the rest of their kill, which she naturally preferred that way. But on this occasion there was no such excuse. The day was hot and dry; Radu had flintstones; he could easily have cooked his food - but he ate it raw anyway. Perhaps it was simply a question of expedience.
And perhaps not...
And he slept ... and slept. Never such a long sleep in al his life. Never before, and never again. For this was the Sleep of Change. This was his leech's chance to complete the melding, and make itself one with him. Something of the fox's wiles went into him, but not a lot, for that poor creature had been out of its own environment; it had never been afforded the opportunity to display its skills. On the other hand, a great deal more of the great white she-wolf found its way into Radu; for the leech had liked her strength and ferocity, her sense of the wild, her sinuous shape and speed. Singer had been a child of the night, a hunter of lesser creatures, an eater of raw meat, who slaked her thirst on blood. Good!
But the man ... knew things! He had something that neither fox nor wolf of the wild could ever match: a creative mind with the power to override instinct, to say 'No!' or 'Later!' to the normaly irresistible hereditary urges and demands which alone command the actions of lesser creatures. And because he could guide and control his own actions, he could himself be guided and controled.
Thus, even as Radu had trained Singer, now his leech would train him. And with filament extensions of itself rooted in his brain, the vampire leech lay with Radu where he tossed and turned in his cave through the long Sunside day, ignoring al the nightmares which its presence inspired, while 'listening' with rapt intent to his dreams. And learning from them.
And determining how it would be ...
Radu woke in the evening twilight and was himself again ... so he thought. He stretched upon his heather bed, and there was a new suppleness in al his joints.
His throat no longer gave him pain, and there was no aching in his bones. Whatever smal symptoms of his solitary ways had been, they were no more. He knew a physical comfort - a sensation of real wel-being - such as he had never experienced before. He was 'a new man.' And he was more than a man. And less.
During his recovery, Radu had defecated in a secondary cave that branched off from the main one close to its entrance; the smel of his shit would keep creatures at bay. Strange for it was something he had never done before. Singer had done it from time to time, but she was a child of the wild. Rather, she had been a child of the wild. Then, remembering that Singer was no more, Radu grieved a little while he dressed.
His short trousers of stitched skins seemed baggy on him; obviously he'd lost weight, but he didn't feel too hungry, not for his usual fare, anyway. Radu's sandals seemed too short for his feet, and his jacket
failed to connect with his trousers or tie properly across his deep chest. And there were short, dark manes of hair on the backs of his hands, and trailing down his wrists. Astonished, he found twin pads of hair in the palms of his hands, too! Moreover his fingernails were longer, thicker, darker, and pointed at their tips like claws.
But. . . how long had he lain there? Why, he must have been delirious! These changes in him had surely taken longer than a single night. But they were natural changes, obviously: loss of weight, and some slight wrinkling and shrinkage of his clothes, and his hair and nails growing al unhindered by normal wear and tear. But a healing sleep, for sure. For there was such a zest in him that -
- Except here Radu's thoughts were arrested by an echoing, ululant, faint but concerted howling from the high plateaux and passes, as his grey brothers in the heights began to serenade a full and glorious moon where she tumbled through the darkening skies. But...
... His grey brothers?
Radu wasted no time puzzling over it, for now his zest had turned to something other than a human passion. Now he longed for the thrills of the wild: the hunt, the chase, and the kill. But again, his bloodlust was not for the