PORTLAND, OREGON, 2005
It was very early. To the east, where the sun was destined to rise in little over an hour, the sky was the darkest lilac, and getting lighter by each passing minute. To the west, deep indigo claimed the horizon, so murky it gave the illusion of black. Thousands of tiny pinprick stars gleamed white in that indigo sky, invisible to the naked eye to the east.
Everything was silent, save for the occasional breeze rustling the long, untamed grass. A longhaired, dark gray cat stalked through that grass, brilliant emerald eyes fixed on something small further up in the meadow. A tiny mouse sat back on its hind legs, miniscule paws quickly moving over its head and face as it enjoyed an early-morning wash. It was oblivious to the imminent danger, white whiskers quivering as its pink nose sampled the crisp air.
The cat crept forward on delicate, quiet paws, belly brushing the ground as it stayed as low as it was able. Its long tail hovered over the soil, keeping the feline balanced as it placed one paw in front of the other, slowly but surely advancing on the tiny mouse. The distance between predator and prey lessened, and soon enough the cat was only a few tail-lengths away from breakfast.
With the agility of many practiced hunts before, the cat leapt, using the strongly coiled muscles in its back legs to propel it forward and onto the insignificant creature.
“He comes! He comes!” The mouse screamed in terror, quite clearly referring to something other than the cat that held him between his two front paws. The feline could feel the frantic heartbeat of the mouse against his pads, beating hard against his little chest.
The cat cocked his head to the side, understanding every word the mouse spoke, yet not the meaning behind it. The animal thrashed in his grasp, desperate to free himself. Tiny teeth raked over the fleshy pads of his paws, and with a quick yowl of pain the smaller animal was released. It scurried through the tall grass, deliberately putting as much space between himself and the predator as he could.
A sudden rougher breeze alerted the cat to a different presence, one that was ten times the size of his and just as cancerous.
“Still hunting the small fry, Moss?”
Flattening his ears, the cat turned. A few yards away, standing under the indigo sky, stood a man with his arms crossed. Matching emerald eyes scrutinized the cat crouching in the grass, and a mocking smile spread slowly across his face. “You know, you can do much better than that.” The man wore a fitted black t-shirt with a single red line running vertically down the center, and simple black jeans over his legs. His bare feet flattened the grass he stood on and absorbed all the cold the ground had to offer unflinchingly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” the man chastised. “Face me like a man.” His cold voice was absolute, seeping into the cat’s ears like poison. Seeing no other option, the cat began to change his form, slowly at first, bathing himself in a light of the palest green. His shape altered and his size grew rapidly, limbs elongating with the quietest of creaks.
“What do you want, Rowan?” The newly-formed man asked, anger pinching his voice. Rowan smiled bitterly, eyes flashing.
“Come now, brother. No need for such hostilities,” The formality in Rowan’s voice was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Don’t give me that s**t. I haven’t seen you in three years and now you come to me?” Moss snarled, crossing his arms to imitate the posture of his older brother.
“Did I miss your twenty-second birthday, brother?” Rowan lifted a finger to his lips in thought.
“******** you,” Moss growled. “What the hell do you want with me?”
“Can you believe I’ve come to you merely to catch up?” Rowan asked, feigning innocence. He ran his pale fingers through his dark hair, eyes flashing with amusement. “That I’ve missed my little brother so much, I’ve decided to come for a visit?”
“No.” Moss’ voice was flat, uncharacteristically unlike him. Despite the fact that Rowan and Moss were nearly identical, the younger of the two wasn’t so fond of Rowan’s style. Instead of his typical black on black, Moss preferred something with a bit more color. His hair, too, was different, for Rowan had been dyeing his hair black since he was seventeen.
Rowan grinned. “Have you heard about Mom’s new kid?” he asked, letting his hands drop and shoving them in his pockets.
“No, I hadn’t,” Moss replied. He wasn’t sure of the intentions behind Rowan’s sudden visit, but because he hadn’t shown any distinct hostility toward the brown-haired brother, Moss was going to humor him.
“Yeah. A baby boy. She named him Yarrow,” Rowan snorted. “I feel bad for the kid.” he added. Perhaps it was that the boys’ mother hadn’t outgrown her hippie days, or perhaps she favored unusual names, for all of her three sons took on a nature-inspired moniker.
Moss couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Yes, the boy’s name was unfortunate, but surely this couldn’t be the reason behind Rowan’s visit?
“Do you think he’ll be like us?” Rowan asked, and the wind took a sudden change. All traces of good-humor vanished from Moss’ body as he narrowed his eyes.
“No. You know we were the last ones from him.” Moss reminded, feeling a prickle of unease shiver down his spine. Rowan shrugged, kicking a clod of dirt across the space between them. The clump of soil came to a rest at Moss’ feet, coming apart to reveal an earthworm wriggling helplessly aboveground.
Moss bent at the knees and picked the worm up from off the ground, placing it gingerly in his palm. The pink creature squirmed lazily in his hand, spreading his trail of slime over his skin.
“That’s disgusting,” Rowan said, repulsion flickering across his face.
“Life is sacred,” Moss told him. “You might not agree, but I don’t have the heart of a killer.” The worm finally came to a rest, spreading his body across the longest line on Moss’ palm.
Rowan’s sinister smile gave way to a change in the atmosphere. The temperature plummeted and all was dark, even the lightening sky, heralding the coming of the rising sun.
“That’s actually why I’m here, baby brother,” Rain pelted the ground, soaking through Moss’ shirt and jeans and chilling him to the bone. Moss set the earthworm back on the drowned soil, leaving it to its own devices as he faced his brother.
“You’ve come to kill me?” There was no fear in Moss’ voice – he’d been waiting for this day for years. They were brothers – born rivals from day one – and Rowan had spent their childhood years tormenting his sibling.
Rowan laughed, the sinister sound of it filling the meadow. It was the only sound heard for miles; every other creature had either bunkered down to wait out the sudden storm or hidden from the growing aura of evil in the meadow. Moss’ brother shook his head.
“You know, it wasn’t easy finding you,” Rowan said suddenly. “You move around a lot, don’t you?” Moss would never admit it, but it was to avoid ‘running into’ his brother. Whenever Rowan came around, sorrow and pain seemed to follow.
Moss shrugged his shoulders without saying a word.
“England, Australia, Russia – I always seem to follow your trail around. Where to next? Switzerland?” Rowan sneered.
“Perhaps,” said Moss. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here? Why seek me out?”
Rowan re-crossed his arms. Despite the downpour of rain, Rowan’s clothes and hair were untouched and dry. Moss stood across from him, shaking with cold, soaked to the bone.
“I want to know why our newest baby brother isn’t like us. Why he’s human, and we’re cursed with this s**t,” Rowan snarled, spitting on the ground at the mention of their shape-shifting gift. “I want to know why we’re like this.”
Moss’ eyebrows rose.
“I never figured you hated the gift,” Moss wasn’t in favor of it, nor was he against it – he was merely indifferent and accepting towards it. For as long as he could remember, changing form had been his way of life. He and his brother had been taught to stay away from the insects and the frequently hunted things – for one exterminator’s heel or hunter’s bullet could end a young life before it began.
“Hate? I don’t hate it. It’s everything else I ******** despise – especially you,” Rowan’s voice was hard as ice, his emerald eyes glowing. “The younger brother that got all of mom’s love, all of her attention… you even got the better name,” he finished.
Moss tried to keep the laughter from exploding through his tightly clenched teeth. Better name?
“Is this really why you’ve been so hostile towards me? Really, Rowan, that’s childish, even for you,” Moss pointed out, letting the sarcasm drip into every syllable.
Rowan rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Moss. There’s something I’ve heard recently that might be of interest to even someone as dim-witted as you,” Moss chose to ignore the last bit of his comment and listened. “Back in New Orleans, I paid visit to an old fortune teller. The woman was batshit crazy, I swear to God, but she told me there were others like us. Hundreds more. Possibly a few hundred, I don’t know for sure. I want to find them.” Rowan explained, his eyes alight.
“So you can do what? Kill them?”
“Are you ******** stupid? No, Moss, so I can join them. Be with them. I want to know what they’ve been through; I want to hear their stories. Don’t you?” Rowan asked, leaning forward.
The rain overhead ceased, returning to the pinkening sky. Moss was shivering in cold, but he pushed it aside to concentrate on his brother’s words.
More shape-shifters?
“No, not really. I’m not interested in any of that. I just want to live my life alone,” he said.
Rowan’s eyes bugged from his head.
“Alone? Jesus, Moss, you’ve been a wandering cat for too long,” Rowan joked, before suddenly turning serious. “But that’s not all the fortune-teller told me. She said that a girl would come across the ‘enlightened’ brother, opening his eyes to a different way.”
Once more, Moss found his eyebrows rising. This time, however, it was in disbelief.
“‘The enlightened brother’?” he echoed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right,” Moss didn’t really believe what his brother was telling him, but then again, he’d never seen Rowan so in to what he was talking about.
“Fine, Moss, you don’t have to believe. But I’m going to find these people, and find our stupid little brother in the process,” he said. That hard glint was back in his eyes, and a sinister feeling ran down Moss’ spine. He shook it off, and instead shrugged.
“Do whatever you want, Rowan. Just leave me out of it, got it?” Moss could feel his body pining to shift; he wanted to return to another form. His stomach growled, and he was suddenly reminded of the breakfast Rowan had scared away.
Moss’ brother made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, baby brother – when I find them, I’m coming back for you.”
With a sudden release of violet light, a sleek black raven took to the skies exactly where Rowan had been standing.
****
In a nut shell, it's about shape-shifters. I haven't got a definite plot lined out because it was something that was pressing on me; something I needed to get out.
