***
The interloper must have been a Hunter. Rus smelled the acrid tang of metal weaponry hanging off the man in long ropes, like a queen's jewelry. A well-equipped Hunter, apparently - always bad news. Rus let out a silent sigh through his mouth, the cloud of hot air that spewed out pocked by his fangs. To tell or not to tell, that was the question.
Sock would only panic, and the rest of the magi-formed would get their bloodlust up. That would be the end of that Hunter. Then the government would flock to the hint of blood like so many vultures descending on a rotting corpse. Rus shook his head, his head-fur tickling the shorter bristles on his shoulders. No - he would hunt the Hunter himself.
Rus walked along the claustrophobic corridor, the occasional leak in the roof splattering against him. Up here, on the highest level of the ruins left upright, the rain could easily seep through the holes in the ceiling; his feet-paws made puddles whisper as he stepped in them.
At the end of the corridor, Rus passed through a doorway - the wood long corroded away by time - and descended the four flights of stairs. He had to rush past places where there was no wall left. During these quick glimpses outward, Rus scanned the rock-studded landscape: gray-red sky, browned dead tundra, storm clouds in the distance. No sign of the Hunter. But he was there. His bloody scent intensified with each step Rus took.
The whole operation of silence was in most danger the minute Rus set foot in the central chamber. Lit only by the stagnant light that dripped through more wounds in the roof and walls, the stone hall was the crossroads of magi-formed life in the ruins. At any minute, one of the magi-formeds - Sock, or Scales, or Persee, or some other active member of their tribe - might appear. And some of the ones that had been transformed into carnivores would smell him. Even now, Rus could sense his own fear-scent. This would have to be quick and silent.
Rus peeked about, made certain it was silent, checked for smells. Everything was stale. His wolf-sense told him that it was safe. For extra security, he dropped to all fours; the pads on his fingers and the balls of his feet would make him quiet, and the extra power would make him fast. He raced from the staircase cubby to the half-open ruin door.
Safe! Rus thought, sliding to a stop and then lunging through the doorway. A gentle sprinkle of rain accosted him at once. He stood, the bones in his back crackling as they re-accustomed themselves to a human position. Rus winced. Every time he ran wolf-like, it got harder to revert to a sapient posture.
Behind the soothing lullaby of the rain, silence hung like a muffler. Rus executed a slow three-eighty twirl, even checking the front walls of the ruins - the Hunter could be anywhere, after all. But his canine sight didn't detect anything.
Rus's muscles tensed of their own volition. The blood-metal scent snaked past the rain-scent, oozing into his nostrils and stinging at his nerves. He shuddered. That Hunter would appear at any moment. He was out there - somewhere. Rus wasn't about to let him attack his makeshift family.
Pain lanced through his arm and side.
The Hunter leapt away from the ruin's second story, from behind the small jutting segment of wall. He hit the ground with a hiss; the landing barely upset the pebbles on the ground. A gun was already in his hand as he straightened.
Rus roared again as blood trickled from the hole in his arm. He lashed out with the other, catching the Hunter's hand with his five long claws. The gun flew away, firing as it went. The Hunter, barely fazed, reached into one of his bodysuit's compartments.
Rus didn't let him pull anything out. One bound, and he had the Hunter pinned to the ground, wolf-style.
The Hunter didn't flinch. He yanked his hand from the bodysuit compartment. A knife flashed in his grasp; he stabbed at Rus's throat. Rus opened his jaws and clamped down on the Hunter's hand. Blood erupted in his mouth. The blade shot down, scraping harmlessly against Rus's torso scales.
Eyes bulging, the Hunter nevertheless didn't try to pull his hand away. That would only tear skin and tendons more. When he shoved the other shaking hand into a compartment, Rus tightened his jaw. Bone crunched audibly.
The Hunter squeaked.
Suppressing an urge to smirk wolfishly - the squeak had not been a manly noise - Rus released the ruined hand, letting it drop to the Hunter's chest. He placed a paw on the man's torso and bent his head nearer; hybrid neck bones creaked as they stretched to accommodate the movement. "You chose the wrong magi-formed to hunt," he growled.
Despite his position, the Hunter spat in Rus's face; his voice was steady. "My daughter will come to find me. Then she'll kill you."
Rus laughed - half human laugh, half lionish rumble. "Only if you want to release my hellspawn servants on your sheltered little world." He slid his paw to the Hunter's neck. "Take off your tracker."
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Tracker."
"How your daughter will find you." Rus narrowed his eyes. "I've killed Hunters before. I know how you work."
The man hesitated, unmoving. Rus listened to the drip-drip-drip of blood in the spreading puddle under the Hunter's hand. Finally, he nodded, reached down with his unmarred fingers, and wrenched a metal, button-sized cube from his belt. Rus snatched it in his jaws and crunched down. For a moment, energy zapped his tongue. Then he spat the remains of the little tracker onto the ground.
He moved cautiously off the Hunter's chest. "Stand," he said. "If you try something, I'll kill you. I only consider prisoners once."
Rus stood as the Hunter did. The Hunter did with considerably more grace. It hurt, but Rus kept his face blank.
"Into the ruins," he growled, twisting his neck to realign the tendons. "Unless you'd rather be beast food."
The Hunter, without a word, walked to the ruins, blood seeping from tears in his bodysuit. Rus stayed close behind him, but paused for a few moments to scan the skies. Cloud cover had increased, but it didn't hide the faint hovering sphere just above the ruins. The Hunter's ship hovered in wait. He hadn't lied. Rus would soon have another visitor.
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