acrid stink, and my mouth flooded with saliva as it hit my nose. Anger slashed through that, smelling metallic, like water on hot metal.
Don’t get caught up by what they’re thinking or feeling, my nan had said. Push past and into them.
So I did. Calm, I pushed. Calm, calm, calm.
My gift, it wasn’t a matter of just pushing what I wanted onto an animal. I would have to search for the instinctive responses that got in the way of what I was trying to achieve, and then find a way to either shift them or exaggerate other instincts to counter them. So as I delved into the cat’s mind, my eyes staring at the beautiful rosettes on the plush fur, I assumed I’d find a lot of protective instincts, overloaded by the experience of being held in captivity.
That was not what I found.
Memories bombarded me, of the men this morning herding the animal into the chute that led to the cage. They hadn’t been cruel with the prods they’d used, blunt lengths of wood slotted between the bars to get him moving, but he’d found their presence unbearable. He was being forced onwards again, into a confined space that made his fur stand on end, stinking of chemicals and man.
Beyond that, I pushed. Let that go. Show me home.
Home?
I went stock still at the sound of the voice in my head, creaky and scratched with disuse. If I’d been expecting it, this would have been when I pushed forward, imposing my will on the animal.
But I had to be excused. Animals, in my experience, didn’t talk back.
I forgot all of my rules, staring straight into the animal’s eyes, and he returned my gaze.
Yes, I said, my mouth going bone-dry. Show me home.
We want to anthropomorphize animals, see the narrowing of their eyes, the opening of their mouths as some kind of like emotional response to ours, find other examples of similar consciousness. I knew that wasn’t the case. Animals’ minds were much more complex and alien than that. I knew in theory that the pack’s minds would be like this if I reached out and touched them in animal form, but had never, ever tried.
“The old men, the alphas…” Nan had told me one day as we were sitting out the back of our house on a blanket in the summer sun. “They tolerate us.” My eyes had jerked up, the pack being venerated figures in my childish mind at the time. “They have a greater strength, speed, killing power than us, have survived too much to let the likes of us control them.” Her eyes met mine, deep brown and holding a world of wisdom within them. “You’re starting to learn how to assert your will against animals.”
She nodded to the little wren that flew in looping circles around our heads, then waved a hand to break the hold I had over it.
“Never direct that against the pack. Never. It’ll be the death of you and your line if you do, make no mistake. You may have a friend in Jasmine and the other girls, but all of that will go away if you try to control them. We can influence animals, and they lack the awareness to feel our incursions. Not so the pack. They feel the fingers of our power in their beasts’ brains just as we begin to twist them to our will. Traditionally, our kinds have avoided each other, but I like it here.”
I watched Nan cast an eye over our land.
“The pack gave me these lands, let me stay here in return for my help. They’ve given us honorary status within their number, not so much as an honour, but to give our power a place, rules, a structure to work within while we’re on their lands.” She turned back to me, staring now as if to make sure I understood. “You use your powers against a shifter? You’re dead.”
You want to see? came the snow leopard’s voice. See this.
It was different with a shifter. Usually with an animal, their memories bubbled up in response to my manipulations, easily read, easily pushed away. Gaden grabbed our connection and thrust it into a whole other world.
A world of snow and ice, of rocky outcroppings and pine forests. We slunk within the rocks, the chill on our fur reassuring as we surveyed our domain, looking for signs of prey. Our mouth watered at the thought of them—the ibex, with their long, curved, knobbly horns. We could