Between States Box Set

Under a Confederate Moon-4

In his animal form, Caleb sensed the passage of time with a primordial instinct that felt the moon as it rode across the sky above him. For a long time he lay beside Brance, listening to the other’s rapid heartbeat, watching the rise and fall of his side. Neither spoke.

Eventually, Caleb stood and sat back on his haunches to groom his face. He licked one paw and slicked it back over his ear, wiping away whatever debris had caught in his fur. From the corner of his eye, Brance watched him. The fact that he didn’t roll away, didn’t turn his belly from Caleb, spoke volumes about their sudden camaraderie. Caleb wanted to thank him for that trust, somehow, but the words sounded stilted and wrong when he thought them through. With a swish of his tail, he stood, arching his back and baring his claws as he stretched. He rubbed against Brance, his tail flicking beneath the other cat’s nose as he slunk away. Brance started, ::Where—::

::Be back.:: As he left the nested grass, Caleb lifted his tail and head, smug. He liked the way it felt to leave the other cat hanging; perhaps Brance had something there.

Opening his senses to the night, Caleb heeded the age-old desire that churned his stomach—hunger. He nosed along the underbrush, the smells of tiny creatures flooding his brain. Each led in a different direction, small trails of spore and scent like bread crumbs marking the path. Hungry? This way. A mole, gone to ground. A handful of field mice, scuttling through dead leaves. Squirrels chattering contentedly to each other in the safety of their homes. For a moment Caleb considered climbing a tree to rouse the little suckers—chase the adults away, maybe find a nest of little ones to snack on. But he wanted to bring something back, too. Brance shouldn’t move until his leg healed, and the other cat must be starving. Several times as he lay beside him, Caleb had heard a rumble deep in Brance’s belly, gnawing at him. The onset of the change burned a lot of energy, leaving them famished. Tempting as the squirrels were, Caleb turned away in search of something meatier.

The human part of his mind turned to Brance. How funny it should. The cat was larger than Caleb, leading him to suspect that the man inside the fur was, as well. How long had it been since Caleb’s last tryst? Before he entered General Lee’s service, that was certain. He’d signed up when the war broke out, not so much for the fight but just to get away. The small town he called home, nestled at the base of the Appalachians, held nothing of interest for a young man such as himself. The call to arms presented the perfect opportunity to finally move on.

But here he was, two years later, a lonely soldier battling daily skirmishes, unable to extract himself from a war that he’d begun to suspect didn’t interest him, either. His pa’s farm was a speck compared to the grand plantations he’d seen on the road to Richmond—his family owned few livestock, and no slaves. The only reason for him to keep charging into battle with his squadron was the thin fold of bills he received each month in pay, but with the economy of the North bearing down on them, he suspected the Confederate dollars weren’t worth much. He wasn’t into whores like the other soldiers, and didn’t relish the thought of losing his rank or being drummed out of camp for propositioning another man. There were a few he knew who’d gladly warm his bunk, desperate soldiers homesick and anxious, just looking for something to help them get by, but Caleb always turned them away.

He wanted more than that—he wanted a boy at home, waiting for his letters. He wanted someone to pen long missives to on rainy days, someone who knew him body and soul. Someone who wanted him, not just for tonight or the next campaign, or until he was wounded and sent to Chimborazo to recover. Someone who understood him, every part of him, human and beast.

In his hunt for food, Caleb drew a wide berth around the area where Brance waited. All around him, he smelled the other cat—fresh droppings covered month-old spore, marking the limits of Brance’s territory. The fact that another like himself roamed so close to his camp thrilled Caleb. This was his first night of change; he had another two or three in the fur before the moon began to wane and his condition cleared. The possibility that he might not have to hunt alone excited him. He felt so alone amid the soldiers, his own countrymen dressed in gray, because none of them knew the true Caleb. None even suspected…

Movement ahead startled him. Silently he slipped into the undergrowth, scarcely breathing, teeth bared. The heady scent of rabbits filled his nose and watered his mouth. With a snarl, he burst through the bushes and snatched the closest rabbit, a large doe. Caleb turned to snap at kittens nearby, killing two more before he felt a hard body knock into his side.

He rolled clear of the buck’s powerful feet and snagged his kill before disappearing back into the bush. With his teeth clenched tight around the evening’s meal, Caleb hurriedly retraced his steps to where he had left Brance.