Yeah, Dugger thought, dog-monkey mutant.

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A bit of promo first. On the 2nd, I'll be participating in the February FIRST KISS flash scenes featured at KMN BOOKS ~ or Karen Nutt's blog ~kmnbooks.blogspot.com~. It's a month long 'kissing' event!  

Okay... looks like Dugger's story continues from last week. He's on a mission for Dante, and watching out for Ewan. 'Cause, after all, a threat is a threat, no matter the low-level players. Fate can always throw in the 'monkey or ape' wrench.

This week, Dugger has some fun and dingo games with the amateur monster hunters.
~~~~~~

Yeah, Dugger thought, dog-monkey mutant.

The motley crew belonging to the 'let's exterminate all werewolves' club -- a couple with cigs still in their hands -- charged toward Dugger from across the parking lot. Crickey!

Contacting Hoover would have to be put on the backburner. Behind him Mr. Blonde Sluggo made grunting moans of pain. "Kill him!" he squealed in an unmanly shout. "Or get the fucker dog-monkey mutant for Mr. C."

'Yeah,' Dugger thought, 'dog-monkey mutant. Have to remember that one for me bar mates.' Spinning around on top of the auto's slick roof, he balanced, then sprang.

Dugger sent the full force of his dingo body between the bloke's Hulk like shoulder blades. A bloody bull's eye.

"Argh-shit!" Slugger choked out as he toppled forward and crashed face first onto the cold hard asphalt. Dugger rode him all the way down.

'Yippie-kai-yay,' as they say in these parts. Dugger grinned from dingo ear to dingo ear.

Suddenly sensing the presence of Moon-Moon's camera surveillance -- set up to catch St. Nick at work -- Dugger figured he'd give a right good show for the local Taltube afficionados. Yeah, the 'hunt a werewolf' posse wasn't slashing at him quite yet.

Given their running footsteps, the yells of concern, the drongos were dodging between autos, and still a few minutes away. Righto, piss for hire! Those ales he'd shared with Dante were about to be served up again.

Half-unconscious, Sluggo-brain writhed like a hooked fish out of water. Dugger hopped off his back. Raising his back leg high, he let the yellow river flow. Flow fast, given his nose told him the 'pizza out the pores' pack was about to make a right serious grab for his tail.

'Marinatin' you in the finest ale at the Pleasure Club.' Dugger smirked, then dashed for the nearest set of legs.

'Dingo sport for piss and grins. Keep the cameras rolling, mate.' As if he hunted a hare, Dugger snatched hold of the raggedy bottom of the ape's jeans. Barely breaking stride, he jerked, then let momentum take its course. Crash-boom-bang, the bugger slammed against the side of the van.

Sighting the flash of a silver blade, and another pair of jogging legs, Dugger shot beneath a monster, chromed-out pickup. Scooting fast, he clamped his jaws on the grimy, fake rubber of the ape's tennie, and gave a sharp tug.

A scream followed before the thwack-thump-bang of a human body against unforgiving metal. "Fuck! Over here," his hapless victim shouted.

"What the hell are you kids doing?" a guttural, parental voice demanded. A wolf shifter voice. Deciding it was Hoover, the super-nose bloke, Dugger froze, listening.

"Someone better start explaining or I'm calling the police," Hoover boomed. "I guarantee you Officer Friendly won't be too friendly."

"There's a rabid dog attacking us," one of the blighters called out.

"Yeah, yeah rabid... he's foaming at the mouth, and all. We were trying to save..."

"Stuff it," Hoover growled. "Where is this rabid dog?"

Moments ticked by as if an Agatha Christie murder scene unfolded. "I got the cell phone," Hoover threatened, "and I'm about to punch in 9-1-1."

"Over here," the hapless victim meekly spoke up. "Think he's hiding under the truck."

Figuring his fun and dingo games were over, Dugger peeked out to make certain a knife blade wasn't waiting for his tan, furry hide. Seeing a clear field and not scenting any immediate danger, he popped out from beneath the pickup.

Dugger gave himself a proper shake, then trotted toward Hoover. He added an 'I got you blokes' spring to his step.

"Watch out!" one of the wet-behind-the-ears werewolf hunters shouted. "Looks like he's gonna attack you."

Tame as a right castrated poodle, Dugger approached and sat. He gave Hoover a big cheeky grin.

After a wink, Hoover scowled formidably at the 'we're gonna save the world from monsters' gang.  "I sure don't see any foam. He ain't attacking me." Hoover paused for dramatic affect, one brow reaching for the night sky. Beneath the harsh neon lights, his large mug looked like a cranky Tazzie Devil in human form.

"What did you slime buckets do to this dog? Tell you what. You got five minutes to clean up your act, and get out of my sight. Any more problems, and I'll have the cherry tops rolling in here."

"Why don't you try patting his head, see if your hand is still attached," the slurred voice of Hulk-Sluggo interrupted.

"Need an ambulance, man?" one of the gang asked.

"Save you the trouble. I'll call an ambulance if it'll get you troublemakers outta here," Hoover snarled. "Come here, doggie," he gently called, then bent toward Dugger.

Sweet as American apple pie, and all that, Dugger padded close to Hoover. When the big wolf patted his head, Dugger smiled like he'd found his last best buddy.

"You'll be sorry," Mary Jane-smoker began.

"Good onya," Hoover whispered before straightening. "No, it's you who's gonna be sorrier than a skunk-sprayed idjit. When the local humane society gets a hold of this story... and they will. We got cameras for the protection of our patrons...got the message?"

"We got the message. Let's get outta here," Hulk-Sluggo rallied his troops.

"Trouble in River City?" Hoover asked, once their steps faded away.

~~~~~~
 

 
Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Yeah, righto, did he shift to human?

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh, my current schedule doesn't work well for posting. But here it is, finally written. Dugger is on mission for Dante, and watching out for Ewan. 'Cause, after all, a threat is a threat, no matter the low-level players. Fate can always throw in the 'monkey or ape' wrench.

~~~~~~

Yeah, righto, did he shift to human?

The rank smell of stale, over-fried food assaulted Dugger's nostrils. Bugger! Humans doin' the horizontal dance filled his nose, too. Yeah, just as he'd figured by the short ride, they now rolled through the parking lot at the Rocky Top Motel.

Dugger mind-sent the info to his sheila, Symone. 'Hoover,' she telepathed the reminder, 'Dante's watcher at the motel.'

'Yeah, got it, luv. Time for action jackson. We're stoppin' and the scumbags are about to get restless on Ewan's ass.'

His sheila, being the trained warrioress she was, didn't answer. She simply kept the dial tuned to their connection.

Dugger did his own tuning in, his ears high on his dingo head. Sensing Ewan's decision to go coyote on the motley crew, and his dick-on-a-stick attraction to brainy gal, Dugger merely watched and listened as the wannabe monster hunters hustled their captured 'werewolf' out of the van.

With the slam of the van's back door, Dugger focused his senses on the direction of their footsteps. Yeah, righto, did he shift to human? By the odor, there were clothes in the duffel bags he could hijack.

Or was it bloody smarter to stay dingo, and hunt down the big-muck blighter who was running this piss-for-grins show. Scat logic, and body language, told Dugger these drongo males were followers, not leaders.

Yeah, he'd seen this sort of catch-the-werewolf scene too many times before. Bugger, though, that didn't eliminate the potential threat to Talbot's Peak.

Instinct slid like a right knife through Dugger's belly. 'Wait. Stay a turtle,' he told himself.  Someone eyed the van. Yeah, a safari hunter type, a trophy killer by nature. The vibes sizzled Dugger to his toe pads.

No use exposin' himself to the enemy. Dugger counted down the minutes automatically until he heard, "Mr. C., the target is secured. Givin' us trouble, though. He's got a big 'f' mouth. Needs shutting, until he's willing to talk to us."

An auto door opened, then slammed shut. A heavier tread made tracks in the same direction Ewan had been un-properly escorted. So, the bad boss man was this Mr. C.

Dugger trained his ears and his nose, inhaling the trophy killer's rancid garlic stench. What? Did the buzzard-brain really believe in that made-for-human's myth about vamps?

Grinning wide, Dugger dropped his blade, then snapped it back up between his teeth. Time to blow this van of clueless apes. Apes, monkeys, yeah, the common lingo in Dante's biker bar. 'Course, DNA-wise, that had proven to be mostly false propaganda by the global Big Bads – given the real genetic profiles were wider apart than the Nile river. Behavior-wise, now that was another ball of snakes.

Dugger squirmed his way out the duffel bag pile. Figurin' dingo was safer, even with  a blade in his jaws, he hopped into the driver's seat. A deft pull of his untrimmed nails unlocked the door. Using his paw like an abbreviated hand, Dugger cracked it open, then slipped outside.

With his hind leg, Dugger kicked the door shut, then crawled beneath the van. He scanned for several moments before darting across the parking lot toward a sparse evergreen bush beneath the window where Ewan was likely being grilled. Yeah, maybe like a shrimp on the barbie.

Dugger grinned at himself.

'Now for a mental photo of –' Headlights, the shouts of teenagers over-medicated on beer interrupted Dugger as he raised upward to peer between the crack in the heavy curtains. He slouched behind the cube-shaped evergreen right quick as a bushbaby.

Dugger heard the curtains pulled together sharply. Crickey! There went his shot at an easy look at this cast of un-super villains.

By the walkabout gods, though, he had their individual scents. And from what Dugger was scenting now, Ewan didn't need his helping paw. Not yet.

Yeah, speaking of the un-super, one of the motley crew was creeping up on him. Dugger figured the great monster hunter had seen neon lights flash off his large blade.

With a grin, Dugger burst out of hiding. He charged straight toward the hulking linebacker type. Before the bloke could help it, he briefly shrieked like a little girl.

"Hey!" the shout followed. "The monster's got an effing buddy." To his credit, the un-green hulk whipped out a silver blade, and stood his ground.

Dugger liked that bloody better. He increased his speed with each stride.

Leaping as the blade slashed at him, Dugger clawed his way up the blighter's tree-trunk leg, then up his broad chest fast as a mad cat. Holy dooley!. Oh yeah, his light body weight, and his quick reflexes always served him right.

Before the silver blade could catch his hide, ripping away chunks of fur -- and the hulk was certainly trying to slash him a good one -- Dugger climbed up his beefy face. He sank his claws in deep.

Once on top of Sluggo's head, Dugger sprang landing on the roof of a nearby car. From there his escape was a piece of cake, as his sheila was fond of saying -- yeah, when she aimed her rifle, and took out a practice target no one else could touch.

The question of the day: should he make contact with Hoover? Let the wolf know what was happening under his superior sniffer...

~~~~~~

 
Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

"Should I accept this mission," Dugger lampooned...

Full Wolf Moon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Dugger, my dingo shapeshifter, makes another appearance in this flash scene. After all, Dante, the alpha werewolf, would never have lax security at his biker bar.
~~~~~~

"Should I accept this mission," Dugger lampooned...

With a flick of his wrist, Dante sent the tankard of dark ale sliding toward Dugger. "Thanks, mate." Dugger flashed a ready grin while neatly retrieving the tall mug, then lifting it to his lips for a long taste.

"You ain't gonna tell this Ewan Carter, are ya?" Dugger leaned an elbow on the bar's shiny surface -- almost like a bloody mirror. "Just let him dangle like bait, is that the plan?"

A grin glinted in Dante's gaze before it hit his mouth. The alpha werewolf made himself more comfortable against the pub's dark-wood bar. "By my reckoning, Ewan's better off not knowing. Besides, I'm counting on his coyote wiles to keep him out of any real trouble."

"Should I accept this mission," Dugger lampooned the infamous "Mission Impossible" saying. He took another swig of the rippin' good ale, before continuing. "You want me to gather the intel, then report back."

Dante gave a short nod after tossing back a swallow of his ale. "If there's any real danger, give Ewan a helping paw."

"Yeah, mate, I could use the exercise. Gotta keep in top bloomin' shape -- the dingo and the man -- for the rigors ahead. Enemies to the right of us... enemies to the left of us."

"Enemies above us. And below us," Dante growly continued.  Raising a hand, he stopped the approach of a server. "Looks like these none-too-smart interlopers are an annoyance, like fleas bitin' in midsummer."

"Bugger fleas. Always keep the pennyroyal in my pocket." Dugger enjoyed making Dante crack a smile. "Want the herbal recipe, mate?" 

"I hear Gypsy has her own recipes for the flea bitten among us." Dante's gaze turned dangerously serious. He set his tankard on the bar with a back-to-business clank.

Dugger followed suit. "Yeah. Gotta keep our territory tidied up. Never know when it could get downright messy." 

"The bigger shark eats the smaller shark, and we got more trouble than I want," Dante growled. "From last report, the van should be arriving tonight at my biker bar. Everyone working is onboard with keeping the patrons inside... except Ewan."

"Righto. I'll be lurking in the shadows, watchin', waitin'. Hitch myself a little joy ride."

"You got mental contact with your mate, Symone?" Dante stated what they both knew.

"Yeah, I'll send her the images, the intel. Had to talk her out of followin' with that special rifle of hers. Long as she has instant access to you, mate, we're right as rain."

"We're right as rain, pardner." Dante reached out gripping Dugger's shoulder for moments. "Like we discussed, I'll be hanging with the posse, in case you and Ewan need a rescue team."

"Appreciate the backup, mate."

****

As dingo, Dugger peeked around the corner of the biker bar, sniffing the wind. The low-level ratbags he'd been waiting for saturated the air with cheap booze and cheaper pizza. His nose wrinkled of its own accord. Yeah, crikey, the wind-driven odors were stronger than werewolf piss, and their van's exhaust.

On alert, Dugger crouched into a ready-to-spring position. He was counting on the young whackers being amateur kidnappers with all the speed and senses of a beer-drunk slug. That was the intel Dante had telepathed to him minutes earlier.

Yeah, there. Lights off, the van crept toward the bar's entrance, but halted like a giant cockroach afraid of the minimal light splashing over the long lineup of Harleys. Hearing Ewan step outside, Dugger snatched his Crocodile Dundee blade between his teeth.

Staying low, he stealthily moved around the corner. With his gaze trained on the action, Dugger watched the scumbags throw the canvas bag over Ewan's head. At that instant, he raced for the back of the van.

Missing a tangle of legs as the crew wrestled Ewan toward the van, Dugger leapt inside. Righto, barely above age ankle biters! The collection of duffel bags shoved against one side offered the perfect cover.

Dugger sprang over them, quickly burying himself behind the highest part of the pile. While Ewan did his token resistance thing, Dugger twisted into the best position to watch his hapless prey. Staring through the small space between the duffel bags, he scoped out the layout, then focused on his own facial, scent, and voice recognition via good ole brain power.

Yeah, likely college kids on a "Supernatural" slayer-type mission. But who was the bloody blighter conning them?

Dugger listened to Ewan charm up the sheila, one ear pricked for clues that could tell him the identity of the bad bloke or blokes behind scenes. Could be a scumbaggery mad-scientist type involved, no tellin'. Those lunatic buggers were always breaking-bad news. He'd hike leg on them and give a good long piss any day.

Werewolf? So, the minions didn't own a fancy clue who or what they'd bagged. Dugger tightened his jaws on the blade handle. No use lettin' anyone get the proper drop on him.

~~~~~~

 
Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Alliance, Shere Khan's Offerings

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

It's the middle of May... can you believe it?

So, this flash scene stars that omnipresent villain, Shere Khan, leader of the Tiger Yakuza in Talbot's Peak.

Dugger, the dingo man, also stars in the lead role as the hero. With a common, take-no-prisoners enemy threatening The Peak, will a temporary alliance be formed?

~~~~~~

Alliance, Shere Khan's Offerings

As tiger, Shere Khan muscled his way through the night forest. Uncaring about who or what heard his approach, he thundered a roar without a pause in his stride. Shere Khan listened with satisfaction as the sound echoed around him.

Because of their agreed-upon mind connection, for now, he knew Dugger, the dingo shapeshifter, had been alerted. The negotiation for their tête-à-têt had been quite the mental challenge, and by the end, Shere Khan had gained a new respect for the crafty down-under canine.

Several of Shere Khan's top ninjas followed in his wake, soaring above the treetops. The inept fools who had allowed Ravi's future bride to escape had been placed in disgrace -- shipped back to Shere Khan's cousin, a minor player in the Yakuza empire.

Shere Khan curled his lips and loosed a snarl that struck terror in the hearts of his many enemies. While the use of magick assisted him in the subtle dance of gaining and keeping power, his raw strength suited his purpose and his mood now.

Ignoring the scurrying panic of rodent species and ground-nesting poultry, Shere Khan smashed through a thick web of entangled limbs. He had yet to choose a particularly severe punishment for the girl's father. His false tongue about his daughter's willingness to be a debt payment, was not to be tolerated.

Yet, on the grand chessboard of life, Nilambari's escape offered Shere Khan a bargaining chip. Of late, he had spent many a restless night pondering on the current times -- this ferocious and pivotal Dragon Year of 2012.

Changes in the balance of power were on the near horizon, a balance that no longer favored the Tiger Yakuza. Further, one vital truth had emerged during his deep investigation of the Global League.

Their plan for world dominion would mean the extermination of not only the Yakuza as a fearsome competitor, but of his tiger shapeshifter kind.

Shere Khan uttered a long rumbling growl against such an unacceptable fate.

****

Already shifted to his man form, Dugger lounged against the barrel-sized tree trunk. He listened to the smash-crash arrival of Shere Khan as he cleaned beneath his nails with his large throwing blade. Mother Moon shone like a spotlight overhead.

'Yeah, see 'em before my mind's eye. Several black pajamas,' he telepathed back to Symone, his beautiful, dimension-hopping sheila.

So far, it'd been painful as a roo's kick to the gut gaining her trust. But he was finally winning her over.

Earlier, he'd nearly jumped for bloody joy when she agreed to be his lookout, watching out for his ass during his summit meeting with the Yakuza leader. Given the Global League's invasion of their territory, he, Dante, and White Fang had agreed it was the best course of action for the sake of Talbot's Peak.

Even now, Dante, as werewolf, was positioned to his right, hidden by the deep shadow of a rock outcropping, a good two stories in height. On his left, White Fang observed from atop a high waterfall, ready to swoop down -- be the superhero to the rescue.

Dugger had discovered right quick that Symone's sharpshooter skills were as bang-on deadly at night as in the daylight. As she'd explained, some of what was labeled junk DNA by the looney scientists on this side of the dimensional curtain had been activated in her. Both by her desperate need to survive impossible circumstances, and later by specialized lab technicians.

Lifting his gaze, Dugger watched Shere Khan halt at the edge of the large clearing. Without a glance his way, and within moments -- hell, like a damn magical spell out of a storybook -- the Yakuza morphed from white tiger to his human form.

Yeah, just as he'd figured, the old gods ran in the tiger shifter's veins from the looks of him. Confirmed, when one of his ninjas floated a silk-thread, ornate robe around his shoulders, as if from on high.

Dugger sheathed his blade with a flip of his wrist, then straightened away from the tree trunk. "Spit and polish duds for out here in the woods, don't you think? But, I guess you are king of the crime mountain."

Shere Khan offered him a wan smile once they faced each other in the center of the clearing. His eyes, however, sparked with fire-devouring intelligence, the type Dugger respected as downright, run-for-a-cave dangerous. If he was in a runnin' mood. He wasn't.

"King of the crime mountain," Shere Khan formally intoned. "A title I find quite acceptable. My apologies, dingo, my wit does not extend to such cleverness with titles. May I address you as Dugger as you originally introduced yourself? Or perhaps, you wish to be addressed by what would be called your last name, here in the states."

"Dugger'll do. What's on your mind precisely? Thought we'd agreed on a meeting of the minds during the dark of the moon."

"So it was planned, yes. However, I suddenly find within my grasp an offering of good faith. Two offerings, perhaps."

"Is this about the brave young woman who escaped your clutches -- as they used to say in the dime pulp novels I read?"

"I know you will dismiss my words, dingo. I will state them for the record, as the politicians say in that useless body known as the congress."

"Yeah?" Dugger raised a brow. Since his hackles weren't giving him fits yet, Dugger didn't snake a hand toward his blade. "What is it?"

Shere Khan drew in a yoga-like breath, and his features became serene, reminding Dugger of a decorative pond on a fancy estate. "I was under the impression the young woman wished to come to me as a bride for my son. Her father deceived me. Or should I say his words deceived the one I sent as representative to settle a rather large debt."

For the bloody life of him, Dugger couldn't smell, hear or see a lie. Maybe, he hadn't daggered beneath the tiger's enigmatic gaze, though. "Listening," he growled.

"I will cease any effort to recover Nilambari to demonstrate my interest in our mutual alliance against the Global League."

"You said 'two offerings." Dugger's inner dingo ears pricked at the near-silent movements of Shere Khan's ninjas. At the same time, he heard Symone power up her science-fiction rifle, preparing to shoot. "You better warn your black pajama boys to stay still as a tick havin' a right good blood feast."

"Ah, yes, your sharpshooter partner. I am in awe of her efficient ability to eliminate our common enemy." Shere Khan unfolded his arms, and slightly waved his right hand. "For the sake of time and trust, and before one of my ninjas becomes too zealous in their duty to protect me, my second offering--"

Shere Khan's next words were lost amid the sudden bedlam of an attack. Super soldiers by Dugger's nose. Dante's blood-chilling growl shook the air, and Dugger heard his short running charge, his leap, then the crunch of his fangs. The ripping began.

In a tornadic spin, White Fang arrived. He fought side-by-side with the ninjas, battling twenty -- by Dugger's count -- of the bio-machine enhanced Global League squad.

He and Shere Khan had spun and stood back to back, their weapons raised. Like stuffed dummies, soldiers began falling around them, all courtesy of Symone, his sheila sharpshooter.

"That's my girl," Dugger whispered. "Won't even let me use my big bad blade."

'Not yet anyway,' he added to himself, thinking of his 'big bad blade' down under.

"You were saying?" Dugger spoke over his shoulder, once the few remaining soldiers were being mopped up.

"If your sharpshooter wishes to return to her time, to her earthly dimension, I am in possession of a proto vortex unit."

Dugger didn't question, for now, how Shere Khan knew. Bloody hell, his every particle screamed against telling Symone. But tell her he would.

He would also use every dingo trick in the book, and on Earth, to make her stay with him.
~~~~~~

Have a shapeshifter kind of day!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

The Dingo Man and His Time-Sliding Sharpshooter

Pic from ~ mthart.com.au
~~~

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Dugger, my Dingo Shapeshifter makes a return appearance in this Flash Scene. Since his last appearance was without a heroine, in this scene Dugger finds the woman who wags his inner tail like no other.

Warning, though: Violence ensues.
~~~~~~

The Dingo Man and His Time-Sliding Sharpshooter

Reeling with dizziness, Symone pushed to her feet, her training as a warrior instinctive. What appeared to be a tall-tree forest whirled crazily before her blinking gaze.

Familiar smells hit her nostrils. Only a year ago, she and her posse had routed out the last of the Global League infestation in the Montana Territory. Thus, ending the occupation of North America.

But, what the frant? Why was she here? She resided in the Arizona Republic.

Symone swung her Long Gun from her shoulder as she'd done thousands of times, automatically positioning her trusty weapon in one smooth motion.

True, she still couldn't sight worth a good damn. Her eyes refused to focus.

Bang! Symone realized why. It hit her the same way she routinely blasted her targets, in the absolute center.

That straight-from-hell idiot had shoved her into the time-sliding device as a practical joke. Then Mr. Nerd had stumbled against the panel array activating a vortex.

Frant it! Who knew where she'd ended up, exactly. And, on what Earth? How was she...?

Hearing the telltale snap of twigs, Symone whipped around, and took aim. Even though her head spun nastily, her vision cleared enough to see three helmeted heads above the brushy tangle of foliage.

Enemy scouts not fifty feet away! They moved at a stealthy pace parallel to her position. Without thought, Symone took her shots.

One, two, three. Dead center. Her target had been the penny-sized bare patch of flesh left exposed beneath their ears.

Symone glimpsed them drop from sight, then whirled behind the nearest tree trunk. A young oak, it barely concealed her. Hearing their lifeless bodies thud against the ground, she raised her Long Gun, and prepared to fire again.

Likely, the rest of the squad were nearby. Adrenaline flowed through Symone like a storm-fed river as she waited.

Her ability to cast a sixth-sense net deployed. Yet, Symone observed none of the other mercenary soldiers before her mind's eye.

Instead, she wheeled around at the sound of a man's casually approaching footsteps, as if he hiked a trail. How her psi net had missed him...but he wore no helmet.

"What the frant?" she murmured, staring at his down-under gear, his Crocodile Dundee hat.

With his large blade sheathed, and no other weapon she could detect, Symone lowered her Long Gun, but slowly -- once he halted, some twenty yards from her.

"You saved me the trouble, Sheila."

"Aussie," she tossed toward him. "What are you doing in the northern hemisphere?"

****

Dugger didn't recognize the design of any garment the gorgeous human woman wore -- from her leg-hugging, charcoal-colored boots... her leggings made out of a fabric that resembled chestnut suede... and the dark green corset-style jacket. But he bloody well appreciated the tight way the thin materials trapped her figure.

Nor did Dugger recognize the rifle like weapon she held on him like a right expert for several long moments -- which irritated the spit and piss out of him.

'Right expert', he mocked himself. Holy dooley, hadn't she just dropped three of his prey with only three shots. And her weapon had been near as silent as he'd ever heard. There'd been only a soft whine with each bullet fired.

Dugger continued roving his gaze over her, and his inner dingo yipped with excitement, then panted fast. On the edge of voluptuous, her athletic shape grabbed both of his balls and squeezed like a nutcracker.

"Yeah, Aussie. Name's Dugger. I'm spending time with a good mate...and huntin' down the bad blokes." He gave her a large toothy grin but didn't move. "What's your name, Sheila?"

"You're not one them, are you?" She jerked her head toward the three corpses, then eyed him with a gaze that knew how to interrogate his soul.

"Like I said. You saved me the trouble. Yeah, put an end to five more of their miserable hides not half an hour ago."

Dugger watched her eyes flicker. He couldn't quite tell the color. Only that they were pale in contrast to the dark rich auburn of her hair -- pulled back in a severe chignon.

"Do they disappear here?" she asked.

Thrown off by her dispirited tone, Dugger hesitated, scrutinizing her face. "Can't tell if the implanted microchip fries them to ash or signals one of the cloaked, black ops aircraft, and they get beamed up. Something science fiction like that anyway."

Her shoulders drooped as if her world had ended, and she leaned against the tree trunk. Dugger noticed, though, that she held her strange rifle, ready to lift and fire at the slightest provocation.

"Symone," she uttered moments later, not directly looking at him. "My name. Where am I?"

Dugger wasn't fooled. He knew she carefully watched him from her peripheral vision.

"Symone, lovely name. This is Montana. We're near a town called Talbot's Peak. That help?"

"No."

Her voice was so fragile, Dugger leaned forward and cocked a dingo ear, but made bloody certain he kept his feet rooted. She could nail him before he took one righteous step.

"How can I help, Symone? Know my way around here a bit. My good mate, Dante, has a place you where you can put a leg up, have a proper drink and a rest."

After a resigned sigh, she turned her gaze on him, and he witnessed her wary apprehensiveness. "Stratospheric sharpshooter. Do you have those here?"

"Stratospheric sharpshooter." As it clicked in his brain, Dugger asked, "Is that what you are?"

She gave a slight nod, and Dugger had cause to wonder if tears filled her eyes. They appeared more shiny.

"Sharpshooter I get. The way you...what's stratospheric mean?"

"Means I'm able to target the enemy from copters or solar platform vehicles. And make the kill shot."

Her dull low voice came to him on the rising afternoon breezes.

"Well then, I don't intend on ever being your enemy." With his curiosity fierce as the outback sun in Summer, Dugger asked, "Where are you from, Symone?"

"You probably won't believe this... I'm from another Earth. By accident," she added, her tone so depressed Dugger's heart reached for her.

"Another Earth?" was all he could manage to bloody well say.

"In a parallel dimension." She moved restlessly, but didn't leave the tree. "Ever hear of a time-sliding machine?"

Dugger knew he blinked like a bat suddenly caught in the glare of an auto's head lamps. "Time-sliding?"

"I'm not supposed to be here. It was a practical joke gone bad. Really bad."

"Right then. It's time to trust someone, isn't it?"

Her gaze cut toward him, and Dugger felt it like a thrown blade. No woman had ever managed that one with him. Maybe they bred them different on her Earth.

"Since your enemy is my enemy," he drawled in an easy tone, "we have that in common." When she didn't raise her rifle, Dugger took a few steps toward his beautiful sheila. "Come on, let's get out of here. No use making ourselves targets."

As if he'd finally said something she could accept, Symone eased her posture. Straightening from the tree trunk, she lowered the odd rifle to her side. "There's a safe place?" she asked, a bit of hope in her voice. "A really safe place?"

"Yeah. Me and some friends have been picking those drongos off like ripe fruit hanging on a tree every time they enter our territory." Dugger kept walking toward her.

"I don't think I have choice, do I?" She moved to meet him with slow uncertain steps. "Stranger on a strange Earth," she wistfully added.

Gray, pale gray... the mist at dawn, that was the color of her eyes. "You can tell me all about yourself, Symone. About your Earth. And I'll return the favor. Tell you about this Earth."

She moved beside him, and Dugger figured it was best if he simply led the way. "We're not far from my vehicle."

"On my Earth the war is over with the Global League. We won in the northern hemisphere." Her soft haunted voice penetrated Dugger in a way he hadn't experienced before.

"Here. The shooting war has just begun. What about the southern hemisphere on your Earth?"

She didn't answer for a long while. "They lost. We were working with the Resistance, building them up."

Dugger didn't like what he heard. But he decided fast as viper's strike that forewarned was forearmed. "You're like an angel, Symone. A gorgeous guardian angel."

She said nothing. Dugger knew in that moment, he would prove it to her. She was his angel.
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Shapeshifter Month of May!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
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The Enemy Almost Within

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A HUGE HOWL OF THANKS! To everyone who stopped by during the Earth Day Blog Hop.
~~~

Warning: This flash scene contains a dose of gratuitous violence. My dark side took over. But don't worry, the hero from down under still wins. And, oh yes, apologies to any Aussies for the admittedly clumsy use of your slang words.
~~~~~~

The Enemy Almost Within

Covered by the darkness of night, Shere Khan twitched his tiger nose, and stared through the thick tangle of forest brush. The noxious odors of the Global League's soldiers filled him with a mighty rage.

However, the wisdom of his long life kept him still, and observing. His ninja scouts had not been mistaken.

Shere Khan had not wanted to accept their dutiful report. He'd traveled a great distance through the deepest forest and partway up the mountainside to discover the truth for himself.

A silent growl vibrated his throat and his tail tip slashed the air. For a century now, the Tiger Yakuza held in their possession, a negotiated contract with the European cabal. Now the vile Machiavelian pirates violated his territory.

Shere Khan burned hot as white fire, his muscles tensing, ready to crash through the stand of brush. Only knowing now was not the time to make his move stopped him. Even so, his claws flexed as he envisioned shredding all twenty of the foul, soul-perverted humans who dared soil his territory.

'Summit,' he growled inside his mind.

Shere Khan despised the idea, yet he well knew a summit meeting with the werewolf, Dante, would be necessary to protect Talbot's Peak and the surrounding territory. A unified and superior force would be required. Ah, yes, a temporary alliance, assuming the powerful alpha could persuaded.

Dante's strong alliance with the superwolf, White Fang, and his lover, the cat goddess, Z'Pasha, would prove to be a major obstacle. Continuing to stalk the elite soldiers' movements with his gaze, his further thoughts were rudely interrupted by the pungent scent of canine.

***

'Terrible threat, eh mate?'

Dugger slid his words inside Shere Khan's mind like the deft slice of a knife. He knew knives in his human form. Especially the Crocodile Dundee model.

"Dingo," Shere Khan snarled once he spun around, facing Dugger.

With his usual icy cool, but with his hackles raised, Dugger stood his ground about thirty feet away from the Tiger Yakuza leader. Dante had given him a crash course in the major players before agreeing to his troubleshooting scout-about.

Ever since losing several of his human friends to the cruel killer mercenaries, Dugger had made it his personal mission to track wherever the Global League placed its demonic army. The instant he'd known there was a planned takeover of the wild lands surrounding Talbot's Peak, he'd contacted his motorcycle-riding mate, Dante.

Hours later, unseen by security and the crew, Dugger hopped a transport plane as his dingo self, and left his native Australia. He'd been panting like a right stud anyway to visit the Interspecies Pleasure Club. Yeah, two birds were almost within the snap of his jaws.

Now he and Shere Khan stared at each other like TV Western gunfighters. Neither he or the white tiger blinked. Yet, both of them kept one ear cocked toward the Global League squad. All the while their animal eyes blazed at each other instead of pistols.

Alerted by suspicious sounds, then running steps in their direction, he and Shere Khan whirled around by tacit agreement. The fight was on. Already weapons fire flashed toward them.

Mad as cut snake, and with his blood on boil, Dugger burst into a run slipping through the wall of brush. Fleeter of foot than Shere Khan, and more agile, he positioned himself opposite the obviously enraged tiger.

Not expecting to be attacked by a dingo and a white tiger, the squad halted and with their backs to each other, fired at random. At first, he and Shere Khan circled at full speed, avoiding the spray of bullets.

Even with their special ops training, the soldiers were unprepared for a wild-animal tag team. Dugger dashed in and out, leaping, crushing the wrist of his hated enemies with one bite.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Shere Khan charge. His massive jaws broke arms like twigs.

Once the squad had been disarmed and their blood saturated the forest floor, Dugger searched for any vulnerability. On instinct, he ripped through their uniforms with savage fangs. No mercy lived inside him as he ended their earthly lives.

Dugger knew rogue soulless killers when he tasted them. And he'd tasted a lot of them recently. The Global League had declared war on the human population of Earth -- a ruthless war most of humanity knew nothing about.

As his sides heaved with exertion and triumph, Dugger watched Shere Khan fling the leg he'd just torn off with a primitive vengeance. After a roar that reverberated throughout the forest, the tiger turned glowing eyes on Dugger.

'You, dingo, and I have a common enemy,' Shere Khan mind-communicated. 'They will send more of their warrior hirelings to conquer us. Soon.'

'Yeah, spent a deal of time tracking their bloody arses, and watching 'em. Warned Dante about the roach-like infestation coming his way.' Dugger kept his gaze keen on the Tiger Yakuza leader, but relaxed his posture as if they were speaking over a couple of coldies.

Shere Khan regarded him with a shrewd and fierce eye. 'What is your personal interest in Talbot's Peak, dingo?'

'Just arrived from down under to give a bikie pal a helping paw. And you know the Pleasure Club by reputation.' Dugger gave him a wink, then a brief grin of his canine lips.

After giving Dugger a short stare, Shere Khan shook his huge head, an indication he felt no immediate threat. 'Perhaps you will deliver a message to your pal, Dante.'

'Yeah, yeah, what is it, oh great tiger one?'

The massive white tiger's eyes flamed for an instant to be replaced with a glint of amusement. 'I wish a summit meeting. Does not a formidable enemy make strange bedfellows, even when considering the numerous and varied carnal opportunities at the Interspecies Pleasure Club?'

'Can't argue with you on that point. Yeah, I'll pass your message along.' With that Dugger spun on his hind legs, and began an easy, ground-eating trot.

Life had taken a damn ace of a turn, and he was already feeling at home in Talbot's Peak. After a bit of conversation with the biker werewolf, and a long curled-up snooze, Dugger planned on doing some serious exploration of the Pleasure Club.

So far, time hadn't been on his side when it came to the amenities Dante had offered. Now that he'd decided to stay on, that was about to change. Dugger grinned and broke into a lope.
~~~~~~

Happy Sun in Taurus!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~