Chapter One:

Not long after her mate died, Fierce’s mother left the pack with a human at her side. All the pack knew she went to live an easy life, and that she would lose everything that had made her a hound, even her own language, to take on words that humans spoke instead. Because Fierce looked so much like her mother, almost entirely black except on her chest and feet, she was forced at every moment to prove herself a true hound, and not like her mother at all.

The new lead female of the pack nipped at Fierce constantly, and when she was tired of it, the other females who wished her favor did it in her place. Fierce lowered her head, approached with her hindquarters first, and whined. She did not take food unless it had already been abandoned by others. She thought she had almost forced them to accept her.

And then her mother returned to the forest. In a human skin, and with a hound at her side that was not a hound. The hound looked like her mother, though, and tried to speak to Fierce. The lead female saw her, and watched Fierce every moment. Fierce could do nothing but turn her back and walk away. She could not even stop to stare at the human who was her mother, to see what had happened to her, and if she was well.

And when they were gone, the two of them, the lead female began her torments of Fierce anew. She chased Fierce away from the stream where the fish were plentiful. She refused her a place inside the cave where the pack slept. She made sure that the others did not call her Fierce, but called her Human instead.

Fierce was tempted to leave the pack herself, but that would only show that they were right, that she was like her mother. And where would she go? No other pack would accept her, if she had not been born to them. She could only go to live with humans, and that she was determined never to do. She would die alone in the forest first, fighting for her pack or fighting for herself, whatever was left to her.

But there came a human to the forest, a male who was dressed finely, and did not ride a horse for the hunt. He had a wide nose and cheeks that looked as though they had been burned red, and he was heavily set. He wore a sword at his side and at the sight of the first hound in the pack, he took it out and began to swing it about wildly. The pack scattered.

Except for Fierce.

She refused to show fear of a human.

He whirled his sword at her. Fierce did not think he meant to kill her, only to wound her. He had a rope wrapped around his chest and a muzzle at his side like the one Fierce had seen used on a wild fox as it was dragged from the forest. The fox had never been seen again, and Fierce could still hear its cries for death in her mind.

What humans did to animals was often worse than death. To become a human pet—or like her mother, to become human in skin—made Fierce shiver.

The human spoke to her in its own language, but Fierce could not tell what it was he said. She did not wish to know. The tone was placating, but the sword still unsheathed told her all she needed to know.

The human swung the sword again.

Fierce dived under it.

The human laughed, a sound that needed no translation into the language of hounds.

Fierce burned with anger and frustration. It did not matter to her if any of her pack saw her now. She wanted to beat this human at his own game for her own sense of pride.

The human stabbed at her.

She moved quickly, but not quickly enough. The sword grazed her side and she smelled the tang of her own blood.

If she died here and now, animals would come to eat her. Crows and ravens and other carrion eaters. Then the beetles and ants and insects would eat her remains. She would return to the forest, enriching the dirt with her blood. Her life would have purpose, even at its end.

But she was not ready for death yet.

The human was smiling, his cheeks plump and shiny with exertion and anticipation. He held the sword high, and with gleaming eyes, aimed for her again.

Fierce did not try to escape the sword this time. Instead she moved forward, throwing herself directly into the path of the sword.

The human’s eyes widened and he showed the first sign of fear, a slack mouth and trembling hands.

That was exactly what Fierce needed, so that when her teeth met the blade of the sword, there was just enough give in its hold that she could bite on it and pull it out of the human’s grasp.

He stared first at her, and then at his own hands. He whispered something to himself, a kind of sad song in the language of humans. There was a distinct smell of fear. Then he held up his hands and began to step away from her, all the while keeping his eyes on her.

Fierce did not drop the sword. The taste of the steel in her mouth was sweet, the reminder of her triumph. She snarled at the human around the sword and chased him at the speed he could maintain, through the forest, and back to the human divide, where the trees were cut and houses and fields began.

Then she let him go.

She carried the sword back to the cave. She only thought that she did not want to leave it in the forest for the human to come back and retrieve. It did not belong to him any longer, and it did not belong to any other animal in the forest. She did not want it herself, because it was human, but she did not want to give it up, either.

It was only when she saw the faces of her pack, even the lead female with her look of sudden surprise and admiration, that she saw how useful the sword could be to her. She had spent so much time trying to avoid all contact with humans that she had not realized how she could make herself seem as fierce as her name to do what came naturally with them: battle.

The pack did not embrace her. She was not allowed to mate with any of the males, nor did the females suddenly begin to sniff at her or offer to scratch her. But she found them moving out of her way when she came into the cave, giving her a better, warmer place. They did not nip at her or tease her. They did not call her Human any longer. And they allowed her to hunt and kill and eat her own prey.

Fierce did not love her mother more after this, but she thought of her less. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be loved by a pack, to have pups of her own, or a mate, but her life was a full one. Better than becoming a human by far.