Crescent Moons Part 15
- Crescent Moons Part 1
- Crescent Moons Part 2
- Crescent Moons Part 3
- Crescent Moons Part 4
- Crescent Moons Part 5
- Crescent Moons Part 6
- Crescent Moons Part 7
- Crescent Moons Part 8
- Crescent Moons Part 9
- Crescent Moons Part 10
- Crescent Moons Part 11
- Crescent Moons Part 12
- Crescent Moons Part 13
- Crescent Moons Part 14
- Crescent Moons Part 15
- Crescent Moons Part 16
- Crescent Moons Part 17
- Crescent Moons Part 18
- Crescent Moons Part 19
- Crescent Moons Part 20
- Crescent Moons Part 21
- Crescent Moons Part 22
- Crescent Moons Part 23
- Crescent Moons Part 24
- Crescent Moons Part 25
Fifteen years had passed since Fixier had delivered the young Rakshasan child to Dista. He had found the right place. High up north towards a mountain range lived his prey.
It was spring. The last snow had melted. Bears no longer hibernated. Additional animal life had returned. Birds sang their tunes in the trees. The wind carried the smell of fresh grass and plants. A typical day, the start of springtime.
Dista had clarified that she wanted a male child. The child must remember nothing before its new home. She also did not want anyone looking for the child. It must be a clean break. These stipulations, among others, made the task more difficult.
Vocair and Fixier had been living in a nearby cave for the past several months, planning the next job. The village of wolf shifters was out in the open. They lived close to other people, causing no suspicions. In his experience, humans were not very observant. For shifters, it was a large village. Most gatherings of this sort would contain fifty at most. This community had survived hundreds of years. There were at least five hundred occupants. That made Fixier’s job easier.
Fixer left Vocair in their cave on the mountainside, away from the sun. The cave resided remote enough to avoid detection and close enough so that he could monitor his prey. He worked his way down the ravine and crossed into a large valley. In the valley dwelt a reservation village. Fixer squatted, getting comfortable for another wait. His eagle-sharp eyes scanned the village several times. Hours passed by, but he did not see his target. He grew concerned. The important factors were timing and the routines of the people he watched.
When he first started, he had been watching for newborns. Three newborns under the age of one lived in the village, two boys and one girl. The girl was out.
He moved to the house for his choice. It wasn’t a wealthy home. In fact, almost the opposite. A couple lived here and struggled to make ends meet. The single-floor home, under five hundred square feet, needed repairs. Owners stapled tarps to the roof to patch holes. The paint peeled so much the original color was unknown. Like many days before, he waited and watched their routines.
He moved around the perimeter, careful not to be discovered. Then he spotted her, his lone mother and child. She was running ten minutes behind. Since he started this, the mother had become pregnant again. The child inside her was showing.
The mother carried her current son in a portable rocker in one hand and a basket of laundry in the other. She made her way behind a house to the clotheslines that were already hung up. The mother placed the child on the ground and started pinning up clothes on the lines to dry.
The baby made cooing sounds while he played with a teething ring in his hands.
Fixer wrote the time in a log booklet. He continued to watch. The mother went through the day doing various chores, humming a tune, and played with her son.
Later, a male arrived. The father, or the mate for the female, greeted her with a kiss. “Have you decided on a name yet?”
She smiled. “There is still plenty of time. But, I am leaning towards Elef. Named El after your father, Lucius, and Ef after my grandfather, Frederico. Put them together and—”
The father interrupted her. “Elef. I love it.”
They moved inside and continued their conversation in their home. Hours passed, and they stayed inside.
Before leaving, Fixier conducted a perimeter check around the entire village. Noting their neighbor’s habits and times once again. The sun set. Another day has gone. Fixier made his way back to their cave.
Inside, Vocair was molding figurines from rocks with her hands. Her hair was unkempt, and her eyes had an unhealthy light to them.
Fixier felt she was losing her sanity. “Good News. Tomorrow may be the day.”
Vocair looked up, a haziness to her movements. She said with caution, “The day?”
“Yes. Snap out of it. Why are you here? Do you want to return to Dista? We… I need to get the alibi.”
The mention of Dista’s name made Vocair more alert. “I need to feed.”
“Not around here. You would blow our cover. Go feed somewhere else tonight. Come back in the morning.”
Vocair nodded and stood. She placed the figurine she was working on a shelf with the others. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” Vocair left the cave and headed west.
Fixier couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or the figurines.
He waited until dusk, traveled down the mountainside, came to a stop, and sat. Fixier closed his eyes and rested. He looked asleep. He concentrated on his hearing. Listening. Listening for just the right sound. Within an hour, he heard what he wanted. The soft pawing sound of a mountain lioness’s footsteps. He stood up and froze, still as a statue.
The mountain lioness climbing down from a rocky break paused mid-step. She glanced around and continued.
He took a deep breath and smiled. The lioness was a mother. He smelled at least three additional distinct scents. Cubs.
The lioness padded to her den, a small hole dug in the ground under a tree. Fixier followed close behind, making sure he stayed downwind, or she might pick up his scent.
He waited until after she fed her babies and then threw a rock to get her attention. As soon as she poked her head out, Fixier grabbed her, spun her around, and broke her neck.
Taking her skin off, he converted it into one that he could wear. It took him a few more hours to complete the skin to his satisfaction. He rubbed the odor of the lioness across his body, completing the disguise.
Fixier made his way back to their cave and waited. He did not wait long. Light in the eastern sky had become lighter.
Vocair came in, seeming much better at having fed.
“I need the package,” said Fixier.
“What? Now? I just returned.” Vocair knew better than to argue. “Okay. Okay. I’m going.”
A couple of hours passed, and Vocair returned carrying a large ice chest.
“How is the temperature?” asked Fixier.
Vocair opened the small chest and checked the package. Inside was a small human’s remains. “I added the heating element as soon as I took it out of the freezer, as you instructed. It is reading at 92.1. According to the estimate chart, it should be right at 98.6 when you are ready. The incendiary device is also good, anytime you want it.”
“Good. You can be useful Vocair. Gather all your things. Tonight should be the last.”