh, no;" came the honeyed voice again. "You will forget, and you will revert, and you will be your father's dutiful daughter," Mordecai Weiss said happily. "This creature who has dishonored you will burn to ashes, and he will not trouble you again."

He strode over to Terry, his black coated and hatted 'students' following like ducklings following their mother.

"Step away," the sweet voice commanded, and to her horror, Terry found herself doing just that.

Stanaq wasn't affected by the command. Carefully, he took control of his self's body and when the monster's back was turned, rose. He saw Aleet-hra doing the same.

He now understood this wonderful thing his hand held, and how it worked. He pointed it, being careful to make the little post in front sit exactly between the two shoulders in the back. Then he pointed the whole thing at the monster. By his side, Aleet-hra was doing likewise.

He pressed the thing his finger found, and it went off; just as Aleet-hra's thing did the same.

_ Mordecai Weiss had just started to say "BURN" when two bullets hit him in the side of his head, expanding and blowing his brain out of his skull, leaving a softball-sized hole on the other side_.

The summoned energy had nowhere to go, no place to strike, so it erupted where it was.

Mordecai Weiss shuddered as his brain was scooped out of his skull, then turned into a fiercely burning candle for three seconds. Then the stack of ash fell, unable to support its own weight.

The command dissipated at the same moment.

Bedlam ensued.

As things were settling down, Greg and Serena sought out Luther.

In the old tongue they both asked, "Help us, Sworn One. We had to enter our selves' bodies too soon. They sleep now, but they will wake soon and remember...and the time is not ready yet!"

Luther was awestruck. These were first-generation People.

He gestured to them to sit, and they made to comply.

He knew what to do, so as they sat down, he gently commanded; "Forget..."

Serena and Greg stumbled against each other, as the shock of... of their titanic struggle with the command that hit them and they collapsed at Luther's feet. Looking up at the startled werewolf, Serena asked, "Did we do it, did we get him?"

"Yes," Luther replied, relief in his voice. "Yes, you got him. He's gone, and frankly, I'm amazed that you were able to do it."

He narrowed his eyes, "Mordecai must have not have taken your Bond and Greg's recent Crossing into account. Greg wasn't completely affected, and it traveled through your Bond to free you as well. Are you feeling all right? Any dizziness or headache?"

The two shook their heads as one.

"It's just that, everything I did is all fuzzy," Greg tried to articulate. "Like someone else was at the controls. I guess that's what adrenalin does for you. Wow."

"Adrenalin does that indeed," Luther said in confirmation. "That's why practice is so important."

He saw Harry headed for them and said, "Your practice saved the day," and stood up.

"Are they all right?" the worried Wulf asked the Servant, who nodded; saying, "Thank the Goddess for their Bond. The command didn't fully affect Greg, and the failure gave them both the ability to move after a second or so."

"Greg, Serena, could you come with me? Terry has gone feral, and we can't get to Bart to see if he's all right or not," Harry asked, plainly worried. "She's growling and snapping at everyone, including Marina!" The two stood and holstered their handguns, drawn in the moments they had found the strength to resist the monstrous command that had flattened them.

Or so they believed.

Hours later, Terry and Bart were draped over each other in a chair in the Great room of the ranch house.

"I can't believe it," Terry was saying over and over again. "Mom and Dad were under some sort of compulsion along with all the rest." She had repeated this several times, while Bart just held her against his chest.

Her parents were going to be treated by a Servant-Specialist who handled psychological problems related to stress. They had given their blessing to her mating with Bart. Now, she just wanted to relax and catch her breath.

Tomorrow, they would pack up the rehabilitation equipment and go back to Wolf Bend and their work at the hospital, but tonight was their own.

Greg and Serena were seated together, just savoring their closeness.

"We saved a good friend today, Aleet-hra," Stanaq sighed; "and we tasted our future together as well."

_ "That was not just a good friend, that is my sister; Ciele-hra, and her mate Donterr-mas," she whispered back to her beloved._

_ "They are here, too?" he asked, surprised. "I knew him!"_

_ "Yes, and more will come; Mother has promised it," she replied with satisfaction._

_ "More will come," he said with growing wonder._

Serena whispered to Greg; "They make such a pretty couple. Terry is like a younger sister I never had. Do you think we should invite them out here regularly?"

"Yeah," Greg replied. "I like Bart, he kinda reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Same here," Serena replied; "Same here."

Six months later;

"I'm just glad we could get away," Bart told Greg as they sat watching the new housing for the Three being erected across the way, where the old Crossing shack had been torn down to make way for the new dwellings. It would be re-erected in the new museum being built in Wolf Bend as an exhibit of the People's history.

Bart looked at Greg and said, "You wouldn't believe the last guy we Crossed, Terry and I." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Huh?" Greg replied, out of witticisms. "What does he look like?"

"Think of a Servant, then give him a dried-blood back and cowl. Add the forearms and backs of the hands to the red color scheme. That's what he Crossed as,"

Bart explained. "We've got him in the new Rehab wing and he's halfway done already--in three days !"

"Whoa, there;" Greg said. "What kind of a werewolf is this?"

"Well he was an ex-Ranger who was a SWAT-Cop for ten years. He decided on a "Lifestyle change" Crossing, because he was beginning to feel his age. He was forty-seven."

"Come on, Bart;" Greg queried, "what is he now?" Bart loved to draw things out.

"He says he's a Guardian. The first one in three hundred years," Bart replied soberly.

"Ohhh, Crap!"

"You mean you're pregnant?" Terry squealed. "Neat! So am I!" Then she sobered; "What about school?"

Serena shrugged, "We're on break now, and I can get in another semester before I give birth. Then Mom and Dad say they'll help with the babies while Greg and I take a semester online; we'll just have to be there for mid-terms and finals." Then she turned the tables, "When do you have 'pups'?" she snickered.

"Late October, early November; at least that's what the OB/GYN says."

"All right!" Serena laughed, "That's when I'm due, too! Maybe we can have them together!"

"Bart would faint!" Terry laughed back, "but I'd love it!"

The two bitches-to-be laughed together, imagining their mates struggling with two loads of offspring.

"We're gonna have to tag them, or the guys will mix them up for sure!" Serena roared.

"Naaaaah," Terry giggled back; " they'll just both faint, and leave the work for their mates!"

"We are joining with them, Aleet-hra; already I speak with Gregory in his dreams," Stanaq said happily.

_ "Serena and I are muchly alike," Aleet-hra replied. "I too, spend time with her when we sleep."_

_ "The first ones are coming, and you know what that means," Stanaq observed._

_ "Yes, but we and they and our children and our children's children will prevail as a People again united, in soul and body," she answered; "and the others, the Smooth ones will work with us to keep the night from falling. This is a wonderful world, and we will preserve it from the Enemy, no matter what He may do. This I believe, as Mother has said. We carry more of the People in our bellies, to help hold back the night."_

_ "I, too believe this, beloved. No more caves to hide in, we will have the Sun-Child's blessing on our work, and on our children, as well."_

_ "We will, Stanaq, we will."_

_ _

_ _

And in time, they did; but that's another story...

_ _

Pursuit and Capture

A Wulfen Blood Novella.

This story appears in Wulfen Honor as part of the longer manuscript. This is an expanded, modified, and compiled version of those story segments with additional story and action. That, at least, was my intention. Then the story started writing itself. I meant to keep it short, I promise!

_ _

Serena Wolfe was enjoying the outdoors for what would probably be the last time

before winter set in and she would have to both return to school and put her motorcycle up on blocks for the cold season. Thus, she was riding her Russian-made "Wolf" motorcycle one last time.

The "Sapient Species" order was in force, so for the first time in her life, she was riding her motorcycle as the werewolf she was, rather than in her Smoothskin persona. It was wonderful.

She was still encased in riding leathers and helmet, and very little of her fur was visible, but that didn't matter; and wonder of wonders her leathers still fit decently when she was in fur. She didn't have to hide any more. That was what mattered.

Still, when she had stopped for gasoline, the stares of the people at the discount gas station had made her decide to refuel at the Wolf Bend gas station instead so she had only partially filled the tank and driven off.

"Stupid jerks," she thought; "I've bought gas there forever, and now they stare at me like I'm a freak? Last time I get fueled up there; I'll walk instead if I have to."

She glanced into her rearview mirrors and saw a truck headed for her. She pulled over into the slow lane to let it pass, and instead it changed lanes and almost clipped her rear tire.

Almost. As soon as she saw the move, she was opening the throttles and speeding up to get away from them. They stubbornly followed, again closing the gap between her motorcycle and their front fender.

Another car was pulling up; a faded and rusted blue Chevy that she recognized; it belonged to Greg--a friend from college. It had been at the gas station, but he must have been in the mini-mart when she had left. Now here he was too. Good.

As she crept away from the pickup, gaining speed only slightly faster than the truck did, Greg moved into the space between them and began to slow down, getting her more space and time to get away.

She sped away as her friend kept his jalopy between her motorcycle and the truck and soon she was ahead of them both, as Greg kept blocking the truck's attempts to pass and catch up with her.

"Good old Greg," she thought, "he's a real friend. He'll get me a chance to turn around and head for home. I do not like that truck at all."

Soon, she was crossing the highway's center divider, an unpaved open strip of land between the two ribbons of concrete, and then was watching as Greg's car and the truck speed away from her in the opposite direction as she ran for home and safety.

The "low fuel" light began flashing in her speedometer, and she reached down and flipped the fuelcock to the "reserve" position. The light went out.

She was still speeding for home when a glance in her rearview mirror again showed the same truck had apparently also crossed the highway divider and was again chasing her, with the rusted blue Chevy chasing it.

She began to worry. This had gone from being some hillbilly jerk off chasing a werewolf to something that sent chills down her spine. This was looking more and more like an attempted kidnap with her as the target. She downshifted, using gasoline but gaining power and acceleration.

The truck kept coming, and the Chevy was starting to smoke. Somehow, Greg got in front of the truck again, and again began to slow down; trapping the truck behind his now dying car.

A glance ahead showed a relieving sight; the unmarked offramp that led to Wolf Bend or the ranch, depending on which way one turned. She didn't care; this was safety!

She made the offramp and was stopped on the shoulder when she heard a loud crunch behind her. Looking back, she saw the truck had hit Greg's rear fender, making his car hit the concrete offramp abutment and spin off into the culvert, flipping over and coming to rest on its top with steam pouring out of the engine compartment. The truck sped under the viaduct spanning the highway and fishtailed around one hundred eighty degrees against traffic and was heading for the onramp and Serena.

She had yanked her cellphone out and had pushed 911 as soon as she had stopped, and the voice of the local Sheriff's dispatcher finally came out of the unit, recognizing the number and asking the problem..

She told them what had happened, and as soon as she had an acknowledgement, started toward town as the truck was approaching up the onramp. Unfortunately, there was no outbound traffic to stop it or slow it down.

She had traveled less than half a mile toward town before the engine quit and reaching for the fuelcock, she realized that she had already flipped it and she was out of fuel. Stopping and leaving the bike, she began running and stripping off her leathers and the clothing under them. She was down to her underwear when a whisper of sound in the grass made her drop flat. She was still trying to get out of the now vegetation-tangled panties her mother had made her wear when pain shot through her left leg just under the buttock. Yanking the cotton underwear off she ran on four feet for the shrubbery and made it to the relative safety of the brush and the concealment it provided.

Her hand came up bloody as she explored her hip, and she gritted her teeth as she felt the bullet hole in her outer thigh. There was a sound of someone approaching, so she moved carefully away from the area and back to the highway, away from town and the more sensible way she would have gone, hoping to throw off pursuit.

With any luck at all, she would have healed and lost the bullet by the time the Deputy showed up. Gritting her teeth again, she moved carefully toward the highway, thanking her father for the training in "stalking game" she had endured and as a result, she made no sound.

She crept seemingly forever in the twilight world of the brush-row until the sound of a siren started lifting her spirits. Finally, she reached the highway and slipped out of the brush, and still on four feet, limp-scurried toward the upside-down car and the Sheriff's cruiser stopped behind it.

She stood and began to run but her leg didn't feel any better, actually it felt worse and slowed her to a limping shuffle. Her hand came away still bloody when she checked her thigh; something was seriously wrong, since the bleeding should have stopped by now and it hadn't!

The deputy, Carl Nemeier, saw her and waved but then suddenly motioned down and she dropped. Two bullets whispered past where she had been standing, followed by the double crack of a pistol half a second later.

Carl returned fire and for a moment, there was a small war above Serena as she huddled in a depression that offered some protection to her from the flying lead above.

The firing stopped. Carefully, she looked back where she had been and saw a man holding his stomach while his gun dropped from his fingers. He sank to his knees and then fell facedown onto the earth.

Carl called out to her and she responded by rising and limping toward him as fast as her legs would carry her. At the upside down car, she nearly fell into the deputy's arms and was half carried to the passenger side of the cruiser, where he helped her sit on the seat and went back to the trunk to get the first aid kit.

There was a sound from the road and Serena looked over to see the truck pulling up and two men getting out of the cab, both armed with rifles. She dropped down to the ground after grabbing the microphone from its rest and called for help. The dispatcher replied that there would be more cars there in minutes, but she and the deputy would have to hold on until then.

Carl scuttled over to her and said; "You'll have to patch up yourself, there's more trouble coming and I have to try to stop them. Stay low."

Then he stood, pistol ready and called out to the approaching men; "Drop your weapons! Sheriff's officer, drop those guns now!"

He got his answer as they quickly separated, then one called out; "Give over the dog, and we'll let you live. An animal isn't worth dying for, and we have steel core bullets in our rifles; they'll go right through the car or that armor you're wearing."

Carl replied, "Drop those rifles now, or I will fire on you; this is your last warning!" He squatted down as he spoke so he presented less of a target, using the trunk and rear wheel of his cruiser for more protection.

There was a shot, and the windows shattered on both sides of the cruiser, scattering glass onto Serena as she huddled behind the vehicle. Then she saw something, something wonderful. She reached up and grabbed it, the Sheriff's department shotgun; and racked a round into the chamber. She had wrapped a bandage around her thigh but she was still bleeding. There was definitely something wrong now, the wound by now should have spat out the bullet and healed but nothing like that had happened.

She waited, terrified and hardly breathing; ears and eyes and all her senses maxed out listening for--what, she didn't know.

A bullet chunked into the driver's door and sprayed her with seat-foam as it passed her on the way out. There was a pistol shot, and then nothing.

Her heartbeat was deafening her, yet she could hear the wind blowing in the grass.

There was a sound of crunch, crunch, crunch, growing closer and closer; boots on gravel. Then faintly but getting louder in the distance, sirens; multiple sirens.

A mutter of "shit," near her and then the sound of boots going away as the would- be abductors stopped and started to back up to their vehicle.

She thumbed the safety off, then in one movement stood, aimed and fired at the nearest one, barely twenty feet away. He folded and toppled forward, laying there in a quick growing pool of red. By then she had chambered another round and was about to fire as the second fleeing man dropped to the ground, clutching his thigh. Then she heard the pistol report, delayed in time and adrenalin as Carl fired to disable, and hit.

It was over. She set the safety and settled the shotgun down, then limped over to the inverted vehicle. She crawled in through a broken-out window to reach Greg, hanging upside down in the belts and unconscious, his arms against the ceiling of the car, now its floor. She didn't know why, but she had to do this.

A hesitant touch, a flicker of something, and the wolf whined for the human in such distress. She tentatively rubbed her cheek against his; more flickers. She should do something, but she couldn't think what it was; so she just stared at the human dying before her eyes. It was getting darker, and she felt very tired. She wanted to sleep, now.

Then there was a voice.

"Serena, is he alive?" She turned toward the source of the voice, another human; and stared. She knew this human. He was a friend.

"Crap, she's going feral with blood loss. Serena! Reach out to me!"

She did and a hand grabbed hers and dragged her out of the car. She tried to bite the human but she was so tired. She just wanted to be with the male in the car. Her male. Her mate. He was dying.

The light went away then, and soft painless dark wrapped her up.

Mother?

_ Yes, daughter?_

_ Should I go back?_

_ Yes. There is much yet for you to do._

_ What if he dies?_

_ You will grieve. Then you will rejoin him here, after a time. There is still much to do, and you must do it._

_ Yes, Mother. I love you, Mother,..._

_ And I, you; my daughter. Return now._

_ _

"forty over ten and holding" "wrap that bandage tighter" "I'm running the Ringer's wide open" "piggyback another bag, we need volume" "pressure's rising, now seventy over thirty, still rising" "get ready to shock over the spleen, cut that fur away now!" "one-seventy joules--now"

EEEYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Serena awakened. She was on a hospital bed. Her right hand didn't hurt. That was the only part of her body that didn't ache, burn, hurt, or itch.

Her eyes roved over the place where she was. She knew it. This was the Emergency Room at Wolf Bend hospital. There was a bag of something, dripping into an intra-veinous catheter in her wrist. She tried to sit up, but got dizzy and had to lay back down.

"You're awake. Good."

She recognized the owner of that voice, as he came into view. It was Joseph, a Healing Servant attached to the hospital.

"What happened to me?" she asked, still puzzling over what she remembered.

"Well, you nearly bled to death, for one," Joseph replied calmly. "Fortunately, the ambulance crew did the right thing in shocking you over your spleen, causing it to release the stored red cells it had in it. You're anemic, still; and you're still being hydrated, but you're going to live." There was something he wasn't saying.

"What about Greg?" she asked. "I want to see Greg." She was worried now.

"Gregory Massey is critically ill," Joseph said quietly, "He was nearly killed in that roll-over, and his spine is severed at mid-chest level. He is getting the best that we can give him, but I think he isn't going to make it. I've tried, but even I can't heal everything, and that's what he needs."

She felt fear, and conquered it. "Would Crossing him help?" she asked in a very controlled voice.

"That is about his only hope. That will allow our Mother-Beloved to heal him, as She heals all who come to Her, one way or another," Joseph replied.

"Then I wish to request a Compassionate Crossing for Gregory Massey. I will be his donor, his sponsor, and guarantor... Did I say that right?" she asked the Servant.

"That is the proper formula, although your donation will be an honorary three drops of blood; since you really don't have that much to spare," he answered calmly. "I'll see to the preparation myself."

Before he left, Serena asked; "Why didn't my leg heal? Why didn't it stop bleeding? What went wrong?"

The Servant turned back to her, a white Werewolf in green scrubs.

"The bullet we removed from your leg was silver plated; deeply so, and had expanded to nearly half an inch in size. Silver is poison to us, just like the movies show. The silver kept killing the R-cells as they tried to seal the wound and killed the tissue around it so you didn't even clot. You will recover fully, now that it's gone. You were very, very, lucky, Serena. You almost died."

He paused, remembering something else; "Your parents are on their way. We called them as soon as we had you stabilized and transported here."

She groaned. Her mother would--then a memory surfaced of another one she called mother. She lay there, wondering.

A little while later, Luther, the Chief Servant and Healer at the hospital looked in on her.

"How are you doing, Serena?" he asked as she stared at the ceiling.

"I want to see Greg--no, make that I have to see Greg and I don't know why," she said in a tight voice. "Something is happening and I don't understand it and I'm more afraid than I was at the highway."

The words released her tears and she wept as Luther held her.

When the tears were done and the Servant had given her a box of tissues, he said; "Let me raise your head. If you don't black out, I'll push your hospital bed to young Massey's room. Let me warn you, though; this won't be pretty." Shaking his head, he continued; "He wasn't as tightly belted in as he needed to be, and took a lot of head trauma. He is still strapped to the backboard from the ambulance and frankly, I don't see how he survived as long as he did in that upside-down car."

Looking straight into Serena's eyes, Luther said; "Don't expect him to be awake. Don't expect anything. He is loaded with more drugs than is safe for Crossing, and some of them have strange side effects in us. If he lives, it will be something of a miracle; even with the Crossing Over and the Healing we've already done."

Cold fear invaded Serena's stomach as her head was raised and the hospital bed adjusted to keep her upright. Things went blurry for a second, then settled down as she rolled her eyes from side to side trying to stay awake. She succeeded.

After waiting a moment, Luther released the brake and started pushing the hospital bed she was in toward the hallway and the hospital rooms that it served.

Wolf Bend hospital was a moderate-sized hospital, serving a moderate-sized community. They had fifty beds, and any room became an intensive care room when needed.

Greg's room was an intensive care room now, sited directly across from the nurses' station. There was a deputy seated in the hallway by a door farther around the circular care section. The two surviving would-be kidnappers were in it, and as Serena was rolled by that door, she felt an intense desire to enter it and kill everyone in that room, messily and slowly. She started to growl, deep in her throat, pulling lips back from sharp, long fangs and staring fixedly at the door as they passed.

Luther put a hand on her shoulder, calming her; and the killing rage abated-somewhat.

It dissipated completely as her bed was pushed into Greg's room, replaced by fear. She couldn't see Greg, other than a hand emerging from bandages and a bruised and broken face at the head of the bed. She could remember him, though; heavyset and always either dieting or exercising to try to shed the fat that clung to his frame like an oversized pair of sweats; with a heavy jaw, narrow nose, thin lips, a high forehead and wide-set eyes. They were kind eyes, though; and a sort of olive-green in color. His hair was a sandy brown and already thinning at nineteen years of age. Now, there was a tube in his nose and another in his mouth with an oxygen line running into it. Three bags of fluid dripped into the I.V. portals in his wrists and backs of his hands. One of them was blood-red: Joseph's blood; the blood of a Servant to start the Crossing Over process.

"You wanted to donate?" Luther asked as he maneuvered the hospital bed along side the other bed. She nodded, afraid to speak.

Luther went to a cabinet on the wall and returned with two syringes and an alcohol pad. Shutting off the I.V. drip on her wrist and removing the tube, he inserted the needle of the first and drew clear fluid from the portal, followed by blood. The second syringe now was inserted and three c.c.'s of her blood were drawn, then the first syringe was reinserted and the fluid and blood pushed back into her veins. He restarted the I.V. drip, adjusting for faster flow to clear the portal of any remaining blood.

Wiping the portal on Greg's free wrist, he inserted the syringe and then guided her hand to the plunger, which she pressed, thus pushing her blood into the blood flowing from the bag and mixing with it.

"Donation complete," Luther said; and returned to the cabinet to record it and dispose of the used syringes.

There was a sound behind her and she looked back to see her parents' look of surprise and concern as they witnessed her act of donation. They crossed the room in moments to stand by her bed, many questions in their eyes.

"I had to, he saved my life;" she said as she broke down again in her mother's arms.

Harry, her father, asked Luther; "What happened? They didn't say much over the phone, other than there had been an accident. Was it the motorcycle? That was Greg's car we saw on the way in; was he involved?" He was in Smooth, still a bit skittish of showing fur off the ranch property or outside of town.

"From what we learned, there was a kidnap attempt; and young Massey here kept the would-be kidnappers from causing Serena to crash, by using his car to block them while she ran for safety," Luther explained, "and they forced his car into the abutment at the offramp. Then they came back and tried to shoot her, only she got away. She was wounded, though; and almost bled to death because the bastards used silver-plated bullets."

Harry was beginning to growl, and the shift was beginning as he grew angrier and angrier. He was being echoed by Marina, his wife and mate, who still held her daughter in her arms. She was shifting as well, anger causing the rush of adrenalin that was the shift's major reactive trigger.

Luther continued, "Deputy Carl Nemeier was the hero of the thing, he shot two of them, and your daughter got the third with his department-issue shotgun, six double-ought pellets right through the abdomen: pretty good shooting. He's dead, by the way; the one she shot."

"We got to them just in time, and Serena is the first Wulf to be shocked over her spleen to get it to release the stored red blood cells. That saved her, because she was going feral from blood loss and would have died right there. We just don't have enough Wulfen blood products available, and Smoothskin blood doesn't have the specialized cells needed to repair the damage in time."

He glanced at Serena, resting back on the upright section of the hospital bed, now, saying; "I think your daughter is Bonding to young mister Massey, though. That's good, actually; since it means he has a fair chance of surviving. The Bond wouldn't have formed, otherwise."

"Bonding? Serena?"Marinaasked in astonishment, followed by, "She's too young!" Then, a moment later, "What if he dies, anyway? Will she follow him?" Now there was worry in her voice.

Luther shook his head, his ears down; "Not likely: the Bond isn't that strong, yet. What it will do, though, is give him a bit more strength through it, and that may be the difference between living and dying. If he dies, she will grieve, but she will go on with her life."

"That's what she said," Serena mumbled to herself. "We'd be back together in..." She stopped and carefully thought about the memory that the words had retrieved.

"What did you say, dear?"Marinaasked, "Who said what?" she queried her daughter as she held her hand.

"Nothing, mom; just a weird memory." Serena was going over what she did remember from the time after the light had gone out.

She reached out to touch Greg's hand. There was a faint tingle as skin met skin. Slowly it grew stronger, and just as slowly Greg's eyes began to open. He couldn't talk, but he was awake--somewhat. He looked over at Serena and the tingle in her hand grew stronger still, evoking pleasure in her whole being, different from the pleasures she had sampled before.

Her jaw dropped, followed by her ears; and she gazed on her mate, someone she had known...before. Before what--that she didn't remember, other than she knew this man, this male, this person; and they were back together again, as promised. She leaned back and dropped into sleep; her hand and his still clasped.

Harry looked at the pair of clasped hands. "Looks like we've got us a new son in the family," he rumbled. "I surely didn't expect that Greg would be Serena's choice, though."

Marinawas still concerned. "She's too young," she declared, "why, she hasn't even finished college yet."

"I really don't think we have much of a choice," Harry replied; "That's a Bond, all right; just like ours, only just a little sooner for these two."

It was then that he realized that he had shifted unknowingly and reached back, to feel torn cloth and loose thread.

"Aww, nuts;" he grumbled, "this was one of my favorite shirts, too," as he examined where the sleeves had come loose from the body of the shirt as his shoulder blades moved under them.

"Harold DeWitt Wolfe!" his wife stormed, "our baby is Bonding and you're worried about a shirt?" she was glaring, ears backed and lips pressed tightly together.

"Well, yeah;" he replied, "The shirt is something we can do something about. Our daughter's Bond isn't. By the way, hon, you might want to do something about your blouse..."

Marinalooked down, seeing that her blouse was ruined and gaping open in front, with the remains of a lace bra in pieces hanging out of it.

Werewolves changed shape drastically and became much more muscular when they shifted. They usually either stripped or changed clothes first.

"I paid fifty dollars for that bra!" she said in frustration, "and it wasn't all that old!" She deflated like a balloon as she calmed down. "When did I shift? I don't remember shifting..."

Luther said quietly; "It was when I was describing the accident, I believe. At least, that's when Harry started his shift."

"Well, next time, warn a guy;" Harry grumbled, "I liked that shirt."

"Oh, Harry;"Marina sputtered, "you've got half a dozen of those shirts in the closet at home. I can probably fix this one; it looks like it was just the seams that gave way." She started fussing around with his garment as he winked at Luther.

As she fussed, she glanced at her daughter and their new son-in-law, or son; as the Wulfen didn't bother with the legalese. He was their son, just as she was their daughter now; especially as his parents had died in a house fire while he had been at college.

"Harry," she spoke quietly, "they are so young, but yes; I can see the Bond too. We'll just have to make room for them and hope it works."

Harry had been thinking. "Y'know," he said, "Serena said there was this fella in College that was always helping her out with stuff, and giving her a place to get fuzzy when she couldn't deal with being Smooth anymore? Betcha this is him: Greg. I was thinking it was one of the guys around here, but Wulf; y' know? Now, I think Greg was the one she was writing about. We'll have to ask her when she wakes up."

"When can she be released?"Marinaasked Luther. He glanced at the sleeping girl for a moment and said; "Tomorrow, probably. Her leg will be healed by then, and she will have made enough red cells to keep her going. I'm giving her two packed units of Smoothskin red cells tonight, and that ought to keep her alright until she makes more on her own. Just keep feeding her, that's all."

"I don't think that she will be leaving the hospital, though; not with her Mate-in Bond Crossing Over here," he added. "You might bring her something to wear, although I remember she usually doesn't wear much at all, most of the time."

Marina sighed, "Maybe her new husband can keep her dressed, as I surely couldn't. Well, she's a mated female now, and maybe that will make her a little more sensible about things."

Harry chuckled, "It didn't seem to affect you that way-Ooof!" The "Ooof" was from his mate's elbow connecting with his ribs somewhat violently.

He glared, "Hey, I didn't say you weren't ladylike or anything," he grumbled as he rubbed his abused ribcage. Marina gave him an icy glare. "I was always a proper lady, old dog; and don't you forget it."

Chuckling to himself, Luther continued; "In the meantime, we can always give her some scrubs. They're comfortable and she won't be getting fur into sterile sites that way." The antics of the Wolfe's were legendary. Harry played the "dumb farmer" to the hilt, while having amassed a sizable fortune in the Futures market and from diversifying ranch operations. Marinawas always annoyed with her mate over something, but was his strongest supporter in times of trouble. She had also made quite a lot with the Buffalo- meat business, and was a shrewd marketer of the ranch's products as well.

They both had advanced degrees; his in Agriculture and hers in Business Management. Yet they played the yokels so well that even friends were taken in sometimes. They were the perfect Mating-Bonded pair; two people with one spirit.

Luther smiled. Young Gregory was Bonding into a perfect family for his aspirations and dreams, and the Servant knew that the man had been deeply in love with Serena since high school.

He said a quiet "thank-you" to the Goddess; Lunara, Mother-Beloved, for the blessings She had granted to these good WolfKindred.

He lowered the back of Serena's hospital bed-bed and slipped a blanket over her sleeping body. Then the three Werewolves left the two mates-to-be in the quiet of the hospital room.

Later, as Serena was waking from a strange dream that had included Greg somehow and a child as well, she glanced over at him on the hospital bed and in the dim light could see the first signs of the Lupus-Inceptor virus taking hold in is system. He had "measles"--"Werewolf Measles", to be exact; spots all over his skin (what she could see of it) that would become fur follicles when he shifted to Wulfen. He seemed to be breathing better as well and the bruises on his face had started to turn colors as the virus stimulated the healing properties that had lain dormant in his Smoothskin body. He would start making I-cells and R-cells to stop _I_nfection, and _R_epair the damage to his muscles and bones and organs.

She mused over their previous times together at college, where he was an oasis of freedom in a Smoothskin world that had her ready to scream at times. He was always ready to ask his roommate to spend a night at his girlfriend's while Serena went Wulf in the dorm room and they ate pizza and watched movies. He had always been a steady presence in her life since high school; and as she watched him breathe with the machine's help, she realized her best times had always been with him, not family, not the girl-pack, no--him.

Earlier on the highway, he had offered up his life for her safety and escape without any hesitation. Oddly, she seemed to remember he had done that before...but when escaped her.

She knew what his coat would look like, she suddenly realized. It would be a spotted grey/smoke with a granite head and points, contrasting to her mixture of browns and golds and reds that resembled a layer of autumn leaves.

"This isn't our first time," she realized, "We've been together before, whenever that was. Now we're here and together again, just as Mother promised we'd be."

Her eyes widened and her ears flipped and flopped as she realized that she had known Greg before, in another life; and as Mother-Beloved had promised, the Bond was eternal.

Her lower jaw quivered as she realized that she would never be alone again, and the tears that followed were of joy, not confinement or sorrow.

When she had finally settled herself up in the bed, and found the box of tissues that Luther had given her she looked around and as she had slept, someone had brought a set of hospital greens for her to wear. There was a note as well, and after turning on the bed light she read the note her parent had left. The curtains had been pulled on the glass door/wall that faced the nurse's station, leaving the room dark.

They would be back tomorrow. Push the call button and eat something. Wear the scrubs, please, went her mother's handwriting. She chuckled at that, mom was so-o-o predictable, she should have been Jewish. She chuckled a that, a Jewish Werewolf Mother.

Then she read her father's scrawl under his mate's neat penmanship. "We're fixing up for you and Greg" it began. "When you and he are ready, we'll move you into the bigger bedroom and Grandfather Paul can have your old room when he's here; which ain't often. We've got a proposition for you two, once you're here; about school. I think this will make both of you happy, but don't let Greg know; you know how he is about 'charity'. And, baby; I'm real happy for the both of you. The years I've been in Bond with your mother are the happiest I've ever had, and I'll pray that you two are even happier. Love you, Dad."

"Yeah, Daddy," she whispered, "I love you, too," in a voice rough with emotion. Then she pushed the call button.

In less than a minute, a nurse was in the room and asking what she needed.

"Well," she began, " I need the bathroom really, really bad," and the nurse smiled and asked her if she thought she was able to stand.

"Let me see," she said as she put feet carefully on the floor and tried to rise.

Her left leg ached as her weight went onto it, but it was a healing ache; as she knew from many tumbles and spills around the ranch.

She stood, an upright wolf in appearance; whose body was modified for either an upright or horizontal stance. The leg held, and the nurse assisted her to the bathroom and waited for her to take care of things.

In the bathroom, she turned on the light and checked her leg. There was a pressure bandage there, and her left side below her ribs bore evidence of having been shaved recently. The whitish skin was tender there, and she wondered why at first, then remembered the shock delivered to her spleen...which was just there, under the bare spot.

Standing again and washing her hands, she also saw other little bare spots on her torso; realizing that she had been on an EKG while she was unconscious. Drat! She wanted to be pretty for Greg, when he woke up, not like this.

She knocked on the door and the nurse handed her the scrubs, which she donned as much to cover the shaved spots as anything. As she had repeatedly said to her mother, "Nobody can see anything, anyhow," yet, with patches of fur missing, she felt oddly naked and relished the cover that the scrubs gave her.

The nurse helped her back to bed, then quickly checked Greg's equipment; explaining that every bit of data the machines were gathering was visible at the nurse's station as well.

"Doctor has left orders for you to have an iron meal and later, you'll be getting two units of Smoothskin packed red cells to reduce your anemia," the nurse said as Serena took Greg's hand again, "and aboutmidnight, Healing Servant Collins will be in to start the Crossing monitoring for your mate. Do you want your meal heated or just microwaved?" she asked as Serena settled back into her bed.

"Microwave it, I think," Serena replied as her stomach advised her that waiting to heat the food would be entirely too long.

Five minutes later, she was presented with two pounds of liver and other organ meats, along with greens and turnip pieces spiced with bacon. There were other treats as well, but Serena literally wolfed down the meal and settled back in her bed, replete. The head of the bed had been elevated again so she had a better view of Greg and the many connections and tubes that snaked under his covers. He was still asleep, but it was sleep, not coma; she decided and relaxed beside him again. She realized that their Bond was telling her about his condition and presumably telling him about hers. She sent love to him through their shared hands and felt it returned to her, as deep in his pre-Crossing slumber, he felt his mate's gift.

She made a dainty burp (she had eaten rather quickly) and dozed, sharing the unique Bond that formed between Wulfen mates if they were lucky.

She was awakened by a white-coated Servant a bit later, who introduced himself as Healing Servant Bart Collins. He was an easy going, affable Werewolf who had a female Smoothskin assistant named Terry Ryder. She was a cute blonde girl of maybe eighteen or twenty, with a sweet face and happy eyes. Intrigued, Serena asked the young woman why she was learning what was essentially a Wulfen vocation.

"That's because I intend to Cross-Over myself," she replied with a smile. "I have a brain tumor that is inoperable and is resistant to Healing too. That leaves me with the opportunity to Cross and be done with it once and for all," she said with a grin. "I've admired you guys and been Kindred forever, but I never thought I'd have the wherewithal to afford a Crossing myself, even though I have a four Sponsors as to my nature and propriety. Then I got sick, and the cause was found by my Pack's Healing Servant and supported by a couple of MRI's that showed a little mass up under my medulla, right where we could see it, but not get to it without either paralyzing me or killing me. That's when my home group of Kindred got together and offered me Compassionate Crossing as a way to save my life and accomplish what I had thought was a hopeless dream."

Amazed by what she was hearing, Serena asked her to continue as the two were disconnecting Greg from all the machinery in preparation for his own Crossing Over. Even the airway that had helped Greg breathe came out, since he was already breathing on his own. Soon, outside of the EKG and some I.V. ports, he was disconnected-other than the urine catheter.

"Not that much more to say, really," Terry replied, "other than I want to become a Crossing Assistant afterwards; that's because all Assistants have to be Crossers themselves."

"I didn't know that," Serena said with some surprise, " and what's the reason for that?" This time the Healing Servant answered.

"Crossing Assistants spend all their time monitoring their Crosser, and because they've Crossed themselves, they know instinctively when there is something going wrong," Servant Collins replied. "We like each other, and work together well; so I'm teaching what can be taught prior to her Crossing. Additionally, I'm her lifeline when she has a seizure; that was the original problem that brought us together. I control the seizures when they happen, and Terry can tell me pretty often when one's going to hit, so I can stop it early, well before she gets in serious trouble."

Terry grinned at the Servant. "He's my big white fuzzy rescue-wolf," she said with a giggle.

"All humor aside, we need to get this guy tubed pretty soon," the Servant said quietly. "I hate to stick another tube down his throat just after I pulled his airway, but we have to be able to get gastric access to feed him as he Crosses."

Serena watched as they fed another tube up his nose and then down his throat to his stomach. As the end passed down his throat, the Healer put a hand over Greg's adam's apple and concentrated while he pushed the other end of the tube up the man's nostril.

He grinned, "Got it!" and quickly fed the rest of the tubing into Greg until he came to an odd 'bump' on the side of the tubing.

Terry was waiting and handed him a large syringe filled with a clear fluid, which he inserted into the bump and injected several c.c.'s of something into the bump itself before removing the syringe and gently tugging on the tube and pulling it out a few inches. Then the tube stopped moving.

"What's that?" Serena asked, pointing at the syringe.

"Saline fluid," Terry replied. "There is a balloon on the stomach end of this gastric tube and we just inflated it so it won't get pulled out as his muzzle forms. We'll also put some petrolatum on this end of the tubing so it'll just slide into his nostril as his muzzle elongates."

"Now, Ms. Wolfe," the Servant said, "I need to hook you up to a couple of bags of packed red cells to get your anemia under control. They are Smoothskin donations, but you need the oxygen transport most, and you'll make your own I- and R-Cells in a few days. My question is, do you need the bathroom first? Now is the time, before you have a couple of bags of blood hanging over you." He waited for her answer.

"Yeah," she said; "I guess I'd better. Will I need help there and back, like before?"

He took her arm in his hand and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Let's see," he said, "Terry will be there if you get dizzy, and I'll go get the blood for you."

As he exited the room, Terry helped Serena up from her bed and walked beside her as she gingerly navigated the way to the restroom by herself. Being digitigrade was not helpful if one was unsteady on one's feet, but she managed to walk almost normally this time. She also noticed the her thigh wasn't aching any more unless she stressed herself some way. On the way back to her bed, she asked; "How close are you two?"

Terry giggled again, a little nervously, and replied; "Well, I like the man a whole lot, but he's got this thing that it wouldn't be fair to me, because for him Healing always comes first. He doesn't seem to realize that I wouldn't mind; that I would be in somebody else's bed a lot more than I'd be in ours. After all, that's how an Assistant operates; in the Crosser's bed right beside them and watching with everything she's got."

Suddenly she looked wistful, "Like, if he'd only realize that I want him as a mate because we're in the same vocation and we could be so much better and more effective together..."

Serena sat on the edge of her bed. "Maybe if you asked Mother-Beloved for help--like maybe a White Coat to go along with that Crossing Over your going to..."

She suddenly put a hand to her mouth and asked, "Did we bump your Crossing? Were you going to be the next Crosser, and then Greg and I..."

Terry shushed her. "It's another Crossing's experience, and it's only a week. I won't die or anything, I'll just have Bart ease my headaches for me instead of taking the morphine. I don't want anything that would compromise my effectiveness as an Assistant for your mate; and he's a lot worse than I am anyhow."

Serena asked her, "After we're all well, could you and Bart come out to the ranch for a visit? I'd like to get to know you better before I go back to college, and you and Greg could practice gait-working together."

Thanks, Serena;" Terry replied with a smile, "that would be nice. I think even 'Mister Healer' would enjoy a day or two in the country, and I know I would."

They hugged and Serena scratched where her fur had been shaved.

"What happened?" Terry asked when Serena showed her the shaved areas.

"Well, these little ones were where the ambulance people put the EKG electrodes, and this big one is where they shocked my spleen to make it dump the extra red cells and everything that it held."

"You got a Brulay spleen-shock?" Terry asked in wonder. "I read about that but I hadn't heard of it being tried other than in test applications."

The name Brulay got Serena's attention. "I wonder," she said as a cold chill took her spine, "if they tested Greg for a Brulay reaction. My brother almost died of that, Crossing at home like we traditionally did. We don't do that any more."

Terry shook her head. "They would have done a Brulay reaction test first, before administering the inoculation. You can't get the permission without presenting a Brulay test strip with the potential Crosser's name and number on it." She got up and went to the cabinet and took down the chart and brought it back to Serena's bedside.

"See here?" she said, pointing to a box on the form that said "Brulay results" on it. The "negative" box was checked and Servant Joseph's signature was under it.

"That went on all Crossing documentation after the Conciliator almost died, trying to Cross Over to complete the Blessed 'Three', the people who are going to lead us to brotherhood with everybody," Terry explained.

"I know," Serena said quietly. "He's my big brother, Bobby Wolfe. His mate, Belinda almost died as well; I was there."

Terry's jaw dropped in awe. "Wolfe--Serena Wolfe? You're the Conciliator's sister? Your sister is Bonded to the Healer? Oh, wow..." something like worship came into Terry's eyes.

What might have become a sticky situation was dissolved by Bart returning with a box of supplies and two plastic bladders of blood.

"What you have to go through just to get some warm blood around here..." he grumbled, then "Well, let's get you hooked up so you can get better," he said in a more relaxed manner.

The blood bags were placed in an insulated jacket and a heated packet was slipped between them, then they were connected and the tubing was readied for attachment to the I.V. port still in place in Serena's wrist. The Servant opened the valve and blood began to drip into the tubing until it was full, then the needle on the end of the tubing was inserted into the portal and the blood flow was set for a drop every second. Serena felt a growing sense of warmth in her arm as the heated fluid entered her veins.

She turned in her bed to watch as Greg's final preparations were taken care of, then the Healer asked, "Would you like him to wake up now, so you can talk? We've been keeping him asleep to conserve his energy, but now it's a moot point."

Serena asked, "Before you do that, could I ask a question?"

The Servant nodded. "What?"

Serena blushed and asked, "Is it possible to stimulate fur growth? They shaved a big patch under my ribs so they could do a Brulay shock-something. I'd like to see if I could be pretty for Greg, once he's Crossed; and, well..."

"You were the one who got the spleen-shock, weren't you?" he asked.

She nodded. Terry whispered something in his ear.

"Oh, you're that Wolfe? The Conciliator's sister?" the Servant smiled and said, "You want to be pretty when he wakes up, right?" as he glanced at Greg's bed.

Serena nodded.

The Servant came over to her bedside and she showed him the bare areas. He nodded and warned, "It'll itch a lot, and you can't scratch it until I'm done."

"I don't care," she replied, "they just make me feel--funny. Like we feel in Smooth, sort of embarrassed. Just something to cover that awful bare skin."

Terry snickered, "I got lots, wanna see?" Serena stuck out her tongue at her. Then she felt an odd, tingling sensation that quickly became an itch. Looking down, she saw the Healing Servant's hand just above the shaved area on her abdomen, and it was glowing! Under that glow, her fur was sprouting vigorously, growing longer as she watched. The itch was maddening, but the sight of her fur covering her bare white skin was worth it. Finally, the large area was done and looked normal as he transferred his attentions to the smaller, shaved EKG areas. They itched too but finally the fur was filed in and she felt normal about herself again. She thanked the Healer.

"My pleasure," he replied. "Can't have you feeling uneasy as you two Bond, because he'll feel that as well and skew my readings on I him." He grinned, showing a full set of wolf teeth. "I just wish all my problems were that easy to deal with."

He returned to Greg's bed and did something there that glowed as well, but Serena didn't see what it was, as she was at the wrong angle.

Slowly, the young man in the bed began to stir and fuss slightly in his sleep then suddenly he tried to sit up and failed with a cry of pain. He twisted his legs and tried again, and was successful, and slowly he moved his torso to a more or less upright position.

Terry pressed the button that brought the head of the bed to an angle of around forty-five degrees and he settled back on it with a sigh. He looked around in confusion for a moment, and then relaxed a little when he saw Serena beside him in her own bed, with an I.V. in her arm.

He continued to scan the room and finally said; "Well I guess I survived after all."

He looked at Serena and an odd reaction crossed his features.

Finally Serena broke the silence with, "Hi, Greg." His eyes closed for a second and then he returned her greeting with, "Hello, Serena. How--are you all right?"

"Yes, Greg; I am," she replied, puzzled at his formality with her. She asked him, "Greg, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said sadly. "Other than I wrecked my aunt's car and I won't be able to go to work for a few days."

Looking over at the Healing Servant, he queried, "I will be okay in a few days, won't I?" with an undertone of fear in his voice.

"About a week, roughly;" the Servant replied, putting a hand on Greg's shoulder to calm him. "Now, what's got you tied up in knots?" he asked, phrasing the command like a question.

"My aunt's got financial problems, and we need my income from the store to keep us afloat," he said vacantly. The Servant removed his hand and Greg stared and asked, "Why did I say that?"

"Because we needed to know," the Servant replied. "Don't worry, I've spoken to the Sheriff, and both of those men have warrants out with bounty on them. I don't think that your aunt will be in trouble much longer, after the Sheriff speaks to your bank. In fact, I believe they will be happy to advance her the funds she needs to cover your expenses."

Greg's eyes grew wide. "But--but I didn't do anything except try to protect Serena from them. If anyone gets the rewards it should be her; not me," he stammered.

"Greg," Serena asked gently, "what do you remember?"

He looked over at her with haunted eyes; "Why?"

She remained mute, simply staring.

"We were someplace, and we were having fun and you and I were married and..." he stopped speaking as tears rolled down his face as he stared at her.

"Greg, I love you," Serena said quietly, and reached out her hand. He took it.

"Don't, Serena;" he begged, "I couldn't...I can't...I'm..."

She let him feel how she felt through their growing Bond. His jaw dropped.

He whispered, "Mating Bond ?" hope warring with fear in his soul. She calmed him.

"Thank-you, Mother-Beloved," he whispered. He looked back at the Servant and asked, "What happened to me--to us--I don't remember..."

"Well, why don't you ask your mate; then let us fill what we know?" the Servant said quietly.

"Serena?" he asked.

"You saved my life, Greg. You got me a chance to get off the highway and call for help. They pushed your car into the abutment, and then it flipped over and wound up part-way in the culvert by the road. They shot me with silver, and I almost bled to death.

I went feral and only wanted to be with my mate; with you, Greg. They had to drag me out of your wrecked car to treat me." She let her emotions flow along their Bond as she spoke.

"When I woke up here, I was still very sick; and then the Servant told me you were dying. I asked for Compassionate Crossing for you, and that's why you're here now. You are going to become like me, and we'll live at the ranch with my parents. Maybe we'll go back to College together, or maybe not. I won't go without you. That's what happened, Greg."

The young man's eyes moved to the Servant's, asking mutely.

"You were dying," he said gently. "Ms. Wolfe set up the Crossing for you as your mate.' Then his eyes grew gentle, "Greg, you were a mid-chest spinal separation that the Healers here couldn't fix. You were bleeding internally, and too weak to survive surgery to fix it. Your brain was swelling inside your skull, and again we could help, but not heal that, either."

He paused, letting the information sink in. "I can vouch for the fact that you and your mate are in Bond together, and that the Bond is growing. You still have a long week to endure as you Cross, but that is my specialty, as a Healing Servant."

"You've been prepped for your Crossing. You have already healed your severed spine, and your body is still healing the rest of your injuries so that you may Cross successfully."

Then he grinned, "Besides, there are three nasty kidnappers that are going to be permanently out of action, thanks to you and your mate. Because of the nature of your injuries and how you were injured, there will be no charges for your Crossing Over; the Community is saying thanks and welcome in that."

"Now," he asked, "shall we get to your Crossing? You're already in stage one and will be moving into stage two in a little while. One of us will be with you all the way, all the time; and I suspect your mate will be here as well." Then he grinned and said, "Welcome to the fuzzy side of life, brother."

Greg turned and asked "Serena, are you sure--you really..." That was all he managed to say before she kissed him and stopped his questioning.

* * *

Out at the ranch, Luther was still talking with Serena's parents, Harry and Marina, drinking de-caf coffee in the ranch house kitchen.

"...and it's my impression that they had some sort of bond ever since high school. I've known young Massey for most of his life, as his parents were both Kindred and Believers. He's always had a weight problem, hereditary, I think; since he's been fighting a battle with his body over it since grade school. He's very athletic, to the point of overdoing it; yet he stays puffy and fat-looking no matter what."

The Servant sighed at the memory, "He even tried laxatives and purging, and I was called out to his home when he seized due to an electrolyte imbalance in his blood. He came very close to passing that time, and I was weeks getting him to eat normally again." "I think that's what came between him and your daughter, actually. Poor self image, to cap a phrase. It was in high school that he started backing away from her, which was also the time when Serena blossomed into the beauty she is today. I think he was embarrassed by his appearance."

Harry put his coffee down and looked puzzled; "I know Serena said she was puzzled about why her boyfriend was acting the way he was, but I didn't realize that she was referring to Greg. That was when Martina had that 'thing' with Paul and Bobby left home forHollywood. We really didn't give Serena's boyfriend problems the attention they deserved, I guess."

Marinaspoke up; "That was when she was complaining that several of the young wulfen men were making fools of themselves with her. A Smoothskin like Gregory wouldn't have stood a chance against them, especially since our young males tend to be very aggressive with anyone they perceive as the 'competition' for their intended conquest." She sighed, "I guess it's our wolf coming out in us. Still, they act like young fools when they see a pretty female; and Serena was very pretty. Gregory wouldn't have even had the advantage of being Wulfen himself, and our romantic conflicts can be pretty rough even for us, when lust overrides reason; not that they had much of that," she said accusingly.

"So he wound up being the odd man out," Luther summarized, "and over her time in College she was too interested in herself to give the remains of their relationship any chance of survival. I understand that Greg did give her a place to relax in her fur in his dorm room, but by then he had assumed the submissive posture and Serena would have seen it as just that; submission. Her natural instincts would have been to accept it as her due as a superior, and it appears that that is exactly what happened."

Harry stared at his coffee cup and ruminated, "Then Greg sees one last chance to show her how much he cares, and almost dies as a result. At least that woke our daughter up, from what I hear."

He looked up at the other two Werewolves at the table and said, "She was bleeding to death and yet she crawled into his car and had to be yanked out of it to get her to the ambulance crew. She was willing to die beside him rather than live without him. I think that's when the Bond started really forming, if it hadn't already formed and just been ignored because it was still so weak."

He chuckled, "Well, that part's over. There's no doubt that she and Greg are meant to be together, and from what I know of Greg; he's a good young man and will make a damned fine Wulf."

Luther nodded; "He was always asking about Serena when he'd see me, since I handle the Moon Songs out here most of the time. He left college early because when his parents died in that house fire, his aunt was out of a home as well; since she lived with them. Her only income is social security disability payments because she can't hold a job, due to her arthritis. I've treated her several times for it, but Healing doesn't work as well on Smoothskins as it does on us, so all I can do is relieve the worst of her symptoms.

"He's got a job at the market pushing carts and stocking shelves and doesn't make much money, yet he pays her more than half his income as "rent" on their two room apartment, and that still doesn't do much more than cover the very basics." He rubbed his chin; "I wonder what they will do now? I spoke to their bank, and since the two survivors are wanted felons with rewards on them, the bank will advance the aunt money for her bills against the rewards. He has a big insurance payout coming when he reaches twenty-one, from his parents' life insurance; but that's a year and a half away."

Harry was puzzled. He asked, "How is it that Greg is getting the money since it was the deputy Nemeier who actually took them down?"

Luther grinned, "A little creative bookwork: as a Deputy; Carl isn't allowed to collect a reward like that, and Serena was the victim--or would-be victim, that is. Greg, according to the report, 'actively participated in the apprehension of these two wanted fugitives by preventing them from attacking your daughter by the use of his vehicle as a shield, and was seriously injured as a result'. It all depends on how you look at it."

"The community is assuming the costs of his Crossing and the other medical treatments because those three animals are known to have abducted five Wulfen and sold them for medical experimentation, hence the rewards; and hence the community is saying 'thank-you' to the new Wulf who assisted in their capture by paying his medical expenses, including the Crossing Over costs."

"You think Greg will give his aunt some of the reward money?"Marinaasked cautiously, one ear up in curiosity.

"If he's the young man I know so very well, he'll give it all to her," Luther said around a smile, "after all, he has his reward in his new mate. Plus, he's got a streak of pure Wulfen honor running through him so wide, I'm certain he's wolf-souled and just smooth for a part of this life. Remember, I'm his Servant in town."

Marinasat staring for a moment, then said; "Now, that makes sense. The way he'd act around us at the market was submissive wulfen behavior, now that I think about it. He'd decided he was submissive to us, so he gave off all the submissive signs, only I didn't connect it up because he was Smoothskin." She nodded, "That makes just perfect sense."

"And as her mate, he assumes Serena's stature in our pack," Harry concluded. "Good, since that makes my little idea all the more workable."

"Do I want to know what that idea is?" his mate asked, giving him a jaundiced look, ears backed; "or would I be happier in blissful ignorance?"

Luther stifled a chuckle. They were at it again.

Harry grinned, "Oh, just that I think they both still have about the same amount of time needed to get their degrees in college, and since our daughter is majoring in Agriculture with a minor in Law, and I recall that he was headed for a Business degree; and it worked so well for us..."

"Harry," his mate replied, "for the first time in thirty years I think you're saying something sensible. I must be getting old."

Luther lost his battle with his sense of humor.

* * *

Serena awakened with the feeling that somewhere, something was vaguely wrong; but the where of it eluded her. She looked over at Greg and he seemed to be sleeping well, with Terry at a tiny desk beside him, where she could watch over them both.

Bart, the Healing Servant had removed her I.V. bags and the needle as well sometime last night, sending her back to sleep with a touch on her forehead. Now, he was resting elsewhere while his Assistant-Trainee kept watch over them both.

Terry had seen her movement, and came over to her bed and asked her if she needed anything.

"A trip to the bathroom, and--what time is it? Is itseven a.m.orseven p.m.?" Serena replied, since this room had no external windows and the drapes were drawn over the glass wall and doorway.

"Seven a.m.," Terry replied, "and let's see how well you can walk. Your last blood count was just up into the low-normal range."

Serena carefully sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. No dizziness; good. She stood on her paw-feet and waited for whatever was going to happen. Nothing did, other than her feet got cold from the tile floor. Finally, she took a step, then another; then marched toward the door marked "Bath Room" and made it easily, as Terry walked beside her watching her gait.

A fuzzy grin, then Serena entered the little room and closed the door. Later as she was washing her hands, she looked at her teeth and grimaced.

Opening the door, she asked Terry if there were any tooth-brushes and floss available. Terry smiled back and went to one of the cabinets that lined the wall and returned with floss, toothpaste, and the special two-ended tooth-brush that Werewolves used for their dental hygiene, all in a sealed packet.

"Anything else?" she asked, entirely too "perky" for this time of morning.

"Well, I'd like a tail-hole but I don't know if that's okay with these scrubs," Serena replied diffidently.

"No problemo," Terry said with a grin, "these are one-use Tyvek scrubs, essentially disposable. Let me get a marker and some scissors while you get your pants around your waist just where you want them."

After Serena adjusted her pants for location, she felt Terry pressing around the root of her tail through the pants and glanced back over her shoulder. The girl was marking points on either side of her tail root, parallel to the waistband of the pants.

"Now, drop your britches," she commanded and Serena complied, watching again as Terry took a pair of scissors and cut a two inch wide "vee" in the seat of the pants, using the marks as starting points.

Quickly, Serena drew them back up and pulled her tail through the new opening, settling the clothing into place with a smile.

"Thanks," she said, "that's so much better!"

"It really is that important?" Terry asked curiously. "Well, I'll find out pretty soon, won't I?" she said with anticipation.

"It's a funny feeling when your tail is trapped, like you're stuck in something," Serena explained. "Once you've Crossed, come on out to the ranch and I'll show you how to do it to regular clothes. It's a comfort thing, really."

Terry nodded and returned to her desk, while Serena attended to brushing and flossing her teeth.

Soon, feeling much better, Serena returned to her bed and looked down on Greg. His feet were changing, the first major change of the Crossing. Soon, his feet would look crippled on a Smoothskin; but perfectly normal on a digitigrade Werewolf.

The sense that something was wrong still persisted, though.

Carefully, Serena touched his feet and the feeling of wrong grew stronger.

"Terry," Serena said, "there is something funny happening here. I feel that there is something wrong with Greg through the Bond. Is that possible?"

"Well, at first, the Mating Bond is very intense," Terry replied. "What do you feel?"

"Something is wrong, but it's general. It gets stronger when I touch him. His feet seem to be changing properly, though, and I can't see anything else."

Terry paused and thought for a moment. "Bart will be back after breakfast, and breakfast will be here any time, now. Do you think it will wait until then, or should I wake him early?"

Serena thought for a moment, then said, "It may just be nerves on my part. If he's going to be here in a little while, I can wait. He doesn't seem to get much sleep."

"We sleep in shifts," Terry explained, "and he taught me a Servant meditation that makes three hours of sleep seem like six. That way, we both are well rested and clear for our Crosser. I'll note your feelings on the chart, since there is a certain amount of sharing that goes on with the Bond." She then did exactly that, and got out her stethoscope and blood-pressure gear and started checking her sleeping charge's life signs.

"Is this much sleep normal?" Serena asked as Terry checked Greg over carefully.

"Well, this is a Compassionate Crossing, which means he was sick already, and Crossing itself is pretty taxing on the Crosser's body; so I'd venture a guess that right now, he does need all the rest he can get." She finished her tests and entered the information on the chart. "He's within normal levels so far," she concluded, "so let's wait for Bart, then."

Serena nodded. If there was anything wrong, the Healing Servant would find it.

Breakfast came, and with it her parents. Serena gobbled down her food quickly, as it seemed that mother and father had something important to say.

She received the shock of her life when her mother said, "I think we have done Gregory a disservice. We didn't realize what there was between the two of you, and when you needed us we were wrapped up in your sister and your brother too much to see.

We'd like to have the two of you live with us on the ranch, and take the ranch over in time, if you would."

Serena knew she had to say something intelligent in reply, so she tried, "Huh?"

Harry asked her, "Who was your friend in high school until the Fisher twins and Jody Weston started hitting on you?"

Serena had the answer immediately; "It was Greg." Her ears dropped as she continued, "He was my best friend until my senior year, and then just sort of disappeared once Jody started asking me out. Then there were Gary and Jerry Fisher, then I graduated and went to college..." her voice faded away.

Then, "Oh, Goddess, I've been such a fool! Jody as much as boasted that he'd scared Greg away, that he 'wasn't man enough to keep me' and I just listened! Then Gary and Jerry were such fun and I all but forgot about Greg!"

Two runnels of blood dripped on the sheets as she clenched her hands tightly enough to drive her own claws into her pads, as she ducked her head in shame, ears flat and backed in submission.

A deep growl rose from her throat as she swore, "Never again. Not even if the Bond wasn't there...Greg is my mate and that is that."

From the adjoining bed came a question, "Whuzzat?" Then, "Serena, are you okay? You sound awfully angry at something." Greg had awakened in response to the feelings flowing between them.

"Yeah, Greg, I'm okay; but be careful, you're mated to a prime fool of a female," she said, quickly turning to see him.

He was pale, but awake and smiling at her. She reached out and saw the damage to her hand-pads and stopped with an "eeek!"

To Greg's confusion she held her hands up to catch the blood. "Bloodspill!" she warned, then meekly realized that outside of Terry, everybody in the room was already Wulfen. Her ears dropped even lower and their insides pinked with embarrassment.

Terry was there with gloves and pads and gauze. She quickly put the gloves on herself and then proceeded to bandage Serena's pads and wrap them with gauze tightly to hold them in place.

"Sorry," Serena apologized and Terry just shrugged her shoulders in dismissal. "You haven't done anything I haven't seen before. You need to remember your nails are pointy, not flat!" she mock-warned as she smiled at Serena and started cleaning things up.

Harry looked at the assistant and asked, "And you are?" curiously.

"Terry Ryder, assistant to Bart Collins; Servant-Crossing Specialist. He should be here any time now. Can I help you?" she queried.

"I've seen you around here, haven't I?" Harry asked.

"Probably; I was a Greenie in high school, a Nurse's Aid through community college, and now I'm studying to be a Crossing Assistant, after I Cross-Over myself," she replied with a smile.

"Do you remember my son, Bobby Wolfe?" Harry asked, entranced by this young Smoothskin girl.

"Wolfe, Wolfe--he broke his leg falling out of a tree?" she replied after thinking a moment.

"The same one," Harry replied with a chuckle. "He's the Conciliator, now; along with his mate Belinda. Quite a Crossing there, you wouldn't believe how close he came to dying."

"Ohhh!" she squeaked, "when? Is he all right now?"

Harry asked her, "Do you remember that real strange storm last month? Snow and everything, all out of season? That was when."

He was prepared to go on but his mate tapped him on the shoulder and hissed; "Our Daughter, remember?"

"Oh, right." Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Hi, Daddy," Serena said, completing the thing by waving a little.

Since Greg was now awake and looking rather puzzled, Harry simply spoke out.

"Greg, since you're going to be family now; my mate and I would like to offer the two of you a deal. Here's what it is; you two complete your education on our money, then you start taking over the ranch, a little bit here, a little bit there; until you two are running the place and we get to retire and go have fun. How about it?"

Greg was speechless until Serena said, "We accept," then she turned her head to her mate and asked, "We do, don't we?" There was a question in her eyes for Greg alone to answer.

Greg finally replied; "Yeah, I guess so. Wow." Then, "Are you sure, sir?" he asked Harry.

Harry replied, " There's one condition. You don't call me Sir. Dad, or Harry is just fine and my mate's eitherMarina, or Mom: Ok?"

"Yes, Si-Harry, Dad; uhhh--Okay," he replied, perplexed but responsive.

Marina walked around to the side of the bed and kissed her new son on his cheek, but then drew back in surprise. "He's hot," was all she said, but there was fear in her voice. Normal Crossings did not raise body temperature.

Terry was on it immediately, putting a thermometer-stick in his mouth even beforeMarinahad stepped away. She looked into his eyes and felt his ears and then went to the room telephone and called a number and said something into the mouthpiece quickly.

By the time she was back and taking a reading on Greg's temperature, the public address system was paging; "Healer Collins to room one-fifteen stat.--Healer Collins to room one-fifteen, stat. and Terry was writing her findings in the records.

Greg was looking frightened. Serena was looking terrified. Harry and Marina converged on their daughter's bed and on Greg's as well. Serena took Greg's hand and held it tightly, feeling the sickness coursing through her mate's body.

Moments after the call had been made, a white Werewolf ran into the room and pulled back the curtains, followed by another, this one Bart Collins, the Crossing Specialist. He made a beeline for Terry and her notes.

"What's happening," he queried and was told; "His pulse is up to ninety-five, temperature is one hundred-two degrees. Eyes are red-rimmed and ears are pinkish and very hot to the touch."

Terry looked over at the family group and said quietly, "I don't know what this is; it isn't Brulay's Syndrome--it's too early in the Crossing for that. He checked out okay not fifteen minutes ago; then, suddenly this happened.

Serena scrabbled up as the two beds, which had been touching, were pushed quickly apart and hers was moved away from Greg's bedding and settled against the glass "wall" that fronted on the nurse's station. On the floor and on her feet, she hurried to Greg's bed as more and more medical people filled the room.

Harry and his mate stepped out into the hall and stood by the central nurse's station and watched the activity with fear and trepidation, while inside the room Serena held onto Greg's hand as she watched him sink into a coma. The last words he whispered were, "Serena, I love you," then his eyes closed.

Three Healers were working on the young man and being puzzled at what they found. There was no evidence of the allergic reaction that was Brulay's syndrome, no evidence of infection, and no evidence of occult organ damage. What there was, was a feeling of poison, and a violent rejection of something, but what that something was, was a mystery.

Terry sought out Serena and asked her what she was feeling as Healing Servant Bart listened.

"Nasty metal taste in my mouth," she replied; "and I feel like I want to throw up but there's nothing there. It doesn't make sense, but my heart hurts like a cramp, and my sides ache like I've been punched just under the ribs on both sides of my back.

She stared at Greg as he sank deeper into sickness and felt terrified because she didn't know what to do. She grabbed Terry and froze with terror as her mate fell deeper and deeper into coma.

Suddenly Terry grasped Serena's waist and whispered, "Hold me; I'm going to seize. Don't distract Bart, your mate needs him too much and I can..." suddenly she stopped talking and bent backwards like a contortionist and began to shake violently.

Terrified, Serena howled and got the attention of literally everyone. Bart was there and taking Terry into his arms as Serena watched the other Servants and Servant Healers fight for Greg's life.

Harry strode into the room and not-too-gently pulled his daughter out of the maelstrom as she watched helplessly while Greg and Terry both fought for their lives.

Her father swept her up into his arms and she wept her fears into his chest while her mother held both of them.

Then Bart was lifting Terry onto Serena's bed and calling for a transfusion pump while the other Servants seemed to have managed to get Greg into more stable condition. The fear on the Crossing Servant's face was very visible as his face went into a snarl and his hands flared with the moon-white light of healing, and his assistant's form no longer twitched and writhed.

A Smoothskin Doctor ran into the room, followed by a number of nurses and a strange looking machine with hoses wrapped around it.

Finally, Luther walked over to the family and explained what had happened.

"We loaded him up with antibiotics after the accident, and then started the Crossing immunity-suppressing drugs without checking to see if they were compatible. They weren't," he said as Serena started weeping again and holding her father's hand in a bruisingly tight grip. "We have the reaction to the drugs suppressed to a degree, but we're going to try dialysis to flush the remainders of the stuff out of his system."

He turned to Serena, "Your description of what he felt was the first clue. He has too much potassium in his system. We are much more sensitive to potassium than Smoothskins and that's what is poisoning him. Fortunately, he isn't far enough along that the potassium is that toxic yet; that much potassium in one of us would kill us instantly by means of heart failure. Doctor Stevens is going to inject some medication to chelate the potassium in his system and tissues and render it much less toxic; but he's still in serious trouble and may not survive. There are other medical problems as well."

Marinaasked, "What happened to the Assistant, Terry? She held Serena's waist, and then had a seizure..."

Luther sighed, "Terry is very ill. She has a tumor in an inoperable area of her brainstem, and Servant Collins was going to start her Crossing yesterday. Then Greg showed up, and she said to Cross him instead of her; that she'd wait," he said sadly. "She may have waited too long. Collins is stabilizing her by will alone. The transfusion may be too late."

Serena was in agony. The girl Terry was on the way to becoming a good friend of sorts. She had given up her slot in the Crossing schedule for Greg, and now might die.

No.

"Luther, can we Sing?" she asked the Servant, who nodded and said, "There is a small hill next to the hospital just for that. You want to sing for Greg, right?" There was a questioning look in his eye.

"I want to sing for both of them," she said quietly. "I want to ask Mother to spare them both. I want--no, I need to do this. Greg is my life, but she gave up her chance of Crossing to try to save him. I can't live with a debt like that, I just can't..." and broke down again against her father's chest while her mother pressed her cheek against her daughter's neck.

Luther nodded, as if having had a question answered for him.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

They left the hospital at the back door, by the cafeteria; the rear entrance. Less than a minute's walk took them to a little hump in the ground, a rise of perhaps ten feet, but still a hill for ritual purposes.

There, they removed their clothing, and did the little shift the made them quadrupeds. For now, they were just wolves; their Goddess's wolves, of Her pack. With Luther leading them, they trotted up to the top and stood for a moment, then began to Sing. Where real wolves deliberately sang out of tune, to make it appear there were more of them, these wolves sang in an inhuman harmony; and the sound opened a pathway between their world and Lunara's place of peace and renewal.

She came to their entreaty in song.

Serena gingerly stepped up to her and,

They were in another place and time. Aleet-hra wept in her mother's arms and begged that the two souls be spared the passing.

_ "You ask for two lives, daughter?"_

_ "Please, Mother; yes."_

_ "Gregory is your mate, yes; but what is this stranger, this Smooth-of-the-Skin person to you?"_

_ "She gave up her place to Gregory, that he might live. I stand in her debt."_

_ "This was done freely, by her. Are you certain that she would want to live on in flesh, Aleet-hra?"_

"It isn't just her, Mother, it is Bartholomew as well. They love each other and are only now realizing it. They complete each other, even as Greg completes me and I, him. Her passage to the home-place would be a thing between Gregory and myself, our debt that could not be honorably repaid."

_ "Then I shall call them before Me, that I might know their true will in this and act accordingly. Tell the mortal Doctor Stevens that he had no knowledge of what would happen with his human drugs, and that I hold his dedication to his way of Healing as highly as I do my Servants. He berates himself for that which he could not have known. I shall stop the Crossing that his medicines caused to misfire, and you shall complete it when your mate is healed and well."_

_ "Thank-you, Mother."_

_ She felt a kiss on her forehead, then she grew heavier and heavier, darker and colder_ and then she awoke with her parents kneeling worriedly around her.

"Mother?" she whispered, and tried to stand. Martina helped her to her feet and dusted her off.

"You were out for a minute, there, Serena," Luther said worriedly. "I forgot that you were still convalescing from your injury as well. Are you feeling strong enough to stand?"

She nodded and came to her feet, feeling oddly heavy and unbalanced. Slowly, they made their way down the hill and reclaimed their clothing.

Fearfully, the group walked back to the hospital's back door and let themselves in. A few minutes later, they were back in the care-ring and Serena wobbled toward the room that was now quiet, her father following.

The dialysis unit was pumping Greg's blood out, filtering it, and then returning it to his body. He was asleep, the fire of fever was out, and his color was better. Servant Joseph was watching the machine, but there was no joy in his eyes. His ears were down, and his very aura was one of sorrow and sadness. Looking around, Serena didn't see her bed, or Servant Collins.

"What happened?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Terry died," the Servant replied morosely. "Bart is almost suicidal with grief. He took the bed over to the morgue; I'll get you another one. At least your mate Gregory is still alive and responding well to the treatment. Doctor Stevens is upset, too. He blames himself for..." The Servant stood and stared at Serena' forehead.

He stepped over to her, leaving the machine shooshing and humming behind him.

"What's that on your forehead?" he asked. As he looked closer, he sucked in his breath.

Harry was standing beside Serena and glanced over as well, and his ears flipped in surprise. On her forehead was the imprint of two lips-- human lips--only in lunar white against the darker gold of her fur.

Servant Joseph recovered first. "That's the Mother's kiss, not the Goddess' kiss. I've seen one other, and that was on--well, it was someone really special."

He gave Serena an odd look and asked, "You Sang?" Serena nodded, starting to remember things.

"Oh, Goddess," she gasped, "Daddy we have to go to the morgue or wherever Servant Collins has taken Terry's body." When he stared at her, she shook his arm and begged, "Please!"

Turning to Servant Joseph, Serena asked, "Where did they take Terry? Where did they take her body?" The Servant told her were the morgue was in the hospital and gave her some simple directions on how to get there.

Harry gathered her mother and they all headed to the room in the back of the hospital that served as both morgue and autopsy room.

Inside that room, Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins was staring at the wall. Behind him was the bed with Terry's lifeless body in it. In his hand was a special knife, borrowed from the surgical gear. It was a scalpel, deeply silver plated. It would cut Wulfen tissues for surgical repairs when Healing was insufficient to bring about a cure, the tissues thus cut remained apart until pressed together.

He was thinking about how deeply to cut into his forearm when he heard a sound. It came again, his name; being whispered by someone. He turned, not in a mood for any jokes when he saw on the bed a white-furred werewolf; not Terry's body. The Wulf struggled to a nearer upright position and spoke again, with some difficulty.

"Bart?" she asked, "Why don't you say anything? Why am I here? What happened? I remember passing out..." she saw her forearm and her eyes widened.

"Bart, what's happened to me? Did I Cross--I don't remember anything..." and then she was being held, kissed, and touched by her mentor and friend as he cried tears of happiness and brushed his hand over her ears, pointed and totally Wulfen; as was she.

The doors opened and Serena with parents in tow entered the room, seeing the two together. Her jaw dropped and she slowly advanced toward the hospital bed-bed with the new Servant in it.

"Terry?" She asked numbly. The white-furred wolf turned her head toward her voice and smiled, "Serena! Look, a miracle happened! I remember asking you to hold me up, and then I was here in your bed and--and Bart said he loved me and wants me to marry him." There were tears of joy in her eyes as she spoke and she was shaking slightly. Beside her stood the Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins, with tears in his eyes as well.

The next thing Serena was aware of was looking at the ceiling of a hospital room. She had a headache. Glancing over, she saw Greg asleep in his bed, minus the machinery and equipment other than the usual Crossing hookups.

Her father's voice caught her attention and she turned her head toward it, realizing she was back in a hospital bed and there was a very sore spot on the back of her head.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said as her mother hugged her and kissed her carefully on the cheek.

"Wha-a-a?" she managed to croak out of a very dry throat.

"As in what happened?" her mother replied, "You fainted and hit your head. Servant Collins almost did the same, but his new mate held him up until he was able to telephone for help. She has Crossed Over in a Goddess-granted miracle, and now is helping her mate with your mate, Gregory. That's what happened. They had you on oxygen and x-rayed your head but there was no damage, other than a goose-egg. What were you thinking, young lady? You aren't even discharged from the hospital, and you are running all over the place like you owned it. I'm just glad that there was no more damage than the bump." She glared at her daughter, then carefully winked.

Harry chuckled and said, "Yep, the x-ray showed solid bone; just like a good Wolfe skull ought'a. I'm just sorry we were too far back to catch you."

"How's Greg?" she asked, daring to hope. A scraping sound startled her and she looked over at the source; a young Servant in hospital greens, leaning on a walker as she got used to not having heels to balance on.

The Servant smiled and replied, "Well, you remember how he was before everything got so exciting? That's how he is now, thank the Goddess." She continued over to Serena's bed and carefully sat on the edge, turning to face Serena.

"Somehow, I think you were involved in this, and you have all my thanks. I remember being somewhere and answering some questions, then I was waking up on your bed in the morgue. Bart and I are going to be a team, helping people Cross; and you know that Healers aren't celibate like the old Servants were. We're getting married, and my first daughter will be named Serena. Now, one question; can Greg and I work out on gait training together, out at your place? I feel awfully clumsy, and not being here in the hospital would help me a lot. It's, well; embarrassing."

"Sure," Serena replied, and the two werewolves hugged.

"This is all so strange," Terry commented as she held out her arms and stared at them. "I'm very aware of scents and things taste different to me now. I used to like the Pizza the hospital kitchens made up for the late night crew, but I tried a slice and it tasted awful--bitter, you know? Colors are fainter and lights are brighter; I used to think it was dim in here; but now there is plenty of light...and I can almost 'see' with my ears!"

Harry chuckled and asked, "How's your nose? My son almost went cross-eyed after he Crossed Over, trying to see the thing. Oh, and try the pesto pizza the kitchen makes, what you were tasting was the garlic in the tomato sauce; we don't tolerate it very well."

Terry nodded and put a hand to her nose. "I keep seeing this thing in my peripheral vision and trying to focus on it, which makes Bart laugh. He says in a day or so, I'll be okay and not even notice it anymore; and that most Crossers have the exact same problem."

She turned back to Serena, "The Crossing seems to have stopped. The Inceptor virus probably died out, what with all the stuff happening to your mate. We can re-start the process after he finishes healing up, which with the accelerated healing that has already occurred, will probably be in a couple of days."

"How about me?" Serena asked. "When will I be released from here as a patient so I can start being the mate watching her mate become a Wulf?"

Terry chuckled at that. "Probably tonight," she said. "Doctor Stevens will do the release, since you are officially his patient."

At the mention of the doctor's name, Serena remembered something, something that she had to tell the physician.

"Why was she given to a doctor?" Serena's mother asked, "wouldn't a Healer be more appropriate for a werewolf?"

"All the Healers were busy trying to stabilize Greg and the two criminals that the Sheriff brought in," Terry explained, "and since we weren't sure why she hadn't healed up, she was given to Doctor Stevens for surgery and the removal of the bullet. He did a superb job making sure that there weren't any bits or pieces of the bullet still in the wound, once he saw it was silver plated."

"I still can't believe," Harry grumbled, "that somebody would intentionally make a bullet that would cripple or even kill one of us out of a regular hunting bullet. That was deliberate. That was calculated, almost evil. I'm glad they were all caught, 'cause you don't want people like that running around."

"Talk to the Sheriff," Terry replied; "what we were briefed on about these people is so far beyond evil that it rates its own niche. They were mercenary Hunters."

Three werewolf jaws dropped. There were people who still saw werewolves as instruments of the Devil, as monsters, and as evil incarnate, but after the Sapient Species executive order, they had to stay quiet, since now werewolves could take them to court and sue them for defamatory statements.

Now, a Wulf could legally defend him or her self from these people, even if it meant killing them; since now the law recognized them as citizens, with all the rights of Smoothskin citizens. Then no longer had to hide in the shadows, afraid of discovery. They were finally a free people, with the same human rights as anyone else.

Now, the discovery that there were Hunters that stalked and would kill them for money was especially frightening and angering as well.

That decided Harry. "I'm not going Smooth any more," he said with finality; "I am what I am, and I'm proud of my People. From now on, I'm Harry Wolf--without the 'e'. I'm not going to hide when I drive into town, I'm wearing my Goddess-given fur; and anybody that don't like it can stuff their dislike, for all I care."

Serena waited for her mother to explode. Her jaw dropped when Marina Wolfe said, "For once, old dog; I agree with you completely. We are acting like it was still the time of the Scattering, and it isn't. The Day has come, and we are a free people." She grinned, "Now I can get rid of all those Smoothskin clothes in the closet."

Then she grew worried. "Harry," she said, "this is twice in twenty-four hours that I've agreed with you completely. I need to see the doctor; I must be getting senile with old age." Harry laughed and kissed his mate.

The show was on, again.

Serena grew puzzled, and asked Terry; "Where is Greg's aunt? I haven't seen her here once. Is she all right?"

Terry shrugged, "She's pretty crippled up with arthritis; to the point she's been in a wheelchair when she's visited her nephew. She was here when he was brought in, and she was here yesterday as well; but you were either asleep or away both times. She has to borrow a ride from someone each time, since that was her car that got wrecked."

Serena was shocked; she hadn't known that Greg's aunt was that badly off. Harry made an offer, saying; "Look, we'll loan her a car to get around with, since it was our daughter that her nephew was saving when her car was wrecked. That'd be only fair..."

Serena said, "I'll tell her when I see her if you guys aren't here. I didn't know either." The thought that Greg's aunt was that badly disabled worried her; how would she get around when Greg was out at the ranch with her? Then she had an idea.

"Loan her my Saturn," she said. "It's an automatic, and it's easy to drive, and there is plenty of space in it. Since it's a crossover, the seats are high enough for her to get in and out of the car easily enough, and it gets great gas mileage."

"The VUE?" Harry asked. "That sounds like a good idea. You can drive the Volkswagen, since your sister isn't here and since you sold it to her for the down-payment on your motorcycle."

"Where is my motorcycle, anyway?" Serena asked her parents. "It wasn't damaged or anything, it just ran out of gas."

"Your motorcycle is at home," her mother said grumpily. "We picked it up at the Sheriffs' impound lot and took it home yesterday, and your father and I had to lift it into the bed of the pickup."

Then a crafty look came over her face, "What are you going to do now that you have a mate? That bike only seats one, you know." She did not like the thought of Serena on a bike, after what had almost happened.

Serena replied loftily, "I'll either get him one, or trade it for a sidecar model. We will run together even if its on rubber tires."

Her mother looked like she had a mouthful of cold, stale kibble, while Harry snickered.

Her mother deflated like a balloon, then said; "Harry, we need to go to the market while we're in town, Serena seems well enough; but the ranch needs the supplies." She sighed and turned to Serena and said, "Be careful dear; and pay attention to the doctors. You may feel well now, but remember what happened to you in the morgue when you outran your energy." Then she surprised her daughter by giving her a kiss on the cheek and hugging her hard, like she had when Serena had been small.

As Serena sat there surprised, her mother gave hertwo fiftydollar bills and suggested that she might want to get something to wear for her mate when he woke up.

Then they were gone.

"Something to wear?" Terry asked in surprise. "What did she mean," she asked as she used the walker to get her back to Greg's bed and her desk.

Serena followed, still in her paper scrubs, pulling up a chair to sit in.

"Mom has this thing about being properly dressed," she explained, "which in her case means everything, including panties. At the ranch, I usually just wear a vest for pockets and some moccasins on my feet. It isn't like anyone can see anything, since we're covered in fur all over; but mom has a fit, saying 'I'm not an animal and I should wear something'. I do, usually, but not enough to suit her."

Terry got an odd look on her features and asked Serena to watch Greg for a moment while she used the bathroom. She was back very soon with her decision, "You're right. I remember myself as Smoothskin and nudity would bother me in a situation like this, but you really can't see anything. I'm more covered than when I was wearing sterile scrubs and a mask; just in my fur. This is something I will have to get used to: clothing as a tool or convenience, rather than as covering.

"I also noticed that I can't touch my little finger to my thumb anymore. Is that normal?"

Serena nodded. "We don't have what the Smoothies call a "precision grip" in that we can't touch our ring or pinkie fingers to our thumb; only our index and middle fingers will reach. Yet, because of the different leverage provided, we can grasp much tighter and our hands ar a lot stronger than the average Smooth-skin's. We are on the average about fifty percent stronger than Smooths, and a lot faster in the reaction department.

"That isn't free, though; we need half again as much food as the average Smooth, and some of the things that you used to be able to eat won't be edible anymore.

Terry looked thoughtfully at Serena and asked, "You mean like the pizza? If it smells bad, don't eat it?"

Serena nodded; "Exactly. Our sense of smell is a lot different from a Smooth's, and not just stronger; it's more analytical. You can literally tell people apart by scent." She rubbed her jaw and asked, "Before, did you drink much? Like beer or wine or distilled stuff?"

Terry replied, "Some beer, enough to bet a nice buzz on, and wine with Sabbath meals and the High Holy days; but the distilled stuff? Other than Vodka, no. Why?"

Serena answered, "Because we don't digest distilled alcohol, that's why. It literally goes right through us; in one end one out the other--and the 'out' part is not fun at all. Wine and beer, we can handle and digest, and get buzzed to relax." Then something Terry had said connected and she asked, "Are you Jewish?"

"Yeah," Terry replied, "but the family is part of a Reformed Temple. Most of the

old dietary laws are ignored, to the point that we eat shrimp and some pork." Her eyebrows rose, "I guess that I'm due for a change in religion, aren't I?"

"I didn't know Ryder was a Jewish name."

"It was Ryderowicz; but my grandparents changed it, when they arrived in Americain nineteen thirty-seven. They are orthodox, and not that happy about mom and dad's changing of tradition. They call them 'Christians'." Then she snickered at the memory. "Still, they support them and I hope they will understand the reason I Crossed Over. I may be a Werewolf, but I'm still their granddaughter, and we discussed this very possibility not too long ago. They were eastern European Kindred, and 'came over the ocean' with six families out of the old pack; to get away from what they saw happening inGermany."

"Wasn't that before Hitler started drafting German Werewolves?"

"Barely, and we were Polish stock. From what I learned after the war, the German WulfenKinder slaughtered their Polish cousins without mercy. They weren't 'Wolf-Children', they were devils."

Serena was shocked. "I'm sorry," she said; not knowing what else to say.

Terry shrugged. "The rest could have come here as well, but didn't think that the Germans were serious about the 'lebensraum' stuff. They chose to stay, despite our warnings fromAmerica." Her face closed; "They were fools. From what Gran'ma and Gran'dad said, you'd think that the Germans were going to say 'Hello' and just pass them by. They were in a world of their own, and it killed them."

"That reminds me," Terry said, "I have to call home when Bart comes to relieve me. Mom and Dad deserve to know that I went ahead and did it, and that I plan on marrying Bart. They were a little un-resolved on my Crossing, even though I would die if I didn't."

"But I don't care. I have someone who I love and loves me back. I have a Mother-Beloved who watches..." the words died in her throat. "I saw Her. I was with Her, and She asked me if I would help Bart with his task in this life and I said yes." She held up her hands, now more like extended wolf paws with thumbs and stared at them, turning them over to look at the backs of them as well. "I'm beautiful," she whispered. She turned to look at Serena; "You were there, too; begging for my life, and you hardly knew me. You were asking Her to give me my life with Bart, so we could serve Her together." A white-furred hand grasped a copper-toned one and Terry said; "Thank-you, Serena. I want you to be my friend; for what you did for us. Would you and Greg be--our children's Sworn Parents?"

Surprised and humbled, Serena could only nod in agreement as emotions flowed through her. Finally, she could say, "Yes; if you and Bart will be ours..."

Suddenly Terry stiffened and looked at the clock. "Oops, I'd better get Greg's numbers before Bart comes in. I'm late!"

Serena watched as the new Servant gingerly stepped over to the bed and took Greg's vital statistics, then carefully walked over to the chart and entered them.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Serena asked, "After all, you're just Crossed Over."

"Bart checked me over," Terry replied. "I'm in fine shape, like I was born this way. No bone density problems, no weight loss, no osteoporosis, nothing. Besides, I'm a terrible patient, ask any of my doctors," she said with a grin. "Anyway, I like what I'm doing, and I'm not having any problems; other than my balance, which Bart says is normal. That's why I want to do my gait-training out at your place; nobody to point and snicker after I fall on my fuzzy new ass for the third time in as many minutes."

Serena giggled, "Do what I'm going to do with Greg, be under him to catch him." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Terry snickered.

Lunch arrived, and with it Healing Servant Bart Collins. While Serena ate, Terry and Bart awakened Greg. He managed to struggle into an upright position with the help of the mechanical bed.

Serena had pushed her bed back into easy reaching distance of Greg's bed and kissed him as he finally got the cobwebs out of his brain and achieved full awareness.

He was a lot thinner already; the Crossing having taken nearly fifteen pounds off of him. He looked entreatingly at Serena's meal and she shook her head. The last of the food was gone when Serena sat on the edge of her bed and took Greg's hand.

"What happened to me?" he asked. "Was that part of the Crossing?"

Servant Bart answered; "You had an unexpected drug interaction. We gave you some medicine to assist with the first part of the Crossing, an immunity-inhibitor. What we didn't do was take into account that you had a load of antibiotics on board already. Each of them used a potassium salt as a carrier, in itself harmless to either Wulfen or Smoothskins, but when mixed; the potassium started to leach out of them and deposit into your tissues and bloodstream. Potassium is deadly to us, and harmful to Smoothskins. Your body tried to expel it, but you were so weak that it didn't work the way it was supposed to, so you started to have a fever and muscular problems. Following so far?"

Greg nodded. "I got poisoned by a bad drug interaction, right?"

"Right," The Servant replied. "We gave you some medicine that bound the free potassium up and rendered it harmless again, and then dialyzed you until your blood showed a normal level of minerals, including potassium. Then you were made to sleep and hopefully recover from something that never should have happened." He pointed to a bandage around Greg's left arm; "That's where we hooked you up and, well, washed your blood clean."

"Now, hopefully, you'll continue healing and we'll restart the Crossing process again to finish you up. In a little while, you'll be a Wulf, like your mate.

Greg looked around, "Where's Terry? Did she get in trouble because I..."

Terry stepped gingerly away from Bart and put her hand on Greg's arm. "I'm Terry," she said. "A miracle happened, and I was Crossed by Mother-Beloved's own grace. I'm still your Crossing assistant, though; and we will get you Crossed Over: I promise."

Greg's eyes were huge as he saw someone who had been a Smoothskin girl the last time he had been awake. "Wow," was his only comment.

Terry chuckled; "We're going to have something in common, once you're finished Crossing. Gait training. I still fall down a lot and now I have to use a walker to help me with my balance."

Greg's eyes widened as he took in the new Servant. If he looked this good, once he'd Crossed...

A pair of fingers gripped an ear and brought his face around to Serena.

"Hell-oo, there" she said; "Mate here, remember?"

He responded by taking her hand and kissing it, rubbing his cheek against the fur and causing Serena to close her eyes and shudder in anticipation.

An idea formed in her mind, a very pleasant one.

"Ahhh, Servant Collins;" she asked, "Did you say Greg would have to restart the Crossing procedure?"

The Servant nodded. "We'll do the transfusion as soon as he checks out as healthy enough to proceed." He put his hand on Greg's chest and closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment. "That would be sometime tomorrow or the day after, most likely. He has done quite a lot already in the rebuilding of his body. Letting the final healing take place after he's recovered some energy and healed at a more normal rate will complete everything and make his actual Crossing easier on him as well."

"We'll remove the tubing to make him more comfortable, and keep him on a high energy/low solids diet to help replace some of the body mass he's already used up. Then when he's ready, we re-start and take the Crossing to completion."

Greg sighed in relief, asking, "Does that mean I get something to eat?"

Terry shook her head. "Sorry, but the high energy/low solids stuff is liquid. It's meant to be poured down your nasal tube, but you can drink it, too. I hope you like sweet, because it is."

"Maybe if you add some soda-water, I can convince myself that it's a soda. Got chocolate?" Greg queried.

Terry nodded. "Sure we do. And I can get some soda-water from the soda machine in the cafeteria. Actually, that doesn't sound too bad."

Serena asked innocently, "Does he have to start by means of transfusion? Isn't there another way...?" Then she wiggled her ears.

Terry and the Servant both chuckled. "Oh, yes, Ms. Wolfe; that way would work, too. Tomorrow night? You must be sure the ahhh- inoculation is thorough, though."

"Oh, we will be, won't we, Greg?" she asked her mate, who was blushing redder than Serena thought a person could blush. Then he kissed her fully on the lips.

"Your mate wants you for herself, sooner; rather than later," she whispered in his ear, which got him redder yet.

"We'll transfer him to the Crossing suite this evening," Servant Collins said, and we can remove the catheters now, to make you more comfortable." They set to it.

"What's a Crossing suite?" Greg asked, and Serena explained, "A queen-sized bed, for one thing, and a complete bath. I so want to shower off this sickness, and I bet you do to, don't you; Greg?"

"Oh, yes, Serena;" Greg replied, "I want to get this thing behind--behind us. I've always wanted you, but I never had the nerve to ask. Now, the most beautiful girl in the universe is going to be my mate. Goddess, 'Rena; this is everything I've ever wanted."

"Me, too; Greg, me too." Their tender moment was interrupted by Terry.

"Okay, Greg," she said, holding a cup of water out to him. "Nasal catheter first. When I tell you, I want you to drink a mouthful of water straight down, it'll wash the gastric juice off the catheter so you don't have a burning nose, ok?" She first used a syringe to deflate the balloon that held it in place then started pulling the tubing out of his nose. When she said "now", Greg drank; and the end of the catheter slid out of his left nostril. He sneezed and Terry handed him a tissue.

Then Servant Collins lifted Greg's sheets and whistled.

"Good thing the Crossing stopped," he commented, "because your sheath has already formed, meaning your Crossing was going 'way, 'way out of sequence. That could have killed you all on its own."

Seeing the question in both his patient's eyes, he explained; "Crossings happen in discrete steps, each step being something the body can handle, each step allowing another part of the body to rest after it has changed. Out of sequence, things can get out of control and the demands put on the Crosser's body usually exceed the ability of that body to handle it. Then the Crosser starts spiraling down to death-by-exhaustion. Your sheath shouldn't have formed until just before your tail erupted, and after all your extremities had changed. That was probably the result of the antibiotics, too. Poor Doctor Stevens, he's going to blame himself for this, too."

Serena spoke up; "Mother said that she holds his dedication to saving lives no less then yours, Servant Collins. Please tell the Doctor that, would you?"

He nodded, "The poor guy could use a lift. He's almost sick over what happened to Greg, and anything would help..." he paused. "You say you spoke with our Mother-Beloved? Wonderful. That will help greatly. When he comes to change your bandages, please say that to him. It'll mean a lot more, coming from you."

Serena nodded.

"Now, Greg, when I tell you, push with your bladder, so it's releasing when I remove the rest of the catheter. That way, no dribbles. You'll be a bit irritated for a while so don't worry if it itches when you pee; that's natural in a guy."

He deflated the catheter and started removing it. When he said "Now" Greg tried to empty his bladder, then relaxed it as the catheter slipped free without a drop of liquid spilling on the sheets.

"Okay, lovebirds; 'till tomorrow night, you're free. Enjoy it. Terry and I have some...talking to do, among other things." The Servant grinned at them as they embraced and kissed for the first time free of tubing and impediments.

The two Servants quietly left the room, Terry waving to Serena as she left, still using the walker. Healing Servant Crossing Specialist Collins put his arm around the new center of his universe, and held her close as they entered the passageway.

There was happiness.

Later that afternoon, Serena and Greg had a visitor. It was Greg's aunt. Serena winced when she saw the woman; who was not that much older than her own parents, being wheeled into the room in a rundown wheelchair.

Her fingers were knobbed at each joint, and her wrists were enlarged as well. She was obviously in pain, but still managed her way to the pair in the adjoining beds.

"Is it true?" she asked; "that you two are getting mated?" There was hope in her eyes.

Serena nodded, blushing in her ears; while Greg smiled widely.

"Yeah, Aunt Emma;" he said, "we are. There's this Bond-thing between us..."

"You mean a Mating-Bond?" the old woman asked, "ohhh, I'm so-o-o happy for you! When did it--I mean when did you realize that..."

Serena answered, "I think it started when we were in high school, but I was so stupid and selfish that I didn't realize it until Greg almost died trying to save my life from some mercenary Hunters." Her ears drooped in shame.

"Now, now, Serena;" the elder said, "you were young and I'm told that Bonds when you're that young aren't very strong. You were busy with making a life for yourself. Now, though, you have a partner to share that life, and I'm happy for the both of you."

"Aunt Emma," Greg said, "I'm sorry I wrecked your car. I'll replace it, though. There were rewards on both of those people, and Serena arranged to get the capture credited to me, so I'll get the reward money."

He drew a breath, "And I want you to have it all. It'll help until the life insurance pays off on mom and dad."

"Oh, Gregory, that's so kind; but what will you do then?" his aunt queried.

"I'll manage. I'll be moving out to the ranch, so I won't need much money, and there is probably work I can do out there," he responded.

"Greg," Serena said quietly; "you're my mate. What I have is yours, and yes; there is work for you at the ranch, and we'll share it. We'll get paid, and you'll discover that ranching is a seven day a week job. We'll make plenty of money, although it works out to around five dollars an hour; once you count in all the hours we'll work," she grumbled. "There's always an awful lot to do."

Greg chuckled. "Well, there are the side benefits..." and had the pleasure of seeing Serena's ears pink up nicely.

They had an unexpected visitor: Terry. She entered the room and asked, "Have you guys seen my stethoscope? I think I may have left it here," and started looking in the cabinets along the wall. Her walker scraped as she moved, looking for her property.

"Miss Terry?" aunt Emma asked, "Is that you? You've changed!"

"Yes, Ms. Massey, I..." her eyes met the elder woman's eyes and like a sleepwalker, she approached the woman in the wheelchair and took her hands in her own.

She began to glow, brighter and brighter until the two were difficult to look at directly. Then she was staggering over to lean against Serena's bed.

Emma Massey sat still, looking like she was in shock, then raised her hands and stared at them. The knobs and swellings were gone, and her wrists were normal sized as well.

"They don't hurt," the old woman said. "They don't ache any more," as she experimentally wiggled her fingers. "I haven't felt this well in ages. I don't ache!"

Serena and Greg had moved to help support Terry, who looked exhausted and surprised.

Healer Collins rushed into the room and hurried to his mate. "I felt a tremendous surge," he began, "and the I felt your fatigue. What did you do?"

Terry pointed to the older Smoothskin, who was now standing while looking shocked and amazed.

The Healer approached the woman and gently took her hand, then assumed a posture of "listening".

"It's gone," he said, awe in his voice. "I can't feel any rheumatic damage anywhere." He turned to face the three people he had come from.

"What just happened?" he asked them, as he went to the telephone and called someone.

"She glowed," Serena replied. "Really bright," Greg added.

Bart stood as he put the telephone down. "Glowed? As in Healing light?" he asked. There was strange hope in his eyes.

Both people in bed nodded.

He stepped across the room to his mate, Terry. "Looks like we don't need to test you for you're your abilities," he said; pride in every word. "You're a Healing Servant; just like your mate." They embraced and kissed.

Luther entered the room, followed by Doctor Stevens.

"What happened here?" Luther asked.

"Well," Serena began, "Greg's aunt came here to see us, and Terry was looking for her stethoscope, and they glowed, and--" she stopped, seeing the puzzled look on Luther's face.

Greg took up the story, "My aunt came here for a visit, and we were talking when Terry came back in looking for a stethoscope she misplaced. Terry and my aunt seemed to lock eyes, and then Terry took my aunt's hands and started glowing until it was almost too bright to look at. Then she was leaning on the bed, looking exhausted; and my aunt said she didn't hurt anymore. Then Servant Bart came in, apparently because he felt his mate's energy drain and then everybody else came in asking questions."

"I said that," Serena grumbled. Luther hid a smirk, as he was well aware of Serena's 'compression of information' capabilities.

Doctor Stevens asked Luther to check Emma Massey to confirm what he had found by examination of her hands and wrists. Then he came over to Serena and Greg.

"I want to apologize for almost killing you," he began; "even though Serena's message made me feel a bit less guilty. I plan to go over our newest medicines with Luther to see what is safe to use on possible Crossers in your condition. It also appears that Ms. Massey's rheumatoid arthritis is totally gone. Considering that she was treated for it by both Smoothskin and Wulfen disciplines, I don't know how it happened, but whatever happened, I'm very grateful."

Serena took the doctor's hand in hers and told him, "Mother said that She held your dedication as highly as any Servant's. You weren't responsible for what you couldn't have known."

Then Greg spoke up.

"Aunt Emma caught Rheumatic fever in her early thirties, and it almost killed her," Greg explained. "What it did do was destroy most of her joints, so she had to quit her job and live as an invalid for the next ten years. Mom and Dad had her move in and provided for her, along with the Social Security stuff, but she was always in pain and couldn't get around very well. After the fire, she moved into an apartment, but pretty soon found out she couldn't afford the rent. I left college and got a job so we could both make ends meet; which we did-barely. I was a bit worried about her, since I planned to move out to the ranch with you, Serena."

He looked over at his aunt, now walking easily back and for the for Luther, and sighed; "Looks like that problem resolved itself, thanks to Terry and our Goddess."

Luther returned to the group looking very pleased. "I think I have an answer for you, Doctor Stevens; Greg. Healing Servants use their own bodies as a reference for their healing work. The problem is that we are not quite the same as our Smoothskin counterparts, internally or externally. We don't have a 'reference' for some human diseases because they don't occur in us."

Then he smiled widely, "But, a Crosser who becomes a Healing Servant is different. They 'remember' their other human forms, so they can treat things that Wulfen-born Healers can't, and most Healers are born to the People of the Wolf. I've had the pleasure of meeting two Crossed Over-Healers, and both are able to do things we just cannot do; Terry being the second, and Robyn Terrell, mate of the Warrior, is the first. Furthermore, according to the grapevine, one in three Crossers is Crossing Over into the White Coat of the Servant." Both Serena and Greg were surprised to hear that.

"There are more Servants now than at any time since before the Scattering, and the numbers keep increasing," he said with great pleasure. "And since they are Smoothskin in origin, they can extend our Mother-Beloved's healing to more and more people; thus making us less a threat and more a beneficial relationship."

Serena got the attention of Emma Massey and she came over, curiosity on her features. "Ms. Massey," she began, "since Greg wrecked your car, rescuing me; I'd like to loan you my car until you can replace yours. Will you accept? Please?" She tried her "puppy-dog" face on the woman to help her decide.

The older woman relaxed and said, "Thank-you, Serena, I'd be very grateful. It's just a little too far from where I live to the market, and farther to town. I will be very careful of it. Again, thank-you."

She gave Serena a conspiratorial wink and whispered, "You know, Gregory has been sweet on you since high school. It was too bad that that rowdy young Jody Martin pushed himself in between you two. Well, you are back together, and that's what is important." She smiled and gave Serena's hand a little pat of friendliness.

Serena smiled back.

Doctor Stevens got her attention and asked, "Shall I check your leg and see if you're ready for discharge?

She dropped her pants and extended a leg with a pressure bandage on it. The doctor cut away the gauze and looked. Then he smiled.

"Not a sign of anything, other than a tiny scar where the bullet went in. Under your fur, it'll never show." He stepped back. "As of now, I'd say you were free to go, but I know you don't want to be away from your mate, so why don't you get freshened up in the shower; and when you're back, you two can talk until Greg is transferred to the suite. Then you can watch television and relax. Oh, and your parents said they'd be back this afternoon before they returned to the ranch. Your mother said something about clothing..?"

"She would," Serena grumbled. Then a thought struck her. "Where is the clothing I was wearing when those creeps tried to catch me? I had leathers and stuff under them, too, along with boots and a helmet. Where are they?"

"Probably in property; I'll call and see," the Doctor said.

A minute after he left the room he returned laden with three plastic bags saying "Patient's Belongings".

"Are these it?" he asked as Serena dug into the nearest bag, while Greg looked on in confusion. She looked fine in hospital greens, he thought.

As the people began to disperse, and Terry left being 'helped' by her mate and mentor, Serena took inventory of her possessions.

"Got it!" she said in triumph, waving a pair of bloodstained panties over her head."

"Huh?" Greg queried, suddenly curious. He moved over in his bed to see.

Serena had a pair of white panties with a large bloodstain on the left side, and the leg elastic was cut in two by what looked like a bullet hole.

"That was close," he muttered, and Serena looked over and smiled. "No, she said; "that is perfect."

She explained, "Mom has this thing about being properly dressed. She seriously gets on my case if I'm not covered top to toe with something other than my fur. My preferences are a vest for the pockets and moccasins for my feet, with a sunshade if it's real bright and sunny. She grinned.

"Those bastards used my underwear as a target. I can use these as a trading point on underwear," she elaborated, thinking fast.

She turned to Greg; "Do you think I'd look good in a thong? Or maybe a string bikini set of panties?" She stopped her questions because Greg was turning red again.

A sense of mischief seized her. She slid out of the paper hospital green-wear and stood nude before him; "Or would I look better like this?" she asked as she pirouetted before him.

Greg saw a humanoid she-wolf with small breasts, slim hips and long legs before him. Her hair was cut in a longish pageboy and she was covered top-to-toe with fur; copper-brown on her back, tail, and head, and dark tan on her belly. Other than fur, nothing showed. She was incredibly sexy.

He was about to speak when, "SERENA MARIE WOLFE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" echoed through their room. Mother Wolfe had arrived.

"Aagk!" Serena choked and all but leapt for Greg's bed. She turned and saw her mother in the doorway with her father in tow and half a dozen hospital people staring through the glass wall of their room. She had forgotten the wall-and the drape.

"Oops, free show," she muttered as her mother bore down on her like an angry avalanche and Greg put his body between his mate and her mother.

"It was my question," he said quickly; "I asked her what she looked like!"

"She didn't have to show half the hospital,"Marina said angrily.

"It was an accident," he insisted, " we forgot about the curtain!"

"It's the principle of the thing," her mother growled, "she's not an animal. She is going to learn that or I'm going to lock her in the kennel until she does!"

"Mrs. Wolfe," Greg said, lowering his brows and squaring his shoulders, "we could stay in town and I could go back to work at the market." He was nose to nose with an angry Werewolf and wasn't afraid in the least.

"Honey," Harry said quietly, "I think our new son has won. Let it go, while we still have a daughter."

Marinasighed and drooped. "It's just that she's so young," she began, "and innocent. We worry..." the eyebrows came down, "Serena Wolfe, are you laughing at me?" her mother asked in a dangerously honey-sweet voice.

Serena was at the head of Greg's bed with both pillows over her head and a strange whuffling sound was emerging from beneath them.

"Probably inhaled a feather," Harry decided. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Serena's head popped up from under the pillows with a repentant look on her face, "Yes, daddy, I'm okay. I got some dust up my nose. Sorry, Mom; I didn't realize that anyone could see..."

"That's what you always say," her mother said morosely. "Look, dear, you're mated now, and you have to uphold your mate's position in life."

Serena slid up beside Greg and cuddled up to him saying, "Yes, mom; I know. It's just that we got such good news that I felt excited."

"What good news is that?"Marinaasked, worried but mildly curious.

"Greg's aunt is all right, as in she was healed. No more arthritis. No wheelchairs. She can walk!"

Her mother looked puzzled. "I thought that the best Healers in the hospital couldn't do any more with her disability. How was she healed?"

Greg took over as Serena cuddled closer, wrapping an arm around him. "The new Healer, Terry, healed her," he explained. "It was something to do with the fact that she was a Crosser, and still remembered her Smoothskin body; so she had some sort of reference to use to heal my aunt. She really is better. She walked out of the room and folded up her old wheelchair and pushed it out." His voice had risen as he had spoken to finish in a falsetto squeak.

Harry snickered, "Is that why you're turning so pink? Or is your new mate affecting you a little?" His eyes were twinkling.

"Uhhh, yes, dad," Greg said in that odd falsetto. He reached down and lifted Serena's hand off the inside of his thigh.

Marinastarted snickering, then Harry started laughing; and finally they were all roaring with laughter.

"Just like you, honey;" Harry commented as they tried to sober themselves up. "Your daughter is just as fascinating as you are."

Serena rested her jaw on Greg's shoulder and whispered, "Welcome to the club."

Marinahad picked her daughter up some new underwear and Serena shook her head at it.

"Nope," she said; "let me show you something," and slid off Greg's bed and onto her own, fishing around in the plastic bags her recovered things were in. Then she found them and held them up.

"Look," she said, holding up the panties with the blood and bullet hole in them, "that bastard used my fuzzy little ass as a target, thanks to these undies. I might as well paint my ass bright red as wear another set of these."

Marinawas horrified, handling them gingerly. Harry grew grim, staring at them.

"But, you have to wear underwear," her mother said, aghast.

"Thongs!" Serena said. "Or better yet, micros! Less to aim for and I'm still covered, even if you can't see anything,"

"It's the principle of--"Marinabegan, then stopped. Looking like she had just bitten something sour unexpectedly, she asked, "All right, how much?"

"The hundred you left with me, I can use that!" she said brightly. Besides, I got my wallet back and my cards are all still in it. No problem!"

Marinalooked at her daughter for a long moment and muttered, "All right. Why do I suspect you had this planned all along?"

"I didn't mom, I swear!" Serena promised. "I didn't even think of it until I got the panties back," she said 'innocently'. Harry snickered. Greg chuckled. Her mother glared, and accepted defeat.

As the two women were talking over something else important, Harry slipped over to Greg's bed.

"Greg," he asked quietly, "did you mean that, when you said you'd go back to the market, whenMarinawas after your mate?"

Greg looked up at the Werewolf who stood just under seven feet tall and nodded. "I understand that, ahhh, mom has some issues over Serena's dress, or lack of it; but she was getting too angry with my, uhh, mate, and I had to stop it somehow. If you're asking if I'd have done it, yes; I would. It wouldn't be easy, but we'd survive somehow."

Harry gripped Greg's hand in his and shook it. "Welcome to the family, son; and I'm proud of you. Serena has a man for a mate." There was a smile in his eyes.

Then he opened his wallet and handed Greg a picture of a pretty Wulfen girl in a tight satin top, a micro-miniskirt and boots. The skirt was so short that her tail didn't need a relief slit in back. She was giving a "come hither" smile to the camera.

Greg looked up, puzzled. Harry explained: "It ain't that Serena is the wild one of the family. That picture's Marina, her mother, and my mate," he clarified. "It ain't that she's some bluestocking, it's that Serena is just like she was at that age, and that scares her. Plus, well, Serena's our baby; and always will be. Her mother is trying to protect her baby from some of the mistakes she made back then, only Serena is plumb

determined she's gonna make them anyhow. That's why we're both so happy that the two of you are together." He looked at his wife and mate and sighed, "Having you to think about, maybe she'll slow down a little, and that would take a weight off both of our shoulders."

He took the photo back and looked over at his mate of many years. "She's still just as beautiful as she was back then, and like you; I'm the luckiest man alive. I'm glad it's you, Greg, I'm glad it's you." He gripped Greg's shoulder for a moment then left.

Oddly, Greg felt exactly the same at that moment.

Terry chose that moment to show up, still using her walker, with a tray attached to the front of it. A bottle and a glass and a can were sitting on it.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"Marinaasked in a worried voice.

"I feel fine," Terry replied, "and Greg Massey is my only patient. No strain, most of the time I'm sitting down and reading about my new body. Doing this keeps my behind from getting numb."

She scraped her way to Greg and said, "Soda number one; chocolate. She winked and said, "Look in the bottom of the glass."

Greg did and smiled, "Ice Cream! Perfect for a soda. She sat on his bed and they mixed the ingredients together.

"What is that?"Marinaasked.

"Looks like they're making a chocolate soda, to me;" Harry commented.

"That's what it is, sort of;" Greg replied. "I have to eat this stuff every couple of hours to build my energy levels. It's what they feed Crossers and people who can't eat."

He took a sip. "Not too bad," he said. "At least, better than what this stuff tastes like by itself." He began to drink it through a straw.

Terry asked him for a taste and produced a spoon. She tasted it and didn't cringe too badly, although the tip of her tongue stuck out between her front teeth.

"Ughh, too sweet even now," she pronounced. "But without a Wulf's taste buds, I guess it would work."

"Are you the Servant that healed Greg's aunt?"Marinaasked. Terry nodded.

"It was the strangest thing;" she said, "like I was being pulled to this old woman by something, then I was glowing and tingling like crazy. Brad says it happens that way sometimes, that a Healer's gifts will overtake them and make them heal someone, whether they want to be healed or not. He says I need to study and meditate, and learn to use this newly granted ability of mine under my control, not it's control."

"Well, you did a very kindly thing then, controlled or not. Emma has been crippled up ever since that fever she had," Harry told her, "and it was a shame that she couldn't work or do much of anything when it flared up."

"She couldn't even knit when her hands were bad,"Marinaadded, "it was a real tragedy for the whole family. I'm glad she's better."

"Yeah, Luther is at her home right now, testing her for her daily living capabilities. He says that she is stable for now, but may need repeat treatments to keep the healing going," Terry replied, "which is a good thing, since that means I'll have a job here."

Greg detected a note of bitterness in her voice and asked, "Did you talk to your parents yet?" He felt a sense of sadness in this new Servant.

Terry nodded. "They didn't take it well. They asked why Bart just couldn't keep doing the things he was doing; why did I have to Cross? When I tried to explain, they didn't seem to understand that I had died and been brought back to Serve our People; that I had been asked to do this. They just kept asking why I hadn't asked them first? Like I had another choice in the matter? The local Temple paid for my crossing, but my parents still ask those questions." The bitterness was more pronounced, now.

"I thought you said your people were Kindred?" Harry asked. "Want sort of a reaction was that?"

"You have to understand, Mr. Wolfe; that the Wulfenbruderen is the European version of the Kindred. They're different, very formal and very proper. Even the Pack I came from is that way; they all came over fromEurope after World War Two and they're still thinking like they live over there. There is very little intermixing, and when I was first referred to Bart, I still thought that way, too. I thought he was rude and forward until I met more American Werewolves and saw just how stuffy my own people were."

"Then I fell in love with him. I was horrified, that just wasn't done; and yet I was so happy that I had found somebody I could share with..." she looked downward at her feet, "Well, I'm different, now. I have a mate, and I'm alive, and I've learned about the Goddess--you know, they even discourage non-Wulfen from singing or praying to Her.

"She is ours, they say. You have your Lord, go worship your God and leave us with ours, they say," she growled angrily.

She dropped her ears in anger and drew her lips back in a snarl. "They are all old fossils! That's what they are. My parents and two of the Pack Elders are coming to examine me, to see if I am fit to be Wulfen, like they have any say in the matter."

"Fit to be Wulfen?" Serena asked in amazement. "Isn't the fact that Mother accepted you and gave you a new Life-task and a mate to do it with enough?" She walked across the room and sat beside Terry to lend support.

"Not according to them," the new Servant replied. "What they believe doesn't make much sense, and I don't know much of it; since I was a human, then. They keep their liturgy locked away from our impious human eyes."

Harry muttered, "There's something funny going on here, only nobody's laughing." His ears were backed and he was rubbing his lower jaw in deep thought.

"I think,' he said, "that Luther ought to hear about this. There's never been any 'liturgy' that I've been aware of; on Moon nights, we just Sing. She decides what the program's gonna be."

'That's another thing," Terry said quietly, "they don't Sing, other than one of the High Servants. Even then, we humans weren't welcome there, unless we were sick and needed divine healing. Once that was done, off we were sent; after having been warned not to divulge what had happened, other than the obvious."

"The only reason I know this much is that the High Servant sang over me when I started having seizures," she concluded.

"He didn't try healing you?" Serena asked, aghast. "Even a plain vanilla Servant has some healing capability."

Greg asked an odd question; "What was he wearing during this, and what were you wearing?" He watched Terry as she spoke; carefully.

Terry glanced over at him oddly and then replied, "I was wearing a black linen robe that was way too big. It had a hood and it was pulled over the top of my head so I almost couldn't see. He was wearing a light blue robe; linen again, I think, and he had a two colored scarf around his neck with the ends crossed over each other. He looked silly," she sniffed. "He never even touched me, he just stood there rocking back and forth."

Greg's eyes were half closed and he was staring into space.

"Did you recognize any of the words he sang?" he asked.

Terry started to answer, then stopped; then started to answer again, "It sounded vaguely like what I heard at Temple during services," she said, thinking deeply; trying to remember. "It felt like one of the pastoral prayers the Cantor sang on the Holy days, like Passover or Yom Kippur. The words almost sounded like Hebrew, now that I think of it; but the accent was off," she continued.

"Was he wearing the phylacteries?" Greg asked. Serena's ears perked at the odd word.

"I don't think--no, he was!" Terry said. "They weren't the usual ones with scripture written in them, they were gemstones! But yes, he was wearing phylacteries, one each arm and one on his brow!"

Serena was confused and looked it. One ear was up, one was down; and she wore a look of confusion on her face.

Harry asked, "What's a phy-phy--whatever you said?" His ears were sharply forward, focused on Greg.

"What Terry is describing is right out of the Kabala," he explained. That's a Jewish mystical path of supposedly great magic and power. Now, why is a Werewolf using something that isn't even part of his tradition?" he asked. "I'm a Smoothskinned child of Mother-Beloved. That is my belief and my tradition. Why is a Wulf using a Jewish magical system?"

He glanced at Harry; "A phylactery is a box with scripture in it on a piece of paper. It has ribbons or strings and you tie one on your forehead, and one on each arm above the elbow. I had 'comparative religions' in College, the first semester; and I remembered that from class."

"What is all that supposed to mean?"Marinaasked, now quite confused.

"The word of thy God shall be upon your forehead, and upon your right shoulder and upon your left shoulder, and you shall pray to the Lord God of Israel..." Terry recited, "Remember, I was Jewish," she said; "Well, sort of," she amended, then: "Well, I used to be..."

"A Jewish Werewolf," Harry said quietly. "Now I have seen everything," he muttered.

"I said I used to be," Terry said softly. "I wasn't that much into it; that was my parents' thing. It seemed to be so full of 'whereases' and 'therefores' that it seemed more

like a contract than a belief system. My parents were only lukewarm about the Laws we still observed, themselves. It was as much a social thing as a religious experience."

She rubbed her chin for a second, then commented; "It was different for the Wulfen, though. They acted very orthodox; like only eating ritually slaughtered meat, observing each Holy day--in fact, they had more days of Obligation than we did. One of them got upset that mom and dad had a 'Hanukah bush', like a Christmas tree. An Elder came to our house and lectured them about 'hewing to the faith of their ancestors' to the point that they took it down. He even made a big thing about putting silk slippers on his feet before he came in, and putting a silk sheet on the chair before he sat. He also took them to task for not having a new mezuzah on the doorpost. It was supposed to be replaced every year after Yom Kippur, and they hadn't. He was such a bonehead about things, sometimes..."

"I know what Hanukah is," Serena commented; "but what's a mezuzah? Why did he put on slippers and use a silk sheet?"

Terry explained, "A mezuzah is a little container that is fastened to the doorpost or the gatepost of a Jewish house. It contains a blessing written on paper. You touch it when you enter, as a blessing on the house and the people in it. I don't know about the silk, that doesn't seem Jewish to me."

"I do," Greg said. " Someone who is ritually pure can't touch anything that is impure, or he loses his ritual purity. Silk is supposed to be an insulator against that sort of thing. That's why he wore the slippers, and used the sheet as a chair cover. Bet he didn't touch anything else in the house, did he?"

"You're right, he didn't," Terry said. Then she grew angry and muttered, "Why that 'holier-than-thou'..."

"If he was working the Kabala, he probably was," Greg replied. "Kabalists take 'purity' very seriously."

"And you learned all this in a Religions class?" Harry asked. "Mighty thorough, if you ask me; not that I doubt you in the least."

Greg blushed; "Well, some of it comes from online Gaming. That was all the entertainment I could afford. They make the rules just like real life, and I was a sixth-level Mage that used Cabalistic magic, so I had to learn about it from the Library, here in town. The Game Masters know this stuff, and if I did something wrong, I either lost life points or I died; so, I learned in self-defense."

Serena queried, "You learned this for on-line Gaming? How accurate is it?"

"As accurate as the Wolf Bend public library's books are," Greg replied. "It kept 'me' alive, and gave me something to occupy my spare time."

Serena looked past Terry to Greg. "You're going to have something else to occupy your spare time now; Me!" she said with a slight leer. "So don't plan on a lot of gaming unless its special gaming..." she wiggled her eyebrows at her mate.

Harry commented, "I didn't think you could turn that red so fast," as he watched Greg's response. Greg laughed a little but still blushed.

Serena's mother had a different idea. She stepped across the space between them and pointedly handed her daughter her clothing with a stern look on her face..

Serena pouted, but got dressed.

Terry chuckled and gathered up the glassware and the can and loaded it onto her walker tray again. "Time for more study," she announced, and scraped toward the door.

Looking back at Greg she asked, "Two hours?" and Greg nodded and she scraped out of the room.

After she had left the room, Harry shook his head and commented, "She's just Crossed, and here she is back on the job. It's just amazing, that's what it is."

Serena looked at her parents, then at her mate. "What do I do?" she asked curiously. "If I'm released from the hospital, how do I stay close to Greg? I really don't want to leave him."

Greg replied, "Well, you could shower and clean up. I know that's what I'm going to do as soon as they'll let me. Then when I get transferred, we could watch television or talk..."

Serena nodded, "Are you saying I stink? 'Cause I do, even to me."

"That actually sounds like a good idea. We Wulfen don't bathe as often as Smoothskins do because we can really dry out our skin that way, and we don't sweat much," she explained, "still, I could use a good clean up and get my fur all soft and silky for my mate's hands..."

Her mother spoke sharply, "Serena, Greg is not ready yet. Wait until the doctor at least releases him to complete his Crossing before you start seducing him."

"He could brush me," her daughter retorted, "he did that in College, when I was ready to scream from staying in Smooth for days on end and having to hide everything else from my roommate. He would brush me and we would eat pesto pizza and watch movies on the television."

Then she sighed, "That saved my life, because my roommate was Kindred but not used to having a Werewolf living with her, and she asked so many questions I was almost rude to her; and I'm not like that."

She looked over at her parents, saying; "Look, I don't want to do anything that will hurt my mate in any way. There is a separate bed in the room for the Assistant's use; I'll sleep there, tonight."

Then she looked at Greg straight on and asked, "Would that be okay with you, Greg? Would it upset you if I spent the night there, because if it will, I'll sleep somewhere else."

Greg took his mate in his arms and replied, "That will be fine, just so long as you are there with me. I don't want to be without you, ever again." Then he kissed her on the cheek.

Serena melted into his arms, much to the amazement of her parents. Then she said "I'm hungry. Could we get something to eat, then I'll go shower."

Harry nodded his assent, and Greg squeezed her for a second. "Eat well, and get pretty, and then I'll brush you like we used to do. I think I'll take a nap while you're gone, because I am T-I-R-E-D. Wake me when you come back, ok?"

"Okay, Greg, I will," Serena replied. Then she got up and walked to her parents and said "Let's go."

Greg was settling down as they left his room, and Serena stole one glance back.

He was so beautiful. She loved him so much. She walked straight into the doorframe.

"Akhh," she gasped, stepping back and re-attempting her exit, which was this time successful.

Harry chuckled, and whispered, "Did that myself, when I was first in Bond with your mother. She thought I was clumsy."

"You were, silly old dog," Marina replied. "You needed me to keep you from walking off the singing hill, more than once. That's one of the things that I loved about you from the start, you were completely focused on me; to the exclusion of everything else." Then she cheek-rubbed him in a Wulfen kiss.

Serena was hailed from the central nursing station. She went over to see what was wanted.

"Miss Wolfe, could you please go to the Admitting office and sign out?" the clerk asked. "Doctor Stevens has released you and they just need your signature on some documents before you leave."

"I'm not leaving," she replied, "but I'll sign off what they want. My mate is still here, and will be Crossing tomorrow night." She had a thought, "Can I use the hospital shower, please? I'd like to clean up a little."

The clerk smiled at her and replied, "Oh, of course. Check with me when you come back and I'll make sure that you aren't disturbed. We usually shower patients in the mornings, so there shouldn't be a problem now."

"I left some fresh clothing on your bed," her mother advised her. "Be a good girl and wear it, please", she said pointedly.

"Yes, mom," Serena replied. "I will."

They continued down the hallway to the offices and Serena asked them to wait while she signed the paperwork. They sat, watching the hospital activity as the afternoon passed. Serena had just rejoined them when there was a slight sound behind them, and a Deputy asked them to please stand by the wall for a moment.

A man in a wheelchair was being transported, in leg irons and handcuffs. As he passed them, he stared at them with raw hatred in his eyes. His eyes stayed on them until it was no longer possible for him to turn his head and see them.

The Deputy returned. "Sorry about that, but this one is fit enough to be taken to jail. He is one of the kidnappers that Deputy Nemeier shot in the leg. The other is a belly shot and is still here at the hospital."

Harry asked, "Taking him to jail? He isn't going to be happy there, since half the jail crew are Wulfen."

The Deputy shrugged, "That's his problem. He isn't going anywhere, since the Feds are also interested in him and want him held until they can pick him up. There are three federal warrants out on him, and if he gets convicted; he's looking at life in prison.

That's just the sort of place for him, if I have any say about it. He's a career, hardened criminal. Good riddance." Then he nodded at the family and left, to catch up with the rest of the transportation crew.

Marinatouched Serena on the shoulder to get her attention and asked, "Was he one of the men who tried to abduct you?"

Serena nodded. "He was. He was lucky. The one I got died."

"That was good shooting, dear," her mother replied. "Appropriate, too. We have every right to be on the highway, and if they want to think we're easy targets, they need to reconsider."

They walked into the cafeteria and Serena realized just how hungry she was, but her growling stomach was silenced when she saw a white-furred form in the back of the room, at a table by herself-and obviously in pain from the way her shoulders were dropped and her face obscured by her hands.

Serena glanced at her father, who nodded; and they walked over to the table where the newest Servant was seated.

"Hi, Terry," Serena said by way of greeting. "We're hungry and we're going to get an early supper. May we sit here?"

Terry looked up at them with eyes red rimmed and cheekfur that was still wet from her tears. "I won't be much company," she replied, "I've been talking with mom and dad and what they say isn't good."

"That's why we're here," Harry explained, "you're still new and haven't made many wolf friends. We'd like to be considered for that honor. Have you eaten yet?"

Terry shook her head.

Marinasaid, "Bad news isn't so bad on a full stomach. Let's get you a meal, and then we'll talk." Looking around, she asked, "Where's Bart? Shouldn't you two be together at a time like this?"

Terry shrugged, "He had to go over to the jail to make sure that the medical people there knew what that kidnapper would need by way of treatment. He's the junior Servant here, so he gets the run-around jobs."

The Wolfes had been gently guiding Terry over to the serving line, and she took a tray and put silverware and a plate on it.

Harry glanced at it and asked, "You just getting a snack? That plate isn't big enough for a Werewolf's meal."

Terry looked confused and asked, "What do you mean? This is the size plate I always take."

"And you're still a little hungry after you finish?"Marinaasked gently.

Terry nodded, a look of puzzlement on her face.

Serena switched Terry's eight-inch plate for a twelve inch one. "This is a wolf-sized plate," she explained with a smile. "We're big eaters, we need more food than our Smoothskin counterparts."

Terry's eyes widened and her jaw dropped a little in surprise, but she accepted the dinnerware.

The noise had brought two servers from the kitchen, and under the Wolfe's guidance, Terry got a wulf-sized meal; two pounds of buffalo meat (almost raw) similar sized portions of rice, greens, and a small bowl of cottage cheese. The Wolfes had similar orders, although Serena asked for and got buffalo liver for her meat entrée. To drink, they either got tea, water, or lemonade.

Returning to their table, they ate in near silence; Terry's eyes widening at just how much she could put away in one setting. After the meal, and after Serena bussed the dishes to the "return line" to be washed,Marina asked Terry what her problem was.

"I've been talking to my parents, and I got a surprise; apparently there are no female Servants among the people we're allied with. Daddy seemed to think I was mistaken about what I was; because he kept saying I couldn't be a Servant: God had said that only men could be Servants.

"They kept asking me why I had Crossed without their approval. When I said that I had died, and Mother-Beloved had brought me back; they said that it must have been a dream, because God is male-not female. They also said that if I were a Servant, that the Elders would declare me herem, 'cast out' and they would have to disown me..."

She began to cry again, saying; "I wish I had stayed dead, then at least I wouldn't hurt like this..."

"And what would your mate have done?" Serena asked, much to her own surprise. "Servants don't follow their mates. He would either have suicided or been left behind, maybe for a century or more; since Servants don't age in Mother's Service. He'd have been achingly alone for all those years, and you'd have missed him too; the place of peace wouldn't have held much peace for you, only loneliness. This is the best, because you'll have all those years together; as Mother promised."

"Then Bart will be my life," Terry declared. "If my parents put themselves away, that's their problem, not mine; and it'll be the fault of the Elders, not their own choice.

Harry was staring at his daughter. This was not like her, what she had said. Then a memory surfaced, of the Promise; that those who were Bonded would always be reborn together, find each other again, and live in the Goddess's own happiness. Serena and Greg were returned, to be together in the world again, and this was one of the results. Prior life memories were beginning to resurface and weave them together again. He whispered a thank-you to Mother-Beloved for the gift given to his daughter and his new son.

He also noticed his mate's head lowered and knew that his thanks weren't the only thanks being given.

He spoke: "I'm gonna have me a little talk with Luther. I don't want my new son's Servant-Specialist being sent all over the place while he Crosses. You two need time together as well, and out at the ranch, you'll get it. You'll get it here, too; if I have anything to say about it. Luther sometimes doesn't think past what's the protocol when it comes to his staff here, and I intend to remind him that you two have a specific right to be together, just like any other newly-Bonded couple does. The White Coat isn't a reason not to respect that particular tradition."

"Would you?" Terry asked hopefully. "He's only a little distance away, but I miss him terribly right now."

Marinareplied, "We'll both talk to Luther. He may be the Senior Servant here, but he's still a Servant; and he's working in a part of the hospital we specifically endowed as a memorial to Harry's brother, Frank. He was a Servant, too; and died in service to Lunara's People. That old wolf gets wrapped up in the business of healing and treating the sick and forgets that Servants are people like everyone else."

Serena looked at her parents in amazement. "Daddy had a Servant brother?" she asked in surprise. She had known that Daddy had a brother, but not that he had been a Servant.

"He died rescuing children from a school bus that had gone off the road, tipped over, and caught fire. He shifted, ripped the exit door open, and started pulling children out of the wreck and literally tossing them to safety. Then his fur caught fire..." Marinastopped for a moment, remembering. Wulfen fur was flammable, very much so. Francisco, Harry's brother had died saving Smoothskin and Wulfen children in a wreck he had just happened upon. His body was so badly burned that it was unidentifiable, other than by his car's registration. "He was a great man, and a great Servant," she concluded respectfully.

Harry grew sober, remembering. He and Marina not even mated when the call had come. Then he focused on the current problem.

"I'd like to be there when these so-called 'Elders' show up," he said. "Do you suppose that you could have this 'examination' take place at the ranch? I'd like to have the both of you where I can see you when this happens."

"You mean like stay out there for a little while, while I learn to use this new body of mine? Terry asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. "You and your mate," he replied.

"But Luther;" Terry began.

"Will approve it," Marinadeclared. "He claims he owes us, and if there's a scheduled Crossing, there are other Servants to do it. Bartholomew would only be needed in a Compassionate Crossing situation, and those aren't common occurrences."

The pain in the newest Servant's eyes was being replaced with hope, and she smiled shyly; and said "Thank-you."

Supper was over and her parents were departed as Serena and Terry walked back to what had been Serena's room, toeclaws clicking on the tile. Terry's walker scraped along the flooring as they talked, until Serena spied an unused wheelchair folded in the corridor.

"Wait a moment," she asked Terry and went and opened the wheelchair and brought it back to her new friend.

"I can walk," Terry said; but Serena shook her head.

"Take the handles", she advised; " and push the chair. That way you get your balance, and can walk more normally at the same time!"

Terry tried it and a smile grew on her muzzle. "It feels odd, since there's nobody in the chair, but this is much easier than that walker," she said, folding the walker and letting Serena put it back in the storage area.

They continued to the care-ring where Greg's room was located. As Serena started to ask the clerk about the shower, Terry got her attention.

"Use the Crossing suite!" she suggested. "It has a shower and a tub, and the selection of shampoos and soaps is a lot larger."

The clerk echoed her advice, and Serena went with Terry to the Crossing suite, the room at the entry to the care ring, and Greg's destination later in the day.

The Crossing suite was a large room that had a queen-sized bed in it, with a smaller cot and desk as well. There was a large television on one wall, opposite the head of the bed. There were cabinets lining one wall, all marked with the their medical contents. There was also a door in the wall on the right side of the bed that said 'Bath-room'.

Serena puzzled at the television until Terry explained, "We have graded sets of "Werewolf 101" on CD's. That's for after the Crossing is complete; as an education for the new Wulf. I might use them too, with you guys; once Greg's crossed. That way I can learn about what I've become, too."

"Oh, absolutely," Serena said, then; "you know, I might learn something there, too. Being born doesn't make for expertise; sometimes I surprise myself. Of course, you're welcome to share this with Greg and I; after all, you're both going to be learning how to walk on your toes together while I watch."

Terry commented, "I remember you had a suitcase on your bed. Does it have clothing in it? I could get it while you clean up; after all, I have this nice chair to carry it in."

"Thanks!" Serena replied. "I'd forgotten Mom brought it, and--Oooh! There might be some of my soap inside. Let's both go."

They returned to Greg's room. He was still asleep, and stayed asleep as Serena and Terry loaded both the "Patient's Belongings" bags and the suitcase into the chair and the two of them returned to the suite with their prizes.

Opening the suitcase, Serena chortled with pleasure at finding the special herbal scent non-drying shampoo and the conditioner she preferred to use, as well as brushes and combs and skirts, as well as two pair of trousers; along with an assortment of Serena's tee-shirts and two blouses. There was underwear as well, which Serena moved to toss away when Terry stopped her.

"If you don't want those," she said, "I found out that I don't have anything but these scrubs to wear. We're the same size, so could I have them?"

Serena realized that was the truth; Terry the Smoothskin was not the same as Terry the Servant. She literally had nothing of her own to wear.

"Sure," she said; "In fact; pick out an outfit to wear after you've showered, too. Between what I was wearing, and what mom brought, there is enough for three of us; so enjoy! In fact, why don't you get a shower after I do, so when Bart returns, you'll be all nice for him."

The look of gratitude in the Servant's eyes was reward many times over.

"Come on and look at what a Wulfen shower is like," she said, "it is different from what you're used to."

The shower itself was the same, as were the soaps and shampoos. The drying system was decidedly different, though.

Serena showed her the water vacuum, a long hose that went into a fixture in the wall. "You use this to literally vacuum the water out of your coat, after shaking yourself," she explained. Next was the dryer, again a hose but with a different nozzle on it. "Use this to almost dry your coat, unless you want to look like a poodle," she instructed. "The air isn't as hot as a hair dryer, so it doesn't fluff you out too much."

Then she indicated the towels. "Use these last, to finish your fur, and use a brush to set it so it lays properly," she said, indicating a shelf of brushes in sterile wrappers.

"That looks like a lot of work," Terry muttered; and Serena nodded. "That's why we only wash on odd days, unless our fur is nasty with dirt. We're fur bearing people, and caring for that fur is a major job."

She added, "In Smooth, you shower daily; and you should wash in Smooth at least once a week, to get your skin really clean."

Terry looked sad, "I don't know how to get Smooth again," she said quietly.

"You will," Serena promised, "after you learn to be fuzzy. Until then, you're actually safer this way, because you'll remember you aren't your old Smooth self anymore. This way you'll learn to be what you are a lot easier."

"The Werewolf teaching the Crossing Assistant," Terry chuckled. "That's something I was going to have to learn anyhow." "Thanks, Serena;" she said. "I think we're going to be friends, I really do."

"We already are," was Serena's reply.

Serena took her shampoo and conditioner and took them into the shower stall, then returned to the room for her brushes, where she stripped unselfconsciously and was ready to return to the bath when she saw that Terry had gotten out one of the CD's and was watching the TV. The one she was watching was about the Werewolf Birds and Bees...and Wulfen Sex practices.

Serena grinned and went to shower.

Forty-five minutes later, she strode out into the Crossing suite a new Wulf. Clean fur made a big difference in her self-image, and by now she was squeaky. She smelled pleasantly as well, and scent was a major factor in Wulfen relations.

She pulled on a pair of shorts, added a vest, moccasins and was dressed, at least to her satisfaction. She knew she had an exhibitionist streak, but enjoyed it carefully; when mom wasn't around.

Terry was gone, but there was a note for her.

"Dear Serena; she read: I've gone to give Gregory his second serving of "Soda" as he calls it. Brad is delayed at the Sheriff's office and I want to shower before he returns. If you find this note, I'll be back very soon. Gregory is to be transferred to the suite after dinner, about six or six-thirty; just so you know.

Thank you for being a friend. I need friends. ---Terry.

Serena read it and smiled. She felt a kinship with this young woman, and admired her determination. She thought for a second, then reached into the suitcase for something special, and got it out. This would make Terry's evening more...pleasurable.

It was a good thing mom didn't know about it.

She was buffing her claws when Terry returned to the room, much more cheerful. When Serena asked how Greg was she said, "He's awake, and wondering where you are."

That brought a pleasurable tingle to Serena's back and she replied, "I'll be there in a moment. I just want to wait for your shower, in case something goes wrong or you need something. Showering for us can get confusing very easily, especially if you aren't clear on what you do, and when you do it.

"Thanks," Terry replied. "I was a little worried that I'd do something wrong."

Serena handed her a bar of soap-like substance. "Try this, it's bar shampoo; and it smells heavenly. Then use the conditioner, all over, like the shampoo; not just on your head. Then call me and I'll walk you through the rest of the sequence."

Terry nodded and undressed and took the bar. She entered the bathroom, and soon Serena could hear water running.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard her friend calling, and entered the bath area.

Terry stood in the shower, dripping wet.

"Now, shake," Serena instructed. Terry wiggled and looked confused, and

Serena grinned; "Think of yourself as wet, wet, wet; and shake your head vigorously."

Terry looked puzzled, but complied; and suddenly her entire body shook vigorously, just like a wet dog. She looked dumbfounded when it was over.

Serena grinned, "That's an automatic reaction to being wet, but you have to think of yourself as wet to make it work," she explained. Terry thought for a moment and then said, "Well, that makes sense."

Next Serena had her go to the water vacuum. "This is a relatively new thing for us," she explained, "but it gets out a lot of what shaking didn't."

Terry vacuumed herself, sitting on the provided stool to do so. "Wasn't there something like this on the television for pets?" she asked. Serena nodded; "That's where we got the idea; and don't forget your butt." Terry looked surprised, but vacuumed that area as well, along with her tail.

Next was the air dryer, and Serena cautioned Terry about over-drying her fur.

"It doesn't seem very warm," the new Servant commented. "Hot air would set your fur at an angle and make you look like a poodle," Serena replied.

"Now I towel and brush?" Terry asked and Serena nodded. "Brush with your fur, not against it. It'll fluff out as it finishes drying," she advised.

Leaving Terry to brush her teeth and finish drying, Serena got out her clothing and set it up for her friend.

Terry stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and asked, "Underwear?" Serena handed her a pair of hers with the reinforced tail slit in the back. Terry quickly put them on and Serena showed her what she had in the way of clothing.

Terry chose a pair of tan slacks (again with tailslit and snap cover) and a light green blouse and quickly donned them. Looking in the mirror (there was a full length one on the wall) she gasped, "This is wonderful! Bart will love it!"

Serena handed her a pair of moccasins (her spares) and after a little coaching, Terry was wearing them. Fortunately, they were of a size. Finally, Serena shared her treasure, a tiny bottle of something that made Terry gasp as she sniffed it.

"What is it?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Amber-Musk, in a special base. You apply a tiny bit at the back of your ears," Serena explained. "You've seen us 'kiss' by rubbing cheeks. That puts Bart's nose right where he can smell it." Then she grinned.

Terry took a tiny bit on a clawtip and applied it where Serena had suggested.

She looked in the mirror again, "This is so wonderful," she said.

"How do I look?" she asked, hope in her voice.

"Bart's gonna die," Serena promised.

They both grinned. Bart was doomed.

Greg was watching television when an apparition slid into his room at the hospital. It looked like Serena but this was a different Werewolf entirely. This was beauty and grace in a vest and shorts.

"You're beautiful," he gasped. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"No, you are," he insisted. She took his hand and held it to her cheek rubbing the fur against it, savoring his scent.

"I love you, Greg" she whispered throatily. "I hate having to wait, but this gives us time to talk...about us."

"Okay," Greg replied as his mate pulled up a chair and sat.

"First," she said, "I need to apologize about the way I treated you in high school--No; wait, I need to do this," she said as he tried to speak.

"I was bedazzled by Jody, like all the others. I never thought about how you had been there for me ever since tenth grade. You were so dependable, so sure; and I craved someone spectacular; like Jody. Well, I got spectacular; but that was all I got. Then the twins were making me feel like a princess times two, and I lapped that up as well.

"Back in college, there you were, dependable quiet Greg; but by then I realized that dependable and quiet were a lot better than spectacular, better than being a princess."

She took his hand in hers.

"When your parents died, and you left College, I was annoyed that my pizza-buddy was gone, and I missed your brushing; I really did. But I didn't miss you, because you were SmoothKin, not Wulfen. I let our physical differences blind me to what I really felt. You were Smooth, not mate material. I was so stupid there."

She raised her hand as Greg tried to interrupt again, and he subsided.

"Then Bobby came back with a Wulfen girl, Belinda. He didn't see the differences between them and neither did she. When he almost died, with Brulay's reaction, and I saw his mate in the Crossing bed with him, waiting to die as well; I began to realize that our outer shells are only that; shells. We are inside them, not outside.

"When I saw you in that upside down car, I didn't see a guy I knew who had gotten hurt--I saw my mate, dying. And I was willing to die right there with him, to bleed out and follow him wherever he went."

"I understood what Belinda was feeling, then: that we were part of a whole; and that whole shouldn't be broken, ever."

"That's why I want to ask you to marry me, Greg. In a church, with a minister, in front of everybody we know; because I don't ever want to face that big alone again, ever.

I want you with me, and me with you. We run side by side, now and forever."

"Will you do it, Greg? Marry me?"

He took her hands and held them in his, looking deeply into her gold-rimmed irises. He spoke.

"Yes, Serena; I will, and...mmmphhh" She was hugging him and pressing his face to her breast and weeping for joy. Her fur smelled of herbs and wildflowers and there was a scent that was intoxicating that he couldn't identify as well, maybe it was just her. He didn't know, he didn't care. They would be together.

The tableaux held for a few minutes, and then someone entered the room.

Terry coughed to get their attention. She was wearing a lab coat over her borrowed clothing with the badge from her old scrubs now on her breast pocket

"Time to move you Greg," she said gesturing to the wheelchair she was pushing.

He nodded and disengaged from Serena and waited as Terry lowered his bedrails. Serena was already gathering up his things and watched as her mate staggered and crawled to the edge of the bed. Remembering that he had had two broken legs, she hurried to the bedside and gently lifted him off the bed and into the wheelchair, then went back to her gathering together.

Terry stood there dumbfounded. "You--you just lifted him off the bed and into the chair," she said in an amazed voice.

Greg chuckled, and said, "She's strong. That's important in a farm girl. If the tractor busts or the mule dies, we'll just hitch her to the plow and do forty acres a day."

Serena snickered. Terry asked, "Will I get that strong?"

Serena replied, "Yes. You may be that strong now, but you'll need to train yourself to make it work right. We're a lot stronger than Smoothskins, and we're more robust as well. You'll never get sick again, probably; and if you're hurt, you'll heal faster as well. That's part of our Divine heritage, right from Haouu; Father Wolf, the god of the North Wind."

Terry stood there, her mouth working but no sound coming out. Finally, she asked, "Are you serious? I accept that Lunara is Mother-Beloved, but there's a Father Wolf as well?" Her eyes were huge and Serena took her hands and held them.

"We'll play the History CD for you," she said. "You'll be amazed at who you are now descended from, with your miraculous Crossing Over. Don't let those 'Elders' get you upset. You outrank them in divinity."

The wide-eyed Servant was pushing Greg over to the Crossing suite when Bart showed up. She looked at him with love, and he returned it. They embraced while Serena took over Greg's transport.

"Watch," she whispered to Greg as Bart "kissed" his mate wolf style and froze, eyes half closed, as he sniffed her ear.

"Whatever that is you're wearing is wonderful," he said in a husky voice. "As wonderful as you are, Terry." Then he kissed her, human style; and she responded with obvious pleasure and passion.

Greg looked up at his mate and she looked down simultaneously; and they both smiled as she continued into the Crossing suite and the queen sized bed in it.

"Okay," Greg said as he waited, "what did you give her to wear?"

"Mom brought the clothes, and my suitcase was already half packed," she replied innocently. "I just gave Terry a little bit of an Amber-Musk solid perfume to dab behind her ears." What she didn't say was that the perfume also contained a hint of a female's "heat" scent. It was below even Wulfen conscious sense, but it worked. She had ordered it from an "Adults Only" Werewolf-friendly website without her mother's knowing, for the "right guy". She had never thought that Greg would be the "right guy", or that it would be redundant as a raiser of passions.

Still, she was going to try it, one of these nights.

Greg was settled into his new bed as Bart and Terry came into the room and told the two some good news.

"Luther has scheduled me to oversee your Crossing, along with Terry as Assistant. She will be in bed with you part of the time, feeling for anything wrong. Once she's got her feet back under her, she's going to finish her training and then be tested to see just what Healing she's best with. We'll be here, and we'll be together." He was smiling already as he also said, "I'm to go out to your family's ranch, and start Terry's gait training along with yours. Then Terry will be certified as a Crossing Assistant and spend a year doing it for real. After that, we'll test for her granted special abilities, and get her trained in those."

"The best part is that we'll have our contracts here for at least five years, maybe more. We can settle down and raise a family; and we'd like to ask the both of you to be our children's Sworn Parents...that is; after Greg Massey has finished Crossing."

Serena whooped for joy and hugged both Terry and Bart, while Greg shook hands with Bart and got hugged by Terry.

Bart broke the spell by asking if he could "read" Greg, to determine his state of health and how much longer they would have to wait.

The Servant sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on Greg's chest and assumed a "listening" posture for several minutes; eyes closed and ears pointed straight ahead as he sensed his way through his patient's still healing body.

He looked surprised by what he found. "The viral healing is still going on. You are going to be perfectly ready by this time tomorrow. I want to get as much of that liquid "food" into you as I can, so we have a head start on your body's needs as you Cross." He indicated Greg's midsection, where it was obvious that he had already lost weight, "We don't want you starving as you Cross Over, do we?" he said in explanation.

"No, I don't want to starve, Serena would never forgive me of I did," Greg replied with a grin.

Bart told them, "It's about end of shift for me--and Terry, so I'll leave orders for you; and I--We will be available if anything happens." He looked at Terry and said, "Perhaps we might turn the second bedroom into a storage room?" and she blushed her ears crimson. "For a while," she replied softly, "then it will be a nursery;" and it was Bart's turn for red tinted ears.

They bid each other good night, and as Bart and Terry walked away, Greg asked; "Maybe we'll need a nursery too, some day?" and Serena hugged him. That would be later, after their degrees and after the ranch was in their keeping. Still, there would be a future for them both, and they would share it together.

The evening was a quiet one for the two of them, as they sat and talked over their lives and what their plans would be, once Crossed and mated.

Serena grew more and more at home with Greg, as of she had known him for a lifetime, rather than the few years she actually had. Greg was apparently feeling the same, as they would comment on the television shows and fill in each other's sentences.

"I wonder what it will be like, making love to you;" he said quietly. "I've dreamed about it, but now that it's barely twenty-four hours away; I'm feeling apprehensive, just a little."

Serena wore a dreamy smile as her hand slipped under the sheets and Greg nearly fainted.

"That's what I thought I heard. You have a Sheath!" she said happily.

"Okay, here's how it will go," she said, "first time, I'll be in Smoothskin, like my mate. Then, after that; I tickle you with my tail. It's traditional," she explained; inventing a tradition on the spot.

She briefly wondered if Greg had a spleen that stored red blood cells too; like the Wulfen did, as that would explain the deep crimson he was right now.

"This is going to be the longest damn night," he said through gritted teeth.

She replied, "But we'll make it. I want you, too; but I won't do anything that might endanger you--not this close to having you as my mate, my Wulfen Mate. I can wait, and so can you. That'll make it all the sweeter. Besides, there's more to this than sex. Daddy offered us a gift of completing our education, and having the ranch in our hands in less than a decade. We need to show him that we're mature enough to do that, so mom and daddy can go play. They've earned that, and we need to be able to let them have it without worrying about how we'll do."

She swallowed, "Greg, could we wait until we've finished our education and earned our degrees before we--have babies?"

He was sober and thoughtful now. "Yes," he said. "I want your children, but I want to be able to be a father to them, not a student. I'll wait if you will," he said looking deep into his mate's eyes.

She nodded, "We will, then. Running the ranch is a big job, but my parents did it with three children, so it can be done. Until then, we can...practice..." she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I can get the necessary herbs from Gold Beauty, so my heats don't 'take'. When we decide it's time, we'll just stop the herbs."

Greg nodded and yawned hugely. "That wasn't you; I'm just tired," he apologized.

"So am I, it's been a busy day for me," Serena agreed.

He looked at the clock, "I'll get another dose of stuff in a few minutes, then I'm for sleep," he decided. Serena nodded, asking; "What is that stuff, other than super food?

"It's got protein and calcium and vitamins in it," Greg said, thinking carefully; "but it's mostly sweet. I guess I'm going to get tubed up again, day after tomorrow; so at least I won't have to taste it. The soda water makes it barely drinkable, but that's all."

As if he'd spoken a magic word, an orderly knocked on the door and came in with a can, a bottle, and a glass.

"Doctor's orders," he said. "Does that soda water and stuff make that taste any better?" he asked, unconsciously repeating Greg's own comments.

Greg nodded. "It cuts she sweet and makes it a little less slimy," he said. "Want a taste?" he asked, and to his surprise both Serena and the orderly did. Looking at the can told him it was butterscotch this time. He mixed and they tasted.

Serena's reaction was similar to Terry's; "Too sweet!" she complained.

The orderly, however, commented, "Not that bad, really. Sweeter than I like, but better than this stuff usually tastes." He offered a cup full of pills, saying "Doctor said you're supposed to take these as well."

Greg looked cross-eyed at the small pile of large pills and asked, "What are these things?"

"Supplements, Vitamins, and Calcium," the orderly replied. "For your Crossing, to provide what this stuff doesn't," he said gesturing at the now empty can.

"With that much calcium, I'll be as hard as a rock," Greg quipped.

"Take your pills, honeeey," Serena said, grinning.

Greg chuckled a bit and did as requested. Once his "meal" was over, he asked, "Are you going to do this all night with the food?"

The orderly shook his head, "Nope; this is the last feeding until six, tomorrow morning. Doctor wants you to sleep. Do you want a sleeping pill?"

Greg shook his head as he yawned again.

"Then I'll be going," the man said. "Sleep well."

He left and closed the door behind him.

Serena had readied the Assistant's bed for her use and walked carefully over to Greg, in the big bed.

She seated herself and took Greg's hand in hers.

"This is the last night we sleep alone," she said, "and I want you to know that I'm counting the hours until I share our bed with you; just like you are. Sweet dreams, honey; sweet dreams."

They kissed and she rose and turned out the light, leaving only the nightlight on for navigation.

They lay down and let sleep claim them.

_ He was cold. The wind was blowing through his ice-filled fur and chilling him deeply. He knew he wasn't going to make it. Aleet-hra was safe, with their son Teron behind them in the cave he was plugging with his own body. Tiny, yes, but there was just room for two on the layer of insulating leaves that carpeted the floor. He was starting to feel warm, the "deadly warmth" that some charitable god had provided for those who were freezing to death. He would have wept, but there were no more tears left; they were frozen in his cheek-fur, those last few._

_ He would have liked to see his son grow up, really; he would have. He would have regretted the words he had said to the boy, but now there were no regrets left. He looked up at the almost invisible Sun-Child hiding away from the storm in his blanket of clouds. He looked out, over the world being changed from fall to winter by these early snow storms. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, that his mate and his son might survive. Then there was nothing..._

Greg gasped and almost awakened; then, leaving the dream behind, he went back to peaceful sleep.

_ Aleet-hra was grieving, Teron at her side; as the hunters returned with her mate's frozen body. It would be cremated under Father's directions and the ashes blessed. _

_ "Where is father going?" her son asked, watching the procession wend their way to the high place, where Stanaq's lifeless form would be given to the fire, to return as a skin of ashes and bone shards._

_ "He is going away, Teron; and I wish I could accompany him."_

_ "Could I go with you?" her son queried._

_ "No, my son; you couldn't, so I must stay here."_

_ "Will father ever come back?" The child's innocent questions were an agony for her. Her throat ached with grief unsung._

_ "No. One day I will go to him, after you have grown and taken a mate of your own and given life a new body to inhabit. Then we will be complete again, we two." _

_ "Will that be soon?" Teron looked up at her with questioning in his hazel eyes._

_ "Too soon, for you; and not soon enough for me. We must be very much closer to each other now; we are going to live in Mother's house."_

_ "Why? We have a house, and it's almost finished."_

_ "Because it takes two Wolf-People to do the work to finish it, and we are alone now."_

_ "Will I be a Wolf-Person?" Teron always marveled at his parents' coats and their ability to run after the deer and catch them._

_ Aleet-hra knelt before her son and said, " In the spring, the birds return. In the summer, the grasses dry out and we harvest them. In proper time, my child will grow fur and become a Person like his parents. Now, you are young; and Father's blessing is not yet ready in you. In the fall, the leaves turn; and in the right time, you will wear the Wolf's fur and the wolf's body, like your father did and your grandfather does." She kissed the last remaining part of Stanaq, and their mating; her son._

_ "You mean when I grow up, I'll be like you." Hope, now._

_ "Yes, Teron, you will; and you will find a wife who will bear you sons and daughters, who will ask you the same questions you ask me. And so the world will go on."_

_ She smelled the wind, and the odor of smoke on it and more; and she felt very alone and empty. Mother had promised that they would be together in this world again, and in the next as well; and that was now all she had to look toward, the reunion with her mate and life: Stanaq._

_ She took her son's hand and they walked toward the big house her Mother lived in, leaving the ruins of her life behind and moving on to whatever was next._

_ _

Serena whimpered and a tear ran down her cheek, soaking into her fur. She almost awoke, but rolled over and went back to sleep instead.

"Mister Massey_, wake up_; come on, Greg; I raided the last bottle of soda-water for you, at least wake up and drink it."

Greg woke to see Terry's white-furred face inches above his own and his eyes popped open as he awakened fully.

He sat up as she stepped back and put a hospital table across in front of him. The can said strawberry, and there was a bottle of soda and a glass on the table's surface.

"I'm sorry there isn't any ice cream, but I brought you a couple of creamers to use in its place," the young Werewolf told him as she set the two containers on his table as well.

"Thanks, Terry," Greg replied, looking around. "Where's Serena?"

Terry pointed at the bathroom. "In there. She woke up just as I came in and headed for it as soon as she was on her feet."

Greg felt an uncomfortable urge as he mixed the ingredients of his home-made "soda" in the glass. "Is she going to be in there very long?" he asked.

"Need to go yourself?" Terry asked. "Well, take these pills and drink your drink, and I'll get a urinal for you. We're still watching your electrolytes and volume." She rolled something new across the room to a cabinet, and extracted an oddly-shaped jar-like container, put it in the new something's basket and rolled it back to Greg, who was taking the pills and drinking the "soda" to wash them down. He decided he didn't like the strawberry very much.

"What's that?" he asked, and Terry looked down and grinned happily.

"This," she explained, "we borrowed from Rehabilitation. It's for people who need more mobility than a walker will provide, and don't need a wheelchair. I know it looks like a grocery cart mixed with a bicycle and a hand cart, but it works great!" She indicated a pair of bicycle-type brake handles under what looked like wheelchair handles. "These are brakes for each side, so I can lock one side when I turn. They work like bicycle brakes, if I squeeze; the wheels lock. There's a fold-up seat if I get tired, and a basket so I can carry things." She was obviously proud of her new "wheels" that gave her some stability on her new digitigrade feet.

Greg finished the drink, and looked at the urinal. At first he couldn't figure it out, until Terry explained, "Remember, you 'point' up now; this redirects the flow into the basin in the bottom."

Then it made sense. Put the thing over his sheath and let go. He tried, under his sheets, and all the urine went right in and not a drop spilled.

He handed it back to Terry, who took it; put it in the basket, and said she would return in a minute after taking samples for the laboratory.

As she left, Greg noticed she was wearing different trousers and asked her about them.

She stopped and said, "Bart got them for me last night. The store was still open and they were already altered to fit someone with a tail. I feel so pretty!" Then she turned and headed out of the room and let the door close behind her.

Serena spoke from across the room, "She is so happy. Probably just like we are."

As she walked over to Greg, he replied, "Yeah. In a way, I feel sorry for her; if just getting a couple of pairs of pants is so important to her."

"Greg," she said quietly, "It isn't what; its who. You should realize that."

Feeling mischievous, he responded, "So, if I get you a broom for a gift, you'll think it's special?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, it'll be special, all right;" she replied. "The first broom to smack a Smoothskin into orbit will be very special." Then she laughed and kissed him 'good morning' on the cheek.

She sobered quickly. "All that crap we heard yesterday, right here in town or nearby; it makes me wonder about some things."

"She's probably fromHighland," Greg mused. "That's the biggest Jewish settlement around here, and the one with biggest European group pf people."

"Huh? How'd you know that?" Serena queried.

"The market received for their kosher stores for warehousing, and I made deliveries there," Greg replied. "They have their own kosher butcher shops and get the meat sent over from Hardee's, who keep a slaughter-and-piece line for kosher purposes only. I delivered for them, too; using one of the market trucks. I had to go there, get a couple of guys; then take them over to Hardee's and get the beef or buffalo and the sheep parts. They loaded the truck; I wasn't allowed to. Then I drove them back and they unloaded the truck. I usually got a free lunch out of it, and man--kosher food is great! I may have seen Terry over there, too; now that I think about it."

"Did you see any of these 'Elders' over there?" Serena asked.

"I don't know," Greg answered. "There were some really old guys there, and some of them looked Hassidic; but none of them were fuzzy or anything, so I really don't know. Most of them had beards, anyway. Who ever heard of a Werewolf with a beard?"

"You got your soda, and I need breakfast;" Serena said. "I'll go to the cafeteria, and I'll be back as soon as possible."

She kissed Greg again and left the Crossing suite, headed for breakfast, wearing her usual 'dress-up' clothing; a vest, shorts, and moccasins.

It was there that the Deputy found her.

Deputy Sherry Danvers sat down across from Serena as she ate her usual huge breakfast and waited for Serena's mouth to be not full of something.

"Hi, Cherry," Serena said happily, "Long time no see. What's up with the law in town?"

"It isn't 'Cherry' any more," the Deputy grinned, " I have a boyfriend now."

"At long last..." Serena replied happily. "So, what brings you to my table? Nothing left to steal; this wolf eats too fast."

"You know I don't do that," Sherry replied; "not unless I want to break out in 'fuzzy'. I need you to identify somebody from the attempted kidnap."

"Sure," Serena replied. "I only saw two people really well, and I shot one of them."

"So I heard; good shot, too--you saved the taxpayers a bundle in trial fees."

The Deputy set out six pictures in front of Serena. "Choose the one you saw Deputy Nemeier shoot."

Serena looked and tapped a photo with a claw. "That one."

"You sure?"

"I didn't pick out your boyfriend, did I?"

"No, that's him."

"I know, I saw him go past yesterday when they transferred him to jail."

"Damn, that might make your identification invalid."

"Huh? I saw him get shot, and I saw him yesterday. Same guy; ugly as a sick buffalo dump."

"You have such a...concise way of describing people," Deputy Danvers commented sarcastically.

Serena snickered, then asked; "Could you do me a favor, Sherry?"

"What?"

"I need a ride into town and back real fast, sometime today," Serena said.

"I take lunch at ten o' clock. Would that do? You'd have to ride in my cruiser," the deputy said.

"Fine. I like those Cruisers you guys use; especially the special stuff," Serena grinned.

"Like the shotgun?"

"Yeah."

The deputy snickered, "Just don't fix up your car that way, that's police-only."

"Oh, Poo!" Serena mock-grumbled. "Ten o' clock then?"

"Or just after. If I'm writing a ticket, I may be a bit late," the deputy warned.

"Okay," Serena replied. "I just need to get some underwear and stuff."

Deputy Danvers stared at Serena. "The Werewolf that could give Lady Godiva competition wants knickers? Were you hit in the head, 'Rena? What's up?"

"Mom said I could wear thongs, and I want to get some before she changes her mind," Serena explained. "Plus, I'd like to get a few things for Greg...to take off of me."

"Damn, girl; I heard you were getting mated. It's Greg Massey, then?"

"Yeah," Serena replied happily. "It's Greg."

"Best wishes to the both of you then, when's he Crossing?"

"Tonight."

"Ohhh: you two are starting traditionally."

"Yeah," Serena responded happily. "Repeatedly so."

Sherry snickered, "Then I'll make sure not write any tickets, so we have the most time for you to pick things out."

Serena offered her hand, "Thanks Sherry, you're a good friend."

Sherry shook hands with Serena and stood up. "Gotta go, see you at ten, sharp!"

"I'll be there," Serena promised.

She literally pranced back to the Crossing suite, encountering Terry in the hallway and marveling at her new "wonder walker", then she saw her new clothing.

"Oooh, nice!" she said as Terry opened her lab-coat and showed her.

Terry blushed her ears pink and replied, "Bart got them for me; three complete sets of clothes. I picked them out, and he paid for them. We also got sleep-tees; mine says 'Taken' and his says 'Very Taken'. Last night we wore them..." The blush got deeper.

"That's why you were watching that CD yesterday!" Serena said. "How was it?"

Terry looked surprised; "You mean you haven't...?"

Serena was now the blushing one; "Naaah. I was told--well, I was promised that my mate would be someone really important to the People; so I saved myself; not that I'm innocent, mind you. Greg's going to be surprised at what I know."

Terry answered Serena's question; "It was the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. Bart was so gentle and patient with me... I understand what the Mating Bond does now; I lets you share everything with your loved one; it really does make 'two souls into one spirit." She wore a look of profound joy and peace that Serena envied a little.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Terry asked suddenly. "I'd like to talk a little."

"Sure," Serena replied. "I can't stay too long, but I'd like at have a little girl-talk with you."

Armed with cups of tea, Terry told Serena about something she had heard from a friend; and yes, her parents lived inHighland. As she spoke, Serena's eyes grew wider.

Five minutes later, Serena and Terry were in the Crossing suite with Greg, and both females were worried.

Greg asked, "Okay, what's got you two so upset? Serena is worried, and I've never seen her worried like she is now. What's up?"

Terry explained; "I got a call from Ariel this morning, and he said that a friend of his, Schmuel; saw our Chief Elder and some of the other Servants in the trees around the housing tract they live in, and they were doing something weird. Really weird."

"They had a chicken in a cage, and the Chief Elder gestured at the chicken and said something inaudible, and the chicken disappeared into a pile of dust. Then they brought out a dog; I think it must have been one of the strays that live in the undeveloped area aroundHighland, and he did the same thing; and the dog turned into a pile of what looked like ashes.

"He called me to warn me, because he heard my name being discussed, and since you seem to know about the Kabala, I'm asking you."

Greg's eyes grew wide and he paled at this revelation. "Call Luther," he said; "we need to know if this is a Servant's ability or if it's something else."

Luther was in the room within five minutes after Terry had called.

"Hello, Greg," he said; "Terry says there's something you need to ask me about Servants. What is it?" The Servant's eyes were curious.

Greg asked him, "Is the invocation of 'Holocaust' a Servant's ability?"

"What makes you ask that?" he queried in a cautious voice. The curiosity was gone, replaced with concern and worry.

"Terry, tell Luther what you were told," Greg requested. She did.

Luther went to one of the chairs in the room and sat, a worried look on his face, his ears down and flat. Steepling his fingers, he said; "There are stories about the Warrior being able to do that; to 'burn from within' and leave only ashes. There are also legends about a type of Servant called a 'Guardian' with those abilities as well. There haven't been any 'Guardians' in centuries; possibly because they stayed behind in Europeduring the Scattering to guide the last evacuees to the New World. Now, some Councils use the term for their internal Wulfen security people, but it's a name, only that."

"I can assure you that these misguided Werewolves are not Guardians," he said quietly. "As to what they might be doing, I have no idea."

Greg spoke up. "I may have an idea. I told you I studied the Kabala (Cabala) as part of my gaming; because my character was a Cabalistic Mage. There is a Cabalistic act that can do this; you either invoke one of Yehovah's names that is destructive, or you call upon one of the 'warrior angels' and indicate what impure thing you want destroyed; and it is, by means of the 'All-Consuming Fire' or Holocaust."

He shuddered, "I thought all that stuff was just legends; folk stories. Now, unless there is another explanation; it isn't. It's real," he said in a bleak voice.

"Greg," Luther commented, "to most people, we were legends and stories before the Day came. Even now, some people still refuse to believe actually exist, even when they see us in our fur standing next to them. So, don't discount stories; they might be all we have to guide us."

"Well, I'm not going to be afraid," Terry said. "They wouldn't do anything to a living being, it goes against all they preach."

"Maybe," she muttered, " Schmuel was mistaken, or saw them trying a stage-magic trick to impress their faithful. I don't believe that even Chief Elder Mordecai Weiss would do something like that, even if he is a cranky old man. He was the one who sang over me, and do you know what happened? Nothing! So, I'm not going to take this all that seriously. I have my mate in Bart, and that's real and that's enough."

Serena took her friend's hand and said, "Yeah, that's enough," even as she was looking worriedly into her own mate's eyes.

Terry looked at the wall clock and said, "Time for another soda, Greg. What flavor do you want?"

"What I don't want is strawberry. Anything else is okay, and chocolate would be best," came his reply, and she left for the cafeteria.

"If you hear anything else, let me know," Luther requested. "I need to do some research on this, to see if there are any more records of unusual Servant abilities. I tend to agree with Terry on this, anyway; as invoking the Holocaust was always a last-ditch defense." He left the room, although he first eased the mental states of Serena and Gregory. He did not want this to dilute the sacred ecstasy that they would experience when they came together to commence the sacrament of Crossing again. That moment in life was too special to be marred by fear or concern on the part of either one of them.

In the cafeteria, he eased his new Servant's mind as well. She had enough on her plate as it was; having Crossed instantaneously, at the Goddess's will; like in the old days. She was her mate's other half, and that was the most important thing as their Bond grew into maturity, not some outlandish fears of dark magic.

He knew magic was real enough, though; even if there were very few users of it anymore. Perhaps that was for the best, since power like that could corrupt even a saint; given enough time.

"I was worried there," Serena commented as Greg sat in the bed, brushing her.

"Me, too;" her mate replied, "fortunately it turned into a lot less that I was afraid it might have. Still, those 'Elders' sound like first class creeps."

"They might be, but they are the Elders of a religion we respect. They're just classic 'holier-than-thous' with attitude," she summarized.

Terry came in and said "Oops, did I interrupt something?" as she saw Serena stretched out and Greg brushing her legs. Her ears pinked.

Serena shook he head. "Doesn't Bart do this?" she asked, curiously.

"Well, yes..." the new Servant blushed her ears pink again.

"Serena is a brush-slut," Greg chuckled. "Anything for a good brushing she doesn't have to do herself."

"Wait'll you're fuzzy," she said menacingly, "and I'll show you what a good brushing feels like. You'll be a bigger slut than I am."

Terry was laughing now, at the humor she heard. It felt so good to laugh.

"Here," she said, placing the can, glass and two plastic cups on Greg's table and sliding it over to him. "Make your drink and take your pills," she mock-ordered, going to the Assistant's desk and sitting down and starting to fill out forms.

Serena slid around and looked at the table, now across Greg's legs. He looked in the glass and said "Chocolate ice cream! Neat!" and started mixing the soda in the cup and the drink in the can with the ice cream in the glass.

He read the label, "Mocha this time. This ought to taste good," he muttered as he made his soda again.

Serena looked at her watch and stood up. "Gotta go with somebody to get something," she said; kissing Greg. "I'll be back, and don't you dare brush anybody while I'm gone," she said with mock seriousness.

Greg nodded and drank his drink. It really didn't taste too bad this time. He resolved to ask for Mocha in the future; it was less sweet.

"What are you doing?'" he asked Terry, who was still at the desk.

"Pre-filling out forms," she replied. "Since the Day, you wouldn't believe how much extra paperwork has just magically appeared, and as Assistant, I'm responsible for all of it, while monitoring your Crossing at the same time."

"Did you say you'd be in bed with me?" Greg queried.

Terry's ears went pink again. "It's different, now that I'm fuzzy; but yes: I'll be right beside you, or beside your mate; watching you. As a Crosser, I'll take what I've learned and mix it with my experiences as I Crossed--although I don't have any of those, and watch for the least sign that the Crossing isn't going right. I will literally be responsible for your life as you 'make the dangerous Crossing' and Bart isn't here. We'll take shifts, sleeping in the Assistant's bed so both if us will be available if anything goes wrong, or even tries to."

"Wow," Greg said as he thought about what was involved. "No wonder that Lifestyle Crossings are so expensive. There are two trained people involved constantly."

"It can be even more than that. The Board of Directors is considering building aCrossingCenterhere in 'Wolf Bend, theWerewolfCity'. Then someone like Bart would be in charge of four or five Crossers and Assistants, all at the same time, and there'd be a clerk doing what I'm doing right now."

"It'd be better, since that would mean that we were being accepted and admired by the public, but it'd be worse, too; since the specialness of Crossing would be somewhat commercialized.

"Right now, the State and the Fed are minimally involved, because it's still considered a religious function. Once we go for wholesale Crossings, that's out the window and we get regulated."

She sighed, "I still don't know which is better, but however it works out is how it works out. Still, having a clerk would be nice."

She looked at Greg and asked, "Could we watch one of those history CD's? I'd like to learn more about me and my new people."

Greg nodded, curious as well.

Serena made the cafeteria just in time, seeing Sherry coming in the other doors and hurrying to meet with her.

"C'mon, girl; let's go;" the Deputy said. "I want some lunch, and I want to watch you try on the 'trash'. She grinned as she started the engine.

Serena grinned back, as she slid into the passenger seat of the Sheriff's cruiser. "I want some legit' stuff too," she replied defensively. "Mom said I could get thongs, because that S.O.B. with the gun used my undies as a target." She snickered, "I didn't tell her that the hole was from where they caught on a branch. Mama didn't raise up no fools, here."

"Girl, you are just plain sassy!" the deputy laughed.

Serena laughed back, "Damn right;" as they pulled out and headed for the commercial center of town.

Sherry called in "lunch" and was granted it by the dispatcher after she had parked and they were getting out of her Sheriff's cruiser.

"We have an hour; and I need food, so where are you going?" she asked Serena.

"Nicole's," Serena replied. "They stock some of the best things in town."

"Yeah, if you're a stripper," Sherry admitted. "Be careful now, you know Greg is a quiet type." That word meant that Greg was..."inexperienced". "You don't want him to pop his cork, now," she warned seriously.

"Oh, yes I do," Serena replied happily. "Just when I'm ready to catch it."

They both laughed, and went into a fast-food burger stand.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, still laughing. "How you can eat so many onion-rings is beyond me," Sherry admitted.

"Big mouth," Serena said, pointing at her muzzle. "Besides, they make them good here."

"I know," Sherry replied, "I had some of yours."

Serena stopped dead. "You actually stole some of my food?" she asked in amazement. "Why you wolf!" she exclaimed, "I thought you were afraid of getting fuzzy?"

Seriously, Sherry said, "Actually, I'm considering it; along with my boyfriend. Since you guys came out, we law-dogs don't have to stay Smoothskin now. We can get fuzzy and not blow the secret. There isn't one, anymore."

Serena gripped Sherry's arm. "If you do, I want the donation. You and I would be two bitches to reckon with, then."

"You're serious," Sherry said quietly, surprised. "I'd be honored to have you as my donor," she declared in all seriousness.

"After what we managed to do in high school, there isn't anyone I'd be happier to help Cross Over," Serena replied; "other than my mate, Greg; and--Sherry: we're Bonding, Greg and I."

That was all she got out before the deputy was hugging her and rubbing her cheek with her own. "Good for you two. It looks like fairy-tales can come true, here in Wolf Bend," Sherry said happily.

Then she got serious. "Here's Nicole's. Let's go drive our guys crazy with lust." Serena nodded, "Oh, yes; by all means, let's."

They entered.

Fifty minutes later, Serena was walking into the Hospital again; headed for the Crossing suite. She had bought two dozen thongs that missed being g-strings by an extra three-eighth's inch width of elastic, altered for a tail. She had bought a set, a gold trimmed Baby-Doll top with matching gold lame g-string, and a peignoir (it was too expensive to be a nightgown) that was held together in front by one clasp just under her breasts, and three lacy 'why bother' bras.

She was armed and armored for tonight, and many nights to come.

The door opened to reveal Greg and Terry watching a history CD about the earliest legends of her people. She'd seen it before; but now, something stopped her. It was the story of Aleet-hra and Stanaq. Quietly, she set her bags down and settled on the bed to watch. It was old, with drawings instead of actors; and the artist was quite good.

When the scene of Aleet-hra and Teron came up on the screen, watching Stanaq's body being carried away to be cremated; an ache of loneliness seized her and her hand sought Greg's and found it. Just touching his hand brought her to tears of happiness: it wasn't going to happen that way again! She reflexively took her mate in her arms and they both embraced tightly, as if to ward off some chill.

Terry didn't seem to notice, wrapped up in the history of her new people.

Later, when the disk was finished, Terry said "wow" in a subdued voice and turned to see Greg and Serena still locked together.

"Ohhh, I'm sorry," she began, but Serena shushed her. "We're just romantics," she explained, "big fuzzy-wussy-romantics."

Terry grew misty-eyed and then glanced at the clock and "eeep'ed" saying, "I need to get Greg his next meal. I'll be right back?" she said, phrasing it as a question.

"Absolutely," Greg replied, "and could you please get me another mocha? That was the best tasting of the lot."

Terry nodded and left.

"That was quite a story," Serena began.

"It isn't something that can happen now, though," Greg replied quietly.

"No, it isn't; is it?" Serena agreed, "not a chance."

She got up and reset the television to the local news channel for thenoonnews.

Terry returned with Bart, who had news of his own.

"First, your parents are going to be here in about an hour; just a bit of warning there, so you don't get embarrassed or anything. Then, if my check on Greg Massey reads the way I think it will; you two can restart the Crossing after they leave," he said to their appreciative ears.

"Just let us know," he requested, "so we don't interrupt anything, okay?"

They both nodded and he made contact with Greg's chest again and sat "listening" for almost six minutes.

He stood and turned to face Serena and Greg and smiled, saying; "It's on. You are go for restart," while he grinned happily. Reaching into a pocket, he brought out a hotel "Do not disturb" knob hanger and put on Greg's bedside table.

Terry let Greg mix his soda and take his pills, then took the remainders, wiggling her eyebrows as she left, closing the door behind her.

Greg sat staring for a second. "That was my last meal," he said, "my last meal as a Smoothskin."

Serena kissed him and he reciprocated, not holding back in the least.

When they broke for air, he gasped "Wow!" then, "You've been eating Onion Rings!" he said accusingly.

Serena held up her hands in surrender; "Guilty--but only two plates, I swear!"

"Does that mean I can eat them once I'm Crossed?" he queried.

"Oh, you'll be able to eat all sorts of things," she replied; "just not garlic."

"Because it's bad for us?" he asked, and she replied, "Well, yeah; and it stays on your breath forever."

Harry and Marina knocked and entered the Crossing suite with a few gifts for the new couple.

Greg and Serena were watching a history disk about the Scattering, but it was shut off once the Wolfe's had entered; Harry with a suitcase.

"Hi, baby," Harry said, hugging Serena, while her mother waited her turn.

Harry greeted Greg with a handshake and a hug, then said "We brought you something you'll probably have use for in a couple of days."

With those words, he opened the suitcase and offered Greg some odd-looking pants . There were a selection of Tee-shirts, a vest, and two pair of moccasins as well.

"The trousers were for Bobby, but he had some of his own to wear. They are adaptable to several sizes and leg lengths and look good on a Wulf, and they have built in suspenders. The Tee-shirts will fit most of us, unless you're tall like me. The moccasins are adjustable, sorta; and they'll give you something to wear on your feet."

"Mind you," Harry said; "these are for after your Crossing's completed. I don't

imagine you'll be wearing much during the Crossing process."

Serena was showing her thongs to her mother who was disapproving, to say the least. She was measuring the elastics against a thumb-claw and muttering to herself.

"When I wore these, we called them G-Strings, and no decent wulfen girl would be caught dead wearing them," she muttered under her breath.

Serena looked up and asked, "You wore these?" Her mother nodded imperceptibly. "Now, if you could hear that, why couldn't you hear me calling you to do the dishes, hmmmm?" she wondered.

Serena ducked her head and offered, "Background noise?" Her mother was not amused.

"Bad echoes?" Serena kept offering suggestions as to "why" until her mother reached up and clamped her muzzle closed.

"Don't suffocate your daughter; dear," Harry requested.

"You've heard of Gold Beauty, the Puman, haven't you?" Marinaasked Greg after releasing her daughter's muzzle. Greg nodded; he'd heard, but never seen the reclusive Were-Pumas living on the reservation near theWolfCreek ranch.

"She came over this morning and gave you and Serena these," she said, opening her purse and handing them their gifts from the Puman Shamaness.

"These" were two matching neck-thongs, with two horn plaques on either side of a piece of amber with a design deep inside the fossilized tree resin. The design was of two intersecting circles, side by side like a sideways "eight" with the circles interlacing each other. Greg gasped at the beauty of the things, and Serena gasped at the meaning they conveyed; two lives forever linked, separating and finding each other again. Not incidentally, it somewhat resembled an "infinity" symbol.

"Wow" came from two throats at almost the same time. They exchanged neck-thongs and Greg tied Serena's around her neck where it fit perfectly in the hollow of her throat. She tied Greg's around his neck, and it hung a bit low, but "it'll fit better once you've Crossed Over, Greg; our necks are bigger around."

"How would she know?" Greg asked, and none of the Wulfen would answer him, other than saying, he'd find out when he met her. He got the feeling that they held Gold Beauty in very high regard, mixed with outright awe.

Harry looked at his watch and suggested that it might be time for he and his mate to leave. "We're going to the bakery, and we want to get the bread while it's still fresh," was the excuse he gave. He winked at the two, and they both blushed.

He gave Greg a hug that almost squashed the air out of him and shook his hand again, welcoming him to the family; while Serena and her mother had a surprisingly teary leave-taking. Marinarealized that her 'baby' was now another Wulf's mate, and Serena realized her childhood was effectively over.

ThenMarinawas hugging him as tightly as her mate had, and he received a surprise kiss from his mother-in-law; or in Wulfen terms, mate-mother. She whispered a blessing and then Harry and his mate were leaving the room.

And the door closed.

It was time. Greg spoke first; "Uhh, Serena, I'd like to take a shower first, before we..." Serena cuddled closer and asked, "Want some company?"

* * * * *

Later, as he held his reverted mate in his arms, after their first bout of love- making, he was humbled at the sense of completion he had felt. Her skin was damp from their exertions and her breathing in his ear was the most peaceful sound he'd ever heard.

Then he felt something happening, as her body began to change, to shift as he held her until when she raised her head, he was looking at a wolf's face with love in her eyes. The wolf smiled at him.

"Shall we inoculate you again?" she asked in a playful tone.

"Yeah," he replied, "gotta be sure we're well inoculated, don't we?"

That got him a lick on his nose, and a tickle with her tail.

"Am I better than a transfusion?" she inquired, cheekily.

"Oh, exponentially," he said, "exponentially."

Eventually, their passions spent in totality, they slept.

Terry knocked on the door at six in the morning, and received no answer. Opening the door a crack, she looked in.

In shock, she let the door close again and on wobbly feet ran to the nurses' station and called Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins.

He looked and let the door shut on its own again and called Luther.

Luther called Serena's parents.

Greg finally awakened to see a werewolf's head on the pillow; her long, furred body stretched the length of the bed.

He glanced at his own form and was shocked. He raised a hand, his; only it was furred and his fingers were Wulfen fingers, not human ones. He sat up and there was something in his vision that pulled his eyes into a cross-eyed position.

Touching it revealed it was his nose. He had Crossed over.

He turned on the table light and whispered loudly, "Serena! Serena! Wake up!

"Hunh? Whaaa? Greg? What is it? What time is it?"

"Serena, roll over carefully; something's happened to me."

"What happen...Greg! YOUV'E CROSSED!" Her shriek went through his ears like a red-hot ice-pick, making him cringe; and then she was all over him.

Her eyes were enormous as she stared at Gregory Massey, Werewolf. She was laughing, crying, touching and holding and then she kissed him.

That was like three cups of coffee and an ice-cold needle shower. He was awake now, more than awake.

She saw a Werewolf in several shades of gray, from light to charcoal; with a wide ruff, almost a mane around his neck and shoulders; with hints of spots along his flanks.

Stanaq looked at his mate, Aleet-hra; and rejoiced. Aleet-hra beheld Stanaq, and was in incredible joy. They were together again as Mother had promised.

Greg saw Serena almost faint with happiness, a happiness that he shared through the sacred Bond. He now knew why it was a Wulfen Sacrament. It blended two souls indisputably into one spirit.

Carefully he sat up and pressed the "call" button.

Terry almost stumbled through the doorway, her jaw hanging wide open. She pushed her little cart-thing up to the bed and asked in a quavering voice, "Is that you, Greg?"

Dumbly, he nodded; while his mate rejoiced.

"He did it, Terry; he Crossed in one night," Serena continued rejoicing.

Terry flipped the seat on her cart-thing down and sat, saying "Wow."

Healing Servant Bart came through the door with Luther; both Servants were walking very carefully as they approached Greg.

"How are you, Greg," Luther asked carefully.

Looking embarrassed, Greg replied, "I gotta pee; really bad, that's how I am."

That simple statement broke the tension, and they all started laughing; even though Greg really did need to pee, and badly.

Serena helped Greg up and guided him to the bathroom as the others tried to compose themselves.

Suddenly, Terry gasped, "He's going to pee? He doesn't know..."

A shriek sounded from the bathroom and both Servants and one Assistant followed the sound to the restroom, yanked open the door;

And revealed two wet and very embarrassed Werewolves. Greg was scarlet-eared in embarrassment, and was in the process of trying to lift one foot out of a wet area when he tumbled into his mate and they both fell flat on the floor. A semi-squashed voice called out, "I'm okay."

Healing Servant Bartholomew Collins looked around the room and muttered, "If I had a nickel for every time this has happened..."

Terry was trying to help Greg get up when her footing failed and she sat down on Serena, who "oof'ed" and then "aaak'ed" when Greg followed Terry down to land on top of his mate as well.

"I don't do triples," Serena grumbled as she raised her head and looked around herself and the two bodies on top of her.

Terry was near tears as she tried to apologize and help both of them up, only to fall again.

Bart stepped up and directed, "Okay, all three of you into the shower and wash each other off. Nobody's hurt, and if I were doing my job properly, this would never have happened."

Terry whimpered, I--I'm sorry, Bart," and Bart just bent and kissed her, then started helping people into the shower while Luther called housekeeping for a fast cleanup.

Once in the actual shower, they all took advantage of the handrails on the walls and took turns spraying each other off. Terry stripped out of the paper scrubs she was wearing since she was at last officially on duty and deposited them in the trash can by the shower entrance, then stepped back in.

As Terry was soaping Serena's back while Serena soaped Greg's back while Greg was soaping her back, she asked; "Is what I think happened what happened?"

Greg replied, "Well, I was trying to bend over to get things into the bowl, and then Serena goosed me, which made me to fall forward and hit my nose on the toilet seat, and that made me to try to stand up and then my whatsis came out of the sheath, and I lost control and let go, getting us all wet."

Serena objected, " Didn't goose you, I was just trying to help get your sheath pointed farther down when you lost your balance and fell."

Terry muttered, "Yep, that's what I thought happened," and accepted the shower head from Greg and started rinsing off Serena.

Eventually, Terry got out and dried herself quickly, then put on the fresh scrubs that somebody had left for her and wobbled out.

Greg and Serena took a bit longer, Serena having to show Greg how to use the water-vacuum, the dryer, and then the towels and the brush. Finally, attired in the hospital gowns left for them, they gingerly made their way back out into the Crossing suite, just as Terry finished explaining what had happened to them all in the bathroom to Harry and Marina.

Serena made eye contact with her mother, who immediately started to laugh uproariously. Harry was chuckling as well, but he managed to get up and assist the two now cleaned-up wulfen to their Crossing bed; while Serena glared at her mother, ears flat to her skull and horizontal.

Luther was sitting at the Assistant's desk, while Healing Servant Bartholomew leaned against the wall. When he saw Greg he apologized, saying; "This happens with almost every guy the I've Crossed. They don't quite get the fact that they are pointers now, not danglers; and the process of urination has to be addressed differently. Your sudden Crossing got all of us jangled somewhat, so I didn't take you into the john and show you how to do it. I'm sorry I forgot to do that."

"How do you do it?" Greg asked, somewhat puzzled.

"You sit, then bend forward and pull the sheath down into the bowl, and then let go. Then the stream goes right where it belongs, into the toilet bowl," the Servant explained.

Greg muttered, "Well I got the 'let go' part right, anyway."

Harry gave his new Wulfen son a looking over, lifting the back of his gown to see his fur. "Spots! That's an old_, old,_ set of markings; and your ruff may be wider than mine. Gregory, you may just be an ancient line of Werewolf, now living in the present. Anyway, you're a damned good-looking man."

Rubbing his jaw, he added, "You'll fit right in, too. The last set of spots in this neck of the woods was Founder Damien Wolfe, one of the founding fathers of Wolf Bend and the Wulf that staked out the original Wolf Creek Ranch. You're already part of the family."

He grinned and shook Greg's hand, then returned to his mate.

Serena got up and went to speak with her mother, while Harry got up again and settled beside Greg.

"Would you take that gown off and let us see just what sort of Wulf you've Crossed as?" he asked.

Greg took his gown off and let Harry and the others look. A fully-clothed Smoothskin had more exposed skin than he did, nude. His fur was a totally-covering garment that made other clothing into a matter of utility, rather than necessity.

Harry saw a muscular Werewolf of about six feet-two inches in height, with a charcoal gray head, cape, and sleeves (the back and outer limb areas). His belly and the inside of his limbs were a light smoky gray, along with his inner ears, chin and throat.

There were light areas along his ribs that resembled spots, although they were barely visible. His cheeks started out smoke gray and darkened as they met his cape and hood. There were faint spots there, too. His ruff was charcoal at the top of his head, and shaded to lighter gray as it neared his chest and shoulders. His hands and feet had black pads and gray claws, and his tail carried his cape and belly colors along its length, where an almost white tip joined them.

His eyes were hazel with a gold ring around the iris, like his mate's brown/gold ones, and he had "spectacles" of medium gray over and around his eyes, which shaded darker as they met his cheeks.

Serena glanced over at him and for the first time saw him in good light, dry, and not moving or holding on to her. She whistled a classic "wolf" whistle, and Greg smiled and winked back.

Greg saw his mate now through wolf eyes and was struck by her beauty. Absolutely gorgeous, her fur was the color of fallen leaves and patterned like that was as well. Her belly was very light tan, and those colors carried all over her body to her tail. There were patches of al most-white in her inner ears, and she had spots of tan around her "eyebrow whiskers" or vibrissae. Her nose was light brown, and her eyes were brown with the Wulfen gold rings around the irises.

He fell in love all over again.

There was one constant, though; everyone looked slightly different, colors weren't as deep or as saturated as he remembered. He asked Servant Bart about that.

"Your eyes changed when you did," the Servant replied. "You lost color saturation and gained night vision in exchange, as some of your cones became rods; and rods only see in black and white."

"So the cones see colors and rods see in gray-tones?" he asked.

"Exactly," the Servant replied. "Cones are less light sensitive than rods; and the cones that became rods as you Crossed are more sensitive than your original rods. A full-moon night will look like a moderately overcast day to you now. That's why we meet and are so active then, we can see better. We can also see a little way into the infra-red as well, so residual heat will show up as light areas. We are superbly adapted to the night; and it's a good thing we are, because before the Day, that was the only time we were really free to be ourselves and not hide in our Smoothskin forms."

For the first time, the totality of his change settled on his shoulders and a great excitement grew within him. In a flash Serena was beside him and leaning against him while her arm circled around his waist, drawing them closer together.

"We are together again Stanaq, and we have many years together this time," Aleet-hra murmured.

_ "I will try not to be so stern with our children this time, beloved; and this time I will be by you always, not out hunting to fill our bellies," Stanaq replied, settling against his re-born mate._

Greg leaned against Serena, basking in her scent and warmth, as she rested her head against his, their ears brushing. Serena's hand stole across his inner thigh, and he took it and held it.

"Two miraculous Crossings in as many days," Luther said, wondering; "what will happen next?"

That stirred a memory in Serena, and she straightened up and turned to face the Servant.

"I remember when we sang, and I was with Mother, that She said She was stopping the Crossing, and it would be complete when we restarted it. I guess She meant just that," she commented.

"Apparently so," the Servant replied. "And it's odd, that ever since that time, she's referred to Mother-Beloved as just 'Mother'. No longer any doubt of who she was..." the Servant thought to himself.

He said, "I've taken the liberty of ordering a First Meal for Greg and breakfast for the rest of us. It should be here any time. Let's get another table or two and some chairs, and get ready for it."

Servant Bartholomew added, "Greg needs to have his long bone x-rays to determine his calcination. He may be all right, that's what happens in Crossings of this type; but the Warrior had to take extra calcium for nearly a week because his bones were still brittle. So, after breakfast, I've got the x-rays and density tests set up for him. He might actually go home today, if everything is all right."

Luther glanced at his watch. "I need to call his aunt, in case she wants to see him. If so, I'll go get her and bring her here, as well as take her home later. She is certainly going to be surprised.

Marinaspoke up, "You won't need to take her home. We took two cars coming in; and one of them is Serena's VUE. She can drive that back home by herself."

"Thanks, Mom," Serena said, "that saves me a trip to town to do that, although I'll still have to take Greg to the Credit Union and put him on my account."

That puzzled Greg, but he tried to cover it by saying something intelligent; "Huh?" was what he managed.

"I have my money--no, that's our money now; at the Agricultural Credit Union. I want to put you on my account. You're my mate, so its as much yours as mine, now."

Slightly embarrassed, Greg replied, "But you don't have to..."

Serena looked deeply into her mate's eyes. "Yes, I do," she said. "We run together, we hunt together, we share our kill together: we're Mated. That's how it is."

Recognizing the "don't argue" phrase, Greg nodded in agreement.

In the meantime, a table had been brought in and some chairs as well, and they were settled around it. Moments later, breakfast arrived.

There were entrees on platters, and smaller platters served as plates. Greg got a cafeteria tray full of food, mostly meat; along with a grain he recognized as buckwheat and cornbread.

Terry had brought him a small cup of pills and set them beside his tray. Coffee was served, and a taste told him it was de-caf. He asked why.

Harry answered, as Serena's mouth was full of food.

"We are much more sensitive to caffeine than Smoothskins are," he explained, "and the little bit of caffeine left in de-caf affects us the same way that regular caffeine affects Smooths. Regular coffee is too strong for us, you wouldn't sleep for a week after just one cup."

Greg's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Terry advised, "Take your pills, you'll need them."

"What are they?" he asked.

"A fiber-based laxative and a weak stimulant one as well, and there's a vitamin and a mineral pill to replace what you used up Crossing. There is a calcium pill as well, and a high-lipid fish-oil capsule," she replied.

"I need a laxative?" he asked.

"After all that low-residue liquid you drank, yes you do," Healer Bart replied. "Unless you like being constipated..."

Quickly, the pills vanished down Greg's new mouth.

He looked at the pile of food before him. "I can't eat all that," he muttered.

"Oh yes you can," Serena replied, her mouth emptied now, as she stole a strip of bacon from his plate. "Just start eating." She nibbled her prize.

He had special utensils with big handles, which he soon realized were necessary; as he felt like he was wearing thick gloves on his hands.

In less time than he thought possible, the tray was empty, save for bones. He wondered why they had included bones in his meal, until Serena asked, "Aren't you going to eat those? You should, you know."

She then proceeded to take one of the bones and start chewing on it crunching it between her teeth until it was gone.

Aware that the rest of the Wulfen had done the same, he tried one, a small one. Crunch! it went as he crushed it between his teeth. Then again, and again; until the tray was empty of everything. The bones had actually tasted good!

Replete, now he was about to settle back when Terry motioned to him to stand, which he did.

"Toothbrush time," the Crossing assistant said, and walked carefully toward the bathroom. He tried following, but it was so weird! It was like he was walking on tiptoe.

He made it to the door, but just barely.

He saw that Serena had stayed at the table. She had been watching his "tail".

Once inside, Terry motioned him to sit on the toilet seat lid, and he did. She got a basin and filled it with water, and set it on the counter in front of him. Then she took a plastic package of toothpaste, a two ended toothbrush, and heavy floss; and set them out before him.

"Okay," she said, "now, you're going to learn to brush your new teeth right. You won't get cavities any more, but your teeth will get yellow; and the food trapped between them will give you 'garbage breath', and we don't want that, do we?"

She then proceeded to take him step-by-step through Wulfen dental hygiene, using both ends of the toothbrush as well as the floss; making him brush until she was satisfied his teeth were clean and sparkling.

"Back in the old days, this was one of the things that would give us away, hiding in Smoothskin," she explained, "so we are very careful of our mouths and teeth, since they don't change when we do. Your teeth will stay just like they are whether you're in your natural form, which is this one; or passing in Smoothskin as one of them. We used to do speech training so our fangs didn't show, but we don't have to do that, anymore."

Then she brushed her own teeth, taking half the time he had.

He was reading his toothpaste tube and said, "Hey, this is dog toothpaste. Do we have to use this, or can we use regular?"

Terry drank and spat into the basin, and then answered, "Remember, until the Order, we had to hide; and the brushes came with the toothpaste, so we used that." She wiped her muzzle with a paper towel, and continued, "We can use any toothpaste there is for cleaning, even the organic ones that use soap. A lot of Smoothskin toothpaste will be flavored too strongly for you, though; so using natural toothpaste is best, it cleans, tastes okay, and gets your teeth white. You don't need fluoride, though; your teeth won't absorb it."

"Now, you had an accident earlier on when you tried to urinate. Do you remember the proper process? Tell me," she said gently but firmly.

"Sit, bend forward, grasp the sheath and point down, and let go. Is that right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Now for the other one," she said, "squat on the toilet seat like a dog would," she explained. "We have to do it that way, since if we sit like a Smoothskin, we'll get nasty stuff in our butt fur; but if we squat; we usually don't even need toilet paper. We stay clean."

Then she made him do it, correcting his positioning until she was satisfied. It actually felt more natural that way and he noticed the ends of the "horseshoe" were wider than normal; with places for his feet.

Next she explained sheath sanitation, necessary in a sheathed male. The turkey baster surprised him, but it made sense.

When they had returned to the Crossing suite, Serena grinned and asked if he felt better now. He shrugged, "At least I have some idea of how to keep my teeth clean," he replied.

Then she asked him, "Did you fall off?" with a snicker.

"No, I didn't. Terry showed me where to put my feet and how to stay stable. I also figured out why the toilet seats have those funny wide areas at the front. They're for our feet," he replied, and got a little cheer from his mate.

"Wonderful," she said, "now I don't have to housebreak you." They both laughed at that.

Luther had departed, as had the table and extra chairs, and Servant Bart was seated beside Terry's desk. The telephone rang, and he answered it. He smiled, and out it down.

"How'd you like to find out if you can go home today?" he asked.

Greg was all for that.

Servant Bart left the room for a moment and returned with a wheelchair, gesturing for Greg to sit in it. He did, but had to wiggle around because there was no room for his tail, which was springy.

Once seated, The Servant asked for him to open his gown a bit and then put his hand into contact with Greg's fur and flesh. He was "listening" for only a minute, and then smiled and nodded.

"We just need the x-rays," he said; "and you're done."

"You're sure?" Greg asked.

"Absolutely," the Servant replied. "It has to do with your tail."

"My what?" Greg asked, certain he had mis-heard.

"Your tail, silly," Serena replied. "The tail is the last thing that develops on a Crosser, right?" she asked the Servant. He nodded.

"The tail is the last part of the body to finish the Crossing Over. Usually, a new Crosser's tail is just like a rope hanging from their waist. In a few days or a week, it becomes mobile and springy and you can even wag it. In fact, that's one of the restrictions on new Crossers: No unescorted walking, no walking without a balance-aid, and no sex until they can wag their tail. Yours is springy and quite mobile, so I checked for bone density and it felt normal. Now we just need the hard-copy of the x-ray, and you're done."

"Wag my tail," Greg mumbled. "Not very scientific, but if it works..."

Serena bent over and whispered, "No sex either. You'd better wag your tail, or get me some rechargeable batteries." Her tone was very similar to her mother's.

For some reason that struck Greg funny, and he started laughing. Serena glared, and Harry snickered; and even Terry had her hand up to her face, covering a smile.

Twenty minutes later, Greg was looking at a computer monitor. The hospital had a digital x-ray, a gift of Bob Wolfe and his mate; and he was being instructed in what he was seeing.

"Red is good density," the x-ray technician was explaining; "and white is poor density. Your bones show you are just slightly low on density in some areas, but you're well in the normal range for a Wulf. Your long bones are as dense as most Wulfen, and denser than some; especially the older people, the retirees. You guys do get osteoporosis, but it's easier to control in you; according to the doctors. All we need now is Doctor Stevens to okay your scans, and you'll be released."

Doctor Stevens was busy, so the party went back to the Crossing suite and Greg got dressed. He held up a pair of boxer shorts and said, "You're kidding, right?" as Harry told him to put them on backwards.

Apparently not, because they went on and fit well enough, and the fly let his tail out. Next was a tee-shirt, which fit well enough in the shoulders, but billowed around his waist--his wonderfully narrow waist: which years of dieting and exercise had not given him. The pants came after the tee, and after fiddling around with the waist straps, he put them on and then turned and snapped the top-cover that opened for his tail. Next, the suspenders went over his shoulders, because as a Werewolf, he didn't have any hips to speak of. Serena's hips were slender as well, although there was a slight widening that his didn't have.

Over the Tee-shirt went the vest, loose but usable. Then, came the moccasins, sans socks, and he needed Harry's help in lacing them up. They fit his feet well enough, but fastened around his hocks; what would have been his instep/arch area were he still plantigrade with a heel...and his heels ( what remained of them) were covered with sparse fur and the remains of calluses and dry skin. He suspected they'd soften and get more fur as time passed.

He was dressed. Stepping over to the mirror, he was amazed at what he saw. Shoulders like a pair of football pads, muscular arms, a barrel of a chest, all tapering down to an almost skinny waist. The trousers made his legs look longer than they were, and his feet were slightly pointed outwards as he balanced on them. His legs would never be straight again; rather, they would always be flexed and ready to move.

A chair was brought, and he was pressed gently down in to it asMarinaplied her talents with scissors and comb and brush to make some sense of what looked like an overgrown lawn on his head.

Mother Marina asked him, "Would you like your hair short, or would you like braids on the sides in front of your ears?"

It took Greg a moment to realize that his hair had grown a lot, much more than he'd expected; and after thinking a moment, he borrowed a comb and combed his hair so he could braid the hair in front of his ears down in front of them, and then proceeded to braid that hair into one braid in front of each ear so that they reached his jawline.

Both Serena and her mother looked at him carefully, and Serena nodded. She liked them, and her mother agreed; Greg looked well with the braids contrasting the fur of his ruff.

Greg was quietly trying not to freak out: he knew nothing of braids or braiding, yet he had just made two of them in moments without a false motion on his part.

The Wulf in the mirror looked back, somehow more mature and stronger of face than he had looked minutes before. Gradually, as he calmed down, he decided he liked the wulf in the mirror, too.

He resolved to speak to Luther, though, at his first convenience.

Things were completed with rubber bands at the bases of his braids, and he took one of the laces out of the spare moccasins and turned it into a band to restrain the hair across his forehead.

The Wulf in the mirror now looked older, stronger, and a little more the barbarian than he had planned on, but he really liked the look. The look in Serena's eyes said she liked it, too. The gift from Gold Beauty now settled exactly where it belonged, just where the hollow of his throat reached his breastbone.

He wobbled out of the chair and over to the bed and sat down, his tail tight against his butt and wrapped to the right.

His new family were looking at him with approval, especially his mate. Serena turned on the television, and they watched the morning shows until Doctor Stevens came into the room with his aunt.

She looked over her nephew and passed judgment: "Gregory, you look stunning. More mature, stronger, and you still have those kind eyes. I'm glad for you and Serena; and the Sheriff has given me two warrants for almost twenty thousand dollars; which were the total of the reward for those two terrible men."

She knelt before her nephew, now Crossed and Wulfen, with a mate; and hugged and kissed him...on the cheek. There were tears in her eyes, tears of happiness for him.

He hugged his aunt back and promised, " I'll always be there for you, aunt Emma; you're the last I have of mom and dad, and you're my link to them. I'll keep track of things, and if you need anything, I'll do everything I can to get it for you. Stay well."

"We'll be over in a couple of days to pick up my stuff, so you get your apartment back; and Serena's loaning you her car, so don't be a stranger out at the ranch, ok?" There seemed to be something in his eye, right then.

Serena hugged his aunt as well, and handed her a set of keys, saying; "Mom drove the VUE in this morning, so it's ready for you to use. It's the burgundy one."

Aunt Emma hugged back and whispered a thank-you in Serena's ear.

Then Doctor Stevens handed Greg a clip-board and a pen. "Sign the highlighted lines and fill in the addresses and you're out," he said. As Greg complied, the Doctor commented, "normally, I'd say 'see you soon,' but that doesn't seem appropriate right now. So, I'll see you when I see you." Harry nodded and chuckled.

Healing Servant Collins opened the door and asked if Greg was ready to go. When Doctor Stevens nodded, Servant Collins walked over to Harry and said "We'll be out to the ranch this afternoon. Will we be in the way if we stay? We can commute..."

"Nonsense," Harry replied; "Staying out there will let you and your mate have a sort of a honeymoon, and you'll get more training time in as well. Plus, I think you'll like Serena's cooking; her mother taught her well.

"Cooking?" Serena asked warily, "Am I supposed to cook for everybody?"

"Of course not," her mother said; "You'll help me with the meals, that's all. You're going to be busy helping Greg get his feet under him...and occasionally doing some dishes."

Serena pouted to no effect, other than having Greg hug her.

The last paper was signed, and the last bit of luggage was collected. Greg was presented with a pair of "Canadian-style" crutches that clipped to his forearms for assistance in his balance.

He stood, and using the crutches for balance, began to walk out of the hospital, his mate at his side lending a hand now and then. It was odd, the way that he walked; because there was no heel strike, only smooth motion.

The world was different as well, once outside. The sun was warm, even though there was a dusting of snow on the ground. The air was a chilly thirty-seven degrees, but he was warm and comfortable in his fur.

Sounds from the highway a mile and a half away were clearly audible when he flipped his ears in that direction, and everything smelled of something; the world was a riot of scents that his nose was busy cataloging for him.

Sight was the most different, in that he still saw in colors; but they were muted colors and shadows were less dense, with more detail. He stood for a full minute, taking everything in: the trees that surrounded the hospital, the cars that rumbled by, and the sounds of the breezes in the electrical wires, while he could smell the snow and the wind brought scents of birds, animals, and people.

He just stood, his jaw dropped; wondering at the new world that Crossing had given him.

Marinaslipped up to him and commented, "Incredible, isn't it? I can't begin to imagine what this must be like for you; but for me, the whole world is whispering and singing and dancing: and all of it just for me. It's wonderful, just wonderful, the world that Mother-Beloved's gift has given us as Her wolves."

He nodded, "Yeah, it is, mom." She hugged him and rubbed cheek.

Then he stepped onward to the jeep that his new father had brought around so they could get in. He and his mate got in the back, and his mate-mother climbed into the front, and they all locked their seat belts; Greg was the most careful about this--both for him and his mate. The jeep was open and as Harry accelerated out of the parking lot, Greg decided he was going to sniff as Harry drove.

He did, all the way back to the ranch, much to his mate's annoyance.

* * * * *

Greg was on a treadmill, set up on the front porch of the ranch house. He and Serena had already moved into their new bedroom and bath, a mirror of their parents' bedroom, and on the opposite side of the house. He was still bemused at calling his mate's parents "Mom and Dad" but that was Wulfen custom and that was that.

They had barely been moved in when Healing Servant Collins and his mate Terry had arrived, driving one of the hospital pickup trucks that was loaded with exercise and rehabilitation gear.

He had watched while his mate, her father, and Healer Bart had unloaded the truck and moved everything in and around the house. There had been a set of free weights and the treadmill he was on now, as well as Terry's rolling walker and one for him, too. There was a balance pole like tightrope walkers used in the circus, several oddly shaped things with scales and dials, and three video cameras and two flat-screen monitors as well as a laptop computer with all of its bits and pieces.

Somehow, all of it had wound up where it would work and not be in the way of anyone.

The house already had a workout room with a couple of machines and a stationary bicycle. He had a "route" that took him to most of it as part of his "rehabilitation" after Crossing.

Much of it, he knew, was to let him learn about his new Wulfen body. He had been amazed to see Serena working out on the elliptical machine in nothing but one her thongs--until her mother had shown up. Then Serena had worn a tee-shirt and a set of wulfen shorts. She could lift over three hundred pounds!

Those had amazed him as well. They fit around his waist (what there was of it) and had a hole for his tail, and were held in place by two tie-strings that secured them well, but left him almost as unencumbered as he would have been unclothed. Serena had mentioned they would let them "go quad"--whatever that was.

It was easy to use the treadmill, as long as he could hold on to something for balance. Nothing to hold on to was, however, a very different story. He had already tried twice, and each time he had fallen and the machine had unceremoniously dumped him off of itself; and the way it was placed meant that he was dumped off the porch as well.

That, he thought, was deliberate. Serena had been watching the second time it had happened, and had laughed so hard she had gotten the hiccups. "Only fair," he thought.

Werewolves loved physical humor; not so difficult to comprehend when they themselves were so hard to damage...as he was coming to understand.

Now, he was "building coordination in his pedal extremities", or, learning to walk again. He had been doing this for twenty minutes, in five more minutes he would be done. Then he would stretch and cool off for five minutes, after which he would go in for a drink of water and head for the elliptical machine.

Terry came out onto the porch to stretch and get ready for her time with the treadmill. Somehow, she had managed to turn a pair of bike shorts into a pair of side-zip shorts the could pull on without getting her fur messed up and laying the wrong way. She was also wearing a short strap-tee top that matched her shorts and contrasted with her moon-white fur. The result was spectacular, and had Serena eyeing her and making calculations in her mind. Terry looked like she was wearing a coat of navy blue paint.

Time was up, and Greg slowed the machine down and stopped it so he could get off. He was panting slightly, but only comfortably warmed up.

As she began her treadmill exercise, Greg asked her how she was doing.

"Pretty good, I think; at least Bart is happy with my progress," she replied.

"I wish I could say that," Greg replied. "About the only thing I haven't done wrong is step on my tail."

"Remember, I've had a day more experience than you have," she reminded him, " and there's a point where it starts getting easier, you just have to reach that point."

He nodded at her and entered the house, going from wall to furniture to cupboard for balance; headed for the kitchen and the glass of water. Bart had specified that he was to drink at regular points of his workout, and mom had provided a pint-volume beer mug for him to use.

He was about to enter the kitchen when he overheard, "...and before we left, two of her friends called and said essentially the same thing; that this 'Chief Elder' was doing something that turned animals and objects into ashes in seconds, and was making plans to do the same to Terry if she failed this 'inspection' of his. Apparently they won't tolerate female Servants among themselves, and are prepared to do something permanent if she fails their test. Luther is worried about it, although he hasn't said anything to me on the subject..."

The talk stopped as Greg entered the room and went to the refrigerator and got out the water jug. Playing the innocent, he poured his mug of water and then refilled the jug and replaced it. He downed the cool water quickly, nodded to his family and Servant Bart, and left them to go to the workout room and the next step of his schedule of activities.

He started by working with the free weights, his mind a beehive of activity. He was seated on the weight bench doing curls when Serena came into the room, once again in a thong and a vest.

"Is there something bothering you...Ooooh! do you realize how much you're lifting?" she asked, an odd look in her eyes.

"Uhhh, no; he replied, "I didn't count the weights. It doesn't seem that heavy."

Serena was counting and adding up things, "You're curling three hundred fifty pounds," she replied, then she bent and kissed him; "My big strong mate..."

He dropped his jaw for a second, then commented, "It doesn't feel that heavy--are you sure?" he asked, setting the weight bar down.

She nodded, saying; "I counted twice, because I was so surprised. That means," she muttered, thinking; "that you will probably be able to bench-press around five hundred pounds, maybe more. We're stronger than most people think."

"Including me," Greg replied, eyes wide. "How much can you do?" he asked curiously.

"I can curl about two seventy five," she said; "press four hundred, and dead-lift four-fifty. Of course, being female, I'm not as strong as my big strong mate..." she replied, trailing her finger claws through his chest fur.

"Mmmmff," Greg 'mmmfed'; as her claws trailed lower along his belly.

"'Rena, I have to do this routine, the Servant said so," Greg said in a tight voice.

"Poo, you're no fun," she pouted. Then she gave him an arch look.

"We can wait until tonight. Then, we'll howl..."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said accusingly.

His only answer was another arch look and a kiss.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Is there a way we can go into town tomorrow?"

She thought for a moment, then replied, "Yeah, we can say you need clothes, and I want to put you on our account, and mom will probably give us a grocery list. Is this about what's got you so uptight?"

He nodded and told her about what he had overheard.

"Well that's interesting," she commented, "didn't Terry say something about it earlier?"

He nodded, "Yes, she did. We didn't take it seriously, although we did call Luther in for information."

"Or Luther didn't want us to worry," she commented. Seeing her mate's confused look, she told him, "Servants can mess with your head. That's how they kept Smooths who saw us from telling the whole world we existed, by making the memories dreamlike and unreal. They also approved people for the old Kindred, back when it was secret. They can do a lot of stuff that doesn't get talked about much, maybe because they mess with that as well; and Luther is the oldest and most capable Servant in Wolf Bend. Even Gold Beauty defers to him in purely Wulfen matters, and that is very unusual. There are stories about how he was with the first batch of settlers here; and Gran'thr Paul was his student before he was Accepted as a Servant."

She rubbed her jaw, thinking; "If Luther was concerned enough to mess with us and Terry; he's concerned, and we should be, too."

"You want to do some research on that Kabala stuff, don't you?" she declared.

"Well, yeah," he replied.

"Good," Serena decided. "You can tell me more about it, then. Terry is a friend, and I don't want her hurt." She was about to say more when her mother entered the room and started growling; "Serena Marie Wolfe, there are guests in the house! What are you doing undressed like that?"

"Talking to Greg?" she replied weakly.

Marina was now very angry with her daughter and stalked across the room and was going to slap some sense into her when Greg erupted, fangs clicking sharply together scant millimeters from her hand; deflecting it from Serena's cheek.

Everybody froze for a second, then Greg's hands were around his muzzle and he was mumbling apologies to a stunnedMarinawhile an astonished Serena looked on.

"No, Gregory," Marina apologized, "it was my fault. She is your mate, and what I was about to do was wrong, very wrong." She knelt and asked, "Will you accept my apology?" as Greg tried to sort out what had happened in his mind.

Marinacontinued, "I'm proud to see my daughter has a strong defender and protector as her mate. I'm proud to be your mate-mother, Greg."

He reached out and they hugged closely. Marinawhispered, "If she gets too ornery, tell me; I know all her weak spots," as Serena groused, "Mom!"

Serena continued, "Why can't I wear something like Terry does?"

Her mother replied, "You can, but that isn't it. Next time you're in town, get yourself some bike shorts; just don't wear underwear around the house when we have guests, that's all."

Serena grinned, "Okay," and pranced out of the room, theoretically to dress.

Marinasat on the floor and looked up at Greg and asked, "Does it seem that she agreed a little too easily to you?" One ear was cocked at an angle as she thought.

Greg nodded. "Yes, it did," he replied; then, "Tomorrow, I need to go to town for clothes, and Serena wants me on her account. Would it be all right, do you think?"

Marinanodded. "I need to get some more groceries, anyhow. Harry keeps wandering away in the market and I always forget something. I'll give you two a list at dinner, okay?"

Greg nodded and began to do his workout again, only Marinainterrupted this time, saying; "Three hundred fifty pounds to curl? Oh, my; you're going to be strong! Serena has a wonderful mate in you; you're almost as strong as Harold was at your age, and you're just starting out as a Wulf." She departed with a happy glow in her eyes as Greg continued his workout, wondering when the White Rabbit--or maybe the Red Queen--would show up.

The question of "town" was resolved at dinner when Servant Bart told them, "Terry and I need to be at the hospital tomorrow morning for a staff meeting. I hate to deprive Greg of his rehabilitation time, but we can't be here; and I'd rather not have Greg working out un-monitored."

Serena answered, "Well, Greg and I need to go into town for some clothing for him, and mom has a grocery list she wants us to get; so don't worry. Nobody will miss anything."

Harry chuckled, and warned Greg, "Don't wander off in the Grocery store; Marinadoes it regularly and we forget stuff."

"I wander off?" his mate sputtered, "Why you silly old dog, you're the one that can't keep straight where things are located. I told you to get me fifty pounds of corn meal and whole-wheat flour, and I found you in the garden section looking at fertilizer!"

"Well, they both come in fifty-pound bags, don't they?" he replied, unconcerned. "I was on my way to the bulk goods section and stopped to look at something, that's all."

Terry was smiling hard and trying not to laugh, while Greg was watching for the White Knight or maybe Alice herself.

Serena just rolled her eyes and went with the flow.

Later, as they were getting ready for bed, Greg commented "It's certainly 'interesting' living here," and Serena replied, "You mean insane, don't you?"

She continued, "Mom and Dad have always been like this. They have fun with each other this way, and it kept all of us kids sharp. Daddy pretends he's a little slow, because when he lets down the mask, he is so smart he frightens some people. Mom's the same way.

"There was a 'lot' of cattle that they bought, the first year that they had the ranch from his parents, that had hoof-and-mouth disease. They lost almost the whole herd and

because of the risk of contamination; even the meat wasn't saleable. They almost lost the ranch.

"In two years, they were back breaking even, and were making decent profits in four years. They worked almost around the clock, and Daddy had a heart attack; yet they kept up until the ranch was safe and solid enough to have their children, Martina and me; and they adopted Bobby when his parents were killed. Marty and I were supposed to be twins, but something bad happened... That's why there are just the two of us: Wulfen usually have a lot of children, but the second time Mom had trouble and only I was born, they decided to not try for any more kids.

"They have the Bond, too; so the pain mom was going through, dad was experiencing as well. They care for everyone on the property; and when one of the worker's families get sick, we pay their hospital bills. They even see to home-schooling the ones who can't go to the public schools. They even endowed the Hospital wing we were in, as a memorial to the Wolfes who have been a part of Wolf Bend since Founder Damien started a town where we and our smooth brothers and sisters could live together without the fear that was everywhere else.

"They're crazy, but they love and care about everyone they can reach; because that's what Mother said we should do; and they're doing it.

Serena sighed, "Yeah, they're crazy sometimes, but it's a good crazy; and your mate is a little crazy that way, too, Greg."

He took her in his arms and replied, "Yeah; it's a wonderful crazy..."

Later, Terry and Bart heard a paired howling echoing through the house. She kissed him and soon there was more howling coming forth through the building.

Harry's ear twitched as he heard the second set of joy-songs and he rolled toward his mate and commented, "Looks like there's love in the air, hon."

"Sounds like; you mean, silly old dog," she replied sleepily. Then, "Harry, young Greg almost took my hand off this afternoon, protecting Serena. That's a big relief to me, because since he's a Crosser, I didn't know if he'd protect her reflexively or not. He will; and that's a load off my mind."

"He's a good man, through and through," Harry said, "and that coat of his is just like Founder Damien's was. I hope he doesn't have the tragedy that Damien faced, though."

"You mean the fire? After all his work and planning for the town and the ranch, his mate burned to death in a fire, and he took the Reunion cup and never saw what he had made; or how it thrived. Poor Wulf, at least Mother-Beloved re-united him with his mate in Her place of peace, where they're together today."

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. Maybe they're back."

"Do you think...? Greg and our daughter?"

"He's got the same coat exactly, just like it's described in the family history; and Serena has Sally's 'coat of fallen leaves'. If it's them, that'd be nice; since they'll get the chance to enjoy what they started."

"Harry, do you think...?"

"Hon, I think I love you. That's what I think."

"Silly old dog: go to sleep."

"Yes'm."

* * * * *

Greg's first introduction to ranch life was waking up atfour forty-fivein the morning, when Serena's alarm clock went off. Not knowing where it was, he turned on the light and looked around for it. Finally seeing it, he reached across the bed to it and "Ooof", put his hand into his mate's stomach, trying to shut it off.

Serena asked him grumpily, "What is it about my stomach that seems to attract heavy things, especially you?" as she got out of bed and scurried for the bathroom.

Greg waited patiently for her to finish, then made a beeline for the room itself.

When he was back, his mate was seated at the mirror brushing her hair. Seeing him, she called him over and looked at his braids of the day before. "They'll do," she said, "but you need something better than rubber bands for the bottoms--or get rubber bands that match. Green on your right and red on your left don't work for you." She handed him a brush and he began to brush her back, making her arch and glance back at their bed with a sigh.

She got up and started rooting around in a drawer while Greg tried to make his fur lay down and look decent. The thing that most affected him was having to brush his face; that was new experience for him.

Serena returned and put two sets of bangles on the vanity in front of him. One set were small spring-loaded rings that would clamp the ends of his braids in place, and the other was a set of larger rings with silver mounted howling wolf silhouettes on them. He clipped the smaller set around the bottoms of his braids and the large ones level with his eyes; somehow that seemed right. A strip of rawhide held his hair up, off his face, and confined the shoulder blade-length hair in back.

Moving to the closet, he took a pair of shorts but was stopped as Serena reminded him they were going into town, and shorts were a bit late in the year since there was already snow on the ground.

Instead, he dressed as he had to go home the day before; shorts, trousers and a shirt, but this time it was one pilfered from Serena's brother Bob's storage: a light blue denim with epaulettes on the shoulders. The trousers had come from Bob's clothing as well; and while they were loose, suspenders held them up. Soon he was dressed, although he was wearing moccasins again: Bob's shoes were for a Smooth and didn't fit.

He did have socks, though, this time. A vest completed the ensemble, leaving him dressed. He next picked up the things he'd removed the night before; his wallet, Swiss knife, hankie, keys, and change went into pockets and he was dressed.

Serena was still dressing and he sat and watched. She had taken a pair of Levi's and turned the legs inside-out before sticking her own legs into them, then by unrolling the trouser legs, she managed to the get near skintight pants on without messing up her leg fur in the least. She snapped the tail vent shut and then finished fastening them together. A shirt came next, and soon she was dressed and ready for breakfast- which she would prepare a part of.

Out of their room and into the kitchen, Greg started the coffee maker using the de-caf grounds and water from the tap. They had their own well, and the water had a wonderfully refreshing taste.

Serena started a burner under a large pot of oatmeal that had been put to soak the night before and now just needed heating. She also started the large restaurant griddle heating for eggs and scrapple and whatever else was to be fried that morning. Then she drew a cup of coffee and sat down. Greg copied her and sat beside her.

Greg asked a question; "Why do you have such a big griddle for the few of us? Wouldn't a frypan be better?"

She shook her head, "Not really; since we're covered with fur: flammable fur. Mom has forearm protectors for herself, but open flames are just too risky for me. So, we use the griddle for heating stuff we eat, and the flames are under three-eighths of an inch of steel plate; nice and safe. Some Wulfen even use electric stoves for the same reason. You'll find out we have an instinctive fear of fire."

"What fire?" her mother asked as she entered the room, dressed similarly to the way her daughter was. She donned an apron and put two odd things over her forearms before addressing the stove.

"Oh, Greg just wanted to know why we use the griddle rather than open flames," Serena replied.

"Because we got this thing for dirt cheap at an auction,"Marinaexplained. "It uses more gas, but it also heats the kitchen and part of the ground floor of the house. If one of the families needs to have something slow-cook all day, they just set it in the back and it'll be done when they return."

Serena's ears were down and tight as she realized she had been out maneuvered, and her lower lip stuck out in a pout. Mom had overheard.

"Then there's the fire thing, too;" her mother said, rubbing it in for effect.

Greg snickered. Serena turned and glared at him, seeing the braid decorations and the rawhide for the first time. She stared, then decided she liked the effect. Exotic. Wild. She would get him some more hair ornaments, she decided. Her mate was pretty, and she liked that.

Bart and Terry stumbled in around five-twenty; looking sleepy and slightly disheveled. Greg handed both of them coffee and sat back down. Marinastarted setting out hotcakes and syrup.

Serena joined her mother at the stove and soon steaks, ham, eggs, omelets, fried scrapple and oatmeal were vying for diners' attention on the table. Harry showed up and got coffee, then started loading his plate, as some of the night crew came in and sat down for their breakfast, also loading plates and cups.

Greg waited until Serena was free and then the two of them loaded plates together, whileMarinasat down beside her mate and had her breakfast with him. The amount of food set out had been enormous, and Greg saw both Smoothskins and Wulfen quickly enter the room, get a meal and then leave.

Seeing Greg's confusion, Serena explained; "Unjoined or single hands get breakfast and dinner here if they want. It's a Wolfe tradition for the hands when they're here. We serve around fifteen or sixteen people at these meals, and mom is so fast at things she could give any short-order cook a real challenge. I'm good, but I'm still learning."

"Actually, dear, you're getting quite good at dishwashing," he mother added from across the table, "as you should be; you've had enough experience."

Serena looked like she'd just bitten into a lemon.

"Don't you guys have a dishwasher; I mean a machine--not a person?" Greg asked, and Marinareplied, "Oh yes; I couldn't get along without it. We assign dishwashing as a disciplinary measure; not because we have to do it that way."

Serena grumbled, "Thanks, Mom," and her mother replied, "You're most welcome, dear."

Greg realized he was going to be staying on this side "of the looking glass" for a very long time, being mated to Serena; but it was beginning to be a little bit fun.

Servant Bart and Terry stood in the doorway and waved to the Wolfe's, having gotten dressed and ready to go into Wolf Bend for the their Staff meeting at the hospital.

Greg and Serena waved back, and Harry and his mate wished them well, as they left the room.

Greg looked at his watch; and it was nearly seven o'clock--apparently time flowed differently around here as well.

One of the hands, a scarred up Werewolf, walked around the table and Serena introduced him to Greg as her mate. His name was Jose, and he was a Mexican plains wolf in coloration and ancestry as well.

He shook Greg's hand enthusiastically, saying, "Senorita Wolfe has a husband now, this is good. You have some time, you come see me and I teach you the blade for fighting; so your lady is always protected. I teach Senor Roberto too, Geraldo's son; and he save his lady from a very bad man with it."

Serena added, "Bobby is his best student, and he really did save Lindy with what Jose taught him. He's teaching me as well," then she had an idea, "we could learn together: Jose says that two blades working together are better than just two blades."

Greg considered it for a second, then said, "Okay. Once I can stand up and not fall over, that would be good training to have, if just to be able to move properly."

"You fall over?" Jose asked in curiosity. Why do you do this?"

"He's a new Crosser," Serena replied; "not used to being on his toes yet."

Jose looked Greg over carefully and said, "I think you are not new at this. I think you are espirito antiguo, and Serena is your mate. This is very good, it is la Promiso de la Madre, and you are living it. Muy bueno, senor y senora, muy bueno."

He shook Greg's hand again and left for his bed, having been on night duty.

Harry rumbled, "Jose is almost ninety, yet he's as agile as a twenty year-old. He's taught knife fighting to three generations of the Wolfe family, and he isn't slowing down a bit. He'll probably make one-twenty at this rate."

Greg's eyes widened; "I never thought to ask, but how old do we live to be?" he queried.

Harry rubbed his chin as he thought; "Oh, a hundred years or so, usually more; usually up to a hundred and twenty or so, lessn we do something stupid. We're what you call robust; that means we're tougher than usual. I think that our R-cells have something to do with it, 'cause we don't show age much, either. Anyhow, you and Serena have a long and happy life ahead of you; and Greg, come to think of it, so do Marina and I," he said with a wink.

That made Greg stop and think. He was going to live half again as long as he would have as a Smoothskin. That was probably why there were Hunters; a medical company with that knowledge alone would have a license to print money...as much as they wanted. He shivered involuntarily.

Harry saw it and nodded. "We aren't that much safer than before the order, other than now, we can get the cops on the case faster. Which reminds me; do you shoot?"

Greg nodded. "I got training from the N.R.A. in gun safety and handling. I have my grandfather's bring-back from World War Two; a Luger with a six inch barrel and three magazines. I'm pretty accurate with it."

Harry was impressed; "A naval Luger! Nice, but you might want something a little more concealable. C'mon down to my little gun room and I'll se what fits you. Marina can keep you trained, she's an N.R.A. certified instructor. Of course, around here, there's a lot of gun people that get fuzzy at times. Sorta comes with the territory, if you get my meaning."

Greg did.

As he got up from the table,Marinaasked, "Gregory, may I borrow your mate for some dishwashing? She won't be long..."

Serena objected with an "Ohhh, Mom!" and a pout as Greg chuckled. He nodded and followed Harry to a door in the floor that he'd pulled open.

As they descended the stairs revealed, Harry commented, "Marinatold me about her mistake yesterday. That was mighty fine response, but please, Greg; she's my mate. She'll respect you for that, but please, don't do it again. I'm still First on the ranch and I'd like it to stay that way until we retire."

Greg apologized for snapping at his mate-mother, and Harry shook his head saying, "No, Greg, you did what was right. If you'd pinked her, I'd still be on your side, but you gotta understand, the Wolf runs deep in us, as you found out. Once is protection; twice is a challenge." Greg saw a hint of that wolf in his mate-father's eyes and nodded agreement quickly. What he'd seen went beyond savage; it was the ancestral wolf and all the wolves that had lived since then. He hurried along into the room Harry had entered.

It was an Armory; to use the correct word. Harry had an "03-collectors" license and had "collected" an arsenal that was amazing. There were also modern weapons, all on racks and all double-locked up. Harry was unlocking a stand-up gun safe.

He looked around, and Harry, seeing him; explained, "These are dry cellars, cut out of solid limestone by Founder Damien and his people. They pretty much run all the way under the house. I'll show them to you one day soon. There's a room we never use though--that's where the fire that killed his mate fell into the cellar, taking her with it.

It's where we go when we want to think about things, it's claimed that their spirits are still there, and it's a sort'a shrine for our family. It's special; you'll see when I show you: now," he said, "take a look at these."

"These" were an assortment of pistols and revolvers, all of the "compact" variety, on a table by the safe. Greg looked at and handled several of them, but one pistol seemed to be the most comfortable of them all to his new hands. He held it and tried pointing it after asking Harry where the "safe direction" was.

"That's a Taurus 24/7 nine millimeter," he said. "It has night sights and comes with a seventeen round magazine. Feel right to you?"

Greg nodded. "It feels like part of my hand, and the sights line up naturally for me," he said; and Harry put two magazines and two boxes of nine millimeter ammunition on the table, then added an 'in-pants' holster with an extra magazine carrier. He also got out a smaller pistol, a KelTec P-11, that was tiny in comparison to the Taurus along with two magazines and two more boxes of bullets. There was an odd holster, too; and Greg puzzled over it until he realized it was a pocket holster for the smaller gun.

"Backup?" Greg asked and Harry nodded. "If you lose the Taurus, the KelTec is a good backup pistol. It's 'close up' only, but it holds ten rounds and it's a locked breech gun. It's light and easy to use, once you get used to the trigger. There you are, armed and dangerous. Wear it and get used to it, and have the Sheriff give you a concealed carry card once you're in town; you can fill out the papers later, and we'll pay the fees.

One of the reasons thatMarinagets on Serena about clothing is that her gun is usually in them and she's running around unarmed."

"As you found out, that's dangerous."

"We are always armed when we're in town; you may not see anything, but it's there. The town's safe enough, but getting there and back can be a problem," Harry said quietly. "As her mate, you're her guard and she's yours. You can practice later, but for now; load up and arm yourself; after you show me where the controls are on your pistol."

Greg did ( they were pretty obvious) and Harry showed him how to put the holster inside his pants with the gun butt angled forward. The KelTec went into its pocket holster in Greg's vest and he settled everything in place.

Harry gave Greg a word of advice: "If you think you need to use it, use it! Your mate is going to depend on you for that."

Harry closed and locked the safe and they returned to the kitchen.

"Come spring, we're taking a little vacation over to a fellow-I-know's GunSchool, you and Serena included", he said. "It'll be a week of intense training, but you'll emerge a better shot and a safer shot, too; and so will your mate. In the meantime, Serena will take you to our little firing range and drill you on your marksmanship and your control; 'cause as soon as she turns twenty-one, she'll become an N.R.A. instructor like her mom, and your mate's a crack shot; just ask her why she's taking pre-Law in college."

Now in the kitchen, Greg asked Harry, "What is it that you do? I noticed a workbench in the gun room."

Harry chuckled, "Oh, I'm just a sort'a gunsmith. I have to be, to keep all the firearms on the ranch working. If you're interested, I'll teach you the trade; it's a guaranteed money maker in this county."

Serena, now finished with her dish duty, commented; "Yeah, especially since you're the Sheriff's department's official service technician. They ask you what to buy, too, when the department's changing issue weapons or thinking about upgrades."

Her father shrugged, "Just doin' my civic duty, that's all," he replied.

He glanced at his watch and said, "I gotta get out to the high pastures pretty soon; one of the night guys said they'd gotten a radio message saying the snow's getting too deep there and the hands want to move the market herd closer in, where there's better wind protection. That'll take me the better part of the morning to do, so why don't you kids go to town and I'll see you for dinner."

Serena and Greg agreed and when he started toward the door, Serena grabbed an ear and pulled him back. "Teeth!" she said in a no-nonsense voice, so they both went back to their room and brushed their fangs and shredders.

"We brush after breakfast and after supper," she said, "and floss after lunch if we can. Our saliva starts digesting what's between our teeth almost immediately, and that was one of the things that gave us away when we were in hiding; so we keep our teeth nice and clean as a defense."

She glanced at his new pistol and nodded in approval. "Taurus makes a nice line of guns," she said. When he asked what she carried, she flipped her vest back and showed him an unfamiliar pistol butt sticking out from her inside-the-pants holster. "It's a Springfield XD, she said; "Thirteen rounds of forty-five a.c.p. and a four inch barrel. Since I'm more petite, I can hide a bigger gun than you can."

"Were you wearing it when..." he began, but the pinking of her inner ear-skin answered him. He let the matter drop.

She didn't. "My leathers are too tight for concealed carry and I didn't want a roscoe on my hip showing I was carrying something," she replied. "All I had was my Millennium in a jacket pocket, and against a rifle, it was useless. That's why I ran and stripped off."

She turned to look him straight in the eye; "That's something I will never do again, so help me. If you hadn't been there, I...would have just disappeared." There was a haunted look in her eyes.

"Let's go to town," Greg suggested as a distraction.

"Sure," Serena grinned lasciviously, "but won't that make us late to the bank?" she inquired, making a double-entendre out of it.

Greg sighed and followed her out, leaning on his "Roll-Walker" for support. He had been using walls and furniture for his balance assists in the house, but they were leaving the house.

As they passed through the kitchen on their way to the back door,Marinalooked at the thing and nodded in approval. She and three other Wulfen women were working on lunch and dinner preparations for the day.

Outside, Serena walked across a snow spotted concrete pad toward a large building with what looked like an enclosed porch on it. Entering through a side door, he saw two rows of vehicles parked inside a heated garage, for that was what the building was. She thought for a moment then started to select a set of keys from a rack; then stopped.

"What car would you like to take?" she asked her new mate.

"Whatever you were about to choose," he replied, and she took the keys off the rack and initialed a paper tag and hung it in their place.

Her choice was a Volkswagen Thing in yellow and black like a school bus, with a fiberglass top. It looked like a fun little car to Greg.

"Wanna drive?" Serena asked, and he nodded and took the keys. He put the walker in the back and climbed in front adjusting the seat for himself. Serena got in the passenger side.

"Look at these," she said, pointing at two buttons on a box that was attached to the dash. "This is my brother's idea. The red button starts a fan that sucks air near the floor outside, so there's less of a buildup of exhaust in here. The black one opens the doors."

"Doors?" he asked and she nodded, saying "Just watch and see."

He started the car and let it idle for a minute to warm up after pushing the red button. Somewhere a fan started. Then he drove to the doorway and pressed the black button, and the door opened upon an enclosed area about twenty feet long with a door at the end, the interior of what he'd thought of as a porch. There was a flashing light at the end of the area and he drove toward it. Suddenly, the light turned into a red "X" and he stopped. The door behind them closed, and the door in front of them opened, letting them out without losing the warmth inside the garage, as the red "X" became a green "+". It was like an air-lock, or an entry vestibule in a house. He tried to whistle at the cleverness of it, but his new mouth turned it into a raspberry instead. Serena snickered.

"Bobby did this, all of it," she explained to him. "My brother figured out how to cut the heating costs on the garage by two thirds this way. Then, he left;" she said sadly.*

Greg caught the tone in her voice. "You were sweet on him," he said softly.

"Yeah," she replied; "but all he saw was Martina, not me. When she had that "thing" with that visiting Healing Servant, I tried to catch his eye, but he just left." Then she brightened; "Now, I'm glad that he did, because I found you." Her hand found his and gripped it briefly.

Greg put the car into gear and drove down the ranch road toward the county road and the town.

At the road, Serena got out and opened the turnpike gate and Greg drove onto the verge and waited while she closed the gate and got back in. Then he put the car in gear and headed toward Wolf Bend.

They arrived forty minutes later and headed for the Credit union, after Serena had asked to go there. Greg wasn't totally happy with what she wanted to do, but she insisted

that it was what was proper for them to do. He relented, since he had an account there too, to add to their account.

* Bobby or Robert Wolfe is the adopted son of Charles Clark, Harry's friend.

Once inside, the transfers went surprisingly fast. He got a new debit card, and she changed the names on her (now their) checking account. An employee of the Credit union accompanied them to the indoor money machine and asked Greg to use his new card, to make sure it worked.

"Draw a couple of hundred dollars and get a receipt," Serena asked; "we'll need it for your new clothes."

Greg did, puzzled at the concern he saw in his mate's eyes. When the money and receipt arrived, the employee returned to the inner banking area and Serena gestured to Greg to keep the money.

He glanced at the balance in the account. He glanced again then started counting left from the decimal point. There were five large figures showing, and eighty-seven cents.

He looked back at Serena, who said quietly, "If you want, you can have it all. It's ours, but you can have it."

"It's only money," he replied, "and you're worth a million times that much."

That got him a kiss, and an explanation: "Part of it's an inheritance from a family friend; that's why I'm studying pre-Law. The rest is family money, corporate dividends, and my shares of the ranch income. We're worth a couple of million; total--but lots of it's in investments. We have about half a million in spendable stuff, and it's WE, Greg, not me."

He hugged her close and said, "It's trash. I'm holding my wealth, right now." That got him a teary kiss and a sense of intense joy through their developing Bond, as she laid her head on his shoulder for a moment.

He said, "I have a little surprise for you," and Serena looked blank. He handed her his new debit card. "Look at the name," he said.

She gasped and hugged him yet again, after reading the name "Gregory Massey-Wolfe" in the name field. "This way the ranch stays in the Wolfe family," he explained.

"I'm going to change my card's name too," she decided. "That way we match."

Their first stop was at the Sheriff's office, which seemed unusually busy for the time of day, where a Deputy gave Greg a "Carry Identification" card and several forms to fill out. Greg was a little worried at some of the looks they got, but Serena seemed not to notice, so he decided he was being overly sensitive about it.

Then it was off to the stores and his new wardrobe in the Thing, puttering downBroad street, the main street of Wolf Bend. They found a parking place in front of the bookstore, next to the biggest department store in the town.

Wolf Bend served a rather large community of werewolves and their Smoothskin friends, the residential areas being settled back in the countryside and scattered around the city's surprisingly large central business district. It was a town where Werewolves walked the streets in their fur, and nothing was said about it. Ostensibly a "private community", it held a discreet but large population of people.

Damien Wolfe had been one of its founders, and it was his idea of brotherhood and trust that had made the community work as well as it did. It was one of the few places inNorth Americawhere Wulfen and Smoothskin were friends and equals, and always had been. It was also the oldest community of its type in the world.

Now, with the advent of the Sapient Species Protection order, that was changing. The Three were in the world again, and the Day was at hand.

The werewolves were coming out of hiding, surprising friends and intriguing employers who had been deceived by their sophisticated "hide-in-plain-sight strategy for decades and more. One day your cubicle-mate was an ordinary-looking person and the next day he was a living legend. Friday, your friendly letter-carrier was an athletic looking woman; Monday, she wore fur and had a tail.

Yet, they were exactly the same people. Only their exteriors had changed.

The Smooth world was coming to terms with the hidden populations in their midst, and they were doing so in a surprisingly pain-free manner.

One thing was certain; the Wulfen could never go back to hiding again. That was their Goddess's intent. Her children had to be integrated into Smooth society, and soon. The "why" was known only to a very few...and they weren't talking.

InTexas, an artist and writer who had drawn a series of graphic novels featuring upright wolves was becoming well known and rather wealthy. The "desktops" that had been repeatedly "commissioned" by several parties were now appearing as actual clothes, for actual wolves.

She had guessed and wondered; now she knew.

All this was mist in the breeze as Serena and her mate bought clothing and other items of personal use. He got a pair of sturdy boots made for Wulfen feet and a pair of pull-on dress shoes as well. By the time, they were done, many hundreds of dollars had been spent on clothing that had been purchased, then altered to fit people who weren't "people" shaped at all on a commercial scale and re-sold. They weren't cheap.

All Serena knew was that Gregory was her beautiful mate and now he had clothing to show how beautiful he was. She was in a glory of happiness.

Greg was expectably stunned. He had never planned on having this many clothes to wear, all at once, in his life; and now he was carrying a collection of them back to their car on his roll-walker that almost blocked his forward vision.

He was wearing the boots, having stowed the moccasins in their box, and Serena had bought him a myriad of hair and fur bangles to braid into his hair.

When she had suggested lunch, he had asked, "Do I have to try it on first?"

She had laughed and taken him to a burger stand. There they had hamburgers and onion rings and sodas together, and Greg had asked, "What kind of beef is this?" after his first bite.

"It isn't beef," Serena had said, "it's buffalo. This place gets their meat from Wolfe and Hardee packing; and we cut them a deal for using buffalo, just to help build the market. Tastes good, doesn't it?"

Greg nodded. "It's just better," he commented as he stole a few onion rings off his mate's plate.

"It's richer," Serena replied, stealing them back. "There's less fat and a lot more flavor, as well. Finally,Buffalocost less than half as much to get to market weight. It's win-win all the way around," she said, reaching for a pickle-slice and finding none.

She looked up as Greg smiled and ate the last one. "You're learning our customs entirely too fast," she muttered, and her mate just chuckled.

Next was the library. While Serena read a romance novel and watched her mate, Greg plowed through book after book on the Cabala and its teachings. He made notes on a scratch pad and kept referring to them as he read.

"Well, I can say one thing," he replied after some hours, "that the classical Cabala is not what he's using; but I think I know what he is engaging in. It's a spin off of the Cabala and European stuff called Ceremonial Magic, and it can be nasty. It takes the Ceremonial stuff and adds the Cabalistic Sefiroth for a focus."

He shook his head, "And I didn't believe in magic. I thought it was part of a game universe, not part of this one. It's chaotic, that's what it is; and it doesn't belong in our reasonable universe with reasonable...Werewolves; heck, we're not "reasonable!"

He made a fist and rested his jaw on it as he thought. "If this stuff works the way it seems to work; it goes like this; First, this guy concentrates on "Din" or power. Then he starts repeating and repeating a specific command in the name of that power, while keeping it close to himself. Then he releases it and boom! It's done."

Then he sighed, "At least that's what seems to be happening here. That's the only method that makes sense. It's like pumping up a balloon bigger and bigger and then letting it go. All that pumping gets out in one blast of air and the balloon goes flying. It's like that toy rocket I had as a kid; half-fill it with water, then pump air into it, and release it and watch it go. The water creates more thrust because it weighs more than the air, but the air is the propellant."

"Of course, I broke Mister Jones's upstairs window with it, and he not only made me pay for it, he wouldn't let me have the rocket back," he summarized with a bleak look and drooped ears.

Looking over at Serena he admitted, "I really can't find anything that matches up with what we heard or Terry heard. There are half a dozen things that almost work, but then something happens and my theory goes up like that toy rocket and busts reason's upstairs window." He rubbed his forehead. "My brain hurts. Could we go home and try again later?" he begged.

Serena got up and went to him. "Look, Greg; you've been researching this for what, a few hours?" she pointed out; "while he's had years, maybe. Don't expect to save the day right out of the gate; keep looking and see what you find." She nudged him; "You know, I could help you--pre-Law is one research job after another."

Then she had an idea; "Why not use the computer at home? We've got a fast hookup, and the Internet is loaded with more knowledge than any single library. Look there!"

He sat for a moment and then agreed, "You're right. I can search a lot faster that way, and yes; you can help--once we figure out what it is we're looking for."

He stood. "Let's stop by the apartment and get my laptop. That way we can both research simultaneously."

They took the Thing and drove to the apartment building that he and his aunt had been living in. Using his keys, he let them into their old apartment. His aunt wasn't there, although there was plenty of evidence she had been recently.

Serena commented, "The VUE isn't here either, maybe she's out; enjoying her mobility. I know I would, in her shoes," as Greg gathered his laptop parts and the Luger and its parts together in a cardboard box after leaving his aunt a note.

"How did the gun survive the fire?" she asked curiously.

"It wasn't in the fire, it was in the part of the house that didn't burn," he replied. Actually, calling it a fire is a misnomer; they died of carbon monoxide poisoning when the heater in their room started leaking and the fire started only when the wood around the leak caught, and started the real fire on the other side of the wall from them."

His ears drooped as did the corners of his mouth and eyes. "They weren't even burnt. They were in bed, sleeping, like. They never woke up, that's all." He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "They never even knew they were dying, they never knew anything." His shoulders drooped. "I talked with dad the night before, hours before; and I didn't know..."

Serena took him into her arms and let him weep, grieving as he hadn't had the chance to do since his parents had died. She took in his pain, and in its place went her love for him. Slowly, the pain he felt left him; and he felt his mate's love for him replacing it with life. Thus was the blessing of the Mating Bond.

He kissed his life, and they went back to their car.

Aleet-hra stroked Stanaq's hair. "I never had the chance to say how much I loved you, then. This life will be different." Stanaq rubbed her cheek with his own, promising the same.

The "magic doors" worked to let them into the garage as readily as they had let them out. Greg loaded his roll-walker as high as he dared and Serena carried the rest. Once inside the house they both headed toward their bedroom to unload.

Having unloaded and either hung up or put away Greg's new wardrobe, they went looking for everyone and found them on the front porch. While the porch was open to a degree, there were infra-red space heaters that kept the surfaces warm and shutters that kept the winds from blowing across the porch.

The atmosphere was tense and worried, and both Servant Bart and Terry were unusually somber.

Bart told them what had come up in the staff meeting.

"We've been informed that several major street gangs have taken over the business of kidnapping Werewolves for sale for medical experiments...nationwide. That's who we had in jail, and in the hospital, and the guy that Serena killed," he said, "every one of them a known gang member."

" There has been an increase of activity along the major cross-country highways in the past weeks; and in Hollywood, the Warrior's mate was kidnapped and only his direct intervention kept her from being on a plane to another country, probably either China or North Korea.

"The Sheriff has given us some suggestions about how to make ourselves less likely to be victims of this horror, and we need to ask you for help. Neither Terry or I have any experience with firearms, and Mrs. Wolfe's name came up as a certified firearms instructor, so we need to ask her for advice on what kind of firearm to get, and how to properly use it.

"Going back to 'passing in Smooth' won't work anymore; these people are willing to rough up people who just look like they might be Wulfen on the chance they might find one of us instead. If anybody tries to get involved, they're beaten or maybe stungunned. They are using Tasers and stun guns on us and we are no more resistant to them than anyone else is; that's how they captured the Warrior's mate, with a Taser. Every time she'd resist they'd shock her again."

He looked over at Harry and said, "The Sheriff's asking for volunteers from the ranches around here to patrol the roads for a twenty mile distance from the Wolf Bend offramp; and there are signs being put up indicating the offramp goes to a town and not just a county road for people who are running from capture. There will be a cruiser parked by the highway twenty-four hours a day from now on."

Harry replied, "I'll give the Sheriff a call as soon as you're done, then start rounding up the hands to see who can volunteer for road duty. There will be people from the ranch watching over the road, you can count on that."

Bart seemed to relax a little, then continued: "Last night something weird happened at the hospital and the jail. There was a lawyer who said he was representing both of the suspects and they agreed he was. He spoke with both of them, and this morning the suspect in the hospital was found dead for no apparent reason; and the one in jail has disappeared."

"What?" was on the lips of every startled Wulf there as the Servant continued his explanation; "The surveillance tapes of the jail showed the leg-wounded one shifting--as in turning into one of us, and that's impossible. He was tested and he wasn't a Wulf! That's how he got out, he was in a Smooth jail cell, not a reinforced one for one of us, and literally tore his way out. There was a small bottle of something and a bit of broken glass on the floor, and that's all. He went out the back right past the jailer, because the jailer knew we didn't have any Wulfen in jail at the time."

"How did he manage to do that?" Harry asked with his mate echoing his every word. This was frightening.

"I don't know, Servant Bart replied. "They called in Luther to see what he could pick up, and he took the bottle and the swept up bits of glass and before anybody could stop him, headed out to the Indian settlement to see a Golden Beautiful or someone like that."

"He's goin' to see Gold Beauty," Harry said, and Marina nodded in agreement.

"Who's that?" Servant Bart asked, and Harry replied, "Someone who's their equivalent of a Servant. She's...special; real, real special."

"You honor me, Harold Wolfe," a husky voice from behind the group said.

They turned as one, and standing there was the first Puman that Greg had ever seen, outside of a few photographs.

She stood as tall as Marina Wolfe; but where Marina was slender and muscular like the wolf she was named for, Gold Beauty was lush and full bodied; looking like a human in a skintight cat-suit, with real fur and a Puma's head on a muscular neck and shoulders. She wore a Buffalo-skin draped over her like a Roman would wear a toga; and the power residing in her was apparent even to Greg. She carried a medicine staff as tall as she was, bedecked with feathers and stones and odd carvings near the top.

Greg was stunned and stood there gripping his walker absently while his jaw was dropped wide. Servant Bart and Terry were similarly impressed, he noted with the single functioning part of his brain that was left, while Harry, Marina and Serena seemed more relieved than anything else.

"Uhhh, Welcome, Gold Beauty;" Harry said while the others were recovering from their surprise, " be welcome to share our fire and roof and our table," and the tone of his voice said he meant it.

The Puman smiled in return and walked to Serena, and rubbed cheek. "So, Swift-Foot has taken a mate," she said quietly, her voice a cross between speech and a low purr. "This is a good thing. May I meet the one whose spirit completes yours?" Her tail rippled in amusement.

"Yes, Lion-mother," Serena said respectfully, as she took Greg's hand. "This is Gregory Massey, my mate."

Greg was looking into a pair of slitted pupils that seemed bottomless. He felt her gaze almost as a physical thing. "Gregory-mate-of Swift-Foot, you are truly with your mate again. This is as it should be, as the Promise commands." Then she rubbed his cheeks with hers on both sides of his face and stepped back with a genuine smile on her features. "This is very good, and comes in the proper season," she commented and then turned to the Servants.

"The one you speak of is treading the path of blasphemy of the worst kind, the destruction of the soul itself. He will be dealt with," she said, and everyone knew she had just pronounced a death sentence.

She gave Greg a cheek again, then turned and said, "Even now, the one who has doomed himself approaches his destruction. Stay within walls tonight, for there will be hunters outside when the sun sets."

She stepped down the short stairs from the porch and walked behind a shrub and somehow just vanished. It was as if she had simply stepped through a door, only there was no door there.

Harry stood and said, "You heard the lady. When she comes calling like this, you listen and do what she says. Let's have an at-home evening," he advised as he entered the house. Marina had already gone in, as had Bart and Terry.

Greg and Serena entered the house as well, and Harry shut the door behind them, then shot the bolt, a two-inch wide strap of steel that was cradled by more steel.

Serena was disturbed by that. "He's only done that once before," she murmured to her mate, "and next morning we saw why." She glanced at him, "Greg, this is not normal for me; but I'm genuinely getting frightened about this," which Greg could feel for himself.

"Don't worry," he said to comfort her, " dad's just being practical, if there are going to be some of Gold Beauty's people hunting this guy. Anyway, he'd be crazy to try to come here, as far as we are from town."

She looked him as if he had grown another head. "You didn't see what we found that morning," she replied, "I did, and I spent months trying to forget it."

He felt a chill with those words, his ears going wide with apprehension.

Marina came back into the room, "I just finished telling the hands to stay inside," she told Harry, " and not a one of them asked why."

"The stockmen will be safe," Harry muttered to himself, "since they all wear her blessing-charm. Everybody else will figure out what to do. We're as good as we're gonna get," he decided.

Returning to his previous theme, he asked Servant Bart and Terry to accompany him downstairs to his "little gun room" in the cellars.

Once down in the armory, he queried; "How is it that neither one of you have firearms experience?"

Servant Bart explained, "I'm not from around here. I grew up in the Chicago area in a small Pack. You just can't get pistols in that part of the world, or carry them if you already have them. I have a little experience with a twenty-two caliber rifle from the Boy Scouts, but that's about all."

Terry answered, "Mom and Dad don't like guns. They are members of the Violence Prevention Center organization and want the city to make firearm ownership harder for people to do. They have friends in the Jewish community that support them, and if Highland was a separate township, it'd probably be gun-free, or really restricted." She frowned; "That's another thing that is going to make trouble for me with them, because I can see why guns are necessary if you're a Wulf."

Harry shook his head in wonder, "Don't they realize they're in a rural area and farmers like me need firearms as tools, not just as weapons?" He thought for a moment then said, "Probably not; I recall Highland as being pretty much a little city in itself, especially with the large Jewish population. Well, that's their problem; no 'Gun Control' law is going to pass with the current city council, since most of them are werewolves. It just makes more trouble for Highland, that's all."

"I know," Terry replied sourly; "Mom and Dad used to complain bitterly about the lack of Sheriff's people out there. They say that the Sheriff's department doesn't care if they get robbed or not, because there are so few deputies around."

Harry chuckled, "Staying safe is somebody else's job, not theirs. I've met a few of those people, and they make me wonder who they think is responsible for their safety, if not themselves."

He shrugged and said, "Let's take a look at some easy to use stuff, shall we?"

Supper was on the table and Marina was glaring at the trap-door waiting for her mate, while Serena and Greg were finishing the setups. Dinner was "roast buff" and vegetables. Finally, she went to the door and barked down the stairway to get her mate's attention.

Faintly, they heard, "We're coming, hon," as Harry replied.

"That's a unique way you mother has of calling her mate," Greg observed, and Serena snickered back at him.

"What can I say?" Serena replied in a whisper, "My mother really does bark," and she stifled her giggles at what was a Smoothskin insult.

"That's because Harry recognizes me that way," her mother replied icily, "and maybe I could use two dishwashers tonight, hmmm?" Then she winked.

Terry was first up the stairs, followed by Servant Bart, and then Harry; who closed the trap door. Terry and her mate were carrying boxes, and set them carefully aside before washing up at the kitchen sink, side-by-side with Harry: one did not come to Marina's table with dirty hands.

As they sat down, Servant Bart asked Marina Wolfe if she would give them training with their borrowed firearms.

"Of course," she replied; "tomorrow afternoon we'll go to the practice range. I'll teach the two of you, and my daughter will teach her mate." Then she asked them, "Revolvers or Pistols?"

Terry looked over at Harry, who replied; "Revolvers, dear. Terry has a Smith and Wesson in thirty-eight special, and Bart has a forty-four. I gave them two hundred rounds each, and cleaning kits; and I also brought a cleaning kit for Greg's stuff as well."

"Good," his mate replied, "Revolvers are perfect starting-out pistols. They are simple to use and usually don't jam. Did you give them the same rounds they'll be using for protection?"

Harry nodded, his mouth full of food.

"Serena will be teaching me?" Greg queried. Marina nodded; "You two need to be able to work together; and having her do your training will help that along."

Serena herself chucked Greg under the chin; "When you're ready to strangle me, just let the Bond tell you that I'm doing this for us, and that I lo-o-ove you," she replied with a giggle.

"Ummm-hum," Greg replied, eyeing his mate with a jaundiced eye. "You're just going to use that to pick on me, I know."

Serena just snickered, and stole a slice of his roast.

It was amazing, he thought; what that serum did for him. He'd accepted the capsule from the Contact and mixed the contents of the packet with the vial of powder and drank it, as he had been briefed.

It had turned him into one of the dog-people, and made him stronger and faster as well. He'd opened the door and just walked out of the jail, right past the dog on duty without a hitch. One dead dog giving a human a leg up; nice doggy.

The capsule also had a map and directions to the Canadian border, good. His track also led him right past the dog-girl's house and family. He had a score to settle with them.

He couched in the brush, watching the house in the distance; its lights bright and welcoming. Good, they didn't know. He'd traveled over thirty miles in the four hours since leaving his hideout, and he'd make the border with plenty of time to spare.

Time to spare while he settled a debt with the bitch and her family. Julio had been a fellow member, a brother; and she had shot him in two.

Like he might do to her, after he finished with her. These dogs had a weakness; two actually--it took them time to go from human to dog, during which time they were helpless; and they were knocked down by electricity easier than humans were. And he had a stun-gun.

He'd be in Canada by morning, and they'd all be dead. That's what happened when dogs killed people.

Being city bred, the lack of activity at the ranch house didn't register with him; nor did the silence around him tell him he was not alone.

He crept toward the house, using his enhanced senses to hear what was ahead and see in the dark. He was less than two hundred yards from the front porch when he heard something moving in the brush near him and froze.

The moon was a bare waning quarter, but there was plenty of light for his eyes to see a shape moving through the brush. That was wrong; it was moving right through the brush itself like it was made of fog or something, not solid. He watched as the form stalked past, apparently unaware of his presence.

Then he felt hot breath on the back of his neck...

In the Greatroom, Marina was showing Servant Bart and Terry how to clean their revolvers and lubricate them. Serena was doing the same with her mate, Greg; stripping his Taurus down and then reassembling it, and then doing the same with the KelTec. Harry was sitting, listening; his ears trained on the windows and the front door.

Then a cat scream and a human scream and a wolf yelp erupted simultaneously; and Bart had swept Terry behind himself and was feverishly loading his revolver while Greg slammed a magazine into the disassembled Taurus and sprayed ammunition all over the place while Serena had drawn her Springfield and was covering the door, in a perfect isosceles position.

Marina was facing the door too, hackles up and ears back in fighting position; a snarl on her face and a 1911 in her hands.

Harry was relaxed. Looking at the rest of the people in the room, he said; "It's over, folks. Time to calm down."

Marina was first to actually relax. Bart was next, opening his revolver and lowering the hammer by thumb pressure while he pressed the trigger.

Terry was shaking all over; her pistol aimed while the chambers were still out on their crane, empty.

Harry glanced over at Greg and commented, "Y'know, Greg, it works a whole lot better with the barrel in place."

Greg looked up at Serena. Serena looked down at him. Their eyes met, and they both erupted in laughter, which took over the entire room. There was a slightly hysterical note to it as fear and adrenalin bled off, replaced by relief.

He stared at the empty magazine and the bullets on the floor. " I swear, this has never happened to me before," he began and was interrupted by Serena who replied, "That's what they all say..." in a droll voice.

The laughter this time was entirely humorous.

Then Serena apologized; "I made a mistake, Greg, in having both of your pistols apart at the same time. You never want to do that," while she holstered her pistol and bent to pick up the rounds on the floor. Fortunately, they hadn't rolled far.

Terry asked, "Is it really over?" as Bart gently guided her pistol hand down to the table and made her let it go. She was still trembling with fear.

Marina gently stroked her head, and told her; "For tonight it's over, yes. As long as there are people who want to abduct us and kill us, it'll never be completely over; but we can safeguard ourselves and our loved ones if we're aware and trained." She knelt and looked Terry straight in the eyes and continued; "That's why you're going to train with us, doing the same things over and over again until they're reflex. Under stress, sometimes reflex is all we have to keep us safe and in one piece; so that reflex needs to be right. You did take a nearly perfect firing position, though; and that's good. You have the right instincts to protect your mate and yourself."

Then she looked at Bart. "Never try to fire a large bore pistol one-handed. You could lose it or break a wrist. That revolver takes both forty-four special rounds and forty-four magnum rounds, and even one of us has trouble firing a forty-four magnum one handed--and hitting what we're aiming at."

Terry asked, "Does my revolver take bigger rounds, too?"

Marina replied, "No; that's a model Ten; a thirty-eight special. The design is over a hundred years old, and it's one of the sweetest revolvers Smith and Wesson ever made. It's quite adequate for your defense with the right bullets, and the recoil is a lot less than your mate's gun. This one is one Harry got at a gun show and fixed up for Martina as a carry-piece, until she got a 1911 commander like her mother's gun. I know for a fact it's very accurate and has a very good trigger."

"Oooh," Terry said; " I thought this one felt better than the other ones I handled. You don't mind if I use it?"

"No," Marina replied, "We want you safe, you and your mate. Did Harry talk about backup pistols?"

It was Bart that replied, "Yes, he did, but then we decided that we'd learn to use these first. Learning one thing at a time works better than trying several things at once, as I ought to know. I almost lost Terry because I was trying to juggle Greg and her and rounds as well. That was my greatest failing in my apprenticeship; spreading myself too thin."

Terry hugged him; "Then I'll keep your schedule for you, and there will be time for us, along with everybody else. I get first call on your free time, and second call on your Crossing work, and total call on everything else."

Across the room, Greg was showing Harry and Serena his father's Naval Luger. Having taken it apart, he let Harry look at it and asked his opinion.

"There's a little wear on the bluing, but otherwise it seems nearly new. That isn't so uncommon with these; because they were so tightly fitted, they were very susceptible to dust and dirt. They didn't get used that much, and had a closable holster that covered them to keep them clean." He looked down the bore and whistled; "I would say it's nearly new and the barrel is in perfect condition. Fire it much?" he asked.

Greg nodded, "About three hundred rounds last year, on vacation from College.

It's a pretty accurate weapon, especially after dad worked on the trigger and had it plated."

"Plated?" Harry asked, and looked at the piece of metal carefully; "I see; that would improve the trigger's release by quite a bit. Could we give it a try tomorrow?"

Greg nodded, "Certainly, although I warn you, it only feeds full metal jackets reliably; that wasn't changed. It also works best with hotter rounds than standard, like military loadings, not civilian stuff."

Harry grinned, a picket fence of a smile; "We'll use the Wolf or there's some S&B stuff I have. Both are full metal jacket and military loadings."

Serena made a face, "that's three pistols apart at once..." and Harry replied "Relax, willya? We're covered, there is no more danger, and I wanted to see what that Luger looked like," he then nodded to her, "But you are right, that's what we did teach you."

Greg was puzzled. "I don't get it," he complained, "what about having everything apart at once?"

Harry explained, "If you're gonna carry, you carry. You don't take all your stuff down at once, and you always have a backup. I goofed there, you should have kept one of them usable."

"I see now," Greg agreed, "Apart isn't protection, it's a pile of parts," and Harry nodded; "Exactly."

It was later, after they had all gone to bed that Greg asked Serna if she knew what had happened outside.

"There will be a dead body that's been ripped to shreds," she replied. "I don't know what did it, other than Gold Beauty made sure we weren't involved. Mom will call the Sheriff tomorrow morning, and someone will have to go find it. I hope that 'someone' isn't us." Then she nibbled his neck and he forgot any other questions.

Terry lay beside Bart and wondered at what they had heard. "It was terrifying," she said, "all those screams together;" and Bart spoke softly, saying; "not the screams, no, the dead silence after was what frightened me the most."

* * * * *

Morning came early as ever, although this time Serena didn't get leaned on, and they were dressed more quickly. Greg wore some the clothing they had bought the day before, a properly fitted shirt, and properly tailored jeans with suspenders to keep them up. He also wore his new boots with wulfen style socks.

Serena slipped into a pair of loose trousers of odd design with an elastic waist, a shirt and her moccasins sans socks. She also helped Greg redo his braids, terminating them with spiral clips at the ends and larger ones at his temples.

Surveying her work, she decided Greg was just plain beautiful, no matter what he wore or how his hair was done.

Stanaq said, "So, you gift me with the serpent of wisdom? I'm honored," while Aleet-hra enjoyed the effect. "Not only wisdom, but of Right wisdom," she replied.

Greg got the coffee going and also started heating the oatmeal that seemed a staple of breakfasts at the ranch. Serena suggested that he also make a pot of regular coffee for the Sheriff's people while she went to pull back the bars on the front and rear doors.

She glanced out the front door and saw nothing at first, but the circling of birds over a patch of brush a couple of hundred yards from the house caught her eye and alerted her as to where the Deputies needed to look.

She relayed that information to her mother when she came into the kitchen and continued the setting-up while Marina called the Sheriff's department.

Soon the kitchen was buzzing and Harry made his appearance along with Terry and her mate.

Servant Bart got Greg's attention and said, "I'd like to see you walk this morning before you start your rehab regimen. You were in town yesterday and did a fair amount of walking around, I'm told. Last night I saw you using a lot fewer balance-assists than you were the day you came home; and I'd like to see just how much you've improved."

Greg felt nervous for a moment, then nodded his agreement. Harry suggested that they all walk out to the place where Serena had seen the circling birds, and Servant Bart accepted the idea.

Thus, after breakfast, Greg and Bart and Terry were walking carefully through the brush, with Harry in the lead. Greg and Terry had sticks to help them with their balance while Servant Bart took the rearmost position, watching them as they negotiated the semi-arid winter land. It was for the most part, flat; something for which Greg and Terry were most grateful.

Harry stopped and raised a hand, halting them. "Terry, you'd better stay back with Bart, but I want Greg to come up here with me for a moment," he called back to them as he stood on what appeared to be a slight rise with some low frost-killed grasses on top.

Greg advanced carefully, picking his way through the scrub until he was beside his mate-father and looked where Harry was pointing. He immediately wished he hadn't.

What there was of the body was scattered in pieces, semi-connected with bits of skin and tissue. Parts of it looked like Wolf or Wulf, parts of it resembled a Smoothskin, and some parts were too mangled to tell.

Keeping his breakfast down by sheer willpower, Greg asked; "What did this?" in an awed whisper, followed by "who was it?" A whiff of cat musk answered the first question, and Harry answered the second with; "Remember th' guy that did an impossible shift and walked out'a jail? I think this was him, poor bastard; trying to get to Canada."

"What?..." Greg tried to ask, but couldn't finish.

Harry answered anyway; "You remember Gold Beauty saying that he was 'treading a blasphemous trail'? That was her warning to us. We aren't the top critters around here, and this is proof of it. What killed him might not even be of this world; but some other one lost to the past."

He pointed to a depression in the earth which Greg saw was a footprint, huge in size; and something in him whispered "Cat" in a cold, unearthly voice.

Harry explained, "Last time this happened, it was one of us who raped and killed

a Puman girl in town. They had to come to town then, for kerosene and suchlike. Gold Beauty warned us back then, too; with similar language."

He sighed, "Gold Beauty is a mystery, she is. She negotiated with Founder Damien for the land for both the ranch and the town, in English. Her own people say she's ancient: part spirit, part person; and that she was here before the white man even came to these lands. If you listen to the legends, she was here before the last buffalo herds were killed off, and even before then. She used to tell me of hunting the 'Great Snake-Nose', and the only thing that brings to my mind is some kind of elephant, like a Mammoth. I truly do think she's at least that old."

"Last time it happened, I took Serena out to see the body, so she'd pay attention to the lady when she spoke. She did more than that; she's got herself a Name among the Pumans by helping them hunt winter antelope and deer for food."

"I was surprised when she greeted you the way she did, 'cause she's usually kinda distant with people she doesn't know. Yet she greeted you and gave you her scent to wear; just like you were some long-lost cousin. I think she has plans for you and Serena because of what she did."

"Since you and Serena are gonna be taking over the ranch, I'm glad she likes you; 'cause Greg--She runs things out here, not us. Keep that in mind and you'll do okay."

"What's keeping..." Servant Bart's voice was stilled as he and Terry climbed up to them and looked down on the body parts strewn over the landscape. Terry swallowed and started turning greenish around the lips and inside her ears, as well.

"Last night?" the Servant asked and Harry nodded. "I don't know how he did it, but he was Wulfen by his appearance here; at least partway. He has a soul, and that soul belongs to our Mother-Beloved now, may She grant him mercy and justice."

He raised his head, and began the Song for the Departed, and soon Terry and Harry were joined in, leaving Greg wondering at the harmonies they generated. Soon, he too, joined in; somehow knowing the tones and syllables required.

They were returning to the house when a deputy and the coroner passed them and asked them to stop.

"Hello, Sherry; good to see you," Harry said; pumping her hand enthusiastically.

"Don't tell me," she began; and Harry nodded sadly. "Whoever he was, he got the local powers angry with him, and they set him down hard. You'll need a shovel and some plastic bags for what's left," he advised.

"Crap," the deputy swore, "I'd heard about the last one, but I wasn't an officer at the time. Is it really that bad?" All four Wulfen nodded.

"And I suppose nobody saw anything last night?" she asked half-hopefully.

"Nope," Harry said. "We were having an at-home evening," he answered diplomatically, omitting the warning.

The deputy rolled her eyes, "And I suppose going out to the Puman village will be pointless, too; since they won't tell me anything," she muttered.

"Take a good look, then ask if you really want to know..." Harry advised, "after you see the footprints..."

"Which start abruptly and end the same way, with unmarked soil all around?" she queried. "You've been briefed, then;" Harry replied, "It's just like last time."

"Crap," the deputy said again and gestured the coroner to come with her and watch while she took pictures.

"She's not going to be happy," Greg ventured, and Harry replied; "She'll get by; I suspect the Sheriff sent her out here to give her a lesson in law-enforcement in these parts. It ain't by-the-book out here, no way."

Back at the house, Servant Bart gave them his appraisal of their gait improvement. He was quite happy, his wolf ears relaxed and at ease.

"These unusual Crossings are more unusual in the way the Crossers learn themselves, too," he began; "Going out, both of you used your sticks quite a lot; but on the way back you hardly used them at all. You're learning your bodies about twice as fast as normal Crossers do, which is apparently normal for your type of Crosser."

"You mean there have been more?" Terry asked, her ears forward.

"Over the past ten years, yes; about twelve of them. Each time it was apparent that our Goddess was involved, and each time the people who were involved made their recovery in record time. Exactly what this means, I don't know--although my teacher said it was a sign that things were beginning to change; for us and for the world at large."

"The number of Crossers that Cross as Servants is another indication that things are changing. As I mentioned, one-in-three Crossers; anyone who has any medical, spiritual, or psychological training is Crossing into the White Coat and they seem to know something the rest of us don't. What it is they won't say; other than Mother-Beloved asked each of them to be Her hands in the World, and they all were overjoyed to agree."

Terry sat motionless for a moment, then said, "That's exactly what She asked me! I remember now, that She asked me to help one of her children who was overworking himself to..." she paused, 'think of himself, too; that his knowledge was vitally necessary to help bring her lost and wandering children back to Her; to help them remember their past."

"That was you, Bart; and I said yes, because we'd be together..." then she was in his arms holding him to herself.

"Ahhh," the Servant queried in embarrassment, "do you remember anything, Greg?" he asked while holding his mate.

Greg sat, thinking; "No," he replied. "I remember something about a 'promise', but--it's still unclear to me," as his ears telegraphed his distress.

Bart thought for a minute, then offered; "Perhaps the 'promise' is the 'Promise of the Bond'; that those who form a Mating Bond will be reborn so that they may find each other again in this world and renew their lives together."

Greg was dumbstruck; he'd heard the same words from someone else...

Serena had been passing through the room on her way to the kitchen, and hearing those words; paused. "I think that's it," she said quietly, as all eyes turned to her; "it's like I've known Greg forever; much longer than high school and college; like we've had our lives together for always."

Greg slowly nodded in agreement. "There have been dreams..." he began; to which Serena gasped, "you, too?"

Servant Bart nodded; "That does make sense about your quick learning; because you aren't really learning, you're remembering. You just need more time together, and more exercise to strengthen your newly changed muscles. The exercise will strengthen your muscles and memories at the same time. What we need to do is more strengthening, and your gait will resolve itself, if that's what has happened."

Greg glanced at his mate for a moment, then asked, "So more treadmill and more together time is what you recommend?"

The Servant nodded; "Exactly. That's what I'm doing with Terry; I thought she reminded me of someone, and now I know she does," he finished with a happy smile on his face.

And so for the rest of the morning, Greg and Terry alternated with each other on the treadmill and in the weight room. It did seem that each time he walked or jogged it was getting easier for him to keep his balance, as he stopped using the horizon or vertical surfaces and instead depended on his inner-ear balance organs.

By lunchtime, both he and Terry could walk the length and width of the great-room without having to hold on to anything. They still wobbled; but by shutting their eyes, they could regain their balance.

"Too bad I can't just walk with my eyes shut," Terry complained, "but then I couldn't watch Bart's tail..."

"My what?" her mate asked, his ears pinking slightly; to which Terry just giggled while he rolled his eyes. A Werewolf's tail swished as he walked, being moved by his leg and gluteal muscles. It was a natural response to their stride.

Lunch was made interesting by Bart's telling about his observations and what he'd read about other miraculous Crossers.

"Does that include the Warrior?" Harry asked, and at the Servant's blank look, Harry explained that Tom Aldren, the Warrior, had Crossed in less than four days. "Was he a quick study in gait and Werewolf 101?" he queried.

"Not that I remember," Harry replied. "He had some bone density issues that kept him in bed for a few days, replacing the calcium in his bones, and his mate was annoyed that he couldn't wag his tail for nearly a week. That might have been part of why you didn't hear of it."

"Wag his tail?" Greg queried, "What has that to do with anything?"

"The tail and its muscles are the last things to completely Cross Over," Bart explained, " and there are certain--ahhh, activities that aren't allowed until the Crosser can 'wag his tail', thus showing him completely Crossed and all the changes are completed."

"Poor Robyn," Serena giggled, "having to wait all that time..."

"For what?" Greg asked, then blushed as Serena wiggled her eyebrows and gave him "that" look. Terry giggled as well, while Bart cleared his throat and blushed his ears.

After lunch it was time for more walking, only this time to the shooting range set up half a mile from the house in a tiny box ravine. They were carrying their firearms in holsters strapped around their waists, and the ammunition for them in small buckets, which would be used when they gathered up their spent brass to bring back with them. Both Harry and his Marina were avid reloaders, and Serena reloaded some of her ammunition as well. They were also equipped with safety glasses and hearing protectors.

The rules of range safety were strictly enforced by every member of the Wolfe family.

Greg had Serena as a "balance aid", putting his hands on her waist when they traversed particularly rough ground, just as Terry held onto Servant Bart for her balance.

They were almost at the ravine mouth when Greg's toe caught on a bit of rock and he fell, taking Serena's pants with him to the ground. She stopped, and was helping him up when her mother caught sight of the fancy rhinestone-bedecked thong that Terry had given her. She was about to explode, but then remembered that Serena was Greg's mate now and hence Greg's problem.

Instead she simply asked pointedly, "Does it light up in the dark too?"

Serena blushed (a first!) and stammered that it had been Terry's gift to her, and that she was wearing a similar one.

Terry nodded enthusiastically, and Servant Bart stared and then asked, "Oh, really?" while his ears went very pink. Terry grinned at him, her tail in a tight upward curl, like a husky's.

Serena snickered, as did her mother. Bart was an excellent Servant, but rather naïve about some things involving his new mate.

Once at the shooting range, Marina used one of the old cable spools that served as tables marking the firing line to set up her ammunition and other materials, while Serena used the spool next to her mother's for her own things.

Marina held up her 1911 and dramatically ejected the magazine; then pulled the slide back to eject the chambered round, locking the slide back in its rearmost position.

She then put those items on the drum's upper surface.

"Nobody goes past the firing line until every pistol is open and empty, rule one;" she stated. She then helped Terry and Bart to do the same with their revolvers.

"Rule two" she said; "I'm the Rangemistress. Nobody fires unless I say so, and when I say 'weapons down,' you empty them and put them back like they are now."

She continued her lecture while Greg took out the Luger and emptied it, placing it beside his mate's Springfield and his Taurus. Their backup pistols were also sitting empty on the spool's upper surface.

Marina held up a target, a simple three-inch red dot on a sheet of cheap paper. "This is what we'll be shooting at. There are already some gongs and metal targets downrange, but we aren't using them today. Today, we will practice hitting these targets at twenty five feet of distance, using our pistols and revolvers. Write your names on your targets, and then go set them up on the first set of cables. I'll give you some clips to attach them with."

"Serena, you work with Greg, and I'll work with our guests."

Greg and Serena wrote their names on the paper targets and then carefully took them out to the first set of cables and clipped them in place, both on their upper and lower edges. Then they returned to the line.

They waited as Terry and Bart did the same, only they had two targets each to put up.

Then they started shooting.

Later, back at the house, Greg and Serena went over their targets in their bedroom before dinner, comparing them while Serena dissected Greg's shooting skills.

"You're a pretty good shot," she said, "but you tend to mash the trigger sometimes. That's because the Luger has such a different trigger pull from the Taurus, I think. Too bad the Luger is so big, because you're excellent with that. You kept all your shots in the red, except for the ones you pulled. We'll work on it together and you'll be putting them all in the red before you know it, with either pistol."

"Poor Terry and Bart," Greg chuckled, "she shot his revolver better than he did, and he got better results with hers.

"So, they switch," Serena replied with a shrug, "Daddy gave them their guns based on their size, not their guns' caliber. They can switch permanently, or Daddy can give them other ones; now that we know how they handle them."

"I'm sorry about your pants," Greg began.

"Mom would have found out anyway," Serena said dismissively, "She's good at that. At least they're washable." Then she caught his eye and asked, "Do you think they're pretty?"

Greg blushed and replied, "Yeah, when they're on you," and his mate smiled.

Serena repaid the complement by running her claws gently through his fur from chest to belly, and he shivered in delight.

Then she sighed, "It's about dinner time. Afterwards, do you want to take a shower?" she asked with arched eyebrows,

"Oh, yeah," Greg replied, "Feeling clean is such fun;" and she snickered.

Later, Greg was reading and she was buffing her claws while they rested in bed, showered and 'clean,' when suddenly there was a loud howling that made Greg levitate a little.

"What was that? he asked, his eyes wide and staring. "Mom and Dad," Serena replied calmly. Seeing his astonished look, she asked; "Did you think they were too old or something? They're barely fifty, not even 'mature' yet. Mom says she prefers 'quality' over 'quantity', but with us, we get both; don't we?" she asked dropping the buffing board and kissing her mate...

Later still, more howling echoed through the house, and Marina rolled over to Harry and grumbled, "Now we've done it; they'll be doing that all night and not getting any sleep, or letting us get any, either."

"Well, then Hon'," Harry rumbled, "Why not make use of our time then?"

"Silly old dog, I love you," she whispered as he took her into his arms.

* * * * *

Three days later, Greg was "stable in gait' as Servant Bart said. So was Terry; in that they both could walk, run, jog, and even carefully shift into "quadruped" and make their way easily and evenly.

They were standing on the porch and Serena was about to give them a demonstration of high speed, when in the distance, they saw a car approaching on the private ranch road.

Terry did some quick counting, and then gasped, "It's today. The Elders are coming today to judge my fitness for being Wulfen." There was panic in her eyes.

"Don't worry," Brad said, comforting her, "you're a Servant, and completely trained in gait and you're my mate. Whatever they say won't have any effect on us, or your work at the hospital."

Greg asked, "Why only one car? I got the impression that there would be almost a parade;" while Serena went inside to get her parents. Fortunately, they were both there, at the house, instead of being out running the ranch.

Harry stepped out onto the porch and looked at the approaching automobile, and said; "Hey, that's Luther. Why's he coming out here, it ain't Song night?" with a hint of worry in his tone.

They soon found out, as the Servant, clad in a dark Wulf-cut suit, parked and hurried to the growing group of people on the porch. Marina was there, as well as several of the Wulf and SmoothKin ranch wives and mates who had been working in the kitchen.

"Inside, please;" the worried looking Servant said.

Once inside, he explained his worry to the assembled group of people.

"Rev Mordecai Weiss, the 'Chief elder' of the Jewish Wulfen showed up at the hospital and demanded to see Maria Theresa Ryder immediately. He was not happy to learn that she was out here at the ranch," he began; as Terry sobbed and clutched at her mate.

"He and his other 'students' are coming out here to 'test' the 'fitness' of Ms. Ryder to be a Wulf of the Congregation," he said. "There's more; I think he's somehow managed to gain his Servant's 'special' powers: the ones even we don't discuss a great deal."

"What do you mean, 'special powers'," Harry asked carefully, "as in what power are we talking about?"

Luther lowered his head and replied, "We Servants are granted certain abilities by our Mother-Beloved in order to do our duties--the ones not involved in 'healing' or 'counseling' or leading Songs. One of them is the ability to command, to use certain specific words with more than the usual effect." He was plainly unhappy discussing this.

"You see it most often in our ability to confuse memories, to make encounters with us seem 'dreamlike' and unreal. We used that a lot, before the Order, to protect the secret of our existence..."

"And maybe make things seem less important than they really are?" Greg asked angrily. "Like you did with us?"

Luther nodded; "Yes, I did ease your reactions when you were discussing this at the hospital. You needed to get your feet under you, not worry about worry about what I thought was 'hocus-pocus' at the time. I was partially wrong there; yes, but you needed to practice your gait training much more than you needed to concern yourself with what should be Servant's matters. There are other things we can do as well as 'ease' tension."

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously. "Show me what you mean, Luther."

The Servant glanced at Harry and replied, "Well, since you just volunteered, Down." He didn't even raise his voice.

Harry found himself on the floor and couldn't get up.

"Try getting up," Luther said nervously; "you'll find you can't."

Harry did try and found the most he could do was to raise his head a little.

"You see?" Luther asked.

"Yeah, now can I get up?" Harry queried.

Luther said "Up" and Harry was on his feet with no knowledge of how he got there. "Impressive," he commented.

"How does this affect Terry? She's our guest, along with her mate, Servant Bart," Harry asked, curious now.

"Not even other Servants are immune to it," Luther explained. "That's part of it."

"What else?" Harry asked, starting to worry.

"There is a command called Burn, and I think Greg and Serena know what that means," Luther said sadly.

Terry said, "You turn to ashes instantly," in an empty voice. "That's what happened to the chicken and the dog Ariel called about, isn't it?" Her eyes were bleak as Bart held her close to himself and snarled at Luther.

"What about it being a--a 'Guardian" or 'Warrior' thing?" Greg asked, his anger rising. "Why didn't you say that any Servant could do it?"

"Because we don't want that knowledge going around," the Servant said, his head bowed. "Just knowing that we can do it has caused a lot of suffering for others in the past..."

"I can see that," Harry muttered to himself, then; "How did you learn that this Weiss character can do it, and why did it surprise you so much"? he asked Luther.

Luther sat, his head bowed for a second, then explained; Ariel Bergmann called the hospital for Terry, and the call was routed to me. He told me what he had seen, and added that Rev Mordecai also did that to an entire side of beef, with one word; ashes, just ashes." He ran his fingers through his hair and for a moment looked very old.

He swallowed. "Mother-Beloved's gift is given unconditionally, to all Her children. Some don't abandon their old religious ways, at least not for their first lifetime.

In this case, Her children forgot who they were related to; and carried on their old ways; generation by generation, up to the present."

"The Servant's White Coat is a mark of spiritual attainment, not a favor given out to those Mother-Beloved decides She likes. Mordecai was a very devoted man, devoted to his people and the God they thought they still served, thus She granted him the Servant's mark, the Lunar White Coat of fur that marks us out among all our brothers and sisters as people who serve Her by serving them. That's where the term Servant came from; Serving our People as a Service to our Mother-Beloved."

"When Mordecai received his White Coat, I think something went wrong in his mind somewhere. He started making changes in things, using his White Coat as his divine authority, making his congregation even more insular and even more fundamentalist in nature."

"It affected the Wulfenbruderen as well. Many left his pack, while the ones who remained were more and more like their Wulfen brothers and sisters; staunchly puritan and exclusive."

Luther glanced at Terry, "your parents are not completely in his grasp, but they are nearly there. They're coming out here to order you to leave your 'goysche lover' and come back home with them as a dutiful daughter should."

"How can they?" she growled, now angry; "We're Mated! We're Bonded! What are they thinking?"

"I don't think they are 'thinking' at all," Luther replied. "They're just following the path of least resistance and trouble. Remember, they see Mordecai as their spiritual leader and as someone who should be obeyed in all things."

"Just like they always have," she growled bitterly. "No backbone at all; well, they're in for a surprise, because I won't give up Bart! I'll lose them first! We're MATED!" she screamed; hackles up, ears back and teeth bared for a fight.

"I know," Luther replied; "I know."

"They're coming," Jenna Hosteen, a Navajo Wulf said, looking out the window.

"They're here," Luther said, his eyes looking elsewhere.

Harry spoke, "Everybody outside, I want this Mordecai fellow to see he's dealing with the Wolfe pack, not just a bunch of yahoos. You all know the drill."

"C'mon, Greg," Serena said quietly, "and make sure your 'piece'

is loose in its scabbard."

Nine Wulfen were waiting as the four cars stopped in the driveway and both Smoothskins and Wulfen got out. Two Smoothskins walked up to Harry.

"Thank you for taking care of our little girl, Mister Wolfe;" Samuel Ryder said. "We'll be taking her home now." He glanced over at Terry.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, the barest hint of a growl in his voice. "She isn't 'your little girl' any more; she's another Wulf's mate, in Mating Bond."

"Is there trouble, Schmuel?" a honeyed voice asked as a white coated werewolf strode up. "Is this non-believer causing trouble?" he asked, as though reciting lines in a play.

"Yes, Rev; he is," Samuel replied in a distant voice.

The white furred Wulf looked at Harry, and Harry saw madness in those eyes...madness and power. He began to reach for his pistol.

"DOWN!" came the command, and everyone but Terry was flat and unable to rise. She stepped over her mate and straddled him. Greg was struggling to get his gun out, but even then, he couldn't raise it enough to hit anything. Serena was similarly helpless.

From her position over Bart, Terry said coldly, "I have no parents. I am this Wulf's mate. Try to separate us and you will die."

"Oh, no;" came the honeyed voice again. "You will forget, and you will revert, and you will be your father's dutiful daughter," Mordecai Weiss said happily. "This creature who has dishonored you will burn to ashes, and he will not trouble you again."

He strode over to Terry, his black coated and hatted 'students' following like ducklings following their mother.

"Step away," the sweet voice commanded, and to her horror, Terry found herself doing just that.

Stanaq wasn't affected by the command. Carefully, he took control of his self's body and when the monster's back was turned, rose. He saw Aleet-hra doing the same.

He now understood this wonderful thing his hand held, and how it worked. He pointed it, being careful to make the little post in front sit exactly between the two shoulders in the back. Then he pointed the whole thing at the monster. By his side, Aleet-hra was doing likewise.

He pressed the thing his finger found, and it went off; just as Aleet-hra's thing did the same.

_ Mordecai Weiss had just started to say "BURN" when two bullets hit him in the side of his head, expanding and blowing his brain out of his skull, leaving a softball-sized hole on the other side_.

The summoned energy had nowhere to go, no place to strike, so it erupted where it was.

Mordecai Weiss shuddered as his brain was scooped out of his skull, then turned into a fiercely burning candle for three seconds. Then the stack of ash fell, unable to support its own weight.

The command dissipated at the same moment.

Bedlam ensued.

As things were settling down, Greg and Serena sought out Luther.

In the old tongue they both asked, "Help us, Sworn One. We had to enter our selves' bodies too soon. They sleep now, but they will wake soon and remember...and the time is not ready yet!"

Luther was awestruck. These were first-generation People.

He gestured to them to sit, and they made to comply.

He knew what to do, so as they sat down, he gently commanded; "Forget..."

Serena and Greg stumbled against each other, as the shock of... of their titanic struggle with the command that hit them and they collapsed at Luther's feet. Looking up at the startled werewolf, Serena asked, "Did we do it, did we get him?"

"Yes," Luther replied, relief in his voice. "Yes, you got him. He's gone, and frankly, I'm amazed that you were able to do it."

He narrowed his eyes, "Mordecai must have not have taken your Bond and Greg's recent Crossing into account. Greg wasn't completely affected, and it traveled through your Bond to free you as well. Are you feeling all right? Any dizziness or headache?"

The two shook their heads as one.

"It's just that, everything I did is all fuzzy," Greg tried to articulate. "Like someone else was at the controls. I guess that's what adrenalin does for you. Wow."

"Adrenalin does that indeed," Luther said in confirmation. "That's why practice is so important."

He saw Harry headed for them and said, "Your practice saved the day," and stood up.

"Are they all right?" the worried Wulf asked the Servant, who nodded; saying, "Thank the Goddess for their Bond. The command didn't fully affect Greg, and the failure gave them both the ability to move after a second or so."

"Greg, Serena, could you come with me? Terry has gone feral, and we can't get to Bart to see if he's all right or not," Harry asked, plainly worried. "She's growling and snapping at everyone, including Marina!" The two stood and holstered their handguns, drawn in the moments they had found the strength to resist the monstrous command that had flattened them.

Or so they believed.

Hours later, Terry and Bart were draped over each other in a chair in the Great room of the ranch house.

"I can't believe it," Terry was saying over and over again. "Mom and Dad were under some sort of compulsion along with all the rest." She had repeated this several times, while Bart just held her against his chest.

Her parents were going to be treated by a Servant-Specialist who handled psychological problems related to stress. They had given their blessing to her mating with Bart. Now, she just wanted to relax and catch her breath.

Tomorrow, they would pack up the rehabilitation equipment and go back to Wolf Bend and their work at the hospital, but tonight was their own.

Greg and Serena were seated together, just savoring their closeness.

"We saved a good friend today, Aleet-hra," Stanaq sighed; "and we tasted our future together as well."

_ "That was not just a good friend, that is my sister; Ciele-hra, and her mate Donterr-mas," she whispered back to her beloved._

_ "They are here, too?" he asked, surprised. "I knew him!"_

_ "Yes, and more will come; Mother has promised it," she replied with satisfaction._

_ "More will come," he said with growing wonder._

Serena whispered to Greg; "They make such a pretty couple. Terry is like a younger sister I never had. Do you think we should invite them out here regularly?"

"Yeah," Greg replied. "I like Bart, he kinda reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Same here," Serena replied; "Same here."

Six months later;

"I'm just glad we could get away," Bart told Greg as they sat watching the new housing for the Three being erected across the way, where the old Crossing shack had been torn down to make way for the new dwellings. It would be re-erected in the new museum being built in Wolf Bend as an exhibit of the People's history.

Bart looked at Greg and said, "You wouldn't believe the last guy we Crossed, Terry and I." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Huh?" Greg replied, out of witticisms. "What does he look like?"

"Think of a Servant, then give him a dried-blood back and cowl. Add the forearms and backs of the hands to the red color scheme. That's what he Crossed as,"

Bart explained. "We've got him in the new Rehab wing and he's halfway done already--in three days !"

"Whoa, there;" Greg said. "What kind of a werewolf is this?"

"Well he was an ex-Ranger who was a SWAT-Cop for ten years. He decided on a "Lifestyle change" Crossing, because he was beginning to feel his age. He was forty-seven."

"Come on, Bart;" Greg queried, "what is he now?" Bart loved to draw things out.

"He says he's a Guardian. The first one in three hundred years," Bart replied soberly.

"Ohhh, Crap!"

"You mean you're pregnant?" Terry squealed. "Neat! So am I!" Then she sobered; "What about school?"

Serena shrugged, "We're on break now, and I can get in another semester before I give birth. Then Mom and Dad say they'll help with the babies while Greg and I take a semester online; we'll just have to be there for mid-terms and finals." Then she turned the tables, "When do you have 'pups'?" she snickered.

"Late October, early November; at least that's what the OB/GYN says."

"All right!" Serena laughed, "That's when I'm due, too! Maybe we can have them together!"

"Bart would faint!" Terry laughed back, "but I'd love it!"

The two bitches-to-be laughed together, imagining their mates struggling with two loads of offspring.

"We're gonna have to tag them, or the guys will mix them up for sure!" Serena roared.

"Naaaaah," Terry giggled back; " they'll just both faint, and leave the work for their mates!"

"We are joining with them, Aleet-hra; already I speak with Gregory in his dreams," Stanaq said happily.

_ "Serena and I are muchly alike," Aleet-hra replied. "I too, spend time with her when we sleep."_

_ "The first ones are coming, and you know what that means," Stanaq observed._

_ "Yes, but we and they and our children and our children's children will prevail as a People again united, in soul and body," she answered; "and the others, the Smooth ones will work with us to keep the night from falling. This is a wonderful world, and we will preserve it from the Enemy, no matter what He may do. This I believe, as Mother has said. We carry more of the People in our bellies, to help hold back the night."_

_ "I, too believe this, beloved. No more caves to hide in, we will have the Sun-Child's blessing on our work, and on our children, as well."_

_ "We will, Stanaq, we will."_

_ _

_ _

And in time, they did; but that's another story...

_ _