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ZEKE WOKE UP WITH A start. Bright moonlight cast sharp shadows over the tent of trees and boulders...and something else, something that was moving and breathing heavily just outside.

“Micah,” Zeke hissed, poking his friend. “Micah, wake up!”

“Mm...eggs Benedict, thanks babe....”

Zeke would have put that away for ammunition to give Micah shit about later, but the massive shape outside the tent was moving closer, casting an even larger shadow on the tent. It looked like a wolf, but bigger. Zeke prayed it was just the angle of the light making it look bigger than it was. He groped around in the dark for anything to protect them with, but they had left the gear tied up in a tree outside. All he had with him was a flashlight and a bad novel. He shook Micah hard, trying not to catch the animal’s attention.

“What?” Micah muttered irritably.

“There’s something outside,” Zeke whispered.

“Hm?” Micah lifted his head, cockeyed with sleep, and blinked several times. When he saw the thing move, he bolted awake instantly. “What is that?” He mouthed, almost silently.

“I don’t know. I think it’s a wolf,” Zeke breathed.

Micah reached around him for a weapon, but found only rope. With shaking hands, he tied a series of large, heavy knots in one end. At Zeke’s curious look, he mimed swinging it. Nodding, Zeke gripped the flashlight. The beast circled around, it’s heavy breathing grinding the air, sending chills down Zeke’s spine. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension enough to breathe, and his neck popped with an audible crack. He and Micah both froze, holding their breath. The beast outside froze as well and fell silent. After an eternal moment, it started to move once more, away from them. Zeke let out his breath and wiped cold sweat from his forehead. He grinned at Micah, and opened his mouth to whisper.

“That was clo....”

Before he could finish the syllable, an unearthly snarl snapped through the air, the only warning before their tent was ripped away, torn to shreds by the largest fangs and claws that Zeke had ever seen. Instinctively, Zeke shoved Micah as hard as he could with one hand and swung the flashlight with the other, bringing it crashing down between the beast’s glowing, yellow eyes. It only made it angrier. Zeke smelt it’s breath, his head surrounded by its dripping, fleshy mouth, his eyes nearly touching the pulsing uvula in the back of its throat, and knew his time had come. A sharp yank on his ankle snatched him from the jaws of death, and he fell backwards off the stone, landing heavily on Micah. He rolled off, lifted Micah, and ran.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Micah asked as they stumbled through the woods.

“A wolf...big fuckin’ wolf,” Zeke gasped. “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Micah demanded as they reached the slope which led to the canyon. It would take hours of frantic clawing for them to get up there, and Zeke was certain that the beast could climb faster than they could. He heard its growl from somewhere in the deepest shadows of the trees, and he grabbed Micah’s arms and looked him dead in the eye.

“You climb,” he told him in a tone that left no room for argument. “You climb, you get the hell out, and you don’t look back. You got that?”

“You better be right behind me,” Micah said.

“I will,” Zeke promised. “Go.”

Micah turned and started scrambling up the hill. Just a head start, Zeke thought. If I can just give him a head start, he’ll be okay. He could feel it watching him, and picked up a branch. He held it over his shoulder like a heavy bat, his wide eyes scanning the woods for movement. Micah climbed the slope, knocking sticks and stones down to land at Zeke’s feet. Everything went silent. Zeke held his breath. Even knowing it was coming, even with all his senses on full, he didn’t even see it move before it was upon him, embedding its vicious teeth into his shoulder. Crushing fire, suffocating ice, he felt his bones break between its powerful jaws. The scream ringing in his ears was his own, but he felt detached from it. He pushed at the beast with his free arm, but he might as well have been pushing on a wall. The beast must have weighed a ton or more, all of it muscle. A thought surfaced through his fear with such sudden, certain, clarity that his panic disappeared. I am going to die.

“Get off of him, you son of a bitch!” Through the dark rings pulsing around Zeke’s vision, he watched Micah leap through the air and smash a branch across the beast’s eyes hard enough to break the branch in two. With a howl of pain, the wolf dropped Zeke and turned on Micah, who was scrambling for another weapon. The wolf caught Micah’s leg in its mouth, shaking its head like it would rip the limb right off. Micah’s scream was the only thing that kept Zeke from slipping into unconsciousness and drove him to his feet.

The broken stick tripped him, and he picked it up clumsily in his left hand. A sharp, thick sliver, eight inches long, extended from the end. With the last of his energy and a warrior scream, Zeke ran full-speed at the beast and shoved the stick deep into its ear. A canine shriek cut off sharply, and the thing fell to the ground. Micah coughed dry sobs, shaking with shock and adrenaline.

“Is it dead?” Zeke asked the question, but didn’t stick around for the answer. Darkness swept over his vision, and he went down hard on his broken shoulder.

“You said you blocked it off!” A man’s panicked voice cut through Zeke’s deep unconsciousness, startling him awake.

“I did,” another voice growled. “Fuckin’ hikers have no respect. Get up on there, come on.”

“I can’t do this now!”

“You gonna tell the kid to wait? Get up on there!”

“What if they wake up?”

“I’ll take care of it. Get up on there.”

“No, no! I don’t want to. I can’t do it, Kenneth. Please don’t make me do it!”

“It ain’t me makin’ you do it, Jacob. It’s coming out one way or the other. You wanna live through the experience, get your ass up on that goddamn table!”

Zeke stayed perfectly still, but opened his eyes just enough to see, keeping them shielded behind his lashes. Micah was lying on the ground, facing him, and his eyes were open too. They were in a cave at dawn...or possibly dusk...as rosy gold light illuminated a large, low table covered with a thick blanket. Zeke watched an older-looking man push the other man up onto the table. The second man was younger, and much, much larger. His round belly made him look ten months pregnant, and the way he clutched it and sobbed made Zeke double-check the bearded face three times. As he knelt down on the table, he began to rock back and forth. He was dressed only in a loose robe, which refused to stay closed, so Zeke could clearly see that he was bleeding profusely, reminding Zeke of his own injury. It should have been fatal, but Zeke was fairly certain that he was alive.

Zeke’s shoulder ached deeply, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it should have been. With a shock of fear, Zeke wondered if his arm was still attached, but he was too afraid to turn his head to check. Terrified, he kept his eyes facing forward, watching the drama play out before him. The older man pushed the younger onto his side and lifted his leg, pointing the wound away from Zeke’s face.

“When will the moon be up?” The bleeding man asked, breathing heavily.

“Got about another hour till it’s overhead. Just focus on breathing.”

Dusk, Zeke realized. He had been unconscious for at least a day.

“But what if it comes up before I’m done? What if it happens during? What if I kill the baby?”

“I won’t let that happen,” the older man said firmly. “Now quiet down. Let me see.”

“What do you know about this?” The wounded man snapped, suddenly furious.

“I’ve birthed hundreds of calves, Jacob. This ain’t no different.”

“Bullshit it’s not!”

“You want an audience? Keep it down.”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry Kenneth, I just can’t. I didn’t want this. I didn’t know....”

“It’s alright, hush. Everything’s gonna be alright. Just breathe.”

Zeke couldn’t process what he was seeing. The younger man panted and groaned, spilling more blood from the wound between his legs. It spilled off the table in spite of the blanket, trickling through the heavy knit and off the table to pool on the dusty floor. Zeke gestured his head sharply at Micah, who peeked under his arm to see why. The blood...thinner than Zeke expected...spilled over the dirt and through the pebbles toward the spot where Micah lay. As quietly as he could, Micah wriggled away from it toward Zeke. Neither of the strangers noticed, so Micah rolled over with his back to Zeke to watch the show. His tan skin shone in the light from the setting sun, catching Zeke’s attention despite the horror all around them. Zeke brushed his good fingers across Micah’s back at his waist, giving and taking comfort from the simple touch.

“I want to push,” the man (Jacob, Zeke reminded himself) squealed.

“Go ahead. I’m right here.”

A guttural scream filled the cave, echoing off the stone walls until it was absorbed by them. 

“Good,” Kenneth said encouragingly. “I can see the head. You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

Head? This couldn’t be what it looked like. Zeke shook his own head in disbelief, but his eyes were wide with horror. Another scream, and another.

“Good,” Kenneth was saying. “One more big push for me, come on.”

A final shriek, and Jacob collapsed. Kenneth withdrew from between his legs, holding a wriggling, purple thing. Kenneth wiped it clean, then drew a blade. A baby. Kenneth was holding a baby, and Jacob had birthed it. Stories, legends as old as he could remember, suddenly filled Zeke’s mind: legends of shape-shifting men who turned into monsters, men who could carry children to term without a woman, stories that he had disregarded when he was too old to believe in magic. But here it was, happening right before his eyes. He wondered again whether he really was dead, or at least dying, hallucinating a story to distract him from his failing organs. He breathed deeply, feeling every nerve and muscle, checking for signs of life in himself. If he was hallucinating, it was the most realistic surreal hallucination he could imagine.

He suddenly realized that if this was real, then there really was a crazy old man pointing a knife at a newborn baby. He tried to move, to scream, but his body wouldn’t respond. In horror, he watched the man hold the baby in one arm and the knife in the other, then slice. Zeke’s eyes squeezed shut in spite of himself. There were some things he didn’t ever, ever need to see. The baby shrieked. It kept on shrieking. Slowly, Zeke began breathing again and let his eyes drift open. The knife was on the table, and the old man was wrapping the baby in a soft cloth. Confused, Zeke squinted. He almost laughed with relief, but caught himself. The umbilical cord flopped lazily off the table beside the knife.

“He’s beautiful,” Kenneth said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Jacob groaned.

Kenneth chuckled. “That makes three of you, I would think.”

“How much time?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Get the baby out of here.”

“Not this time. I need to get you out. Those two won’t be turning tonight, but you will. Come on, I’ll help you outside.”

“You’ll block the door?” Jacob asked anxiously, touching the baby’s head with his fingertips.

“Of course,” Kenneth said reassuringly. “Now go.”

Jacob left reluctantly, looking deflated and sore. Once he was gone, Kenneth rolled a large stone in front of the cave opening, then secured it in place with two metal bars, locked into holes and arranged in a cross. The baby was still crying. Kenneth bounced it like a pro, slid a bottle into its mouth, and paced the small cave as he sang to it.

“I know you two are conscious,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Might as well introduce yourselves.”