Page 51 of Fire on the Moon

She came around and looked into his eyes. “I think you can’t push yourself much farther.”

“I think you’re right,” he answered wearily, considering their next move. Consulting the computer map, he saw that they were skirting the edge of a wildlife area. If they took one of the tributaries that appeared from time to time, they’d move into the nature preserve. Once away from civilization, they could pull up under vegetation overhanging the river.

Previously he’d thought about tying up at an unoccupied dock, but he knew he could still run into the homeowners. Now he liked the idea of getting away from civilization.

With that in mind, he took the next tributary he encountered. It was only about fifty yards wide and narrowed as they rode upriver. There were no houses here, and the vegetation on either side of the water looked a lot like untamed jungle. When he came to a spot where overhanging branches of a mangrove would partially hide the Lady Slipper, he cut the engine and sagged back into his seat.

Turning to Francesca, he asked, “Could you tie us up? She climbed out onto the front deck and threw the rope over a tree branch, pulling the end back to the Lady Slipper and knotting it. It wasn’t a very seamanlike job, but what did it matter?

She did the same with the rope in the stern, then came back to him, obviously evaluating his condition.

“I’ve got the groceries I picked up at the store. You need to eat. I’ll heat up chicken soup for you. And if that agrees with you, I bought a bunch of lunch meat.”

“Thanks.” Too bad he wasn’t in shape to go hunting.

Francesca brought him a mug of soup. It was the last thing he wanted to eat, but he dutifully swallowed most of it.

Probably he should lie down, but it was too much trouble to get up. He slumped down in the chair, and closed his eyes—just for a few minutes.

He wasn’t sure how much later he was awakened by a feeling that something was wrong. Struggling to clear his mind, he dragged in a breath, taking in the humid air of the river, trying to figure out what had triggered his unease. Did he hear something in the darkness? A stealthy movement?

Could someone have followed the Lady Slipper from the marina—or figured out where they’d gone? In the next moment he snapped to attention when he heard the sound of a heavy body hitting the back deck. It sounded like a large animal that had leaped from the tree where they were tied up.

Instantly on alert, but still shaky, he reached for the gun he remembered setting on the floor beside his chair.

The weapon wasn’t there. Francesca must have taken it for defense when she saw he was asleep.

Moving slowly, he swivelled the pilot’s chair around to face the open doorway at the back of the cabin. As he stared into the darkness, he saw a long, lean, light-colored shape glide across the deck. In a flicker of movement, a pair of glowing green eyes zeroed in on him.

From the eyes and the predatory way the beast moved, he knew it was a big cat. It must have come out of the natural area, started sniffing around the boat, and jumped down from a tree branch for a closer look.

He studied the creature. It was perhaps five feet long, excluding the tail, and something over a hundred pounds. As he watched, it took a cautious step toward the open door of the cabin. When it hissed, Zane wondered what he was going to do now—without a weapon.

But even if he’d had the gun, he didn’t want to shoot this animal whose territory he’d invaded. It looked like a Florida panther, and from his reading he know there were only about three hundred of them left in the wild.

Although his thinking processes were muzzy from sleep and his recent wound, he knew one thing. A man would be no match for the big cat’s teeth and claws. But a wolf could intimidate this animal.

With no other choice for self-defense, he glanced over his shoulder, satisfied that the animal’s arrival hadn’t awakened Francesca. Praying she’d stay in her cabin, he softly began the chant of transformation. At the same time, he pulled off his shirt, then his pants and finally his underwear, tossing the clothing onto the deck.

As he began to make the change from man to wolf, his bandage dropped to the varnished board, and the wound in his arm twanged. He came down on all fours, feeling the freedom of his hidden self.

The panther was standing stock-still on the deck, probably confounded by what it had just witnessed. But when the wolf took a slow step forward, the cat’s fur fluffed up, and its tail swished. Making a hissing sound, it backed up.

Zane’s bold posture was a bluff. He was in no shape to tangle with the cat’s sharp teeth and claws, but he hoped his aggressive behavior would be deterrent enough.

They faced each other across the deck, Zane slowly padding forward and the cat backing up.

Zane growled deep in his throat, warning the invader that this boat was his domain and he would defend it.

The cat was almost to the back of the deck. What now? When Zane took another step forward, the panther leaped. The wolf tensed, but instead of landing on him, it sprang into the tree, shaking the branches as it scrambled into the darkness.

Zane breathed out a sigh of relief. His total focus had been on the cat. Now that the danger was over, he heard a sound behind him. Hairs bristling on his back, he slowly turned to find Francesca standing inside the cabin, the gun in her hand, pointed at him.

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