Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,15

clutched the bunk’s rail as the ship rocked violently. Timbers creaked as the ship bucked the wind.

“You’ve never been at sea before,” Hardane mused aloud. “I don’t suppose you know how to swim, either.”

Kylene shook her head, her heart pounding at the implication. Did he expect the ship to go down?

“Don’t worry,” Hardane said, smoothing her hair back from her brow. “Kruck’s at the helm, and he’s the best quartermaster in the fleet.”

Kylene nodded, though his words did little to reassure her. “I guess it doesn’t matter to you if the ship goes down,” she muttered. “You’ll just turn into a whale and swim away.”

Hardane chuckled softly, surprised she could find humor in the situation when she was so obviously frightened.

She grinned faintly. “Or maybe you’ll change into a bird.”

“I think not,” he said with a grin. “Though I have often wished I could.”

“Really?” She stared at him curiously, her fear of imminent death temporarily forgotten. “I thought shape shifters could turn into anything they fancied.”

“Perhaps some can,” Hardane said, serious once more. “But, other than the wolf’s form, the Wolffan can only assume human shapes.”

A wolf, she thought, remembering her dream. A black wolf with dark gray eyes.

Hardane smiled at her. “Fear not, lady. If the ship sinks, I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

She nodded, fascinated by his ability to change shape. “Do it,” she urged. “Change now.”

Hardane frowned. “Shape shifting is a gift, lady, one that takes a great deal of concentration. It’s not a game.”

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She gasped as the ship seemed to fall out from under her. They were going to die. She knew it. Weary of waiting, of being afraid, she wished the ship would just sink and be done with it.

She closed her eyes, praying for strength, for courage, only to open them with a start when a low whine sounded near her ear, followed by a sudden breath of heat.

Alarmed, she opened her eyes to find a wolf standing beside the bunk. A black wolf with dark gray eyes.

For a moment, she stared at the animal; then, tentatively, she reached out to stroke its neck, but a sudden overpowering fear made her snatch her hand back.

The wolf whined again, poking its nose over the side of the bunk, butting its head against her hand in a silent plea.

“Hardane?” She whispered the word as she laid her hand on the wolf’s head and scratched its ears.

The wolf whined again, the sound distinctly one of pleasure. For a moment, the wolf gazed into her eyes, its pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth in a canine grin, and then it pulled away from the bunk to stand in the middle of the floor.

And while she watched, the wolf began to change, taking on the shape of a man, and Hardane stood before her, fully clothed as before.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Not in the way you mean.”

“How long can you stay in another form?”

“It depends. If I’m under stress, or in pain, it’s very difficult to hold another shape for more than a few hours.”

“How do you do it?”

“I’m not sure I could explain it to you. I think it, and it just . . .” He shrugged. “It just happens.”

Kylene sat up, everything else forgotten in her fascination with the man before her. “Can you change into things that don’t exist, like a three-headed dragon?”

“No. I was often tempted to find out when I was young, but my mother advised against it, warning me that I might change into a shape and not be able to change back.” Hardane grinned. “I know now that she was teasing me.”

“You? Afraid? I don’t believe it.”

Hardane shrugged. It was true whether she believed it or not. There were old legends of shape shifters who had tried to use their gifts for nefarious means, who had sought to pervert their gifts for riches or power. All had come to a bad end, dying horrible deaths, or finding themselves forever trapped in the body of some hideous beast.

“Have you ever assumed the shape of a woman?”

“No.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t know. As I said before, it’s not a game. It’s a gift, one I’ve not used over-much.”

“The wolf is the easiest, isn’t it?”

“You’re very perceptive. The wolf is my tashada, the spirit of my maternal ancestors. It’s the only shape I can hold indefinitely, without conscious thought.” He dragged the back of his hand across his jaw. “I’d appreciate