Arthur’s Mate; Robin’s Mate; Peter’s Mate; Joel’s Mate
Author: Lisa Daniels
Date: 2018-11-08 05:00:00+00:00

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Table of Contents

Bears of Valor Lake Shifter Romance Box Set

Arthur’s Mate

Robin’s Mate

Peter’s Mate

Joel’s Mate

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Arthur’s Mate

Bears of Valor Lake

Book 1

By: Lisa Daniels

Chapter One – Emma

Emma didn’t know what she preferred: the city or the country.  Both had their pros and cons.  Cities tended to have an abundance of shops, clubs, accessibility, trains and buses on a regular schedule.  The downside happened to be congestion, expenses, and seeing hospitals lined up and down the motorways every day.  Everyone seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere in her hometown of Phoenix, Arizona.

The country, of course, struck her with its beauty.  Dirt trails and heavy pine woods, barely touched lakes and streams, fields with animals and long, horse-patrolled ranches.  You also had the unfortunate tendency to wait one hour for a bus from the village to the city, barely any stores worth going to, and a tiny population that seemed indifferent to newcomers.

Checking her watch, Emma sighed.  Stupid bus was supposed to be here on the hour, but it was five minutes overdue, and she’d been waiting for twenty minutes already, sheltering under the less-than-adequate roof that still allowed rain to drip through.  One other person waited with her, standing wrapped in a yellow raincoat, hood obscuring their face in side profile.  Water dripped from his or her white plastic bags of shopping.  Emma wore only a jacket over her office shirt and knee-length skirt, and shivered miserably, wishing for the bus to come.  Still hadn’t adapted to the rapid change in temperature, straddling the border between America and Canada.

She never planned to return to Phoenix again, if she could help it.  Her eyes fixed past the rapid plopping of rain to the gray smudged air and the two convenience stores with their haphazard signs and warm lights.  The acrid stench of wet concrete permeated her nostrils, and pools of rainbow-slicked oil appeared under some of the cars parked near the sidewalks.

Two buses.  One from Valor Lake, total time of 57 minutes, to reach the nearby town of Buffalo.  Then one switch in Buffalo to get to her work place in a medium-sized company of about forty employees in a two-floor building.  And, unfortunately, her work tended to finish just after the hourly bus had left, and the inner-city bus lugged her over there to kill some time after.

Unease settled in her gut, along with the second pang of homesickness that day.  She’d tried to convince herself to like her new place.  Pretty scenery, the fresh breath of nature and the warm, cozy fires at night in little village cottages.

The reality—it was all fucking shit.  Her parents didn’t know about the move, and Emma didn’t plan to tell them.  Not after the stress they put her through.

But honestly, Emma had never heard of Valor Lake until a month ago, either.  She’d just stuck the pin on a random spot in Google Maps, and kept doing it until she found a place whose name she liked.  Helped at least that the rent was affordable, given that it existed in the ass-end of nowhere.

No more hot summers for her.  No scorching Arizona sun, just a sky instead filled with gray, and unfamiliar scents such as broken pine sap, soils, methane, and air so cold it frosted her lungs.

But at least there was no more Marcus, either.

“Useless bus.”  A disgruntled snort from the Raincoat person caused Emma to jump.  A woman.  “Fourth time it’s late this week.  What do you think the driver’s doing, scratching his ass? Stopping for donuts?”  The woman tilted her face towards Emma, revealing a wrinkly visage that almost seemed as though it’d been preserved in bandages for a few centuries.

Right.  She expected Emma to talk.  Emma responded with a non-committal sound in her throat.

Raincoat Grandma gave a wry smile.  Emma didn’t want to look into her eyes—the woman appeared to be missing her bottom eyelashes, giving the rims a permanently bloody look.  “You’re definitely a new one to Valor Lake, ain’t you? Still got a tan, I see that.  Me, I’ve been there all me life.  Got sons, daughters, grandsons.  Getting me first great-grandchild soon.”

“That’s wonderful,” Emma said, wishing the woman would stop talking to her.  She considered getting out her phone and feigning a call or something but ended up re-crossing her legs and moving a few inches away from the grandma on the thin metal bench.

“You live in Valor Lake, or passing through?”

Trying to decide if the woman was being overly friendly in that northerner way, lonely, or fixing for a fight, Emma replied, without looking at her, “Living there.  Been there for a few weeks.  Wanted a change of scenery.”

“You got family here?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”  The woman made a sucking sound with whatever teeth she had left, and Emma drew a sharp breath, searching for the bus that refused to come.  “Odd, ain’t it?  Young woman like you.  No family, living all alone out here.  Wonder what you’re running from.”

“Nothing,” Emma said stiffly, cheeks now flushing.  Her hands felt clammy.  She almost cried out in relief when the small bus curved around the junction, a green traffic light encouraging it forward, and sputtered to a halt by their stop.  Emma decided to wait for the woman to get on, so she’d sit down first, and Emma waved her pass at the driver, before making a beeline for the back of the empty bus.  A faint, mildew smell rose from the seats, and from her clothing, and she thought she saw Raincoat Grandma’s face flicker in disappointment, before the bus lurched forward, taking them back to a place Emma never imagined herself to be.

*****

Odd, that woman had said.  Emma sat in front of her TV, trying to pretend she was happy.  That she didn’t mind being in the middle of nowhere, all alone, without anyone to support her.

At least I don’t have to support anyone else, either.  Emma’s stomach curled in on itself.

As if attracted by a magnet, her eyes fell onto her second phone.  The one with all the numbers of her past life upon it.  One reluctant stretch, a poke and swipe, and the unlock screen disappeared.  She saw forty-three missed calls, and at least as many messages.  She couldn’t exactly block her own family, so she bought a second phone instead to avoid the deluge of attempted contact.

Ignoring the calls, even though her heart sank somewhere in the bowels of her belly, she thumbed through the messages.  I know I shouldn’t.  It’s masochism.  It’s stupid.  They never say anything worth saying.

Dad: Please contact us.  We’re really worried about u.  love u

Dad: Why aren’t you answering? Cant you see we care about u?

Yep.  This was normal.  She knew exactly how the next messages would play out.

Dad: What did you do with the tax forms? We cant find them, did u take them wiv u?

Dad: Can u answer? Running away like this is so cowardly, leaving us to run the business alone.  We r really behind with everything and its ur fault for leaving it in such a mess!!!

Dad: ANSWER!!!!!!!!!!!

Similar messages came from her mother.  Starting off wheedling and syrupy fake, before building up to what she actually wanted to speak to Emma for.  Her mother really enjoyed the attempt to butter up her target when she desired something.

She didn’t fall for the trap, though.  She knew exactly where she put their stupid taxes.  In the drawer, back of the shop.  Like I always do.  After all, they made her do all the work in that stupid convenience store, didn’t turn up half the time and expected her to be okay with that, and tried at least once every three months to come to her with their bright ideas of avoiding taxes, because they didn’t like the amount that was cut out of their wages.  Each time, she’d told them no.

Probably went ahead and did it because she was no longer there reminding them not to be stupid.  Staring at her phone for a few more moments, Emma shuddered, and blacked the screen again.

Nothing from Marcus.  But she didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.  Maybe he just wanted her to panic.  Maybe he thought she’d come crawling back to him in a pathetic heap.  Maybe she was a pathetic heap.  Panic soared in her, causing her brain to buzz, and she sought refuge instead with a drink of water, gently pacing up and down the apartment.  Long as she didn’t think too hard, the tears would stay in.  Mind drifting, she thought back to that old, wrinkled prune of a lady, abrasively asking questions.

Anything was better than staying back in Phoenix.

Even if it meant confessing to the fact that she ran away.

Noises from outside drew her attention, stopping her pacing on the soft green carpet.  She shuffled past the leather sofa and poked her head through the partially opened window.

In the darkening street, in a type of scene best left to images of ghost towns or old westerns, a pile of clothes had spewed out over the sidewalk, with a white shirt draped over a badly parked car.  High-pitched screeching accompanied by hoarse bellowing echoed from the house directly in line with the clothes, and then a suitcase tumbled out the window, hitting the ground with a distinctive crack.

“Stop!  Stop throwing out my things!  Are you crazy? You fucking crazy?”

A demented and choked scream followed those words.  Other people peeked out of their windows as well down the residential street, drawn to the commotion, like a car crash unfolding in slow motion.

“I can’t believe you cheated on me!  How dare you!  I trusted you!”  The screaming was drowned out in a loud crash.  The kind of crash usually associated with something heavy and expensive falling, like a flat screen television.

The bellowing continued its aggressive back and forth, and Emma casually slurped her water, wishing right now she had a bit of popcorn to listen to the debacle.  Twenty-five, and still a kid at times.  She grinned.

The front door of the thatched cottage flew open, and a hulk of a man stumbled out, built more like a tank than anything else.  He barely avoided something else flying out, which looked suspiciously like a digital radio, and flipped the bird at his now apparent ex.

“I didn’t fucking cheat!” he yelled, though Emma doubted the woman was in any capacity to listen at the moment.  A part of Emma was inclined to side with the woman, knowing the number of guys that cheated, but she also felt a little sorry for the guy.  His black hair lay plastered to his head in a sheen of sweat, and those muscled arms of his worked at picking up the scattered belongings on the rain-soaked sidewalk.  The window slammed shut.  Forlornly, the man continued scooping up his items, with some of them spilling out onto the damp.  Emma hated it when that happened, when she attempted carrying her wet laundry out of the washing machine and a stray sock or panty kept tumbling out.

The more Emma watched, the less amused she became.  He bundled his stuff on the hood of the car and fumbled in his pockets, before realizing he didn’t have the keys.  Knocking on the cottage door gave no answer.  Even when he banged hard.

A moment later, a police car with flashing lights drove up, parking in front of his car.  Two policemen clambered out in heavy jackets and hats.  To arrest him? Did the woman inside call the cops on the man?

One animated conversation later, the police had bundled the man into their car and stuffed his possessions in the trunk.

Well, Emma thought, closing her window since the wind had picked up a bit, sending droplets onto the carpet and green velvety curtains.  Maybe it’s not as quiet in this place as I thought it was.

Chapter Two – Arthur

Eddie turned around in the passenger seat.  “Tough luck, mate,” he said, brown eyes rather sympathetic.

“I kept telling her,” Arthur said with a growl of annoyance.  “But she wouldn’t listen, man.  I’m not a cheater.  I’m hardly going to cheat on her with my own fucking sister.”

“Well, these are hillbilly parts,” Eddie said, now picking his nose.  The cop uniform looked one size too small for him, and his beer-stretched stomach threatened to spill out of his navy vest.  “There’s all sorts of weird shit going on here.  We had to get someone out of a basement last week since they broke their key in the lock.  Inflatable dolls all over the place.  Fucking sad, man.”

Harold continued driving, squinting occasionally at the mirror, mostly struggling for visibility through his rapidly sliding wiper blades.

Arthur groaned, rubbing his eyes against his fists.  It’d all gone so wrong, so fast.  One moment, he’d been talking to Lamarya, attempting to explain that he didn’t like using Social Media, so that was why she couldn’t friend him on any of the platforms, that the person she saw him with was his sister, that surely it was okay to have women as friends, right—and the next, a screeching match and all of the items he’d moved into her cottage broken.

She wanted to keep the car, though.

“We’ll drop you back home safe at least, take your clothes to the laundromat.  How ‘bout that?”  Eddie gave him a wide smile and offered a bite of a cheese and pickle sandwich.  Arthur declined.

“I swear, I’m just done with women.  Too much shit to deal with.  I’m not going to stop talking to my damn sister or my damn friends just because she has a problem with it.  Family’s more important than her.”  This was the truth.  People like him didn’t go and turn their back on family.  People like Lamarya didn’t turn her back, either.  Maguires always clashed with Valors.  Ever since the beginning.

Family pressures beat at the back of Arthur’s mind.  Mustn’t be like his tearaway brother, who betrayed the clan and left them years ago for some slutty human woman.  Mustn’t be like the uncle either, who had formed his own clan and challenged the leadership of his father.  All the other clans deferred to the Valor, the founders of the Lake.

They tried hard to keep themselves insignificant on the map, to promote Valor Lake as a reservation—that coming here was dangerous if you weren’t a fan of grizzlies.

Honestly, Arthur wouldn’t mind slipping into someone else’s skin.  Rather than be here, drifting from one obligatory job to the other, with his mother desperately trying to find a suitable woman to one day run the clan with him.

“You need to get someone soon,” she’d said, in her hoarse, scraping voice, as if she’d swallowed sandpaper.  “That bastard’s got himself a son now.  All he’s got to do is find an excuse to duel and kill you, and he’ll take over the lands.”

That bastard being Uncle Gilnes, of course.

Arthur examined the very lands his mother talked about.  Valor Lake scintillated in the dawn light, the sparkles illuminating some of the fish weaving their ponderous bodies under the waters.  Several fishermen sat on the bank edges or the mini piers, catching their food for the day.  A few bears splashed in the river just upstream that led into the lake.  On the eastern side lay a string of opulent houses, many of them constructed in the 19th century, with ridiculous amounts of space.  All the wealthiest clans wanted a spot next to the lake, but only three had managed it, thanks to land right deeds, and keeping it in the family.

Most people chose to live in the village downstream from here, for easy access to the bus route out.  Only four-wheel drives could make it to the deeper parts of the reservation, to the sloping mountains and the frost that covered them.  His eyes fixed on the most offensive site on the lake.  A small section banked off, with huge metal pipes leading into it.  The pipes themselves led to his uncle’s paper-printing factory, which belched smog into what should have been a clear blue sky.

“If he gets claim of this land, he’ll wreck everything for profit.”

Well, he’d tried.  Didn’t want to, but he gave it a shot with Lamarya.  Hot enough, with a cute smile, great in bed… but they didn’t exactly have much to talk about.  She didn’t want to go camping with him, fishing with him, anything with him.

Maybe… maybe he was stupid, for staying with her so long? There were warning signs.  Eddie and Harold warned him enough.

He rubbed his eyes, drained.  An unwelcome cramp radiated down his neck.  He’d slept outside this night.  Didn’t want to go and face the music with his family.  Grandma Jackie would no doubt happily smash it in his face about how foolish he was, how he risked the clan by gallivanting around like he had no responsibilities.

He didn’t want to have to face that.

Even when the cops had escorted him back home, he didn’t bother much contact.  Luckily, no sister to bump into, his mother and father were out, and his brother was probably busy with the truck-driving.  Arthur slouched straight to bed and curled up in a mini-depression, even though a part of him knew he was far, far better off without her.

*****

Even sleeping on it didn’t help much.  He still experienced a hollow, numb sensation, and figured there to be only one way to deal with it.

Drink.

No drinking here, though.  Not in sight of anyone who might want to ask him questions.  Though they already suspected as much, since his sister was there that time and saw him moping around in a foul mood.  He needed to borrow his sister’s vehicle, too, just to make it worse.

“Man, you should try to get your car back at some point,” Yara said, giving her brother a pat on the back.  “She’s not worth this, bro.  What you doing now?”

“Going back into town.  Drinking.  Day off, anyway.”

Yara gave him a little frown, her chunky arms folding together.  She looked almost as bulky as he did.  Seemed to be a Valor trait.  “Don’t drink yourself into a grave.  I can come, if you want?”

“No.  I’d rather be alone.”

“Suit yourself.”  She tossed him the keys, still looking concerned, but let him go his merry way back into town.  A few streets from Lamarya’s place, he parked and moved into his favorite local bar, usually dead at this time of the morning.  You had to be sad or an addict to come here at such a time.  He could almost taste the alcohol on his tongue.  Be nice to drown away his thoughts.

Tucked in the corner of the bar, he saw someone he didn’t recognize.  Wearing a long-sleeved blue turtleneck, blonde hair a mess, she seemed to try and hide herself from view, sipping on froth that floated on dark-colored beer.  Only one other patron was in the bar, and he worked the slot machines, tipping quarters in a vain attempt to win dollars.  The bartender took one look at Arthur, and Arthur nodded.  The signal for the usual.

Pretty early in the morning for someone to be drinking such heavy beer.  And were there any blondes in Valor Lake? A tourist, most likely.  But what kind of tourist sat in a local bar with bed hair?

He grabbed his drink from Tom, asking to put it on a tab, and sauntered over to the woman.  If she did turn out to be a troll, he’d still at least attempt to make polite conversation, make sure she was here for the right reasons.  Could be dangerous for a lonely woman in this place.

She glanced up from the rounded, dark wooden table, where she’d been scratching the beer mat with one chipped nail, and bright blue eyes stared back at him.  Those same eyes narrowed in suspicion.  He still couldn’t gauge her on the attraction scale, because she wore an unpleasant expression, and had blotchy, puffed cheeks, as if she’d been crying.  Maybe that explained the woebegone style.  Should be sitting at home spooning ice cream down her throat while watching some soppy romance movie or something.

“Hey,” he said, deciding to dispense with the one-line flirt.  She didn’t look in the mood for flirting.  Maybe a friendly ear.  “I’ve not seen you around before.”

Her lips wrinkled and she clutched her glass tighter, until the knuckles turned yellowish white.  “Shouldn’t you be in jail?”

“Huh?”  He gaped at her, baffled.  “Why d’you say that?”

Doubt framed her eyes.  “Wasn’t it you, then…? I saw, uh, I saw someone last evening who’d been kicked out of his house.  The police turned up for him.”

“Oh.”  Heat burned his ears, and a faint flush crept into his neck, just thinking about that godawful evening.  Still made his hands tingle.  “Yeah, that was me.  You saw that?”  Was there anyone in the street? Maybe the windows… he wasn’t really looking at the windows.

“Heard some of it, too.”  A smile twitched on that puffy face.  “Did you really cheat on that woman?”

“No!”  He scraped a chair over and sat down opposite her, without asking for an invite.  She didn’t seem to mind, however.  “I didn’t!  It just… I guess you could say she’s the jealous type.  Doesn’t want me speaking to my sister.  That kind of thing.”  Was he really having this conversation with a perfect stranger?

Apparently, he was.

“Oh.  I know about those.”  She absently swilled her glass.  “The cops let you out, then?”

He’d been trying so hard to place her accent, with those soft vowels, that for a moment, he didn’t comprehend what she’d said.  “Yeah.  They’re my colleagues.  I’m one of the four people who work in the police precinct in this village.  We don’t get a lot of crimes, so we don’t got a lot of cops.”  He self-consciously rubbed his neck, before reaching for his drink.  “I’m on a break, now.  Supposed to be trying to fix my relationship with Lamarya, but as you can see… that turned out well.”

She let out a snort, now running fingers through her hair in an effort to look more presentable.  Didn’t smell too bad.  He couldn’t quite place the scent.  Something like the citrusy, lotion smell that came with summer.  Or of someone who needed to wear SPF 50 or something.  Damn, though—she’d seen that shitshow.  He pictured Lamarya laughing to herself as she turned the keys in the ignition of his car, driving off to God knew where.  Into the sunset or something, with some other boy toy in tow.

“I realize this is a bit forward,” she said, leaning closer, elbows braced on the table, “but I’m really curious.  If you don’t mind answering—how long you two been together for?”

Arthur examined the petite girl for a moment, hesitant.  He hated spilling his guts, revealing anything.  It opened a window of vulnerability for later.  But then again, maybe he did need to talk about it.  Lamarya still churned somewhere in his guts, unsettling them and making it hard to digest anything.

“Four months.”  Now that he said it out loud, four months really didn’t sound that long.  Lamarya made four months feel like four years, however.

“And you were having troubles from the start?”  The woman propped herself up, every inch the shrink, clearly interested in drilling him for information.

“Eh,” he said.  “I guess.  We were supposed to be a one-night stand.  But I guess she kept coming over to me, and me to her.”  He took another gulp, scanning the room to see if anyone else had entered.  The clink of tumbling dollars came from one of the slot machines—looked like Greg did get lucky, after all.  Eddie and Harold referred to Greg as a loser from the edges of the village, living in his unclean, broken-down trailer.  Often needed to go over to him with some issues with the clans, intruding too deep into their territory and killing their game.  Greg scooped up the coins and staggered over to the bar, ready to spend it all on drinks.

“Right.”  The woman wrinkled her nose, clearly unimpressed at the one-night stand declaration.  “I guess if you’re going to start your relationship in sex, you really need to know who you’re sleeping with before you stick your dick in crazy.”

He spluttered, liquid dribbling out of his nostrils.  “Shit!  A moment...” he coughed, before grinning at her.  “When you put it like that… but you know, I thought it was worth a try.  Isn’t that what relationships s’all about? Just… leaping in the deep end.  Seeing how it turns out.”

“No.”  Her answer came back firm.  “You need to test the waters, first.  Start shallow.  Never go into a relationship before you know something about the other person.”

Her face appeared a lot less puffy now.  “You had some relationship issues yourself, I take it?”  He gambled with the idea in his mind.  “That why you been crying?”

She choked out a laugh, and he saw how one hand disappeared under the table, bracing against her leg.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m out of it now.”

“Doesn’t look like it doesn’t matter,” Arthur pressed, thoroughly enjoying this opportunity.  “You can give Cliffs notes.  After all, I did just tell you about Lamarya.”

“Not really,” she said.  “But, okay.  Fine.  I...” her lip twitched, “I sort of ran away from my home.  Far away as possible.”

“You have a home?” he asked sharply, slightly alarmed.  If she happened to be drifting aimlessly, sleeping in the back of her car or something...

“Yeah, I do.  The rent’s pretty cheap here.  I’m lodged up in one of those thatched cottages in Grass Street.”  She rocked back and forth slightly.  “He, uh, he wasn’t really expecting me to leave.  I didn’t really tell him.  Or my parents.  I just… it wasn’t nice being there.  I had to buy a new phone, so I didn’t have to read their messages when I went to work.”

“He hit you or something?”  Arthur wouldn’t be sure how he’d feel if Lamarya just upped and left him without warning.  But then again, he didn’t exactly smack people about.

“Sometimes.  He’d be very nice at times, and very...”  She shook her head, as if trying to rearrange things to make sense in her head.  “Everything was my fault, if something went wrong.  Even if I thought he was wrong… he’d explain why it was me.”

“Ah, fuck him,” Arthur said with vehemence.  “He sounds like fucking Lamarya.  Always my fault if something went wrong, never hers.  Fuck those kinds of people.”  Trying to make it sound like he was at fault just because he refused to not talk to his damn sister.  He should have listened to his mother, and grandmother.  But no.  Too busy chasing the feel of sex, of those hot, rough days and nights together.  They were best when they didn’t bother talking to one another.

She smiled shyly and gulped her drink to half-empty.  But she didn’t look entirely convinced.

“What’s your name, actually? I’m Arthur,” he said, now realizing they’d gone into deep territory without even bothering to snatch names to their faces.

“Emma,” she said.  After a small hesitation, she reached out a hand for him to shake.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”  He grasped her hand, noted how warm and sweaty it felt, how soft the ball of her palm was, and let go.  She rubbed at her face, and he saw the faintest trace of a dimple in her cheek muscles.  His eyes lasered on the dimple for a moment, and he inhaled sharply.

“I take it you’re a local, anyway.”  Emma’s hand still rested open on the table, bent in the shape she’d cusped his hand with.  “I don’t really know anyone here, yet.  Honestly, I’m feeling a little lonely.  I was thinking, maybe I should find out if there’s any coffee clubs or charity meetings or anything.  Try and get involved with the local community.”  Her eyes lit up.  “Well, you’ve got an excuse to come around to my house, if you’re not nervous of running into that Lamarya person.”

“Oh?”  He finished his drink in a heavy series of gulps, ready to leave or grab another drink if needed.

“She continued throwing out some of your stuff when you’d gone.  I picked it up and left it in some of my packing boxes in the hall… but a lot of it’s broken.  I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, really, but it didn’t seem right to leave it lying in the middle of the road, you know?”

Warmth flooded through Arthur, and a small knot of anxiety vanished from his stomach.

“Thanks a bunch for that.  I was dreading having to go back into… that.  Well, you saw, I guess.  I’ll still need to get that car off her—but I’d like to pick some of it up later.  I’ll get Eddie to bring his car around.”

“I’d help, but I left my car, too.”  She appeared apologetic at the fact.  “Left a lot behind.”

He grinned.  “I’ll introduce you to my sister if you’re feeling a little lonely.  She’s got a group of girlfriends she hangs out with.  I’m also interested in fishing and hunting, so if you got some spare time, maybe we can grab a rod or something and catch some bass.”

Her eyebrows lifted up, and Arthur re-examined his words.  Wait.  Did he just… ask her out on a date?

No.  Fishing was hardly a date.  He was fine.  And she’d probably refuse, anyway, since women didn’t like fishing at all.

“Sure,” she said.  “I don’t know shit about fishing, since I don’t really see what’s so exciting about sitting in a place for hours, but I guess if I’m going to live here for any length of time, I better learn some of these things, right?”

Oh.  She’d actually accepted.  He’d completely winged the offer, and this messy-haired stranger with obvious baggage agreed without a trace of embarrassment.

“Great!” he said, blinking awkwardly for a moment.  Part of him wondered if he happened to be too reckless with this.  Just because he happened to like looking at the woman, hearing that quaint accent of hers—that didn’t mean he needed to, what, ask her out?

For fuck’s sake, I only just split up with Lamarya.  He reined in his thoughts, furiously gritting his teeth.  No.  This wasn’t a date.  This was a perfectly friendly thing to do for someone who happened to need showing around the Lake.  Though he believed she’d be better off not staying here at all.  The clans, the families—they always became apprehensive if strangers hung around for too long.  Didn’t want their secrets coming out.

“I’ll give you my number, shall I?”  She fished out a cute little cellphone with a cover of a blue koala on it, then slowed down, as if not wanting to appear too eager.

She must be lonely.  Who was he to deny her the chance of a friendship? He rattled out his number, and she called him once to confirm correct entry, before he offered her a drink.

“I’ll just finish this one off and go,” she said, rather mournful.  “I can’t tolerate much, I’m a lightweight.”  She smiled thinly, and he nodded.

“Fair enough.  If you stay around longer, though, you’ll meet Eddie and Harold.  They’re good guys.  The policemen who picked me up.”

“It’s okay.  I need to get going.”  She tucked her phone away, glugged down the drink and wiped her mouth, before giving him a bright smile.  “I hope… I hope I can settle in.  Make some friends.”

Something about that stark honesty made his heart throb.  An annoying, less-than-manly throb that made him want to growl and thump the feeling out.  Still, he couldn’t fault that kind of sad honesty.  Made a change from a few quick lies and then straight into bed.

“No problem.  Listen—I’m going to Valor River in three days, and I’ll take a spare pole with me, since you said you’ve not done it.  As long as you’re a good listener, I don’t see why we won’t be able to teach you a few things.  My sister’ll come as well,” he added, not wanting to freak her out, scare her back into whatever hole she came from.  “So it’s not like it’ll just be the two of us.  If that’s okay.”  He shut himself up before he babbled more.  Then, in an attempt to regain some coolness, he leaned on his elbow, attempting to project what his father claimed helped reel in the females hook, line and sinker.

She appeared to ignore the attempt and nodded instead, a faint tinge of red invading her cheeks.  “Yeah.  Yeah, okay.  I’d—if it’s not a problem for you, I’d appreciate it.”  She stood up quickly, reaching out to shake his hand once more.  Then she left in a hurry, almost tripping over her unlaced boots as she did so, black handbag swinging.  He tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her behind, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Probably best not to mention her to Eddie and Harold when they came for drinks and played a few rounds of pool.  They’d only encourage him on, anyway.

He got up, heading to Tom to grab another drink.

Chapter Three – Emma

Emma sat on the bus back home from a half day at work, rather giggly inside.  Somehow the journey didn’t feel so monotonous anymore, now that she had a little more to look forward to than slinking back home, ignoring messages, and binge-watching shows or playing sudoku in the bathroom.

But fishing? What the fuck did she know about fishing? She’d never touched a damn rod in her life.  She harbored next to no interest in it at all.  Yet she’d happily agreed to it like she thought it the best thing ever.

I bet I’ll look like a massive fool.  Sitting there casting the line into a tree or something or being yanked over the side by some fat bastard of a fish.  She did some precursory research on her phone about fishing, but soon grew bored and confused with all the terminology and specifications they added to it.  Marcus hated fishing, he thought it boring compared to American football and baseball.  He always used to attend the matches if he could on her dime, and never invite her along.  Saying he needed “guy” time out.

Trouble was, she actually agreed with him at first.  But when she started becoming lonelier, his refusal to take her out became more blatant.

Her stomach twisted into unpleasant knots.  She hated thinking about him.  Hated seeing his face in her mind, that gut-churning unease whenever he happened to be around, that desperate need to please.

Never being able to please.  Always doing something wrong.  Always being her fault, that if only she just happened to try harder, be better, they could go back to how things were before.

Taking a few sharp breaths, she refocused her mind and sent a tentative text to Arthur, scared that he might not reply, or think she was bothering him or being too forward in sending the message.

Hey, Emma here.  Still don’t mind me fishing with you later?

She bit her lip, waiting for a reply, unsure why her insides became all wriggly at the thought of receiving a message.  It was just words, damnit.  Yet she eyed her phone like a hawk.  Except… no, she shouldn’t keep camping by her phone.  She needed to prepare.

Frantically rummaging through her meager closet, she yanked out a few clothes which could be suited to fishing, including that sleeveless, puffy red parka she bought herself one time because it’d been discounted up to 80%, thanks to a torn lining inside.  A few stitches later, and it served her purposes.  Hiking boots, a hat, lotion, snacks, a water container… she didn’t exactly have survival materials.  Or exactly know how to survive outside.  God, she’d probably freeze to death in one night.  Woolen socks, fingerless gloves… she hastily shaved herself and spritzed her body with her favorite En Guarde scent, stared at her legs in the mirror in irritation, then finished packing.

She hadn’t shaved because she was interested in Arthur or anything.  She just… she wanted to look nice and tidy and presentable.  Like anyone would when they wanted to make a good impression.  Since she had looked somewhat similar to a drowned rat when they first met, thanks to a sleepless night, and scrolling through messages even though she should have known better not to scroll through them at all.

Fucking idiot.  Her phone buzzed.

I’m in the street.  Sister’s car.

Her heart leaped to her throat as if she’d just been told to jump off a cliff, before she gathered what little composure remained and left her little cottage, rolling the suitcase behind.

Double-checking the front door was locked, she then scanned the narrow street, before spotting a neon blue Land Rover, with a rather severe-looking woman wedged behind the wheel.  Arthur sat in the passenger seat, with his hair gelled back, his face freshly shaven, and he waved at her.  The woman parked close, braked, and got out of the vehicle.

“I’m Yara,” she said, extending a beefy hand.  Emma had never seen a woman look so tank-like.  The only person who outmatched her was Arthur, which made sense, given the whole brother and sister thing.

“Emma.”  Nervously, Emma smiled, her fingers slightly crushed by the tight grip.  “I just realized I never asked your brother for your name.  Sorry about that.”

“No worries.  Happens.”  Yara gave Emma a rather casual once-over.  “How long you been in Valor for? My brother said you were new.”

“F-four weeks,” Emma said, unsure of the scrutiny, even as Arthur eagerly helped squash her luggage into the trunk.  “I needed a clean break from everything.”

“Break from what?”  Yara held the door open for Emma to step inside.

“Hey, Yara, don’t put her on the spot straight away, that’s not friendly...”

“It’s okay,” Emma replied, managing a smile of her own as she looked into the sibling’s warm brown eyes.  “She sounds like she’s being protective of you.”

“Hmph.”  Yara slammed the door, hopped into her seat, prepped the Rover to go, and it chugged along the road, heading towards the distant mountains.

“She’s not gonna be some rebound or anything,” Arthur said, scowling at his sister.  Yara snorted.

“You leap in and out of beds like salmon rushing upstream.  If you realized that good partners don’t mean people who tactically display their cleavage...”

Self-consciously, Emma checked her own front.  Safely concealed behind a brown, long-sleeved top and her parka.  She didn’t really like the way Yara talked, rough, without a trace of shame in her statements.

“Come on!  She just needs to get out a bit!  Get to know people, you know.”

Yara took a violent left turn, swaying them to the right.  “That’s fine.  And sorry about this, Emma—it’s a small issue I have with my brother.  He finds it hard to be alone, and that shit with his ex, Lamarya—I’m worried it might be impairing his judgement.”  Her lips curled into a smile.  “More than usual, anyway.”

“N-no problem.”  She didn’t really know what else to say.  She felt like she was intruding somehow in the middle of a family row.  Yara ran a hair through her short, messy black hair.  Same color as Arthur’s, though his looked slicked and neat.  Emma imagined watching an arm wrestling match between them.  Despite Arthur’s monstrous arm size, she wasn’t entirely sure the sister would lose against him.  Still, the more she listened, the more she found herself relaxing into the conversation, since they didn’t take offense if she tried to butt in to ask a question.

“Do you guys normally go fishing together?”

“Yes,” came Yara’s reply.  “We might bring a friend or two along, or my brother’s strays—no offense,” she added, twitching one eyebrow for full view in the front mirror.  “But as long as you’re willing to learn the tools of the trade, I don’t see why we can’t slot you in for some future trips.  It’s a family pastime—trying out the rivers or lakes, bringing back some fish to fillet and cook ourselves.”

“Is that what I am? A stray?”  Although Emma felt like she should be angry at Yara’s attitude, her heart squeezed in slightly.  Yes—she was a stray, wasn’t she? Relying on the kindness of strangers.

“It’s not something to be ashamed of,” Yara answered.  “He’s never been able to bring his former girlfriends on a trip before.  So there’s some progress.  You’ve been upgraded.”

Emma didn’t trust herself to say anything to that, and Arthur glared at his sister.

“Seriously, stop being a fucking dick, Yara.”

It took them another hour of driving to reach the desired location.  They stole a path through muddy dirt tracks, uphill on a rather stony, tumultuous road through a thick section of woods, where Emma clung onto the seat for dear life as they rocked and tossed.  She certainly wasn’t used to the way four-wheel drives operated, and kept expecting the vehicle to flip over at any moment and send them tumbling to the hospital.  They made it to a small steam, where stands for fishing poles were already erected and signs of previous campfires in ashy, stone-ringed pits dotted the soil.

Arthur and Yara wasted no time springing up two tents, where Emma was informed she’d be sharing hers with Yara, to “avoid any hanky panky at night.”  Her cheeks, naturally, burned brighter at this notion, and more and more, she doubted her decision to come on this trip.  If the sister kept up her snide remarks all weekend, Emma might end up having some sort of mental breakdown and end up moving to another state a month later.

“Okay, squirt,” Yara said, rolling her green sleeves up, revealing intricate, swirling tattoos with birds resting on twiggy, leaf-strewn branches.  The whole network of drawings was black in color, except for the four red apples that hung from the boughs.  Two on each side of her arms.  “Let’s get your rod set up, and we’ll run you through the basics.”  Discreetly, Emma examined Arthur’s arms too, but from what she did see, they were devoid of patterns.  Arthur had just finished with his pole, colored black with yellow lightning stripes tapering along its length.  He turned to grin at Emma.

“We’re doing an easy fishing this time,” Arthur said, holding up a tin with a picture of what looked like caviar.  “This is roe—fish eggs.  And we’re fishing for chinooks in the stream.  Uh, a type of salmon,” he added, seeing Emma’s blank look.  “We’re going to use a technique called drift fishing.”  He began to demonstrate with his now assembled rod, pretending to cast the line diagonally upstream.  “The water causes the floater to move, obviously.  When it reaches around here… you need to start reeling it in again and repeat the process.  It’s better than sitting at a bridge and leaving it stationary—the salmon like something moving.”

“Okay,” Emma said, asking him to repeat once more for clarity.  She’d been a little distracted by the way his bushy eyebrows furrowed together, and the way those biceps of his rippled with strain.  He’d likely be able to crush her head like a grape if he got her in an armlock.  Punch through walls, fight in a heavyweight wrestling match or something.  No way something so strong should be limiting itself to something as simple as fishing.

“Here ya go.”  Yara now stepped behind Emma after sliding a smaller, pink rod into her hands.  “My old pole.  Still kept it around after all these years.  Now, you’ll want to position yourself here… and you’ll want to throw the line about twenty, twenty-five yards.”

Emma surveyed the wide, lightly frothing stream with apprehension, sure she was about to humiliate herself, or fall in and unceremoniously drown when a minnow tugged on her lure or something.  Shit, why did she agree to this again? Fishing was boring.  Marcus always said that.  Only sad, lonely people liked fishing.

Under Yara and Arthur’s gruff encouragement, she managed to cast the line out, apparently overshooting at about thirty-five yards.

“To be fair, that’s an impressive throw,” Yara said.  “Wouldn’t have expected that from such tiny muscles.  And no hooks in the face, either, so that’s a plus.”

The thought of a hook in the face made Emma nauseous.  “Oh God, that doesn’t actually happen, does it?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, eyes narrowed.  “Yara did it to me once when I was about eight.  With that same rod, actually.”  He tapped his cheek, where the faintest of white lines stretched over the pale pink.  “Can barely see the scar now.”

“I didn’t realize fishing was that dangerous,” Emma said, watching her line drift.  She needed to reel it in about now, right? She started doing so, listening for any sounds of disapproval from the sibling duo.  None came.  Her next attempt to throw out the line ended timidly, since she found it difficult to shunt the image of a younger Arthur screaming at his sister, clutching his hand to his cheek...

Slowly, Emma’s confidence grew, and the siblings eventually deemed her able to do it alone, and set up positions at different sections of the stream, giving each other a wide radius to fish in.  Now that Emma had the time to focus on the fishing, she actually found herself enjoying it.  Sure, maybe it wasn’t exactly exciting, but it did do something for her nerves.  Listening to the gentle hiss and babble of the river, watching the way froth formed on the boulders that breached the watery surface, along with the heavy, damp smell of soil and the mesh of green from all sides.  It sent her into a state of tranquility, and her muscles unwound tension she’d never noticed.

This is what I’m missing, she thought idly, now allowing herself to pay greater attention to the scenery, eyeing Yara and Arthur as they focused on their own fishing.  A hobby.  Something to pass the time.  Something other than waiting at home for Marcus to return or staying late to deal with the horrifying deficit in her parents’ convenience store, from her dad yet again not turning up on time, on being slow to hire people, on leaving so much for her to do.

“Not bad, parka girl,” Yara yelled from her position downstream, grinning with wide, sharp teeth.  “You look quite the sight.  Hot pink rod, red parka.  Gotta get you a hat and you’ll be picture perfect.”

Emma laughed, reeling in her line again.  “You two look like great bears holdings rods, so I don’t know what you’re mocking me about.”

Brother and sister exchanged glances.  Both grinned, but not for a reason Emma could figure out.  “You seem like you’re enjoying it so far, Emma!”  Arthur cast his line out, with a glint of silver catching Emma’s eyes.

“Yeah!  I really am!”  She cast out, a little less vigorously than Arthur’s attempt.  Seconds later, a shape under the water advanced to her bait.  A tug.  She screamed in shock and delight.  “I got one!  I got one!”

“Well then, reel it in!”  Arthur watched her struggle for a moment, then abandoned his pole, laughing as he padded to Emma, adding his strength to hers, hands cusping her knuckles.  “I’ll keep brace.  Just reel!  Go on!”

Heart hammering fast, practically threatening to leap out of her mouth, she reeled in the line, and a monstrous fish lifted out of the water, squirming and thrashing.

“Of course you get a big one.  Beginner’s luck,” Arthur said with a snort.  They quickly stuffed her catch into a large cooler box with water, to help preserve it for as long as they continued fishing.

Emma didn’t know how much time passed, though her mind drifted from time to time to how Arthur’s hands felt on hers.  The way his arms braced on either side, his back pressed into hers… her cheeks burned hideously.

She’d be failing miserably if she allowed herself to get flustered just by having a guy touch her.  Even if that guy happened to have a nice smell about him, like dusk and something sweet.  Or that his body was so big, his arms large enough to snugly cradle someone her size.  Marcus, in comparison, seemed so weedy and inadequate, yet he’d been able to swallow up her world.

The fishing ended with Yara catching the next two, and Arthur seizing a trout, and they set to preparing all the fish, making a fire and roasting the fish on a pan they had brought with them.  It was all so simple, and nothing like the city life Emma knew.  She wasn’t sure if she liked the mud on her shoes, or the bugs that crawled on the ground, or the isolation in some parts.  In other parts, however, she liked the relaxed, friendly banter between the siblings, and the opportunity to escape even further from her old life.  Even if her phone lay at home, collecting messages like dust.

“We’ll make a country gal outta you yet,” Arthur said, watching Emma pick at her roasted salmon.  He preferred to gnaw on his fish past the bones, plucking the flesh off expertly.  Emma didn’t want to touch the slimy skin too much, but peeled off the meat easily, as Yara had shown her how to eat a fish that still had the bones in it, so she didn’t have any accidents.

“Maybe,” Emma said, enjoying the smoky, strong quality of the meat.  “I’m not sure if I want to keep using a pink fishing rod if I do this, though.  Would anyone take me seriously?”

“I have photo evidence of you catching that fish,” Yara replied, grinning as she tapped her digital camera.  With all of them huddled around the fire, as the light dipped out of the sky, bathing the campsite in long shadows and the croak of birds, talk turned more informative, too.

“Yeah, we’ve been camping all along the Valor River for years.  Our family owns big chunks of it.  We’d have monthly trips and long weekends, since there’s not that much to do in the country unless you happen to have a ranch or something.  Life’s different from the city.  Slower paced.”  Yara continued gnawing on her fish, every bit as animalistic as her brother.

“You see, I can’t really imagine that,” Emma said, prodding at her meal with the plastic fork, pleasantly surprised at how crumbly it was.  “I mean, we talk shit about country people, you know.  No sense of fashion, talking like they have potatoes in their mouths, braindead and probably screwing the cows in the barn.”

“Cousin Witsel does that, I bet,” Arthur said with a snigger.  “He’s got himself a small farm with those special sheep that peel their wool, and a few cows.  Said he was getting chickens and quails next. Did he do that, Yara?”

“Yeah, I think he did.  Not spoken to him in a few months, though.  Ever since...”

Arthur’s expression clouded over.

“What’s wrong?” Emma said through a mouthful of pink flesh.

“It’s nothing,” Arthur grunted.  “Well, it is,” he amended, targeted by both Emma and Yara’s glares.  “My dad fell out with his brother some years back.  Different ideas about what they wanted to do with Valor Lake.  My uncle’s got a paper processing factory, and he wants to expand the business, but my father doesn’t want the reservation to be fucked with more than necessary.  Doesn’t want the loss of habitat.  Ben Witsel is his son—we used to be pretty good friends when we were younger, but the family tensions have frozen us out of contact.”

“Oh,” Emma said.  Having lived with a poor family, she couldn’t imagine the notion of scrapping over land and factories.  Her parents had crashed out of their inherited home over a decade ago thanks to some terrible financial decisions, and some moves later, they all lived in a two-bedroom apartment above their latest attempt at business.  She did know the strain of parents thinking that because they had a child, they also owned the rights to anything she earned, and her time.

“You should be grateful we spent so much of our lives raising you.  It’s about time you gave something back!”

“I do miss Ben, we had a good laugh together, cracked some beers.  But… shit happens.”

“How big is your family?” Emma asked, saying it mostly as an attempt to distract herself from thoughts of her wrinkly father and dour-faced mother, with the looming shadow of Marcus swallowing the vision like spilled acid.  Plus, well, it might be interesting to hear about the dynamics of someone else’s family for a change.

“Big,” Arthur said.  He cleaned off his fingers, having finished the food, and Yara wasn’t that far behind.  Emma made a Herculean effort to eat faster.  “Crazy big.  Relatives everywhere.  Mom, dad, two sets of grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers, sisters, step-sisters, step-brothers...”  He proceeded to rattle off names, but Emma barely followed.  Four brothers, two sisters, two step-sisters, one step-brother… Emma boggled at the notion of so many relatives.  Probably made meetings fun.

“We also have links to the other clans in the area,” Yara said in her gruff voice.  “We’re the Valors, the original one.  Then there’s the Witsels—our uncle married into their family but due to issues, took up the Witsel name instead.  Then there’s the Maguires.  We’ve all got stakes and land in the Valor Lake and Reservation.  Oldest families and all that.”

“You’re all rich, then?” Emma gaped.  “I’m sorry, it’s just… you don’t look… rich.”  Lame to say, but she knew how the girls back in Phoenix loved showing off their wealth.  Hell, some of them got an easy $2000 a week pocket money.  And guys swaggered around in suits and their fancy gold watches and cars.

“Yes, but it’s mostly old money,” Arthur said.  “We’re not doing a lot with it now.  I tend to work part-time at the cop station, and mostly doing DIY around the estate.  Not so exciting, I know.”

With all the fish done with, Arthur took out craft beers, of brands Emma had never heard of before, and they cracked the lid of each one open, basking in the tranquil evening atmosphere.

“I like you,” Yara said to Emma.  “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.  You’re, what… twenty-three? Four?”

“Five,” Emma answered.

“I’m thirty-one, and the little bro’s twenty-eight.  Everyone’s watching us to see if we’re going to produce heirs.  Getting to the point where I think they’re turning a blind eye over your choices, Art.  Long as you get one of them accidentally pregnant.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and Emma followed every movement of his eagerly, finding his very presence comforting to bask in.  Her eyes kept wandering over his body, that solid jawline of his, and sometimes rested on the area between his legs, as he sat splayed out like most men did.  Everything there was hidden by black combat pants.

“What’s the big deal with his—your,” she added, now directing the question to Arthur, “girlfriends? Yara makes them all sound ghastly.”

His dark eyes drooped, clearly not so eager to answer.  “Can we drop the ball on that? I’m actually enjoying myself for a change.  I don’t wanna be fucked up by thinking about that shit.”

“But if you don’t talk about it,” Yara pressed, “it’s only getting worse.  Speak to us.  We won’t judge.  Emma seems like a good listener.”

Because Emma wanted to hear more about Arthur, she didn’t contradict the statement.  She was a terrible listener, really…

“What’s there to say? Either I’m just unlucky with the women I choose, or they all turn out to be massive using bitches.  Lamarya’s a Maguire, I thought she’d be… well, more of a match than the previous ones.”

“I told you that she’s a bitch,” Yara snapped.  “But you, bro, are terrible with the way you pick women.  How many have you taken out on dates? How many were ones you didn’t just scoop out of a bar or on a foraging trip...” she glanced at Emma, “and fuck from the start?”

“You’re making it sound worse than it is...”

“How many, then?”

“Well, none of them, but—”

“I rest my case.”  She now ignored her brother and turned to face Emma, her dark, sharp eyes twinkling in the firelight.  “He’s looking in the wrong places, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, amused by the conversation.  Then, wanting to sound slightly more intelligent, continued with, “It’s usually better to get to know someone first.”

“Don’t stick the dick in crazy, right?” Arthur grinned, feeding back Emma’s words from earlier.

“Yes!” Emma smiled back, and she could have sworn that something just clicked between them.  Or maybe her stomach was quite happy to do little lurches, and make her limbs feel oddly tingly and light.  “That’s why dating exists.  You get to know someone, then if it seems to be working out, progress with the relationship.  Everyone’s in it for different reasons.  But you… even the dating can be a lie.”  She trailed into a brief silence.  “People like to lie.”

“What happened with you, then?”  Yara shuffled closer to Emma, drinking her beer like a veteran bar patron, legs spread even wider than Arthur’s.  “Must have been bad, to have you end up in the ass-end of nowhere, with a few creaking old families scrapping about turf.”

“I, heh, I felt trapped,” Emma said simply.  The sun popped fully out of sight, leaving them bathed in darkness, illuminated only by the warm flames.  Strange noises came from the brush, and the river gurgled nearby, but since the siblings didn’t appear to react to the sounds, Emma tried hard not to appear paranoid, either.  She didn’t think she liked the countryside after it fell dark.  No safe street lights lining the way home, or the welcome glow of late-closing shops, and the streams of cars with their winking yellow and red lights blurring in the dark roads.

“Trapped?” Arthur prompted, now edging closer too, intending to catch Emma’s words, even if she dropped to whispers.

“Between my parents and their shitty time and business management, and Marcus—the boyfriend—fucking with my head, I couldn’t take it.”  White, pristine tiles swam in Emma’s mind.  A glinting knife, and a brief swirl of pink with the running tap water.  She’d stared at herself in the mirror, with huge purple shadows under her eyes, and realized she looked more like a war survivor than a person in a loving relationship.  Slowly battered and worn down with an attrition of words and self-esteem.

Now the words struggled to come.  Even plied with half a bottle of drink, Emma found her throat locking up at the thought of sharing her problems with others.  She wasn’t a sharer, not really.

Then again, she didn’t really have anyone to share her problems with.  Her school friends had all drifted off to college and their own lives, and Emma had simply been left behind, too busy with everything, not making the effort to stay in contact.  She wanted to blame her friends for not being good friends—but really, she didn’t exactly make it any easier for them to communicate with her.  She ignored Facebook or WhatsApp posts for weeks, feeling the time drift away until it became far, far too late for anything.

“I don’t know, he made it seem like everything was my fault after a while.  Nothing I ever said was right.  I felt like I was running for his approval all the time, and I craved hearing him say something like ‘good girl,’ when I’d done something right.  And when he said nothing, it made me want to try harder.  And… when I tried to point out he was lazy, that he could help me more, that maybe he could drink less… somehow even all that became my fault.”  Her mind felt foggy, her body numb, as she imagined picking her way through that minefield of a relationship once more.

“Gaslighting,” Yara said promptly.  “Sounds like a manipulative little shit who exists solely to blame other people.  You’re lucky to be out of that.  Those kinds of people are like spiders, with their sticky little hands and webs of lies...” she imitated something that resembled more of a praying mantis, but Emma forced a laugh all the same.

“I’ve heard about that,” Arthur said, frowning.  “Gaslighting… isn’t that like some up there mind fuckery? Saying shit like ‘nah, I didn’t say that, you must be crazy,’ or turning things around so you end up wondering if you are actually going insane.”

Gaslighting… Emma felt tempted to Google it, but not with the non-existent connection.  “That sounds about right.  I...” she glanced down at her long sleeve, where the white lines would be, if they weren’t covered up.  “I guess I knew I needed to get out when I tried to kill myself.”

Deathly silence.  Birds twittered.  Twigs snapped, and the sound of rustling made Emma begin to imagine what sort of animals might be there now.  Did wolves roam free in these forests, perhaps? Bears? She knew bears and mountain lions would probably be around.  Maybe she should question the safety of this area.  But if they’d been camping here for years…

“You tried to kill yourself?”  The obvious question, from Arthur’s lips.  The fuel to keep her talking.

“It was… impulsive.  I felt like shit.  My dad didn’t turn up at work again, the new guy quit, and we were really busy in the store.  Couple of customers bad-mouthed me, and my dad was saying he’d be there in ten minutes, but never turned up.  Mom said he was with his friends watching some game.  As for Mom, she said something about an important church meeting, so she couldn’t come in...”  Emma licked her lips, rocking back and forth slightly.  How much did she dare telling them? How much did she dare letting out herself? “Then Marcus returned from… wherever he was.  Drunk as a skunk.”

“Oh no,” Yara said, looking like she wanted to punch something.  Arthur’s lips were tight, his face white with veiled loathing.  “Sorry, go on.”

“I’d just come back from work, and he asked why the hell I hadn’t made anything to eat yet.  And I told him I was tired, it’d been busy, and he said that wasn’t his fault that I didn’t have the spine to quit my job.  I guess he was kind of right about that…?”

“And was he helping you with home stuff?”  Yara sounded nonchalant, but she also seemed to be gripping her beer bottle so tightly that it threatened to break.

“No, it was a woman’s job, he said.  And he didn’t have a job yet, he said he’d been looking, but they were all stupid bitches who couldn’t see his talents.  So he went drinking.  We argued, I lost, as usual.”

“He didn’t hit you?”  Arthur started on his second bottle.  They had a case of fifteen, and Emma suspected they wouldn’t see any surviving when the weekend finished.

“No.  He was just… said he didn’t know why he bothered with me.  And he… broke a couple of things and stormed out again.  Said he was going to eat out with his friends.  Didn’t—didn’t think about the fact I hadn’t eaten.  It was like I didn’t exist; my feelings didn’t matter.  I didn’t matter.”  She closed her eyes, attempting to regain some control of her breathing, since her breaths came out unsteady, and tears pounded against her eyelids, wanting to slip out.

“Oh, I do hope he comes over here,” Yara said savagely.  “We’ve got enough family members to give him a warm welcome.”

A faint rumbling growl built up in Arthur’s throat.  Both of them seemed unusually riled up.  Emma wasn’t used to people feeling so much on her behalf.  Her cheeks reddened, embarrassed almost for them.  Strangers shouldn’t feel that emotional over something so small.  Maybe it was just the closeness of being together, having shared a sunny afternoon fishing, and light talking without any pressure forced upon anyone.  Maybe it was because Emma desperately wanted to open up to someone.

“When he left, I felt like… I was assaulted from all sides.  Nowhere to go, no one to turn to.  I didn’t want to go back to work, I didn’t want to wait for him to come back.  I didn’t want to be me anymore.  So, next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom, holding a steak knife.  Guess I wanted to inflict pain on myself, but I felt slightly sick looking at it.  I tried a couple of times to break the flesh.  Did, but on the top of my arm.  Here.”  She rolled up her left sleeve, revealing two jagged lines.  Arthur’s eyes narrowed.  “I went for the big one afterwards, but I didn’t cut deep enough.”  She revealed the underside of her arm, where a vertical crag of lines reached up to her elbow.  “I actually fainted, seeing my own blood, feeling that stinging pain.  I came to and I was bleeding, but not… enough.  I didn’t get anything important.  And I didn’t want to do that again.  And I realized… I needed to get out.  In case I ever found myself in that situation again, and I’d be braver and actually finish the deed.”  She left her scars on open display.  “Marcus didn’t know anything about it.  I told no one.  But I started looking for other places that very evening, just...”

The silence slipped past her again, but there was considerable warmth from the siblings.

“Fuck,” Arthur said.  “That’s pretty brave of you to get out.”

“No, it was cowardly,” Emma said, mouth twisted in bitterness.  Her heart twitched in shame and anger.  “I should have tried to make things work out.  I should have warned them I was going.  But I acted normal until the day I needed to go, and then I just left, with hand-written notes explaining that I’d gone.”

Arthur let out a slow whistle and clapped.  She was surprised at his reaction.  “No, it’s not cowardly at all.  It’s survival.”

“My little brother’s right,” Yara said, handing another beer to Emma, something creaking in her knees.  “If you stayed, you probably wouldn’t be alive.  Can’t be in a toxic environment like that.”  She paused, watching Emma sample her drink in an approving way.  “If you plan to stay, we’ll take you out with us, introduce you to the family.  You won’t be short of friends.  We don’t see a lot of new faces, but they’re welcome, long as they don’t do stupid shit.”  She patted Emma on the shoulder, and the twin warmth of brother and sister made Emma want to blub, though she didn’t know why.  Yara had said that statement so casually, like it was no big deal at all.  Emma sniffled a bit, which prompted a double hug from two absurdly muscled people, and Emma eventually gasped for breath, before getting released with a laugh and an apology.

Was it her imagination, or was Arthur paying her an inordinate amount of attention? His eyes kept drifting to her, flicking up and down her body, lingering on her lips.  Sometimes he licked his own, and rearranged his legs, but it all added up to Emma wondering if he desired her.  Though it wasn’t like she was trying her hardest to attract him, being completely covered up and all.

They retired to their sleeping bags, allowing the fire to dim down to embers, sandwiched in warm, insulating down, which Arthur claimed were the sort of bags the climbers of Mount Everest would use to stave out the worst of the cold.  As long as they didn’t plan to invite her along to a Mount Everest climb at some point…

The food and drink nestled in Emma’s belly, along with a warm, suffusing sensation that tingled over her at the memory of Arthur’s hands.  Yara grumbled and tossed for a comfy position in her bag, before finally settling for sleep.  Emma lay there for a while afterwards, wondering if she might ever get to a point where she could call Valor Lake her home.  Maybe if she stayed out in the country long enough, she’d forget everything that existed in her past.  All of it could be shunted into a little mental box and locked up.  No more feverish dreams of Marcus with that cruel smile twisting his thin, dark red lips.  No more watching him scratch his hook-shaped nose, as he sprawled in the armchair, waiting to rain more judgment and blame upon her, even as the empty glass bottles piled up at his feet, ringing the table, with small drops of liquid staining the rug, giving that awful, stale odor that made her want to avoid the living room.

No more stressing about her parents as they continued to pump her for every dollar she was worth, until there was nothing left to give.  Emma touched her sleeve, where the scars lay hidden.

In a way, when she’d done that, her life had ended.  Just not quite in the way she originally intended.

Hopefully this new one would be a lot better than the last.

Chapter Four – Arthur

Crack.

Arthur opened his eyes, instantly alert, wrenched from a beautiful dream where he was bent over running water, catching salmon with his bare hands.  He lay silent a moment, trying to listen in, to see if the sound had been a one-off thing, or indicative of something more.  There was no wind, so maybe…

A grunting, snorting sound.

“Shit.”  What timing would this be, now? He squirmed out of his bag quietly, rose and slowly unzipped the flap of the camouflage-green tent.  Still night outside.  He knew exactly what the sound was.  Question remained whether it might be wild or someone he knew.

Eyes glinted in the moonlight, and a huge, furred form raised onto its hind legs, not so far away from Arthur, and appeared to sniff the air.  It hadn’t yet spotted him and smelled of wet fur and blood.  Heat collected in Arthur’s chest, and he let it spread out, beginning the transformation.

Every limb in his body became almost molten hot, and he suppressed a groan of pain.  Fur prickled out of his skin, his senses blurred then enhanced, before snapping back with startling clarity.

The bear turned to face him, and a low snarl built in its throat.  The way it stood on its hind legs and pounded its claws together…

Leave, Arthur mentally spat at the intruder.  This is Valor camping ground.

A tearing sound made Arthur whirl, and he saw another bear frenetically tearing at Yara and Emma’s tent, huge claws crumpling the material.  What—?

A mass of fur smashed into him, and teeth snapped at his head.  He avoided the potentially fatal throat grab with a bellow, his own claws setting to work against the bear.  Both tumbled on the ground, but Arthur couldn’t focus, too scared of what was happening to the other tent, if Yara and Emma had woken up in time, if they could get out before the bear sliced them open.

Yara!  Yara!  Wake up!

I’m awake, her mind hissed back, and he caught the blur of her form emerging from the tent, bowling over the rival.  Emma scrambled out of the ruins, shaking like a leaf in the darkness, her breaths coming in hysterical gasps.  Soil and grass churned.  The wet, blood-smeared bear continued biting and slashing, and they wrestled in an ungainly way, each trying to be on top, to get that fatal blow in.

Who are you? Why do you attack?

He had a suspicion, of course.  His uncle.  His uncle had ample reason to want him dead.  Removing him meant removing his father’s eldest son.  It meant more murk in the succession, in whatever claim his uncle intended to exert on the natural lands.

The enemy bear shifter didn’t respond.  Probably trying to pretend to be a wild one, but no wild bear acted like this one.  Rough, grinding bark hit his back, and he scrabbled for height, slashing indiscriminately to keep the jaws at bay.  One swipe smacked into the rival bear’s jaw, and something gave way.  The bear stumbled back, tongue lolling, jaw sagging.  The bear’s ears were flat, eyes still focused on him—but clearly it was getting too wounded to move.  Arthur didn’t want to kill them.  He huffed, thumping the ground with his paws, making himself bigger, growling and grunting.  The bear attempted a weakened raise and slash, and Arthur slammed into his foe, damaging the legs with savage bites, then switching to the arm that swatted him.  The bear wheezed and crumpled into a feeble heap.

Arthur whirled around, searching for Emma and Yara, and saw that Yara had not been as merciful as him.  Her muzzle was darker than usual, and he smelled the blood that covered her.

Where’s Emma? He circled his still-alive prey, not intending to leave his side for a moment.

Here, Yara said.  She jerked her head towards the trembling woman in the tree she’d attempted to climb up.  We probably shouldn’t tell her trees aren’t safe, though.

Get her down.  I’ll deal with this.  Arthur didn’t wait for his sister’s confirmation, now focusing all his attention on the bear.  He took big, puffing breaths, now feeling the ache and scratches over his body, and a ringing dullness from the flat-handed thumps.

By now, the bear had bubbled back into human form, revealing a bulky, naked man.  His jaw was intact, so not dislocated or broken.  Just stunned from the blow.  For a moment, he’d been sure he did some nasty damage there.

“It’s okay, Emma,” Yara said to the frightened woman.  Yara was back in her human form now, naked, and seemed to be attempting to coax a catatonic Emma.

“What the actual fuck,” Emma said after an age, voice shaking, “did I just witness?”

“Long story.  Might be best to explain to you once we’ve got you down and heated up some chocolate for you to drink.”

“You’re naked!”

“I’m glad you noticed.  Brother, are the cooking supplies still intact?”

With little effort, Arthur snapped back into human form, though it did send a cold, shrinking sensation over his skin.  His shredded clothes fell off him, leaving little to the imagination.  Well, since his foe was currently knocked out, Arthur reckoned he had a couple of moments to change.  He dipped back into his tent, hauled out some clothes and a flashlight, and turned it on, resting it against a fallen log.  He hopped into joggers and a stretchy top.  They always caused the least discomfort when transforming.

“What’s going on? What did I just see?”  Emma’s voice came out hysterical, and Arthur inwardly groaned.  He didn’t have time to educate a stranger on the bear thing.  Not right now, when he needed to deal with the assassin, find out who sent him, or if he was acting of his own accord.

“Let me try and explain...”

Arthur watched his sister take Emma by the hand, before stopping to dress herself up also.  “And we’ll leave my brother to deal with the trash.”

Speaking of trash, Arthur spotted flickering eyelids from the fallen bear shifter, and crouched next to him, examining the wispy blond hair, the manly jaw.  Not features he recognized.  So not someone from one of the three founding clans.  A bastard, maybe? Or an outsider?

The man’s eyes opened, and the pupils contracted when noticing Arthur.

“Hey,” Arthur said.  “You’ve just ruined a pleasant, peaceful weekend camping trip.  You and your dead buddy.  You also scared the living shit out of my new human friend, and you can probably tell I’m unhappy with you.”

The man stared at him, sullen.

“Talkative, aren’t you?”  Arthur stepped forward to kick the man in his stomach.  He doubled up on the ground, gasping.  Another kick aimed at behind, targeting his genitals, and the man let out a high-pitched, wheezing scream, almost like a balloon being deflated.

“I’d really rather you talked.  But if you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to kill you as well.  Who sent you? Dillon?”

The bear shifter, eyes tearing up, clenched his jaw and didn’t respond.

“Ah, well.”  Arthur bent beside him, took one hand, and grabbed the baby finger.  “One by one, shall we?”

Snap.  The man whimpered, dark eyes bulging.  Foam bubbled at the corners of his lips as he attempted to hold in his pain.

It took Arthur five more snaps, starting on the baby finger of the man’s right hand, before he howled out.

“Stop!  Please!  Stop!  Yes!  Dillon sent me!  Ah!”

Not letting go of the hand, Arthur gave a wide, toothy grin at his opponent.  Rage coursed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to kill this rotten bastard.  Instead, he said in a tight, controlled voice, “Now, see? Wasn’t that easy? You could have avoided all these broken bones, if you’d just bothered to talk.”  Arthur pinched the next finger up.  “Now, as a show of goodwill, how about you tell me how exactly he recruited you, found out where we were, and sent you and your buddy to kill me?”

His eyes flickered to the four undamaged fingers.  With deep, ragged breaths, he made a wet, gulping sound, before saying, “I don’t know.  I’m a bastard.  Always on the fringe, ain’t I? Said he came to me, wanting to get to know his missing sons.  Said for two hundred thousand, me and my buddy had to take care of a problem.  He told me your regular spots, and we were waiting in the area for a few days.”

Arthur wondered why the idiot hadn’t bothered to bring guns.  The bastard answered his unspoken question, however.

“We had to make it look like a natural bear attack.  Gunshots too obvious, you know?”

I highly doubt me and my sister ending up dead in any circumstance is considered not suspicious.  And for Christ’s sake, we’re a community of bear fucking shifters.  What a moron.

“Was there any part of you that thought this might be a bad idea?”

Scrunched eyebrows greeted the question.  As if the shifter was struggling really, really hard in that tiny little brain of his for an answer.

“I’m calling our family,” Yara said.  A trembling Emma stood behind her, watching Arthur as he held the shifter’s finger in his fist.  “We’ve got cleanup to do.  And we don’t know how many more might be lurking in wait for us.”  She wiped her mouth, perhaps feeling a speck of blood still on her chin.  Emma’s eyes kept flickering, including back to the dead shifter, who lay in his human form.  At death, even if they started in bear form, they’d melt back into human.

“Dad’s gonna be so pissed at Dillon.  This is a step too far.  Assassinating family members?”

“He’s part of a new clan, now.  He can’t exactly worry about being excommunicated,” Yara said with a snort, pacing up and down in the darkness, kicking up ash with her feet as she attempted to reach their parents.  A moment later, she muttered into the cellphone.  Arthur, realizing he still held the bastard’s finger, released it, and sat next to the man’s head, watching him like a hawk.

*****

“So...” Emma said.  Arthur observed her, tension as tight as a guitar string inside him.  Once a human knew about the shifting, for better or for worse, they’d be strongly recommended to stay in Valor Lake.

Or killed.

She had her hot chocolate by now, though her blonde hair still looked mussed up, and her eyes were bloodshot.  Her head also tilted to the side, as if nodding off to sleep.  “Bear shifters.”

Yara, fingers interlaced, pressed her lips together.  In the safety of their parents’ lakeside mansion, they were sprawled out in the huge basement, a place Arthur’s father had worked hard at transforming into a man cave.  Emma sat on the blue sofa bed, and a king-sized bed took up space in the far right corner.  Lights dotted the walls in circles, giving a strobe-light feel to the spacious room.  His sister leaned forward, the leather of the armchair creaking underneath.  “That’s right.”

“They exist.”

“Obviously,” Yara said.

“And you killed someone.”

“They were trying to kill us first,” Yara pointed out.

Emma did not appear particularly reassured by this.  Arthur couldn’t exactly blame her.  It wasn’t every day that a human stumbled across the existence of shape shifters.  People like Arthur much preferred keeping to themselves, or living on private lands.  Valor Lake certainly wasn’t the only reservation out there.  But perhaps it was one of the biggest—counting the wilderness.

“You’re all bear shifters.”  Emma sipped her hot chocolate, hands a little wobbly.  “I’m sitting here, in a mansion, drinking chocolate… and talking to bear shifters.”

“That would be correct.”

Emma stared at her feet for a moment.  Her left yellow sock had a hole in it.

“This wasn’t really the way we intended you to find out,” Arthur said, though in all honesty, he didn’t intend Emma to ever find out.

“You can say that again,” Emma said, hands shaking more violently.  A tiny wave of chocolate slopped over the rim, trickling onto her wrist.  “I take it—there’s other shifters, too? Or… just bears or whatever?”

“There’s others,” Yara confirmed.  “Mostly due to Native American ancestry.  Buffalos, coyotes, wolves, bears, eagles.  We’re the best, obviously.”

A laugh tore out of Emma, and she hastily put her drink down, before ruining her top.  “I’m—I’m having issues processing this right now.”  She waved her hands helplessly.  “Like—three hours ago, I just found out about bear shifters.  I’ve spent my entire life just assuming they’re in books and shitty TV shows.”

“Some of those bear shifters in the shows are actual shifters,” Arthur replied with a grin, relieved that Emma seemed to be taking it better than expected.  “Closely guarded secret.  There’s not so many of us,  mind you, but enough to leave a mark on the world.”

Mark on the world.  Small ones, to be sure, since no one wanted to be fully out there in the open.  No one wanted their habitats destroyed by thousands of tourists, to have scientists experimenting.  Those who risked themselves and went out there, posing for movies and paranormal shows—Arthur thought them stupid.  All it took was one person to blab from the NDA—and that was it.  Likely there were groups of humans who knew all about the shifters, but none of it reached real news sources, or if it did, it drowned out fast under layers of skepticism.

“Is it normal for you people to… to kill?”  Her voice shook.  Something dark fluttered behind her eyes—a memory she wanted to wash away, perhaps.  Or horror at what he did.  To an outsider, he must have seemed brutal and cruel.  A monster.

He wanted to explain to her that he wasn’t, but he didn’t see how.  “Sometimes,” he replied, sad.  “We are more… territorial and aggressive than humans.  And we have our own laws.  It’s not often, at least.  I heard it used to be more common in my grandma’s day.  Easier to just kill the competition than attempt to get along with them, and it’s hard to stop a charging bear once they’ve got themselves going.”  She leaned towards him, listening, and he felt obliged to continue.  “I didn’t want you to see this side of us.  I just… I thought it’d be nice to take you fishing.  Not let you be alone or anything.  But it didn’t turn out so well, did it?”

“No,” Emma said, the corners of her mouth set in a neutral line.  “That attempt didn’t work out.”  Another moment of staring.  “Am I safe?”

Yara took it upon herself to answer that one.  “I can’t answer that for you.  You should be safe.  Bears generally don’t bother killing humans.  But if our uncle’s sending assassins to come and pop us off, it may mean anyone with us is in some kind of danger.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Emma seemed to nod and accept this.  “I’m okay now,” she said, under their anxious eyes.  “I want to go home.  I need to process this.  Sleep.  Go to work tomorrow...”  Sounded more like to Arthur that she wanted to escape.  He knew father wouldn’t approve.  They wouldn’t want a human running around free.  But he couldn’t refuse Emma this request.

“Okay.  I’ll take you home.”  He ignored Yara’s bulging indignation and searched for his jacket.

Chapter Five – Emma

Unbelievable, Emma thought.  Even though she’d watched both Yara and Arthur transform in front of her eyes into big, fuzzy brown grizzlies, she still couldn’t comprehend the fact that shifters existed.  Big, furry bear shifters.  Only a couple of days had passed since the incident, but her mind struggled to process.

Her boss sidled over from his table.  “Emma,” he said, clearing his throat and twitching his white mustache, “Emma, dear, you’re looking quite distracted today.”

Jumping out of her dazed state, she attempted a smile at Roger Miles, her boss of two months.  “Yeah, sorry.  Just some trouble at home, boss.  I’ll get right back to work.”  The first lie that sprung to her lips, and an easy one, because she did have trouble at home.  Several months back.  He certainly didn’t need to know that.

He gave her a kindly smile, watching her move nervously in her swivel chair for a brief moment, before he went and turned on the office fan with a click.  “Getting warm.  This’ll help.  Work hard, okay?”

She bobbed her head and smiled back, before forcing herself back into the flow of work, dealing with a flood of emails and disgruntled customers until her eyes crossed.  Her mind kept wandering, however, and several times, she Google searched about shifters to see if somehow it had made the news anywhere.  All she got was links to fiction stories and shows.  And a few smack articles about “real vampires” and people with lycanthrope symptom.

Arthur and Yara Valor remained firmly off the map.  Even the information about Valor Lake didn’t say much.  Just what she’d seen.  Cheap rental properties, talks about nature, fishing, bears, and it being a small town situated within the boundaries of a natural reservation.  Certainly nothing about the fact that the rich founding families also happened to possess the interesting ability of shifting into bears.

Then again, what exactly did she expect? She didn’t think they existed.  Therefore, they did a damn good job of hiding themselves and making sure their secret remained as such.  They took precautions.  Owning their own lands, making them reservations, probably… she looked around on the internet, wondering if there were any other potential shifter hot spots.

She thought she might have found a few.  All seemed obscure and not really designated as tourist spots.  All seemed to specify a protected species on their reserves, like wolves, bears, coyotes.

Reminding herself to keep working, Emma refocused on the mission at hand.  Easy to let attention stray, however.  Easy to have her eyes drift to her emails, to look at funny pictures friends had sent her…

Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach when she opened her email, and saw two messages that burned into her eyes, amongst the others she’d not yet deleted.

Mom.  Marcus.

How did Mom have her new address? Emma hadn’t told her it.  She looked back at her friends’ list, trying to figure out if she had a friend who might have blabbed.  Maybe if Mom did that I just want to keep in contact with my daughter puppy eye, looking like a long-suffering mother, Susan or Charisma might have done it.  They were suckers for puppy faces, and both thought she was being unnecessarily harsh to her own parents.  Try living and working with them for a year, and then see how harsh I am.  She sent a caps-lock message to both women.  DID YOU GIVE MY ADDRESS TO MY MOTHER??!

She knew who gave Marcus the address.  Her mother, of course, who still thought Marcus to be a darling.

Then she stared at her mother’s subject line, ‘I miss you’, and wondered, maybe, was she being too harsh? Maybe her mother genuinely thought she might be dead or something.

Checking that her boss was currently distracted by something else, like today’s newspaper, his feet up on the desk, Emma clicked on her mother’s message.

Hey baby girl,

It’s been a while since we’ve heard from you, and I just want to know if you’re okay.  Your father and I have been worried sick.  We’ve had a lot of trouble with the IRS, and your father says that it’s your fault, but I know it’s not.  All you need to do is explain yourself, and I’m sure everything will be okay.  I am of course very sad you chose to leave us like this, and I don’t think we deserved that kind of leaving at all.  We had to scramble to get someone new, but it looks like we’ll have to close the family business down.  We gave it 8 years, but it looks like it can no longer be done.

Please get back to me.

Your loving mother.

PS: You left your boyfriend as well? We thought you took Marcus with you.  He’s been in such a state.

Emma’s stomach clenched and unclenched, and she felt the familiar drip of poison entering her veins again.  Her mother really, really liked to mix false concern with accusations.  She was the kind of person who would say I’m not blaming you or anything when that was clearly her intention, or I’m not trying to offend you but… and then say the thing that offended the other person.  Her mother likely shook with rage when typing that out, rather than felt concern.  They’d probably be happy with an accidental death from her, so they could claim her insurance money.

Also, Emma’s father did like blaming other people for his issues.  Emma had left those stupid tax forms in plain sight.  Her father would need to put them through a shredder to “lose” them.  He obviously thought he could get away with tax evasion.  She’d reminded him so many times not to do it, even explaining why, and he’d always have that dumb incomprehension, like he was annoyed at her for telling him he couldn’t break the law.

As for Marcus’s letter… the subject line, ‘Please Talk’, made her block and delete the email without bothering to look at it.  She hesitated, before blocking her mother as well.

Did it make her a coward?

Probably.

She fidgeted with her blonde hair anxiously for the remainder of her shift, often changing her position and jiggling her legs to avoid the horrible stiffness creeping up.

Another rainy afternoon.  Emma splashed through puddles outside the building, got the bus to the edge of town, and waited once more to be taken to Valor Lake for a stupid amount of time.  Trying not to think about those messages.  Trying not to cry.

She’d tried asking her boss if she could be let out earlier, but he wanted every single minute squeezed.  Likely his two-week holiday clause meant, “You don’t actually have any holidays off, because I will make you feel bad about taking them.”

Though he wasn’t a terrible boss, to be honest.  He did put the fan on for her, after all.

A figure slouched to the bus stop along with her, and the first drops of rain fell.  Judging by the slightly stooped back, the bag-lady clothes, even though the woman’s face was hidden by one of those handkerchief scarf things, Emma knew her to be the same woman who spoke to her before.  The one with the creepy-as-hell, red-rimmed eyes, and an abrasive way of talking.  She clutched four shopping bags in her wrinkled fingers, not letting go of them.

Emma tried hard not to look like she was available to talk.

“Oh, you again, isn’t it?”

Shit.

“Hello,” Emma said, not wanting to engage in further conversation.  Her emotions scattered all over the place.  One wrong word right now might just tip her over the edge.  “You okay?”

“Would be, if I can get one of me grandsons to help carry all this,” the old woman complained.  “Always seem to be fishing when I ask them, or busy with something.”  Her face obtained more crags as she scowled.

Fishing? Emma examined the woman, heart thumping unusually fast.  She fixated on the woman’s drooping nose, not wanting to stare into those eyes as her stomach made little queasy flips at the missing eyelashes.  No, it’s just a coincidence.  I’m sure everyone likes to fish here.

“What are… your grandsons’ names, actually?”

“Always finding excuses not to help their grandma… why, I can still tan their hides if I want to!  Huh, sorry dear?”  She finally realized Emma had said something and nodded at her to speak.

“Their names? Maybe I’ve bumped into your grandson recently?”

The older woman’s eyes turned bright and piercing.  If Emma focused on the depths of those dark eyes instead…

“You the one who went with my Arthur on that fishing trip?”

For a moment, they both stared at each other, and Emma processed the information.  Grandma Jackie.

“Yes.  That’s me.  I went on Saturday, Sunday.”

“Oh, dearie me.  Then you know all about us.  Arthur was telling me about that dreadful attack, oh yes.  I’m sorry you had to witness that.  We’re usually quite peaceful, keep ourselves to ourselves…” Her eyes were hard, suggesting something that Emma couldn’t quite pick up on.  Anger? Scorn? Determination?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You gonna tell on us?”

Before Emma had a chance to reply to that, Grandma Jackie continued, in a higher pitched tone, “Don’t be doing that, now.  We like to keep our secret for a reason.  Don’t want my family being carted off to a lab.”  The wind howled through the narrow gap of two buildings, and the rain picked up in patter, as if to emphasize Grandma’s words.

“I won’t!  I hardly believe it myself!” Emma said, but Jackie shook her head stubbornly.

“No, you must come over.  Come to the Valor Lake side, be introduced to our family.  Now you know about us, don’t think we’re going to let you be wandering around.  You better come and see the family, understand what’s up.  Eh?”

“Um… okay?”  The bus trundled into view, and they both scrambled into it, with Jackie instantly waving her pass, which had been clutched in one hand, ready to go.  Emma should invest in a pass at some point, she did lose a fair amount of money to traveling…

“You’re coming with me,” Jackie said, her voice hard.  A trace of a growl contrasted wildly with her small, diminutive frame.  “Introduce you to the family, let Arthur know you’re visiting…”

She’s a bear shifter too, of course, Emma thought with a slight thrill of fear.  If I refuse, she’ll probably transform and chomp me up.

Grandma Jackie shifted all her bags onto the seat next to her, and laboriously took out an old-fashioned, black and white phone, and began tapping a message to someone.

It was actually a little strange to see this ancient woman feeling her way around a phone, though she finished with a flourish, and gave Emma a rather wicked, toothy grin.  Minus the few back teeth, it seemed.

“This gonna be a fun meeting.”

“I’m not sure if I want to come…”

The growl in the woman’s throat became stronger, as did her voice.  “You would refuse our hospitality?”

“I…”

“Don’t you want to see Arthur again?”

The low-key threat made Emma shiver.  Maybe she was looking too much into it, but Emma didn’t really know how the bears operated.  Was this tiny, growling old lady the matriarch? If she told Arthur to stop seeing Emma, would he stop as well?

She likely told him to stop seeing that woman who lived nearby.  Lamarya or whatever her name was.

Probably best not to get on the bad side of an entire family of bear shifters.  “I’d love to come,” Emma said, plastering a fake smile on her face.  Not feeling the emotion inside.  Everything knotted into anxiety.  She barely wanted to comprehend the shifter thing.  She barely wanted to believe she’d witnessed the death of a man, and the torture of another.

The way Arthur had turned from that gentle, smiling man to a person who didn’t blink an eyelid as he snapped the bones in that man’s fingers… if anything, Arthur might be more dangerous than her ex.

Last time she checked, at least Marcus didn’t snap people’s bones just to get information out of them.  But then again, Marcus didn’t get attacked and almost killed.

Crossing one leg over the other, Emma resigned herself to watching the rain slide down the windows, transforming the world into a gray smudge, and she wondered what kind of crazy she was waist-deep in.

Chapter Six – Arthur

“Make sure you look your best, dear,” Arthur’s mother said, patting down his suit.  “If we’re going to get you married off, better with that human before she ends up telling everyone about us.”

Arthur, standing in front of his mother as she fussed and primped him, turned red at the notion.  “Mom!  Stop trying to marry me off to people!  You’d throw me with anyone at this rate.”

“You need an heir,” his mother said, repeating Jackie’s mantra.  Her dark eyes creased, now overridden with mild fear.  “You understand that, don’t you? The oldest son needs an heir, or we’ll never hear the end of it from your uncle!  He’s got children.  He’ll try to argue why the lands should rightfully be reclaimed by him.”

“There’s four of us, Ma,” Arthur said, tired of hearing the same blabbering, his eyes now casting around the bedroom, with its fancy dressing table, the four-poster bed where his parents slept, and the dark wood walls and black beams criss-crossing the white ceiling.  “I have two brothers after me, and why not Yara? Last time I checked, she’s a Valor woman as well.  She could run the family business well.”

“Yes, but she can hardly marry her own siblings,” his mother said.  “She’ll become a Maguire or something.  We can’t let the Maguires take land from us.”  Her expression made Arthur wonder why his mother would even want to send Yara off to marry someone she hated.  Women and marriage.  They were so ridiculous.

“And if she doesn’t marry?”

“Hush, now.”  Apparently, his mother didn’t even want to consider the concept that her daughter would refuse to marry.  Honestly, Arthur didn’t see the fuss.  Unless the uncle killed every single family member at once…

His thoughts returned to the attack.  To the man they now had in the family basement, being attended to by his father.  They still didn’t know whether they wanted the man to go free, or to kill him.  Didn’t want too many dead bodies cropping up, even though their community remained isolated from regular human affairs.  They’d already cleaned up the corpse from the campsite.  Looked like they might have to move and find a new spot to go to.

Enyeto came into the room then, blond hair, dark eyes, smiling in that annoying way of his.  “Yara told me what’s happening.  Jackie’s bringing back the stray female.  She look any good, bro?”

He might have only been three years younger than Arthur, but damn if he didn’t know how to be annoying.  If Arthur had to write a family list of “Who has slept with the most people,” he’d put Enyeto at the top.  “You’ll see soon enough.  Was that all you wanted to say?”

“Nah.  Dad’s finished with the prisoner.  It didn’t end well, so we need some cleanup help.”

“We’re not helping!” Mother hissed, now clutching Arthur’s arm tightly.  “You think I want my son away burying a body when the woman he’s going to date comes around? Go get Yara and Kuruk to do the work.”

“They’re here!”

“Hurry—go.  Go now!”

Yara and Kuruk followed Enyeto to the basement, and Arthur shivered, hoping against hope that Emma wouldn’t see anything.

Grandma Jackie chose that moment to hobble through the farmhouse entrance, with Emma now carrying all four bags to save the woman the effort of dragging them.  Shit, maybe he’d better help Jackie in the future… but he had been busy.  Father wanted assistance with the prisoner.  The interrogation seemed increasingly wretched for the prisoner, who couldn’t give any concessions about not crawling straight back to his uncle.  How could they trust him? He’d have even more reason to hate them and want to get back at them.

It left a black stain on their family.  Wouldn’t be the first.  Wouldn’t be the last.  And all the major families in Valor Lake had a blood toll.

When Emma looked at Arthur, a twinge of hope and anxiety panged in his gut.  If she found out about the other guy dying, how would she take it? How could she possibly be friends with someone like him?

Lamarya, at least, was a shifter.  No risk breaking up with her, aside from his butthurt family members who really wanted that squalling baby.

He just needed to look in Emma’s eyes to see what kind of judgment awaited.  The rain had caught her, leaving her blonde hair a scraggly mess, her white blouse drenched, showing the white bra underneath.  A beautiful mess.  Damn humans, looking so attractive…

“You never told me she’s a looker,” Jackie said, clearly pleased at scooping up such a pretty human.  “She’ll make some mighty fine babies, that one.”

Emma’s cheeks erupted into an inferno of embarrassment, and she barely managed to look at Arthur.  Yara snorted from the side, arms folded, clearly enjoying this little exchange.

“Meemaw, can you not scare her away, please? She’s barely accepted we’re bear shifters.  There’s no need to start scaring her with other things, too.”

“She’ll be just the thing to get you back on your feet after that dreadful woman,” Jackie said, ignoring their embarrassment, oblivious to their spluttering.

“You wanted me to be with Lamarya!”

“Only because I wanted a grandchild.  I can’t stand Maguires otherwise.  Awful, rowdy lot.  Stole some of our land half a century back, as you know, and simply won’t admit they’re in the wrong.”

Well, this was going swimmingly.  Arthur wished he could shut up his grandmother before she dug the hole deeper around him and made it impossible to climb back out again.  “Let’s try treating her like a guest, and less like an object, okay? Let her see the family, whatever.  Just not… this talk.  Please.”

“Hmph.”  Jackie didn’t add to the matter, and Emma mouthed thank you from her position.  Poor woman didn’t know what had hit her.  Jackie and all the other older women in their clan did like their gossip, and their talks of relationships and whether or not they’d gain grandchildren or great-grandchildren.  It apparently caused her great distress to be hitting her late sixties and to still not have any grandkids to bounce on her knees.  Maybe it caused her physical pain or something.  Some of the creepy questions she’d ask…

“Is she usually that overbearing?” Emma asked, brown eyes twinkling.  She now smiled, since most of the embarrassment had worn off, and she no longer felt particularly pressured by threats of children.  “Or is she having an off day?”

“Trust me,” Arthur growled, now resisting the urge to brush back an annoying tuft of Emma’s hair that stuck itself to her nose, “she’s always like that.  She and all the other old biddies in the Valor clan gather together by the fireside, knitting, plotting about their offspring.”

“I kind of like it,” Emma said, after a brief hesitation, letting her attention wander over the rich interior of their mansion.  “At least she wants to keep you around and help raise your children.  Do you live in this mansion with them?”

“Nearby,” Arthur admitted, surprised at Emma’s confession.  He’d never thought of it like that.  “I’m not sure you’d enjoy it for long, though.  It’s very political, me having a child.  I don’t understand it myself, but there’s an expectation that the eldest must bear fruit.”

Emma sniggered, before explaining, “Sorry.  It’s just… you said bear.  And well, you’re an actual bear, so that’s kind of… that’s kind of a pun, right?”

He stared blankly at her.  “No.”

“Don’t like puns?”

“No.”

“I do,” Yara supplied, batting her eyelashes innocently, causing Arthur to groan.  No.  If Emma liked puns as well, he’d kick her out the house.  No way did he plan to get double-teamed.

“I like the odd joke,” Emma said, “though when I try to say them, they never come out funny.  Bad delivery, I guess.”

Arthur saw Enyeto and Kuruk sidle in from their apparent hiding places, clearly interested to see what was happening.  Had they dealt with the body that fast? Kuruk, the youngest, still needed to finish high school.  But he’d seen more than his fair share of dark family blood-shedding.

“These your brothers?”  Emma gave them a wave, and it disconcerted Arthur to see her linger a little too long on Enyeto.  Sure, he looked decent, but no.  Just no.  Emma was his find.  No one would snatch her away from him so soon.

“Yes, but watch out for Enyeto.”  Arthur indicated his younger brother.  “He’s a player.  He’ll try and land you in bed at the first opportunity and add you to the notches on his bedpost.”

“I’m not that bad,” Enyeto said in his deep bass voice, not offended by Arthur’s statement at all.  “But I do admit I like the pretty ladies.”  He flicked a leer Emma’s way, and she stiffened, slightly uncomfortable from the attention.

Kuruk appeared to be rubbing his hands.  Washing off blood, perhaps? Arthur’s mind went a little overboard, imagining blood and guts all over the basement, smeared on the stairs, hoping that Emma somehow wouldn’t end up wading into the wrong area and seeing the sins of his family in full.

Jackie tugged at Emma’s arm, now guiding her to the living room, offering a drink, and alerting everyone she possibly could to the presence of a human in the house.  It pulled Arthur’s father from his basement dwelling, and thankfully, his father appeared immaculate.  Kuruk, who hadn’t really had so much contact with humans, eagerly assaulted her with questions, asking about how good human eyesight and smell were, did they not think of themselves as fragile and weak, and so on.

“Sorry about the attention,” Arthur said, finding himself a place next to Emma.  “It’s not that often we have new guests here.  I think they just want to see how you’re taking the bear shifter thing.”

Emma accepted the tea from Jackie and flashed a guarded smile.  “To be honest, a part of me wants to pack my bags and just leave.”  Arthur’s heart plummeted at this statement.  “The other part is curious.  I mean… people who can shapeshift? I’d be crazy not to want to know more about it.  Like… did you guys start off as bears, then become human? Or the other way around? Do you lose your human minds when you become bears? How the hell does it even work?”

“Oh.”  Arthur grinned at her questions.  Questions were good.  Questions meant she hadn’t yet given into the impulse of running away.  Despite the crush of experiences, of the death she’d witnessed, she still wanted to talk to him.  Maybe get to know him.  A sure step up from Lamarya, who much preferred to get to know him in a naked way, not so much in a person way.  “Well, I can tell you that we have family legends, of course, but I can’t promise how true they are.”

“Legend?”  Emma tucked her legs underneath her, absently swirling the black tea.

“Oh, go and tell her,” Jackie interrupted, appearing from the doorway like a materializing ghost, making Emma jump.  The older woman’s smile could certainly belong in a horror movie, Arthur thought.  She meant well, but sometimes she just really wanted to butt in on things.  Any moment she’d be badgering Arthur about the baby thing again.  “I’m sure she’ll love to hear all about our family.”

Implying she’ll become a part of it.

“I guess… I’ll love to hear,” Emma said with a wide smile.  Arthur resisted the urge to laugh.

“Yes… well.  It’s something like… just over 400 years ago, European settlers came into this section of America.  But these weren’t any settlers, you see.  These were people who needed help, and the Native Americans gave them the help needed.  They gave food, water, let the settlers into their homes, introduced the settlers to their god.

“The European settlers found the people, who called themselves the Sitting Bear tribe, strange but friendly, and to have a strange affinity for the wildlife, for the bears in particular, whose skins they wore, or who they fed if they came into the settlements.  The clan told them that those who opened their hearts to their god would gain an aspect of the god’s power.  They called him the Great Bear and said that only a few of them had ever been blessed.

“Upon visiting the Great Bear’s grotto, the leaders of the settlers were blessed with the strength and wisdom of the bear, and together with the Native Americans, began to work hard to convert the area into a great settlement, and to protect it from the efforts of the other settlers who invaded and took everything for themselves.”

Arthur wet his lips, which felt dry, and daubed at his teeth with his tongue.  “The first family were called the Cahills, which means “Valor” in the old tongue.  That’s where Valor Lake comes from.  And we changed the surname to that in the end.  We had a few nasty clashes with those who wanted a chunk of the land for themselves, but needless to say, they didn’t work out very well.  Now the families here tend to own businesses all over the area.  Including my uncle with his factories.”  The same uncle that wanted to murder me.  What a nice family I come from.

Emma sat there for a long moment, digesting the story, probably deciding how unfeasible it sounded.  Even though she’d seen him and Yara transform before her very eyes.  “That’s… so the bear shifters originated from America?”  Emma drank some of her tea, her face furrowed in thought.  “They don’t come from anywhere else?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Arthur replied, shrugging.  “Probably there’s other spirits around.  But I’ve never really left Valor Lake or gone and traveled to other countries to talk to shifters.  I only know about the shifters in the immediate vicinity, like the coyotes, and wolves—the Native American spirits that used to be worshiped.”

“Oh.”  Some more cogs turned in Emma’s mind.  She appeared pretty cute with the way the skin bunched up between her eyebrows, wrinkling the sides of her nose. “So, you’re what, born with this? Or do you have to go and visit this spirit thing?”

“Born,” Arthur said.  “Though we do traditionally go to the grotto once a year.  Pay our respects, leave gifts and so on.”

The silence lingered.  Arthur sensed Emma had a question, could almost guess what kind of question it was, and waited for her to say it.  When she didn’t, he said, “Maybe we can take you there.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly.  “I’d like to see it, to be honest… but it sounds very private.  Won’t I be upsetting anyone if I was to come?”

“No,” said Jackie, once again popping out of nowhere.  “The spirit is open to everyone.  Sure, we’ve not seen it in a long while, but you never know… maybe it’ll take a liking to you!”

When Jackie sidled off again into the cavernous mansion, Arthur smiled apologetically.  “I’m really sorry about her.  She’s desperate for me to have children.  Now that my ex is out the picture… according to her, you’re my next best prospect.”

“Nice,” Emma said, though her blush deepened.  Arthur half expected her to fling the tea in his face.  Thankfully, she didn’t, so at least he was spared that issue.  Perhaps it was better for her not to be exposed to his family so much.  They’d begin to place impossible expectations on both him and her.  Plus, he couldn’t promise Lamarya wouldn’t come charging into the fray, burning with jealousy.  This was a woman capable of throwing everything out of a window, after all.  She didn’t think much of humans.  He wouldn’t like to put them in the same room together.

“It feels like it’s all happening so fast,” Emma muttered, now bemused.  “I still don’t feel like I’m completely out of Phoenix, and then all this is happening.  I ignore phone calls.  I got a new phone specifically so I wouldn’t have to listen to all of my family’s messages.  And now you seem to have a family like, well...” she gestured in the direction Jackie had disappeared.

“I’ll take you back home soon,” Arthur said, now wondering how he could persuade her to move away from Lamarya.  Well, as long as she didn’t see them together at any point… “I know you didn’t ask for this.  But thank you for coming.”

“Didn’t so much come as was dragged...”

“She does that.”  Arthur grinned.  He noticed Emma beginning to relax and considered it a triumph.  “Sorry about your family, though.  Bad break?”

“You could say that.”  Emma frowned, finishing off her drink at last.  The way she moved her hands through her hair distracted Arthur for a moment.  Man… he needed to be careful not to get too interested.  Or he’d end up making the same mistakes as before.  And he was sort of taking her under his wing, because, well, he felt sorry for her.  Clearly, for someone to leave their entire life behind and go to an unknown, obscure place, she must have hated whatever happened before.

“You’re not leaving yet!”  Jackie, this time, emerged with his mother, and both of them descended on Emma like hawks.  Emma let out some half-squeaks of protest, and Arthur watched as she was whisked out of the room, to be shown the rest of the mansion and, no doubt, to hear stories of baby Arthur doing stupid, baby things.

“When Arthur was 3, did you know, he once thought that white paint would kill him if he touched it.  We’re not sure where he got this from—probably from one of my husband’s horror movies,” Jackie said, her voice drifting away as they left the living room.  “So we used to draw lines around him… and then...”

Whenever I did something wrong, they used chalk to draw a line around me to stop me running away.  And I’d stay in the chalk, terrified of stepping over the line.  Arthur didn’t particularly find it funny, since he remembered how scared he’d been, but they loved retelling that particular story.  Even Lamarya knew it—though, at the time, Yara hadn’t been there, and no one thought it important to mention Yara’s relation to him.  Though if Lamarya flipped out with him talking to girls, perhaps the conclusion of their relationship was for the best.

He was about to get up and follow them, when Enyeto burst into the living room, his face drained of all color.  “Arthur,” he panted, “the home phone.  You’re being asked for.”

“By who?” Arthur said, suspecting he already knew the answer.

“Uncle Gilnes.”

“He wants to speak to me?” Arthur said, blood going cold at the thought.  His uncle would clearly know he survived the assassination attempt.  But why him, and not his brother instead?

He followed Enyeto’s broad back as he left, brain whirring with possibilities.  Most of them bad.

His father, with those piercing gray eyes of his, and crooked nose, stood by the phone, looking as if he was about to pop a vein.  He handed the phone to Arthur without a word, and Arthur bit into the mood, knowing it wouldn’t be for anything good.

“This is Arthur.”

“Hello, Nephew.  How good to hear your voice.  I heard that you ran into some trouble in one of the family fishing spots, so I just wanted to check in and make sure you were alright.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Me? Oh, of course not.  You know as well as I do that accidents do happen.  Wherever you go.  It’s the unfortunate consequence of living so far out in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it? Anyway.  Do consider in the future if you’ll be willing to negotiate with me.  I have the plans in place for a new factory.  I imagine we’ll all feel a lot safer, won’t we, just clearing out the area so the wild bears don’t come.”

“You bastard,” Arthur hissed.  “You tried to kill me!  Don’t think I don’t know it was you.  Your little lackey sung like a bird.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m done,” Arthur said, thrusting the phone back at his father.  “He wanted to see if I was alive, because he sent the assassins.”

“I know,” his father replied.  “Did he offer to trade again?”

“Yeah.  Second factory.  For our safety.”

His father rubbed his eyelids, sweating with stress.  “I’ll try to reason with him.  Go now, son.”

With a last, hateful look at the phone, Arthur took a deep, shuddering breath, before spinning on his feet and leaving the room.

Seemed as long as he lived and refused to capitulate to his uncle’s demands, the more chance someone he loved might die.

What a stupid fucking situation this was.

Chapter Seven – Emma

A part of Emma, though she didn’t want to admit it, hoped to the high heavens that this Great Spirit or whatever it was would appear when she went to that shrine.  Take one look at her, and decide she was so worthy that she’d be transformed into a bear, and then all her problems would be over.  Scared of Marcus? No problem.  He’d be more scared if she transformed into a bear in front of him.

She’d honestly enjoyed been taken around that house.  And since then, Arthur had invited her out a few more times, and she accepted willingly, happy to explore opportunities with him.  She did, however, refuse to go to any lonely and remote place again, not trusting whatever feud Arthur’s family went through.  They instead met up in the same bar he first saw her drinking in, and attempted conversation, getting to know one another without the pressure of family bearing down upon them like an albatross around the neck.  She examined Arthur now as she brought over their drinks.  He wore a casual black shirt with the image of some rock band or another she didn’t know about, jeans, and his hair resembled a scruffy mess.  Those intriguing, light brown eyes of his, which sometimes appeared an almost steel gray in the right light, were furrowed in concentration as he examined his cellphone.

In the time since that interesting family haul-around, she found out that Arthur liked to play golf, specifically mini-golf.  He didn’t socialize much, sticking to the family areas, and worked for his family in their own business, which happened to be farm-related work.  Selling meat, eggs, and even fish to the region.  Emma had bought some of the Valor products from small markets and enjoyed the flavor—great quality for affordable prices.  In Phoenix, these products would have gone for three times the price or been found in restaurants for obscene amounts of money.  Arthur wanted to set up his own mini-golf area, but he didn’t want to attract tourists to the town.  He’d shown Emma his pet project.  He used a printed diagram for the dimensions, and hand-carved and painted the obstacles himself.  Six obstacles were complete so far, from a dinosaur with an open mouth to an annoying tunnel with a running waterfall to nudge the ball along if aimed right.  Learning about the little things was great.  Everyone was made up of big things and little things, after all.  They had white lines on the ground and red lines that no one could ever cross.

He also heard more about her life, too.  Not that she had much left to share.  She’d said plenty at the camp, but he insisted on knowing more.

“Tell me more about this Marcus,” Arthur said, accepting the drink from her, ruffling his hair in that annoyingly endearing way.  Emma couldn’t stop looking at him.  Couldn’t stop imagining what might happen if they did take things further than just friendly meetups.  “I already want to punch his face when I see him, but I want to know—why didn’t you get away sooner? Why did you stay with that dick for so long? What drove you to do that to yourself?”  He pointed at her exposed arms, where the scar nicks shone in the dim light.

Emma gave a helpless shrug, instant hysteria rising inside her.  She wanted to both vehemently reject talking about Marcus and start sobbing in the same second.  Eventually, she wrestled some kind of control over her own emotions, then said, in a calm and dispassionate tone, “There’s not much more to say about him.  I can’t tell you why I stayed with him so long.  I knew I shouldn’t have, if that… helps.  But… when he showed me his good side, it always used to fool me that maybe, maybe this time he’d change. I hated the bad moments.  I craved the good ones.  But without any kind of real affection, anywhere… with people blaming me for all their problems...”  Emma hesitated.  She didn’t want to recall the feelings of back then.  But then again, she never did.  She much preferred running away.

“I began to think that since I was the problem, if I just went away, then they could no longer blame me, could they? It wouldn’t be my fault about the drinking, or the taxes, or the loss of profits, because I’d no longer be around.  Maybe then they’d look at themselves and start, I don’t know, taking responsibility.”

“Shit,” Arthur said softly.  “You know that’s stupid logic, right?”

“I know,” Emma snapped, mouth tightening.  “But that was my thinking back then.”

Arthur examined her for a moment, maybe thinking of apologizing.  Then he raised his glass.  “Man, people force us into some fucked-up situations.”

Emma agreed with him out of politeness, but firmly thought that no one had actually forced her.

She’d allowed herself to stay in that situation, for far longer than she ever should have.  “I was thinking, Arthur.  Will you take me to the grotto soon? I’d like to see it for myself.”

“Actually,” Arthur said, giving her a gentle smile, “I was considering taking you today.  Since you’re back early from work.  No one else will be visiting, I made sure, since all the families like to take turns, you know? I thought it best to go in the afternoon, though, since in the evening...” his voice trailed off, and guilt riddled his expression.  “Well, it’s harder to stop an assassination attempt in the dark.”

Oh.  Right.  Assassins.  “It’s not that essential,” she said, plastering on a smile she didn’t feel.  The reminder that she and Arthur probably wouldn’t progress in their relations at all because of the sting of family drama didn’t settle well.  It sloshed in her stomach with the coffee she’d drunk earlier, buzzed in her veins in an unpleasant way.  She wanted to leave again.  To just get out.  But she didn’t want to break the tentative connection she and Arthur shared.

Even if that meant associating with highly dangerous bear shifters.

“It’ll be okay.  Enyeto, Kuruk, and Yara will come and guard.  I’m serious.  We take your safety as a real concern.  I don’t want you to feel bullied out of this...”  His eyes took on a soft, pleading look, practically begging her to agree.

How could she refuse such a look? “Sure.  Okay.  If you’re taking that much care...”

“You’ll be the first human in over 50 years to do so.  It’s a pretty big honor.”  His words tumbled over one another, eager to convey the honor of this appointment, as if afraid that at any moment, she might withdraw her blessing.

Yes, maybe it would be okay.  She didn’t have to be in a relationship with him or anything to do this after all, right? His leg casually bumped against hers underneath the table, sending a rush of heat through her body.  It came so unexpectedly that she was momentarily speechless, unable to process anything.  She calmed herself down enough, but another shadow was cast over the afternoon, turning it from sunrise to storms.

A shadow in the form of Marcus, strolling into the bar as if he owned it, with her parents in tow.

“I need to hide,” she squeaked, actually scrambling to duck underneath the table.  Her heart hammered at a crazy rate.  How the hell were they here? Too late—Marcus’s glinting blue eyes settled on her, and a predatory sneer covered his face, before the expression melted into concern.

“Oh, Emma!  There you are!  Emma!  Are you okay? We’ve been looking all over for you.  We were so worried!”

Emma wanted to sink into the floor and vanish.

Arthur read the situation.  “These your parents and boyfriend?” he mouthed, and she nodded, her throat locked up, shame burning her cheeks, anxiety turning her into a wreck.

“Not concerned enough to send the police after her, I see,” Arthur replied back smoothly, taking up the reins.  “Or did I miss the APB on her?”

“Who are you?” Marcus said, his eyes narrowing in distaste.  “What are you doing with Emma?”

“Oh, Emma!” her mother said now, her eyes wide in accusation.  “You’re not sleeping with someone else already? After you left dear Marcus without a word? No contact!  And you’re just sitting here without a concern in the world? Do you know how frantic we’ve been? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Arthur seemed to puff himself up, though Emma tried to form words, tried to express her logic, but it all tumbled back into that horrible, grasping fear that seized every atom and didn’t want to let go.  Her legs shivered into water, unable to support her body, and her heart pounded so painfully that her arms trembled with every beat.  Everything narrowed in on them, on these people, and she’d been avoiding them, not wanting to talk.  Not wanting to deal with the people who helped put her in front of that bathroom mirror, staring into the shadow of what she used to be, preparing to let her life drip into the sink.

“Did it ever occur to you that the reason she didn’t contact you is because she doesn’t want anything to do with you?” He stood up, and he towered above Marcus, who had attempted to square himself up to the tank-like man-bear.  “That all of you are fucking bullies, and have been using and abusing her for too long?”

“This isn’t your place to speak, asshole,” Marcus said, eyes flinted in hatred.  Emma avoided looking into their eyes, still pathetically unable to speak.  She hated her cowardice, hated it so much that tears brimmed, and she fought to keep them back.  “We were all concerned and decided together to find her, once we realized where she went.  Internet search history,” he added with a thin smile.

“You mean you all came to bully her to come back with you,” Arthur said, bristling with rage.  “Like you’ve done so many times before, right?”

“What the fuck do you know?” her father said, practically spitting with rage.  The bartender and two locals minding their own drinks stared at this unfolding drama with great interest.  The bartender seemed to hover between wanting to grab his phone and watching the spectacle.  Emma locked eyes with him—it was easier than staring at her family.  Arthur was right, too.  She wouldn’t be able to resist the pressure of all of them at once.  She’d be so guilty, so ashamed, that she’d just crawl back under the onslaught of their righteous fury.  “You know nothing about our family situation.  Fuck off.”

“Oh, I will.  But I’m taking her with me.  You’re not going to bully her.”  Arthur grabbed Emma’s hand, and she gratefully accepted it, though struggled to keep her weight steady.  Why hadn’t she deleted her internet search history? She should have realized.  Her mother and father knew nothing about the internet, really, but Marcus—he knew how to spy on others.  He must have gone over to her parents’ place at one point, looked everything up, then persuaded them to help bring her home.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Marcus snarled, now raising a fist to hit Arthur, but Arthur gave a great, snarling rumble, freezing Marcus in place.

“Look at Emma right now,” Arthur said quietly, causing three sets of eyes to burn on her.  “Look at how terrified she is, since you three came in.  One moment, she’s having a nice conversation with me, smiling—but the second you three come in, all the light is sucked out.  And you wonder why the fuck she wants to get away from you? Look at what you’ve done to her.”

“Nonsense,” Marcus said.  “She’s just acting up.  We never did anything wrong, did we? She’s overreacting, like she always does.”

Her father nodded in agreement, but her mother hesitated, now appearing doubtful herself.

With Arthur’s hand clutching Emma’s, with the way he ardently defended her, despite being outnumbered—it gave Emma some courage.  She managed to fight past that horrible, quivering fear, and finally look at her mother in the eye, sensing the weak point there.

Emma raised her left arm, showing the long, white scar along it.  She hardly dared to speak, to even attempt it, but it certainly drew their attention.  “I tried to kill myself.  I had enough.  Enough of you two always blaming me… for, for your own failures.”  Her voice trembled, but she continued.  “Enough of Marcus… such a cruel man, always making everything seemed like my fault, making me… making me unsure of anything.”

“Oh, come now.  Are you serious?”  Marcus gave a light laugh, folding his arms.  “You know as well as I do that this is silly.  You wouldn’t try to kill yourself over a few arguments.  Goodness, you’ve really exaggerated everything, haven’t you? And why? I cared for you, Emma.  You know I do.  What kind of reaction is this?”  He glared at Arthur.  “And you’ve gone straight into the arms of someone else.  Without telling me anything.  And you want to make out that it’s my fault? Our fault? We just wanted to know you were alive.”

Once again, Emma felt that pit of despair sinking into her.  That sense of hopelessness, that doubt, where all her words and reasoning seemed sucked into a black hole, where nothing made sense, where her own mind began to doubt, and wonder, what if he was right, what if she had been overreacting?

“Sun shines out of your ass, doesn’t it?” Arthur growled.  “Can’t do any wrong in your eyes, can you? Enough.  I don’t care what the hell you say—this is the truth right here.  A terrified woman who doesn’t want to speak to you.”

“Emma, come on, now,” Marcus said, turning his wheedling tone on, attempting a kind smile that didn’t look very kind at all.  “We can talk it out.  Maybe we can understand why this happened, and make sure you come back where you belong...”

“Actions,” Arthur hissed, puffing himself out more, like a bear prepared to defend its cubs, “speak louder than words.  Your words mean shit.  You came here, as three, knowing Emma can’t stand up to you.  Look how she shrinks back.  How she hunches her shoulders together, preparing for attack.  You three—stay away from her.”

“The taxes!” her father howled, spittle flying out of his mouth.  “You left us in so much trouble!  We’re going to lose the house!  How dare you leave us in this mess?  How irresponsible!  You come right back and fix it!”

“I told you,” Emma managed.  “What not to do.  I reminded you.  Several times a month.  What not to do.  You ignored me.  It’s not my problem anymore.”  She shivered at her defiance, shocked at herself.  Her mother showed the same emotion.  Marcus sneered.  Her father looked ready to pop a vein.  Any moment, their fury would tumble out and slap her to the ground, leaving her unable to rise.  She’d pay for this defiance.  She’d damn well pay.

Arthur began bundling Emma out.  Marcus attempted to block the way, but one fist slammed into his face sent him crumpling to the ground, screaming in indignation and pain.  Her father made a jerking motion with his fingers but seemed to think better of dealing with a man almost twice his size, and her mother just watched, blue eyes still wearing that numb surprise.  Arthur continued hauling her out, and they bundled together into his brother’s car, closed the doors, strapped the belts on, and drove off.  No one came out of the bar to see where they were going or to attempt to stop them.

Emma shook like a leaf in a strong wind, unable to process what had happened.  Unable to comprehend that tiny level of defiance she mustered, compared to the complete lack of it before.

“I didn’t expect that,” Arthur said after an age, turning them to go down a dirt lane.  “How fucking insidious they were.”

Emma stared at the person who had instantly defended her without a shred of doubt, and tears flowed freely down her face.  Her breath hitched in sobs.

“Whoa, Emma.  You want me to slow down? Are you okay?”

“K-keep going,” Emma gasped, daubing at her eyes.  “I’m… that’s never happened before.”  She took a few deep breaths, since her words sounded mashed with emotion.  “No one’s ever stood up for me before.”  She wiped her nose.  “I… I was always alone.”

“Oh, honey...”  His voice turned soft and sad.  He glanced at her with those gentle brown eyes of his.  “That’s just damn awful.”  He looked like he was close to crying himself, and Emma wasn’t used to seeing that kind of emotion in a man.  “You’ve been missing out on a lot of wonderful things in life.”

“Probably,” Emma said, staring ahead to where the sparse trees began to thicken the more lanes they twisted down.  “God, I was so pathetic.  I couldn’t say anything to them.  Nothing to make them stop and listen.  No magic words that would make them go, ‘Ah, sorry, Emma, we’ve been so mean to you, we promise to make up for it.’ Just… nothing.”

“They don’t give a shit about you, Em,” he said, letting out a heavy sigh.  “It doesn’t matter how reasonable you might be.  They don’t operate by reason.  They only operate by control.  You’re out of their grasp now and they can’t stand it.  Like Lamarya.  She hated me doing anything that she didn’t agree with.  Like my uncle.  He hates not having things go his way.  You were very brave, getting away from them when you did.”

“I have been avoiding talking to them,” she muttered, fidgeting.  “I didn’t want anything to do with them.”

“Well, maybe you should attempt to talk to them.  Every now and then.  Try to explain yourself.  I mean, I don’t think you should contact them at all, personally, but at the same time, avoiding them is like kindling the fire, you know?”

Emma sighed, wiping away the last of her tears.  “I wish I could just cut them out of my life forever.”

“Then explain it to them.”  Arthur took a sharp turn, and Emma swayed to the right, her seatbelt digging into her chest.  Emma couldn’t erase the image of those three coming into the bar, of the abject terror she felt, of how all her confidence, her feeling that she was coping on her own, just dissolved in an instant.  Reminding her just how weak she was.  Like she was made out of a house of cards, and one flick, down she tumbled.

She knew there was no point explaining anything to them.  They would never understand the reality of her previous life, working in a grubby store run by her parents, listening to Marcus’s sneering whenever she put one foot through the door.  The battering of her past life disappeared in the wilderness of Valor Lake, but it came with its own dangers.  With mysterious people, with inner savagery.  With death.

Emma preferred this life much more than the former one.  Though that would be like saying she preferred danger and death to hearing her father scream about taxes and her mother’s sycophantic backup.  Or Marcus’s deadly smile, charming to others, but cold as a blizzard to Emma.  Marcus had a way of warping the truth, so that statements he said at one moment he’d just outright tell her she was remembering wrong, that he never said them, or they were phrased differently.

And even though she knew somewhere he was wrong, it still confused her enough to hesitate, or mumble she might not be completely accurate.

“Not too far to go now,” Arthur told her in an encouraging tone of voice.

“To where?”

“The grotto.  Remember? We were gonna go there?”

“Oh.”  In light of the family invasion, she’d honestly forgotten about that.  “Sorry, I was a little busy in my head, there.”

“No problem.  Just don’t let them get to you.  Not worth it.  Scum like that.  Sorry,” he added, since he’d insulted her family.

She gave him a sad smile in return, before casting her eyes over his bulging arms, big and gym-worthy, remembering how small Marcus had seemed in front of Arthur.  How small all of them had seemed, honestly.

“They’ll get used to this idea in time,” Arthur said, showing his white teeth again in a smile, “once you’ve been gone from them long enough and they know that all their failures are their own.  Maybe they’ll start being nicer, and Marcus will have fucked off to someone else.”

“That poor girl,” Emma said with a shiver.  The car began to slow, and they stopped outside a dense, wooded area.

“Only way to get through now is on foot.  Stick close to me.”

“Will we encounter any wild bears?” Emma asked, gripping onto Arthur’s shirt as they left the vehicle and began to squelch along the ground, still soft from the previous rains.

“It’s possible.  But unless the bear is startled or is starving or neurologically damaged, they won’t go for us.  So be sure to make some noise.”

“Making noise seems… stupid.”

“It isn’t.”  He winked at her and made no effort to conceal his footfalls.  “Wild animals will avoid conflict if they can, as an injury can mean their death.  And besides… I think you’re forgetting what I can do.”

He reached for her hand, and she let him take it without resistance, enjoying the thrill of warmth that shot through her, and the increased energy.  Every breath he made, every footstep, she was aware of, and she basked in his presence.  Her mind strayed, wondering how it might be to experience sex with someone like him.  If he’d be rough, or kind.  Like an animal, or like a human.  Though humans were animals too, weren’t they? She felt like she was being swallowed up by nature, by the quiet, private world of Arthur’s family, who lived in obscurity and promises of secrecy.

Emma didn’t consider herself as someone particularly horny, but something about Arthur saturated her senses, drawing her in closer to his musky web.  She wanted to stay close to him, to not leave the secrets he offered to show her.  Being shown such magic, only to be cold-shouldered out?

No way.  She’d dreamed, dreamed of some magical way out of everything.  She badly wanted to believe magic existed, to help deal with the depressing, monotonous drag of her life.  That she’d stumble on one of those magic pills that reversed time, or won a million dollars, so she could then plot just how to spend every cent.  She loved indulging in fantasies, because they were far better than what the current world had to offer.

At least, until now.

She could at least push away her current problems while she experienced this.  Deal with the fact her parents and ex were in town at a later date.

The foliage denseness increased until it became near impossible for any kind of vehicle to squeeze through.  Despite the light of day, the shadows in places became absolute, until Emma found herself jumping at every unexpected noise, and wincing when she snagged her jeans or boots on roots.  Arthur seemed led by a divine sense, and his hand never let go of hers the whole time.

A fluorescent cave revealed itself, with ivy and vines and moss draped around the entrance.  The moss gave off the luminescent quality, and the canopy above was so thick that barely a shred of light made it through, ensuring that the ground remained sparse of vegetation in the swathes of darkness and thrived in the beams that shone through.  It looked like the kind of entrance that might lead someone away to a different world altogether—and if the bear legends were to be believed, then this thought wasn’t far off the mark.

Yara, Enyeto, and Kuruk stood nearby the entrance, engaged in conversation with one another.  Yara broke off to wave at them.  “About time.  Thought we were gonna die of old age waiting for you two.”

“We’re here at the right time,” Arthur said stiffly, as though offended that Yara would even consider accusing him of being late to visit the bear spirit’s grotto.  He made no mention of her family’s visit, so she didn’t bother with any mentions, either.

“Hope you’ll like what you see in there,” Enyeto said, once again cracking out that confident smile of his.  He seemed more stuffed with ease than Arthur, who walked with a stiff gait, as he pulled Emma with him into the grotto.

“Try not to take forever!” Yara’s voice called to them as they went through a long, threading path with glowing blue moss upon the walls.  They gradually descended, their steps echoing in the quiet of the rock, mingled with their steady breaths.  It felt like forever until they reached the end, opening out into a small, glowing cavern, speckled with gaps that seemed to let in light from a distance above.  The cavern itself had what appeared to be hundreds of red strings tied to thick, white cords that dangled above a wooden seat carved with patterns of bears, resembling a type of throne.  Cushions adorned the ground for people to sit upon, and a small stream trickled in the corner, giving it the appearance of a perfect hibernation den.

“They say it’s not been changed much since it was first discovered,” Arthur admitted.  “Aside from the strings.  We tie a string here when we first transform into our bear forms.  All the ribbons you see are the total number of bear shifters that have been born and died here.”

A small shiver went through Emma’s spine at the thought of so many lives that had tracked down here.  There must have been dozens upon dozens of ribbons.  She tried counting them, but lost track, tried starting again—but Arthur tugged her towards a tiny bear-shaped totem leaning against the wall.

“We sit in front of this, offer a few words of thanks to our ancestors.  These are sacred grounds,” he said, voice dipping low.  “So if there’s anything you want improved in your life, any thanks you have to give, here is the place to do so.”

He appeared so deadly serious, that Emma didn’t want to upset him.  She knew how important it was for people to uphold their beliefs and didn’t fancy seeing his expression fall—not after all the effort he’d made for her so far.  Protecting her from her family when she could barely protect herself.  Taking her here, being the first human in decades to arrive within the grotto.  She should feel blessed by the honor.  She knelt awkwardly in front of the totem.  Did people clasp their hands together in prayer, or would that be a sacrilege? Wasn’t exactly a Christian den, after all.  More like the kind of place where a bear might choose to slumber the winter away.

She bowed her head, feeling foolish.  Well, I suppose there’s a lot of things I’d like changed about my life.  And this is silly… nothing ever changes just because I’ve prayed for something before…

Closing her eyes, she tried picturing her ideal life, swallowing in the atmosphere of the glowing den.  It smelled so fresh in here, actually, and there was a faint draft from whatever wind knotted its way through the shafts.  Maybe someone standing at the top could peer down the pinpoint shafts and see the glowing den underneath.  Maybe that was how they first discovered it…?

A cold, icy feeling washed over her, as if she’d been dipped into a bucket of ice.  Her eyes snapped open, and the afterimage of something pale and gray dissolved into the air.  She blinked, and the lingering outline of a bear imprinted itself against her eyelids.

“Arthur!” she gasped, turning to face him, excitement blossoming in her chest.  “Arthur, I think I saw the spirit!”  The excitement quickly faded.  Arthur staggered backwards, his brown eyes taking on a feral glint, and his arms rippled, bursting into fur, a snout piercing from his nose, his mouth.  A rippling growl made her shrink back from him, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

He crouched as if in pain, before rearing to his hind legs, letting out more of those snuffling grunts, and staggered backwards.  Emma couldn’t even muster the power to scream.  She was more entranced with his actions than she was with the fact that she might soon die under his touch.

More frantic puffs from him, and they faced each other, hesitating for a long moment.  He took one step forward on his hind legs, and now his skin shuddered, contracting in upon itself.

“Ssssorry...”  His voice came out distorted.  He seemed to be having a hard time forming words.  The fear and shock subsided.

Arthur stood so close to her now, having transformed back from his bear form, wearing nothing.  Right.  Shifting did that.  It shredded clothes—and his clothes certainly hadn’t survived the transformation.  Something still looked off about Arthur’s expression, however.  He panted rapidly, and his pupils were blown.  Lust radiated off him, and Emma felt pummeled by it, overwhelmed.  She noticed his growing erection with a flush of both embarrassment and arousal.  The sheer heat that radiated off him made her gasp.  He took one extra second, looking into her eyes, before he advanced rapidly on her and crushed his lips to hers.

“Mmph,” she managed, before drowning into the kiss.  The passionate mash of lips together, the way he gripped her tight to his bare chest made heat flare up in her own skin.  One moment, she’d been excited over seeing the bear spirit.  Next moment, she found herself swept up in that lustful passion emanating from him and let out a whimper.  His lips moved to her neck, and he sucked hard at the skin there.

The arousal took her by surprise—she didn’t think she could get this revved up so rapidly.  There were a lot of things she didn’t anticipate, honestly—not that she was about to complain or anything, in the moment that he dominated her.  He eagerly tugged at her clothes, and she wriggled out of the offending garments, barely missing tossing her underwear into the stream.  Fire burned through her veins, and the heat was almost unbearable, escalating to proportions best left for hot summer days.  Her hands grappled with his arms, his chest, touching the solid muscles and skin, and the coarse hairs that collected between his pecs.  The feeling of his erection jutting against her made her flare up in delight and craving, and her body greedily sought his out, wanting nothing more than to experience the connection they now shared.

It wasn’t all graceful—sometimes he bumped his lips too hard against her skin, sometimes he squeezed so hard that it left yellowed marks upon her skin, which would likely turn into bruises later.  His mouth moved from her neck to her breasts, where he took each one in turn, sending fresh, tingling jolts to her stomach, and lower.  Her legs trembled, and excitement pounded at her ribs.  She wanted him inside her, to take her rough and fast, with whatever raw strength that body possessed.

He seemed to oblige with her wishes and lowered her to the ground.  Soft cushions pressed into her back, and the earthy aroma of the room mingled with their arousal and body scents.  The light gave off an ethereal quality, making the act seem, in a way, sacred.  He positioned himself eagerly between her exposed legs, and teased his way in, testing if she was slick or not, if she could accommodate his considerable length.  The brief prickle of pain vanished once he started his thrusts within her in earnest, arms braced on either side of her as his chest rocked back and forth, and he dove between her legs with speed and power.  She clung onto him, encouraging him with moans and gasps, the sensation coiling up in her stomach in a shivering, invigorating way.  She imagined it exploding, spreading somehow through her, until nothing remained in her but a brief flicker of life, as it’d all been spent in the act.

When the orgasm came, it wasn’t quite an explosion.  More of a trickling honey sensation, as if someone stood over her stomach with a jar of warm honey and poured it all over.  Her body tensed, riding out the orgasm, and he continued to thrust, seeking to meet his own.  With a grunt and some jerky thrusts, he released himself into her, and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment.  The pressure lifted, and he removed himself, now lying by her side, eyes wide and dazed.

“Well,” Emma murmured, equally dazed and snuggled into Arthur, hand resting on his chest.  “Never guessed the bear spirit would encourage you to get kinky.”

He let out a low, soft laugh, which rumbled through her skin and warmed up her soul.

“Believe me, I wasn’t expecting that either...”  He gave her an embarrassed but pleased smile, and then let his eyes trail over her body.  They stopped at the presence of a redness upon her arms.  “Oh no.  I gripped you too hard, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma said, but it didn’t stop the guilt surging in his expression.  “I’m fine.  Seriously.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, tracing a finger over the bruise.  “I didn’t realize I was squeezing that hard.  Say something next time.  Please?”

“I will,” Emma said, thinking that now wasn’t the time to admit she’d enjoyed that roughness.  She rather liked his reaction now as well, and the concern he showed.  It made her feel… important, somehow.  It contrasted severely with how Marcus had treated her.

In fact, being with Arthur blew everything Marcus had done out of the water.  He just didn’t compare.

Though she suspected she might have some difficulties with cramps for the next few hours or so, since her legs no longer wanted to work.

All in all, not a particularly bad sacrifice to make.  She tried not to let out an insane squeal of excitement, from all the energy bubbling up in her, and instead focused on reassuring Arthur that everything was fine, that she didn’t mind what had happened, that she liked the way their bodies molded together, perfectly clinging to one another.

Chapter Eight – Arthur

It’d been years.  Centuries, even, since they’d caught wind of the bear spirit.  And the first thing that spirit did was… make him horny? Arthur struggled to process the fact.

Long after he walked back through the cave entrance, under the laughter of his siblings, and taken Emma home, he’d been in a sort of daze, unable to process the magic.  Unable to let it sink in that yes, he did do all that with Emma.  He might have had some assistance from a spirit, but his mind and body had acted rather eager to do all that with the girl.

Explaining about the spirit’s appearance seemed to convert Jackie into a rabid believer of the girl’s destiny, that she was now “tied” with them, and Arthur better not drop her, or she’d grab her walking stick and beat him with it.

Other problems existed, though.  Yes, being with Emma felt awesome.  Standing up for her against that vile family of hers had been a pleasure.

Uncle Gilnes still stood in the way of potential happiness.  The threat of his assassins lurked in the shadows.  They put extra lines on Jackie’s face, produced more gray hairs on his mother and father’s heads.

“You need to do something against that asshole,” Yara growled, sitting in her usual unladylike way, face like thunder.  They spoke on the terrace, hopefully far away from parent ears.  “He won’t stop.  That attack isn’t going to be the last.  His threat to you—clearly he expects you to bow to his demands, since his brother won’t stand up to him...”  Arthur picked up the slight against their father, knowing it to be true.  His father didn’t want to be involved with maiming his own brother.  Too many memories.

“Yeah, but he won’t stop if I give him a piece of land, will he? He’s done it before.  He got some land.  Two years later, he ended up doing his little games again.”

Yara nodded fiercely at Arthur’s statement.  “He’ll just keep doing this.  One factory isn’t enough.  Two isn’t.  He won’t stop until he owns everything.”

Arthur began to pace up and down the room, agitated.  “I don’t understand what makes him like this.  I really don’t.  He used to be kind, once.”

“I don’t think that’s what you should be questioning,” Yara said, her voice flinty.  “He’s changed.  There’s nothing you can do about that.  So what will you do about him now?”

The pacing stopped.  Once again, Arthur thought he sensed the bear spirit, lingering nearby.  Energizing him with otherworldly electricity.  Let his uncle build a factory.  Years later, maybe even just mere months later, he’d have to deal with the same issue, the threat and fear of assassins sent their way.  Refuse the demands, live with fear anyway.  Attempt to kill him.  Didn’t make Arthur any better than him, but it was sorely tempting.  Or…

“I should duel him,” Arthur whispered.  “Ask him on his honor if he will settle this once and for all in an Honor Duel.”

Brief silence.  “You know he probably wants that?”

“Probably.”

“And he’ll probably just set up one of his strapping bastard sons?”

“Probably.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Yara sighed.  “It’s the best plan so far.  Otherwise we just sit around complaining all the time and not doing anything about it.”

“I don’t want anyone to be threatened by him again,” Arthur said, gritting his teeth.  “I don’t want him...”

“To hurt Emma?”

She’d said it for him.  They’d had so little time together.  He wanted more.  He didn’t want her to be scared away or killed, or to end up going back to that slimy family of hers…

“Well, better tell our father what I’m planning to do.”

“Good luck,” Yara murmured, as he began to head outside, where his father was helping to do up a new fence around their property.

*****

Gilnes’s voice came sneering out of the home phone.  “You? Challenge me? I remember when you were a whelp, boy.  Don’t be foolish, now.”

“Honor Duel.”  Arthur’s voice became infused with steel.  “Or I’ll start resorting to the same tactics as you.  We both know you don’t plan to stop.  In fact, we both know you want this as well.  What better way to eliminate the childless son, after all? And you’d hardly be accused of unfairness, then.  You’d have killed me in honor.”

There was a long pause on his uncle’s end, along with some rapid, almost excited breathing.  Yes.  His uncle most certainly did want this.  “Where do we meet?”

“The tennis grounds.  Our family will be there to watch.”

Another pause.  “You really are serious.  How can I refuse such an offer?”

“This evening.”  Maybe that’d give him less time to prepare a champion.

“Oh, come, now.  Champions must do their preparations.  Three days.  In the evening, around seven, on Thursday.”

“Fine,” Arthur spat, and slammed the phone down before he needed to listen to any more of his uncle’s words.  His heart hammered at an ungainly pace, and his skull pounded with the beginnings of a headache.

He’d done it.  He turned away from facing the wall to see his father and sister gazing at him anxiously and told them the arranged date.  Three days until a possible death.

“We need to start training you,” his father said.  “I have a similar style to him, I’ll spar with you.”

“We don’t know if he’ll even allow his own life risked,” Yara pointed out.  “He might have some people he’s been training specifically for this moment.”

Their father grunted in reply.  “No sense worrying about that.  We have to aim for what we can control.”

What his father said was true.  No point in them worrying about things outside their power to change.  So many shitty things existed in the world.

And only a few of them at any time were within the realm of possibility to affect.

Like Emma.  She was in his influence right now.  Coming to town, meeting him, going fishing with him, only to have that horrible, insidious attack against them when it should have been a peaceful family weekend.  Rage throbbed through Arthur’s bones.  How dare his uncle do that?  How dare he attack, when he could just put more effort into negotiation? It wasn’t like Arthur cared that much about the family business, or the pressure to have a child.  Arthur couldn’t help but think if his uncle just wanted to sit at the table and discuss their differences more keenly, everything might have been resolved a long time ago.

Instead of this mess they had now.  It would also be clear that if Gilnes suspected Arthur’s involvement with Emma, it made her a target.  She’d advance from being caught in the crossfire to being a deliberate victim.  It’d be wrong for him to stand aside.  Wrong for him to keep avoiding responsibility.  He let out a sigh.

“You might want to bring that Emma into the household,” his father added then.  “She’ll be a prime target to manipulate, in case Gilnes gets any odd ideas.  You do like her, right?”

“I...”  Like? Want? Love? “You’re right.  Let’s get her in.”  And he’d be able to peel her away from her family, in case they were still sniffing around, looking for other ways to bully her back home.

“Nice way to avoid the emotion part, brother,” Yara said with a scoff.  “I’ll come with you, if you’d like.  Never know if the uncle’s plotting anything now.”

The mention of that made Arthur begin to sweat.  He imagined Emma, sitting in her little thatched house, oblivious to the trouble that awaited.  Maybe reading a book or something, while the shadow of his uncle’s bear seeped into the room, and he edged closer to kill her.

“Let’s go.  Right now.”

Chapter Nine – Emma

Emma grinned like an idiot.  She couldn’t get the image of Arthur out of her head, nor did she plan to.  Every now and then she caught herself in a lusty sigh, and realized she might just be lovesick.  Being cared for and respected like that, along with the security felt in Arthur’s presence—how did she ever think Marcus offered that? He offered lies and viper smiles.  He beat her down and praised her for kneeling.  When he had sex, it was all about him finishing, and never about her enjoyment.

She stared out of her bedroom window, the dreamy smile now fading, the fluttering, happy sensations shrinking into a whisper.  Her family were still in town, most likely.  They wouldn’t take kindly to the rejection, and probably convinced themselves that if they got Emma alone, without some overbearing new boyfriend, she’d be an easy mark.  After all, the only friends she’d made were all associated with the Valor bear clan.  She needed more than just a sister and a brother tag team, and an overly obsessive grandmother.  There was a hotel near the bus-stop that led out of town.  If they stayed anywhere, that would be the place.  If they asked enough questions, they’d eventually know where she had chosen to live.

I need to move, she thought with a sinking feeling.  Maybe not out of this town, but somewhere where they can’t use the locals to track me.  But then, how much extra time would be added onto her journey for work? Prospects for other jobs didn’t look so hot.  Didn’t get many job opportunities in rural areas like this, so far from anything significant.

A woman stepped out of the house next door to Emma, and she focused on her with interest.  Long, black hair.  Loose, baggy clothes, which looked unfashionable and unkempt.  The type bear shifters liked if they planned to shift.  Lamarya.

The woman strode effortlessly to Emma’s house and knocked on the door.

Withdrawing into the bedroom, Emma’s heart began to pick up the pace.  Why on earth would that woman be knocking? They’d never exchanged a word.  Had she seen Emma with Arthur? Was she in league with that uncle of Arthur’s? Emma’s mind whirled with insane thoughts as she desperately processed the situation and attempted to come up with a choice about it.

Shit.  This place is really doing a number on me.  No reason to assume that anyone who knocked on her door happened to be after her.  Emma didn’t want to live her life being constantly suspicious and looking over her shoulder.  She’d just creak the door open and cautiously say hi.  Or maybe she should phone Arthur.

He was probably busy, Emma reasoned with herself, before brushing her hair back and venturing to the front door.  It’d been only a couple of days since Emma had been with Arthur.  She likely didn’t smell of him anymore.

More knocks.  Emma reached the door and unlocked it with her keychain jangling and gave a tentative smile.  “Hello?” she said, waiting to hear Lamarya’s response.  What a pretty woman she was, with those coal-dark eyes, that smooth, unwrinkled skin.

“Hey.”  Even her voice was rich and throaty, the kind Emma only wished she possessed.  “I doubt you know me, but I’m to give you a heads-up.  You see...”  Lamarya made no move to push past Emma, but a menacing aura seemed to overtake her body, “I’ve been told that if I kidnap and ransom you to the Valor family, I’ll gain a great profit out of it.”  She held up her phone, as if indicating the person she’d just been in contact with.  Emma’s heart leaped to her throat.  She wanted to slam the door in Lamarya’s face, but dimly registered that if Lamarya wanted to capture her, she could have done it the moment the door was open.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Simple,” Lamarya said.  “As much as I dislike Valors, I’m not a total bitch.  We Maguires have honor, and this is not honor.  But I do recommend you seek out Arthur’s protection.  You won’t be safe here.”

Emma blinked, still staring at Lamarya’s stony face.  “I saw you throw Arthur’s stuff out of the window, and he says you took his car.”

Lamarya’s lips twisted, as if recalling an unpleasant memory.  “An act.  You could say someone put me up to sleeping with Arthur and passing on his state of mind to them.  That same someone suggested that if I was to bump him off, there would be a handsome reward for it.  I played the part of a psycho girlfriend to have a legitimate reason for us to break up, since I wanted no part in that.  He does have a nice car, though.”  She cast her eyes towards Arthur’s former car.  “Figured I might as well get something, since I wasn’t going to kill him.”

Lamarya’s confession sounded so weird, so insane, that Emma actually found herself believing it.  Even if it meant deconstructing everything Arthur had said about her.  “So, what, you were a psycho out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Something like that.”  Lamarya didn’t appear too bothered by Emma’s words.  “Oh.  I’ve seen those people around.  Family?”  She pointed at three people now stalking rapidly towards Emma, who was outside her house completely.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Emma groaned.  “Yes, they’re family.  I’m trying to avoid them.”

“Get in the car,” Lamarya offered, seeing Emma’s face drop.  “I’ll take you to Arthur’s.  You’ve not got anything important in the house?”

“No.”  Emma had her passport and wallet on her.  The clothes, though… “Nothing important.”

“Come, then.”  Lamarya closed the door behind Emma, and her car lights flashed.  “Unless you want to stay around for the showdown?”

Going with Lamarya had to be crazy.  Emma simply couldn’t trust her.  But at the same time… “Sure.  Fuck it.  Just don’t kill me, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” Lamarya said dryly.  “Though, honestly, I look forward to Arthur thinking that I might.”

Emma slid into the passenger seat, her stomach doing crazy flips, as she convinced herself that she was stupid for doing this, that there was no way it wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass.

“Hey!  Hey!” Marcus screamed, as the engine started.  “Don’t you fucking run away again!  You’ve got a lot to explain to us!  Stop!”

“Seems like a nice guy,” Lamarya remarked as the vehicle coughed and headed off, leaving her family behind.

Trying to block Marcus from her mind, since that familiar unease had crept down Emma’s spine, she said, “I really don’t get you, Lamarya.  Or the whole Valor and Maguire thing.”

“Clan history,” Lamarya said.  “Their uncle Gilnes is a greedy, land-grabbing bastard, and he’s been trying to bribe people left, right and center.  Us Maguires are simply not interested in seeing the reservation destroyed.  But it is a good idea to seem like I could be an ally to him.  Better to relay to my family what he’s planning.”  She gave a wide, evil grin.  “Arthur’s challenging him to an Honor Duel now.  He told me about it.  That means he’s got three days to figure out how to get an advantage.”

“Huh.”  Emma twisted in her seat to examine Lamarya more thoroughly, and took in her strong, citrus scent.  “What in blazes is an Honor Duel?”

“A bear shifter thing.  Nice way to end disputes without too much drama.  Even if an Honor Duel does end in a death.”

“Wait, what? Death?”  Emma’s jaw dropped open.  “Hold on.  This is like pit fighting or something?”

“I guess,” Lamarya agreed easily, giving a casual smile.  “Two bears duking it out, only one can win.  It’s been, what, twenty-five years since we last had an Honor Duel? Funnily enough, that was between Gilnes and Ramsen Valor.  He’s the third brother.  Or, well, was.  The uncle that Arthur doesn’t remember.”

The information swamped Emma, and she struggled to surface, to process it all at once.  “Yeah,” Lamarya said.  “I know it’s a lot to take in.  But I figure if you’re going to be joining the big old bear family, gotta get you up to speed.  Ah, that reminds me.”  She crawled to a stop at a junction, plugged her phone into the car, and went to speed dial.

Brother appeared on the calling screen, and Emma thought that these bear families had an awful lot of relatives.  “Hey.  Lammie, you’ve finished the call with him?”

“Yeah,” Lamarya said to the gruff voice echoing out of her phone. “He wanted me to kidnap Arthur’s new human lover.  I’m delivering her to Arthur’s family now, since she’ll be a liability.”

“Good work.  Hopefully this will teach those upstart Valors not to keep sneering at us.”

“Oh, I doubt that.  You know how it is.  Always have to feel superior,” Lamarya said with a smirk.  “But these are our lands as much as theirs.”

“I found another one of his bastards, as well,” the brother informed.  “We’re trying to figure out how radicalized he is.  I’ll get back to you on this.”

“Great!  Well, if I don’t call back in an hour, assume something’s happened to me.”

“Okay.  Be safe, Lammie.”

Lamarya jabbed the End Call button, before easing past the junction.  No cars had piled up behind them.  The town might as well have been a ghost town.

The call set Emma more at ease.  Of course, it might just all be an elaborate trick to relax her, or it might have been deliberate since Lamarya—Lammie—probably noticed her discomfiture.

Either way, she did feel a little safer, tucked in Arthur’s car, next to his ex.

*****

Stumbling out of the car, Emma noticed Arthur’s horrified face and had to suppress a laugh.  Lamarya had been right about wanting to see the reaction—it was picture worthy.

“What the fuck?” Arthur screeched, unable to comprehend the fact that his ex was in the Valor driveway, and Emma had come out of the car without a scratch.  “What is this?”

“Consider it a gift from the Maguires,” Lamarya said.  She winked at Emma.  “Brilliant, isn’t it? Anyway, I better go.  Stay safe.”  She was already tapping on her phone again, before pulling out of the way of Yara’s four-wheel drive and zooming off to the other side of the lake, where the Maguire household lay.

“I don’t...” Arthur blinked, at a total loss for words.

“Long story,” Emma said, though she still struggled to process it herself.  “But apparently, I’m supposed to be moving in with you now.  Something about an uncle and an Honor Duel?”

“What...” Arthur said weakly.  His sister had her fingers over her mouth, and wore a look of puzzlement.  She examined the direction where Lamarya had vanished to.

“I don’t think I will ever get that woman,” Yara said finally.  “But if Emma’s here… that’s time saved for us.”

Since Arthur still acted comatose, Yara took over the job of hustling Emma into the house and introducing her to her new quarters, before hastily explaining the same thing Lamarya had mentioned about the Honor Duel.

“Hopefully it’ll put an end to the drama, but we’re thinking he’s going to select a champion, so he won’t need to risk his life.”  Yara showed Emma some of the clothes in the wardrobe, a mix of men’s and women’s.  “But we think the only way you’ll be safe is if you’re not in Valor Lake, or you’re with us.  And since the bear spirit specifically visited the two of you when you were in the grotto… we’d like you to stay.”

“Um,” was all Emma managed to say.  It came out as a squeak.

“She really didn’t hurt you? Try to throw out any of your possessions or anything?”  Yara held up a blue shirt next to Emma’s chest and nodded in satisfaction.

“No.  She… wanted to help.  Something about pretending to be friendly with your uncle to find out about his plans? She said the Maguires wanted nothing to do with the destruction of their reservation.”

“Huh.  That’s actually… pretty smart,” Yara scowled.  “But I don’t get why she had to fuck around with my brother.”

“Reasons,” Emma said.  “Uncle reasons.”

Yara shook her head, not quite convinced.  “Okay, let’s take you to my brother now.  He should be out of his catatonic state by now...”

They grinned at one another, sharing a moment together.  Emma let out a small sigh of relief, eager now to visit Arthur.  To find a way of connecting with him again like before, to feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around her.  Being in this grand mansion, however, daunted her.  Everything seemed so opulent and so far out of her reach, and yet she stood in here, and no one minded.  As if they had every intention of keeping her around.  Upon giving her a home.

When she saw Arthur standing in the living room, holding a bottled beer, his eyes rested upon her and his face lit up like sunbeams.

“I still don’t know what the hell Lamarya was doing with you, but I’m glad you’re here.”  He set the drink aside and wrapped her up in his big, meaty arms.  A true bear hug.  He inhaled her scent deeply and planted a little kiss upon her hair.  “We’ll make sure you’re safe,” he promised with a growl, which rumbled through his chest and into Emma’s skin.  “You don’t have to worry about what happens.”

She did, honestly, but appreciated his reassuring words all the same.  Her blood stirred in anticipation, which she needed to seriously tamp down on.  Any moment, naturally, Jackie might want to get a look in, and Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to listen to that woman’s jabber.  Her mind also whirled about her family.  She needed to confront them.  That much was for certain.  She couldn’t keep running away just because it was more convenient.  She needed to face up to them.

Otherwise she’d always be here, cowering about hearing from her family.  She’d left the cellphone with their contacts at home, but knew them by heart anyway.

“Before we get down to business,” she murmured into Arthur’s chest, though really, she wanted to escape up into his bedroom right now, “I think I better contact my family.”

“Are you sure?”  His arms gripped her tighter, more protectively.

“Mm hm.  Lamarya drove me away from them, but I can’t keep running, can I?”

“I suppose not,” he said, though he sounded worried.  “I suppose not.”

*****

Her parents and Marcus turned up at the Valor estate two hours later.  The call had been quick, focusing on giving the address.  Emma sat outside at a wooden table with an umbrella stuck in the center, shielded from potential rain.  Her father’s white sedan had pulled up, and out came the three of them.  Arthur sat by her side and Yara hovered nearby, ensuring that once again, they wouldn’t be able to bully her.

Marcus seemed less than happy about the arrangement, and it showed in the aggressive pout of his lips and the slits of his eyes.

“Do you really need to have him nearby? Scared that we might do something?”  His voice came out a sneer.  His gray eyes flashed.

“You know as well as I do that I’m too easy to manipulate,” Emma said, giving a sad smile.  “So, yes.  Whenever I do meet up with you, I want someone nearby to make sure that you don’t turn abusive.”

“Oh, Emma...” her mother said, smoothing down her flower smock dress.  “He’s just worried about you.”

“Marcus worries about no one but himself.  He’s very good, Ma, at being charming.  But you don’t know what he does behind closed doors.”

Some of the cruelty twitched in Marcus’s face, as well as something that made Emma feel small, very small.  Still, she saw something of a hesitation in her mother’s expression, and that emboldened her.

“I have been nothing but kind to you, Emma, and you have been nothing but ungrateful for it.”

Though Emma felt glad to be sitting down, as her shaking legs didn’t betray her, she didn’t know how much longer she could feign bravery.  She sat, puffed out in defiance, but shriveled inside, to that husk she once was.

“That’s your problem, though, isn’t it? You’re always kind.  I’m always ungrateful.  You’re always in the right.  I’m always in the wrong.  Your mind games don’t work on me anymore, Marcus.  Not now that I know what actual affection feels like.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Arthur’s face, which Marcus didn’t fail to notice.

“So that’s it, then? You run away, and you betray me by sleeping with that lump of flesh? That’s it?”

“You abandoned me a long time ago, Marcus.  I was a puppet in that house.  Something for you to fuck around with.  Not something you cared about.  The only reason you’re here is because you can’t stand having someone out of your control.  And you fooled my mother and father right into it.”

Marcus’s face turned red with rage, and he began to bluster, before Yara muscled in.  “Looks like your time’s up,” Yara said to him.  “She’ll speak to her parents now, dickhead.”

Emma almost burst out laughing when she saw Marcus attempt to punch Yara.  The muscular woman avoided it and pinned him down upon the ground in seconds, his arm twisted behind him in a bone-breaking grip.  “I suggest you don’t do that again.”

Cursing and spluttering, Marcus was forced to back away and to watch in a sullen silence as Emma turned to her parents.

“Father,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t hear another one of his taxes tirades.  “The tax and business debacle is your fault.  You’ve been running that business incompetently for years.  No, listen.  Listen.  Listen to me!” she snapped, when her father started protesting.  He shut up, eyes bulging at her shout.  She never raised her voice.  Ever.  “The amount of times you turned up late or didn’t turn up at all.  The amount of times you left it to me to clean up your mess and sort out your taxes.  You honestly thought that it didn’t matter what you did, because I’d be there to stop it from going under.  You took me for granted, Father.  And when I left, without me reminding you about what not to do, you thought you saw a quick, easy way to make more money.  Obviously, to do that, you would have needed access to the tax forms I left you, so you going on about how I’d misplaced them is a lie.”  She took a deep breath, and her father’s bottom lip quivered.

“When your plan backfired, as it was always going to, you wanted me to come back and sort everything out, or for me to take the fall, somehow.  You didn’t want to admit any kind of responsibility.  Which is an ongoing theme in your life, given the number of failed business opportunities before.”

Arthur stepped forward when her father began to yell, and he joined the naughty corner with Marcus.  So far, so good.  The fact that she’d survived two encountered inspired Emma to the last.

“Mother.  You just agree with whatever Father tells you to do, and whatever he says.  You want to be shown as a united front with your husband, but that seems to come at the cost of ignoring what’s happening with your own daughter.  You just want to deny anything’s wrong.  Even if I came over to the house, wrists barely closed—” Emma sought to keep her breath steady, to remain calm about her attempted suicide, “—I think you would have found a way to not notice.”

Dark blue eyes stared into Emma’s, full of unfathomable guilt.  Her mother let out a few, wet sobs, her throat apparently blocked by something, and Emma’s own heart nearly tore in two.  The words needed to be said, but that didn’t make it any better.  She finally got her words, but they needed to be said in a safe environment.  Anything else would just be constant, relentless attempts to dragoon her into returning to her sad and gray life.  And never again would that be her life.

Never again.

“In time, I hope to be able to connect with you again, Mom.  And Dad.  Not Marcus, though.  He needs to stay away.  I’m not going back into that web of his.  I’ll get a restraining order if I need to.  And you should be careful, too.  He can’t be trusted.”

Her mother dabbed at her eyes, and without saying a word, went to go and join her husband.  Emma wouldn’t have minded something.  An acknowledgment that her mother agreed with Emma.  A smile.  An apology.  Anything.

This reaction didn’t satisfy her at all.  Even if her words against them did.

“You did good,” Arthur whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder.  She shifted one wobbling leg to the other, hating how nervous and weak she felt.  If this was what bravery felt like, then it was more of an endurance of fear.  Of staying in the zone and not running away.

“Yeah, she’s staying with us now,” Yara informed them helpfully.  “So if you do harbor any sneaky desires to corner her, good luck with that.  And I’ll personally pay for court costs to get your bitch ass away,” she said with a snarl at Marcus.  A tiny flash of her animal must have shown, because Marcus couldn’t wait to get out of there.  Her parents left unceremoniously, in icy silence, with Marcus sullen in the backseat, and it felt like a victory.

Should a victory be this hollow, though? She didn’t think she’d changed their minds at all.  Just silenced them, thanks to the burly presence of her two bear shifter companions.

“Could have gone worse,” Yara said in a cheerful way, hands upon her hips as she smiled at Emma.  “Hopefully you feel a little more free of them now.”

Emma chewed on her words for a bit.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”  She closed her eyes as Arthur planted a kiss upon the shell of her ear, and let it stabilize the churning emotions.  His kiss turned into a soft nip, and arousal tore through her like wildfire.

“Not now,” she hissed, attempting to bat him away.

A devilish smile formed on his thin lips.  “Oh, I think now.”  His hand trailed to her wrist, and his fingers danced upon her skin.

The arousal heightened, and Emma bit hard upon her bottom lip.  “I’m going to kill you for this...”

Just as soon as she’d finished with the fucking part, of course.

Chapter Ten – Arthur

He awoke with a rather satisfied smile, feeling Emma’s naked body pressed against him.  It might have been the day of the Honor Duel, but he wasn’t wasting much time when it came to Emma.  Her blonde hair lay in a mess, obscuring a part of her face, and he set to kissing the exposed parts of her cheek.  She didn’t stir, so he crept down to her neck, kissing and licking at the soft skin there.  Excitement pulsed in his chest, and his mind soared with images of all the things he wanted to do with her—to squeeze in as much as possible before the Honor Duel.  The brief stab of fear that went through him quickly dissolved into seeking out pleasure.

Wonder how long before she wakes up and notices? He kept the teasing light, making sure to touch different parts of her body, checking to make sure she wasn’t displaying any signs of dissatisfaction, or sudden nightmares.  Clearly, her body trusted him enough to do this, and that aroused him beyond measure.  Did make it a little uncomfortable, too, as he tried to remove the contact of his erection with her side.  He intended to work his way down to between her legs, to taste her and give Emma one hell of a wake-up session, but her body seemed to have other ideas.  With her eyes still resting shut, her legs spread, and one hand brushed his arousal.  Probably not completely asleep, then.

“I’m gonna,” he said, kissing her collarbone, “move my lips down...”

“No,” she breathed, her eyes still shut.  “Take me...”  Her hands began pulling at him to get on top of her.  Well, he could hardly refuse that request now, could he? Desire beat within his blood, making it hard to focus.  A tightness grew in his genitals, and with a rumbling growl, he moved between her legs and pressed himself against her slippery entrance, instantly dipping in.  Warmth enveloped his erection as he plunged deep into her, reveling in the physical sensations, the way the blankets rustled around them, and how her breaths turned into quick, tight gasps.  She opened her eyes and stared into his, before reaching to clutch his shoulders and run her fingers over his body.

She rocked back and forth with him, letting out little whimpers of pleasure, and it caused him to tighten too fast, to come too fast into her, and he flushed and smiled apologetically at her as he began to deflate.  She didn’t seem to mind, though.  She certainly didn’t mind the way his fingers traveled down to find her bundle of nerves and work at the slick tip until she trembled and cried her way through an orgasm.

They collapsed again in a happy heap.  “That makes it twice this night,” he said, relaxing and taking a moment to nuzzle at her neck.

“Let’s not get you too exhausted,” Emma said, cheeks flushed with lingering pleasure.  Heat seemed to rise from her skin.  “I’d like you… to survive this Honor Duel.”

“I will,” he said, though he knew it pointless to make a promise that might not necessarily be kept.  He said to her what he wanted.  To come out of the encounter alive, family drama solved, and ready to pursue this time a healthy relationship.  One apparently blessed by the bear spirit.

They dressed and ventured down for breakfast, though Arthur’s guts felt like little wriggling worms trying to escape out of his mouth.  He barely managed a bite of the food laden upon the dining room table, even though his mother had gone to great lengths to give him the “Breakfast of Champions.”

At Emma’s urging, he consumed more than just scraps, but couldn’t quite dispel the horrible, nauseating wriggle in his stomach.  Come evening, one person would live, one person would die.

His father feared deeply for him, and Arthur couldn’t exactly blame the old man.  He lost his brother in the same way a long time back.  Now he might lose his son.  All the training in the world couldn’t prepare for any dosage of bad luck.  His family all gave expressions varying from encouragement to concern, and usually both.  Enyeto had offered twice to fight—he had trained more in the ways of bear fighting, and maybe he stood a better chance—but Arthur didn’t want to hear it.  He didn’t want to be responsible for the possible death of a sibling.  This was his idea, his fight, his moment to shine or fall.

The day stretched on, and his father ran him through some more routines, not taxing his body much, just making sure he moved fluidly in his bear form and could prepare for the various methods of attack to be used.

Even Jackie kept her babble of inheritance to a minimum, and a strain of fear tinted her eyes.  About thirty minutes from sundown, Arthur, whose nerves had all but shut down on him, hopped into his sister’s car, and she drove him to the tennis courts, where there was a big, bark-strewn field next to it.  Perfect for bears to walk across.  And perfect now, for the fight.

Most of his family were there, barring Enyeto, his mother and grandmother, just in case this ended up being an ambush.  They wanted some potential survivors.  Emma wasn’t there, either.  Arthur didn’t want her to watch another fight to the death, given her reaction from before.  She didn’t deserve to suffer through that anymore.  And in case he died, Yara would help look after her.  All the precautions had been taken.  He sat and waited, staring into the gathering dusk, wondering if his uncle would even turn up.  The sounds of an aggressive motor in the distance answered the doubt eating him up, and they watched intently as a black car stopped nearby and four people stepped out of it.  Uncle Gilnes and three other men that Arthur didn’t recognize.  Gilnes’s eyes settled upon Arthur’s father, and he smiled.

“Good to see you again.”

His father didn’t reply.  Yara glared.  One of the men Gilnes had brought now squared himself up to Arthur, and Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the brute seemed even more made of muscles than he was, and that was quite impressive.  And scary.

“This here is Jakis,” Gilnes said, tapping the brute’s shoulder.  “And he’ll be the one fighting you.”

Great, Arthur thought, privately noting that whatever brains were in this man had likely been squeezed out due to muscles.  They quickly arranged themselves to face one another, with Arthur’s father muttering about Gilnes, describing him as an “arrogant traitor.”

When Arthur shifted into bear form, his thoughts heightened and all his senses enhanced, making him more alert to air currents, to smells, to everything.  Including the hulking, sandy-colored bear in front of him, who easily outstripped him in size.  His bowels almost turned to water in fear—but right now, he needed to control it.  To focus.  Nothing but the fight mattered.

Nothing but getting out of this situation alive.

With a roar, Jakis, ears flat on his skull, charged towards Arthur, eyes alight with the lust to kill.  No way could Arthur outmatch this monster.  He simply didn’t have the training.  He should have been facing his uncle.  And even if he won, would Gilnes keep his word, anyway?

In that moment, Arthur knew what to do.  He dodged the charge and angled himself so that he faced his uncle, waiting for Jakis to turn and charge again.  Arthur continued dodging, which brought a derisive snarl from Jakis.

Stand and fight, you coward!

But they edged closer to where Gilnes stood, all under the pretext of a fight.  Arthur kept getting little stabs of fright whenever he thought he miscalculated, putting him in perfect range of the other shifter.  If he’d been in human form, he’d be drenched in sweat.  It’s not my fault you’re so big and slow, Arthur snapped back, and the brawnier bear stood on his hind legs to enhance his height, bellowing.

Arthur made his move.  He thundered forward, appearing as if he intended to bowl into Jakis, but at the last moment, swerved, charging straight for Gilnes.  By the time the old bear realized what was happening, he began to transform, but not fast enough as Arthur set himself upon him, and bit down, ending the shifter’s life.  A coppery, hot taste exploded in his mouth, and he whirled upon the second shifter, who stood there, too stunned to react, as Arthur turned on him, too.  Vaguely, he saw his own family shifting to join the fray, to help take down the enormous sandy bear, to stop the other bear from escaping.  Two bodies down.  Three—the other shifter had attempted to run for the vehicle but got cut down by Yara.

I can’t believe you did this, brother.  How honorless, Yara said, though she didn’t sound particularly offended at his lack of honor.

I’m doing exactly what he would have done, Arthur grunted, ignoring Jakis’ manic screams, even as they grouped together and finished him off.  They stood there for a stunned moment, surveying the quick, wanton destruction.

It won’t be over, his father said then with a deep bass growl.  He has candidates to take over.  We can try and tell them that he attempted to kill us all, that we had no choice…

Like they’d believe it.  Yara twitched her snout, baring reddened teeth.  We won’t get away with the notion of an Honor Duel again.

It can only work once, anyway, Arthur agreed, though his heart still pulsed painfully, and his lungs seemed to fill up his entire chest.  In bear form, his reaction to blood and death remained different from when in human form.  Human form sometimes involved a battle with his stomach contents to remain inside.  Bear form, it didn’t matter to him.  Smells were smells, and colors were colors.  Can we just tell Emma that only my uncle turned up? I’d prefer for her not to know the full details.

Of course, Yara said, now working on dragging the bodies close together, which had now dissolved into human form, so they could prepare the fire.

It was over.

At least, for now.  The threat of his uncle’s progeny would continue, but hopefully, the pressure would be off them.

Hopefully, Emma could now have a real chance to settle down in Valor Lake.  The future belonged to them.  She was rid of her family, and he rid of the rotten apple of his.

Seemed like a reasonable recipe for success.

Chapter Eleven – Emma – Epilogue

Emma still found it difficult at times to process how much her life had changed.  Two months since she’d met Arthur.  Two months since all the crazy went down.  Finding out bear shifters existed certainly put a whole new spin on her life.  Something she’d never been able to imagine before.  Magic existed.  It hid, but it could be found by people like Emma, in the right place at the right time.  Or wrong place, depending on how you regarded the reveal.  Given that Arthur’s presence in her life had taken the shackles off her past and allowed her to breathe easy again, no longer worried about Marcus turning up or her parents blaming her for yet something else, life had been good.  Her mother had phoned a few times, reporting the progress, and it looked like her parents were picking themselves up again, and trying a little more of that responsibility thing.

Marcus’s calls had all but stopped.  Emma now lived with Arthur in the main Valor estate, enjoying a life of luxury, of learning about all the different tales that floated through the bear reserve.  Rumbles from the uncle’s offspring had also been silent, though the factory kept going in the background, suggesting someone had taken over the chain of command.  Emma and Arthur had  been enjoying a lot more copulation together, as well as reaching a mutual understanding of one another.

Amazing, Emma thought, staring into the bathroom mirror, where she no longer looked sucked out of life, how little hold the past has, if you don’t allow it to.  Amazing that things can change so fast.  She didn’t recognize herself.

And that was a good thing.  She liked feeling different.  And living with bears, of course.

She held up the pregnancy test in front of the mirror, grinning when the positive reflected off the surface.

“Emma!  What’s taking you so long!”  Arthur banged on the door.  “I need to pee!”

“Moment!” Emma yelled, before straightening herself and striding towards the glossy door.  Swinging it open, she came face to face with an Arthur just wearing boxers, and held the pregnancy test out in front so that he couldn’t fail to notice it.  It took him a moment to comprehend.

“What… wait… really?”

“Really!” Emma smiled, her lips threatening to split her cheeks.  “I’m pregnant, Arthur.”

He smiled as well, a genuine one that seemed to light every part of him.

“YES!”  The voice came from the edge of the hallway, and Jackie came bustling down in her nightgown and white cap, walking stick tapping rapidly.  “Pregnant? Let me see!”

“Oh, great…” Arthur muttered, but gave Emma a huge, stifling embrace, as Jackie snatched the test off Emma and immediately went tapping away with it.

“I’m informing everyone!” she yelled.

“Is there any way to stop her?” Emma asked, giggling against Arthur’s chest, before he placed her down.

“Nope.  And I need the bathroom.  We’ll celebrate in a minute!”  He gave her a quick peck, a caress of her neck, and then closed the bathroom door.  Emma stood there, smiling in a silly way, feelings floating through her.

Damn, she thought.  Life sure was good.

Robin’s Mate

Bears of Valor Lake

Book 2

Chapter One – Amelie

Amelie crept through the underbrush.  Already, her heart pounded a million miles a minute, causing every part of her body to thrill with adrenaline.  Her father called it the ‘song of the hunter’, and she used to watch when he took her along on his hunts, getting her to crouch in the savannah brush or forest bush, his gun sniffing out the life of whatever animal he wanted next on his trophy list.

She remembered when he fired at that black-spotted giraffe, the one everyone said was rare, then positioned himself by its corpse, twisting that long neck at an awkward angle and smiling in triumph.  Or the western black rhino that he sawed the horn off—this same creature had gone extinct just eight years later.  Her father loved hunting rare things.  He said their value increased, became almost prestigious.  He said how hunters only dream of being the ones to kill the last of a species.  He went on forums and talked with other hunters, and they shared pictures and gabbled excitedly about finding the next kill.

Crackle.  Leaves made such a distinctive sound, didn’t they?  With fall around, soon the bears would be right into preparing for hibernation.  She didn’t want to hunt in winter, though—the natural weather conditions tended to be a killer.

No.  She wanted those rare grayclaw bears.  Research described them as the most elusive in the world, with that peculiar tendency to want to stick in little clans.  Regular bear species were more solitary, forging their own paths and territories.  Her dad always wanted to track down one of the grayclaws.  He wanted to mount one head on a wall, with the vast collection of taxidermized animals in his special little cabin hut, or what her mother described as his “man cave.”

So many heads.  Deers and bears and lions and animals from all continents.  Rugs on the ground and that strange, musty, stale smell that permeated the room, and the layers of dust that her father never bothered to sweep away.  Dead skin cells and cobwebs and the track of muddy boots and wind-blown seeds.

Finding a good place to camp, she settled herself within the boughs of a tree, and used the scope on her rifle to examine for activity.  Might take minutes, might take hours, might never see anything at all.  But nearby a fishing stream and deep, holey banks, she knew a place like this was perfection for bears.  Her knapsack lay in a crook of the oak branches, and her clothes camouflaged well into the color scheme of the woodlands.

All sources pointed to sightings of the grayclaw bears in a protected reservation area.  However, this area straddled that protection rule, so she would be outside legal culpability with this.  Outside worry of persecution.

Waiting, keeping her breathing calm, she thought about how her father would react, seeing her like this.  Angry, probably.  Doing things her way, and not to the fine oiled routine her father had cooked up, and her mother followed.  Her brother, though—he’d taken everything and then some when it came to the family lifestyle.  Full-on gun advocate, red-blooded American, waving the star-spangled flag and drinking Coors.  He’d sit by his fishing tackle in a green deckchair and his Russian hat and believe himself a true prepper.  He also wanted to build a nuclear bunker, in case things went to shit.

Amelie didn’t think they needed to worry about nuclear fallout, though.  More like climate change due to depletion of natural resources, abuse of the oceans, plastic and fumes and the extinction of essential animals in the ecosystem.

A flutter of movement.  Squinting through the lens, she saw the pad of a bear.  At last!  The excitement turned into frenzied anticipation, and she needed to take deep, calm breaths to stop her gun shaking so much.  Brown fur.  And a distinctive, dappling gray all down its limbs, ending in long, curled, steel-gray nails.  Along with that tuft of tail on its back, and the broader, set-apart forelimbs—finally!

The bear snuffled the ground, leaves splitting before it as it waddled to the stream, crossing the water to her side, now watching for fish.

One shot.  Her finger itched to pull the trigger.  The long snout of her Onager rifle pointed at the thick fur of the bear’s side.

She squeezed the trigger, and a dart shot out of her rifle, sticking into the bear’s neck.  She worked on sliding her next dart into the now-open compartment of her gun, keeping an eye on the bear.  It swatted at its neck as if irritated by a bee sting, and the dart tumbled into the stream.  The bear rubbed at its neck in a strangely human-like gesture, now looking towards the stream where the dart had gone.

With the next dart loaded and locked into place, Amelie tucked her gun away.  She might need it for any other bears.  Couldn’t risk another dose into the grayclaw, in case she killed it.

The bear continued staring at the stream, before scanning the surroundings on its hind legs.  Again, a strange reaction.  Perhaps grayclaws were quite an intelligent species.  Amelie grinned to herself, imagining getting close enough to that furry mountain, to pause and snap a picture, to clip a body part off as a prize.

Finally, the bear settled down and continued attempting to fish from the stream.  Amelie counted the seconds down, blood practically fizzing with excitement.  The creature hooked a fat salmon from the stream, chewing lethargically, until it staggered.  Awkwardly, it waded onto the bank, wobbling precariously, before collapsing some twenty feet away, leaving a slushy trail of mud behind.  Checking the coast was clear, Amelie made her move.  Slithering down the bark, she padded over to the stream, found the thinnest point to leap over, though she scrabbled at the opposing bank for a few awkward seconds, before making her way to the bear.  She prodded it to make sure it wasn’t moving, then took out her phone and attached it to its special drone case.

With the phone now hovering in mid-air, supported by two tiny spinning blades, she posed for the picture, draping her arm over the unconscious bear, and wore a triumphant grin.  It smelled like the fish it’d half-eaten, of wet fur and mud, and her giraffe-encased phone flashed a few times.  Finally, Amelie set to work on clipping one of the bear’s steel-gray nails and a little bit of the soft fur from the top.

Dropping the claw into a plastic protective sleeve, Amelie grabbed her phone and examined the fallen bear with a smile upon her face.  The adrenaline had worn off.  The thrill of the hunt dissipated from her at last.

Fur rippled on the bear, like the water refraction.  Amelie paused, mind on alert.  Incredibly, the bear began to shrink, the fur disappearing, the paws turning into pink hands, until what lay in front of Amelie was a human.

A very naked human male that had clearly just melted out of a bear.

Her heart hammered hard and fast, as her brain tried to make sense of what she saw.  Since bears didn’t regularly do this sort of thing, last time she checked.  Bears were supposed to stay as bears.

Cracking and rustling in the distance made her shift her hand to her gun, and hastily begin to retreat.  Bears thundered from the bush all around—two from the left, roaring, one from the right—and another one approached fast behind, from beyond the stream.  Trapping her route out.  Bears ran much faster than humans.

Should have occurred to her that clan-focused bears might be protective of any of their group.  She pointed and aimed the gun at the nearest one, with his sandy-colored fur patterning, and the bear instantly stopped.  The others drew to a halt as well.

They recognized the sight of a gun.  Interesting.  If they didn’t, Amelie planned to make herself look as big as possible, as bears responded to physical threat with caution.  They much preferred their prey to be running.  Prey that fought back might injure them.  Injuries might mean death in the near future.

The one who faced down the barrel of her gun seemed to collapse in upon himself, until another naked human faced her.  Big, muscular, with a hairy chest and a rather notable lower region.  Amelie fought to keep her eyes level with his square-jawed face, dimly aware of the other bears doing the same thing.

What were the chances of all of them happening to be shape shifters?  Maybe this was why the grayclaw bears were so damn rare.  Because they weren’t bears at all.

“Drop your weapon,” he growled, voice menacing and low.  His light eyes glittered coldly.

“No,” Amelie said.  “If it’s keeping me alive, I’m not dropping it.”

“You dare trespass onto our lands,” the lead shifter hissed.  Amelie kept a careful prowl, attempting to keep everyone in sight, eyes darting everywhere.  “You dare kill one of us… you will pay for this!  You will die for this.  Blood for blood.”

“Oh, he’s not dead!”  Amelie said, hands shaking as she did so.  The adrenaline by now had turned into fear, and her brain still attempted to wrap itself around the fact of what she had just witnessed.  Couldn’t linger on it for too long, since all of them displayed murderous intent.  Didn’t matter if they’d shifted into talking plant pots or something, as long as they posed a threat.

“Not dead?”  The naked man ran a hand through his snarled black hair.  “What do you mean, not dead?  You shot him.”

“Yeah, with a tranq gun,” Amelie said, sweat trickling down her forehead.  She couldn’t keep an eye on everyone there; sooner or later, one of them would get her.  “I don’t kill.  I just got him with a dart.  And how was I supposed to know he’d change into a human?”  Slight hysteria grabbed her.  “How’m I s’posed to know you can?”

The speaker seemed momentarily flabbergasted.  Shit, someone was almost on her—she spun, aimed her weapon—

“Don’t kill her!  Knock her out!  Knock her out!”  The roar came from behind, though it went unheeded as the angry tank of a stranger swung a fist into her skull.  Stars exploded in front of her eyes, but it only stunned her for a millisecond.  Enough for the man to grab the gun from her slackened grip.

“Let’s test if this kills her, shall we?” the man growled.  Higher-pitched voice than the lead speaker.  He pointed the gun directly at her chest and pressed the trigger.

Pain stung at her chest, and the distinctive pink feathers jutted out of her shirt.  “Rude,” she said, plucking it out.

“Grab her!  Grab her!”

She only had moments, she knew, but still made a heroic run for it, anyway.  Dodging one man, she paused in front of the other, and aimed a kick directly at the dangly bits between his legs.  He let out a wheezing moan and collapsed.  Trouble with running, though, was that the heart pumped faster, and so did the blood.  Groggily, she splashed through the stream, feeling the first drag of unconsciousness upon her mind.

Another dart whooshed by her, and fear once more stabbed through.  If that dart had hit, she’d likely die of an overdose.  Still, she only managed to reach her former hiding place before collapsing, the world spinning and sucking itself into a black void.

Well.  At least she’d gone out running, she supposed.

Father would be proud.

Chapter Two – Robin

He glared at the unconscious girl, already feeling the headache pounding at his skull.  It wasn’t often that people went out of their way to dart him, just to pose for a picture by his slumbering form and then clip a nail.  Lamarya was thumbing her way through the girl’s phone, and Joel Witsel, current friend of the family, had examined her gun and other possessions.

“She was set up only to camp for a few days,” Joel remarked, stroking his chin as he examined the five tranq darts with their pink featherings, contained in plastic tubes.  His rich bass voice seemed to linger in the room.  “No killing weapons.”

The unknown girl continued to sleep, slumped on the improvised cell floor of the Maguire family basement.  All the families had their dark sides, after all.  All of them had basements which were relics from the Civil War, where they once kept dissenters and prisoners of war.

“She’s a hunter, alright,” Lamarya said with a snort.  “Her Instagram’s full of the pictures of hunts she’s been on.  Look at this.  Giraffes, rhinos, elephants, lions, tigers, rare animal species… she’s been posing with a lot.”

“And all of them are tranq’d?  Or killed?”  Robin examined what his sister was scrolling through.  Pictures of the beaming woman, with her mess of dark hair and bright green eyes.  Sure enough, the tell-tale sign of a pink dart stuck out from all the animals.  And the “trophies” page the girl set up was all superficial clippings.  Tufts of hair, mane, nails, and an oversaturation of images.

“Amelie Warren,” Lamarya read aloud, now flicking through her profile.  “Grew up in a hunting-based family—wants to prove that people can go trophy hunting without killing the animal in question.  She’s a believer in the thrill of the hunt and the capture, but not in the consequence of death.  She thinks trophy hunting in itself is wrong if the reward results in the death of a rare creature.  Is, ah, ‘on a mission’ to prove that not all hunters need blood to enjoy their sport.”

“Seriously?  What the fuck?”  Robin read the third-person profile again, feeling as if he’d been dipped in a bottle of bizarre and surreal.  “Whoever heard of a hunter that didn’t kill?”

“Think she got something against Mommy and Daddy?”  Lamarya scrolled through a flood of pictures, none of which seemed to contain the hint of anyone else.  “Something to prove?  Oh, look—check some of the pages she’s following.  ‘Animal Conservation’, ‘Save the Animals’, ‘Better Zoos’, ‘Extinction Watch’. She’s like one of those nutjobs that probably chain themselves to animal testing centers and let out bunnies from their cages or something.”

The more Robin checked the profile, the more out of place he felt.  Even the image of her posing next to his unconscious body, grinning, felt both ominous and innocent at the same time, now that he flicked through the profile.

“Enyeto’s calling for her to be executed—because she did trespass into Valor Lake territory, and she did attack me, which is punishable under our reservation laws by death.”

“Yeah...”  Lamarya fell silent a moment.  The girl stirred in her sleep, but then returned to that eerie stillness.  “I can’t see the main families being happy.  And if she sends those pictures out of your body, stating where she found you, chances are, we’ll get the less friendly trophy hunters coming right in.”

“So, delete them.”  Robin turned to face his shooter.  Joel made noises behind, but Robin didn’t bother asking or checking for the source of the distress.

“I don’t know.  It seems a shame to kill this one.  I think she might do a lot of good with this.  A hunter that doesn’t kill.”

I could argue her case, Robin thought, crouched now so close to the bars that his nose almost brushed the iron.  But why would I want to?  He recalled the way his shoulder stung, how he swiped, sure he saw something fall into the stream.  He foolishly didn’t act on his suspicions, eventually deciding he must have killed a bee or something.  When the grogginess hit, he realized too late, and telepathically screamed for help for anyone who might be nearby.  Didn’t get far before he turned into that huddle of fur that Amelie posed by for her grayclaw picture.

How had he thought it to be a bee sting, of all things?  They barely even had bees in the reservation.  Some hornets, sure, but those hurt like a motherfucker when they jabbed.

“Brother, what side of the stream were you on when she shot you?”

Robin paused, frowning as he thought through the question.  “I was on the Madison tributary.”

“Yes.  That’s directly on the border.  Were you shot on the Valor Lake side?  In the stream?  On the Niagara side?”

“I...”  I was stung on the Niagara side.  “I don’t know.”

He heard his sister exhale in irritation.  “A woman’s life is at stake here.  You better remember.”

She shot me.  She’s a hunter.  Not the worse hunter around, though.  Practically an upstanding and moral citizen.  Who went around tracking rare animals all the same.  Who probably gave the locations away to real hunters who would do more than just clip a nail.  And if those images of him got out, then how long before illegal poachers and hunters flooded their reservation?

“Fine.  I was shot on the Niagara side.”

“Are you certain about this?  Since you couldn’t remember,” Lamarya said, tone laced with suspicion.

“I’m sure.”  He stared at the girl who he might have now saved.  Still unsure whether the others would take his word, anyway.  They might deem her too dangerous to live.  They might just state that since he fell on Valor lands anyway, it didn’t excuse her actions.  That he could have died of an overdose.  That she risked exposing them all.

He remembered how the Valor family argued that the only humans who should ever find out would be ones that eventually married into their clans.  Anyone else was a liability.  The Maguire family—his family—thought it better for humans to know.  They respected the secrecy, but secrets could only remain secrets for so long.  Especially in this media-bloated world.  Witsels like Joel didn’t really like humans.  The Witsels had not married a human for decades, keeping their bloodline “pure.”

“She may have a chance, anyway.  And I suppose we get to hear her side of the story when she wakes.”

“I think she’s already awake,” Joel said then.  He walked past Robin, sniffed the damp air for a moment, then banged the cell bars with a vibrating clang until Amelie’s eyes popped open.

“Jesus wept!  If I was asleep, that would have woken me up,” Amelie said, her rich voice tainted with irritation.

Joel sneered at her.  The red-haired shifter’s disdain for humans was showing a little too obviously.  “Oh, you are in trouble.  Illegally hunting bears.”

“Do I get a lawyer?”  She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, black hiking boots pressed against the stone floor.  “Or you guys gonna keep talking about killing me?”

“Oh no, there’s no such things as lawyers here,” Joel said with a bite of impatience.  “Just cold, hard justice.  Our laws are separate from your human laws.  Anything we do here is legal.”

“Imagine what will happen when my Instagram followers realize why I’m not posting,” Amelie said, hostility prickling her body language.  She had what probably was a pretty face, covered up in a mask of defiance.  “Then they find out I was executed here.  Won’t exactly be peaceful for your kind then, will it?”

“Mauled by bears,” Robin said, arching an eyebrow, allowing a smile of his own to creep across.  “That’s all they’ll see it as.  An unfortunate hunter who had the tables turned on her by the very animals she tracked down.”

“That’s a point,” Lamarya muttered, now tapping away at Amelie’s phone again.  “Sec.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Posting for her.  I’m gonna put that pic of you up like she’s done for the other animals.”

“Are you serious?”  Robin spun on her, incensed.  “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Relax.  I’ll say it’s in eastern Europe or Russia or something.  Throw ‘em off the scent.  We need to make sure there aren’t any inquiries on her.  Yet.”  She continued tapping, until she finished uploading the newest picture to Instagram.

“Pretty smart.”  Joel acknowledged her with a wink, and she rolled her dark eyes in return.  Robin couldn’t help but notice that a flicker of fear cast shadows over Amelie’s face.

“Is this what you do to all humans who discover your secret?  Just bump them off to bear attacks?”

“Only the ones who break our laws,” Joel said sweetly.  “Probably should have done your research, hmm?”

“I shot him on the Niagara side of the river,” Amelie said, digging straight to the gold.  Robin noticed how quick she was to defend herself, how little time she wasted in dealing with the reality that she spoke to shape shifters.  That kind of sudden information would be enough to turn anyone on their heads.  “He wasn’t in your jurisdiction.  And no harm was done.  He’s still alive, as you can see.”  She gave a hard smile to Robin, and something in his stomach twanged.

Wouldn’t mind wiping that smile off her smug face, he thought venomously.  See how defiant someone like her might be then.

No human messed with a bear.

“What’s the chances that you won’t blab to all your followers on those shitty sites you go on that we exist?”  Robin stood next to the cell, his chest facing Joel.  “We can’t afford that kind of attention.”  Yet.  “And we do have an interest in preserving our citizens’ identity.  We’re under the indigenous act—no ‘outsiders’ may be permitted to invade our lands without express permission.  And I bet if you couldn’t find one of us on the Niagara side, you would have trekked into our territory to do so.  Wouldn’t you?”

“That’s not exactly the point, is it?  I didn’t.  You’re alive.  There’s no ‘would have done’ about this, there’s what I’ve done.  If you’re going to kill me for things I might do, you may as well kill anyone who happens to be born.  Because they ‘might’ do something.”

She had a point, there.  “No smart-ass comments from you.  You’re a problem.  Unless you can promise us you’ll keep our secret, we may have no choice but to kill you.  And if you escape...”  Joel left it hanging.

“Naturally, I’d want to escape,” Amelie said.  “I’m not particularly interested in dying.  But shit, if your secret means that much to you, then I’ll keep it.  I’ll even say I photoshopped that damn picture if you want me to be serious about it.”

Again, that forceful, determined personality.  Robin doubted she had many friends, if any.  Maybe that was why she resorted to prolific hunting pictures.  Indulge instead with an army of admirers and trolls, rather than face whatever sad, lonely reality she had.

The fact of the matter was, however, that they couldn’t take this Amelie at her word.  People said anything to spare themselves.  The girl admitted as much that she didn’t want to die.

But then again… she didn’t inflict permanent harm.  Just the trespassing and fear of their secret getting out condemned her.  The defiance in her smelled sharp, as if sprinkled with salt.  Instead of shrinking in her cell room, she puffed out to make herself bigger, subconsciously imitating a dominant animal.  Which bristled against Joel, and a little against Robin.

“It’s a good Instagram page,” Lamarya added, still apparently glued to the phone.  “I can think of worse things to do.  And she’s part of an Otter Preservation Society.  I like otters.”

Robin let out a great sigh.  His sister sometimes had that effect on him.

One of Amelie’s dark eyebrows twitched upwards.  “You best stop scrolling before you reach my porn stash.”

Lamarya let out a great, hooting laugh, and Joel made a sound of disgust.  “Yeah, we’re definitely leaving this human to rot and die in here now.”  He spun on his heel and walked away, going up the basement steps to the main Maguire hallway.  “Witsel out.  You Maguires do whatever the fuck you want, I’m just going to pretend I wasn’t there when it all went down, or this shit’s gonna become a clusterfuck fast.  If you do spare the human, let me know.  I’ll help out.”

He slammed the door behind him, and the light bulb dangling from the ceiling swayed from the small blast of wind, bobbing shadows over the walls.

“Does that mean he likes me?” Amelie asked.

“Depends what kind of ‘help out’ he intends,” Lamarya said, eyebrows crinkled in worry.

Chapter Three – Amelie

More of those bear people kept showing up.  Mothers, fathers, grandparents, cousins, god-relatives and God knew who else, all talking about her as though she wasn’t there in the room with them.  She felt like she was trapped in some weird medieval torture chamber, or maybe in an episode of Hannibal, just waiting for one of the bear shifters to finally snap and munch on her.  Most did seem to be in the trespasser! group.  In fact, the only people who didn’t seem to want her dead was this Robin Maguire and his sister.

Nervousness tended to bubble out of her in the form of quips and bad jokes, so that didn’t exactly endear her to the general congregation, either.  Stiff and lethargic, with her stomach growling something fierce, she watched two elderly women talk to each other whilst glaring at her.

How would my father feel, knowing what sort of mess I’ve landed in?  She doubted he’d have much more control over the situation than her.  Though he would have killed the bear.  He’d be partway to skinning it by the time it shifted, and then he’d be standing there, stunned, unsure if he had killed bear or human.  Her father didn’t do the stunned look easy.  He always liked to be prepared.  Stocking up on tins and prepper gear, ready for whatever apocalypse landed their way first.

She imagined his utter scorn for a moment, that sergeant’s voice booming at her to straighten her spine, make sure she was prepared for anything.

“Why do you hunt but not kill?”  One of the women, the one with a mix of gray and red hair, squinted at her with milky eyes.  Must be ancient.  Ancient enough to probably remember two hundred years in the past or something.

That was a thought.  Maybe these bear people lived longer.  They always depicted shifters as living longer, right?  Who knew how old these women were?

“Because I don’t need to kill,” Amelie replied.  The simplest answer she had.

“Then why bother hunting at all?  When we hunt, we kill,” the same woman said, appearing doubtful of Amelie’s motivations.  Amelie didn’t see anything particularly complicated.

“Because for me, the fun part isn’t the killing.  It’s the chase, the capture, and releasing it again.  People do that to fish they catch.  Why not me with the animals I track?”

“Hmm.  It’s unusual.”  The older woman pursed her wrinkled lips.  So many lines on that face.  She resembled an oversized walnut.  “I’m used to trophy hunters that take pride in mounting the heads of their conquests in frames, of selling the ivory of animals that produce it.  But even then, if those hunters intrude on forbidden lands, they tend to meet a grisly fate, either by the animals, or the locals.”

Both, in their case, Amelie thought.  What with the locals happening to be bears and all.  “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly expecting the bear I knocked out to be a human.  It’s not like this is common knowledge or anything.”

“Got lip, this one,” the blonde-haired woman said, in the tone of someone who had found gum stuck to her shoe.  “Can’t imagine something like this fitting in.”

“You’re as bad as the Witsels,” the faded red woman said with a sigh.  “We’ll need to tell our children to spare this one.  There’ll be too much attention when she’s gone, no matter how discreetly we off her.  We’ll need to do something else.”

“What, then?  We can hardly keep her locked up,” the other woman barked, her voice high and querulous.  She really had an annoying quality to it.  Amelie wished she’d just shut up and go away.  At least the red woman sounded nice.  Maybe like she’d smoked a few too many cigars, but at least the roughness had quality.  Reminded her a little of her dad.  He did the traditional pipe thing, enjoying packing the pipe with selected materials, from herbal plants to fine old tobacco.  Her mother preferred the packs.

Both parents, naturally, told her never to smoke, despite chugging away themselves.

“You can just let me go and I won’t say anything.  Scout’s honor.”  Amelie attempted a smile, even though she knew these bears had no intention of letting her just walk out the door.  Their pathetic debates revolved around that carousel with the same arguments.  Frankly, it got boring fast.  She wanted her phone back, to see how people were responding to her grayclaw post.  Since that Lamarya person so kindly faked being her.  She wanted to start planning for her next hunt, even as people posted about her relying on Daddy’s money.

Not quite true.  Relying on inherited money from two sets of grandparents, sure.  Along with making traveling, tracking animals, and studying cultures her full-time job.  Amazing which people liked to sponsor her kind of work, and what views on Instagram gained.  She tried YouTube for a bit, but her presence was appalling, and for some reason, she lost the confidence in her voice and sounded like a half-drowned toad.  She much preferred the image of the hunter with the gun, with little fluffy pink feathers sticking out of her quarry.

“You know, if I don’t speak to my dad soon, he’s going to start wondering what’s up with me,” she said, hoping to spur some action from them.  Doubtless if they did let her call, they’d be listening to every breathed word.

“Fine.  You can do so.  Call your father.  My grandson’ll be watching you.  I need to talk about… whatever it is you do on that internet thing.”

Of course she’d be clueless.  Amelie watched as the red woman, with her shriveled yet strangely striking body, like she still had a bit of punch left inside, approached the cell with a single glittering key.  She let Amelie out, and Amelie briefly wondered about the possibility of just running away from the old biddies.  Surely neither could match her in speed, given that they were probably about five times her age?

Wouldn’t really work.  She didn’t know the layout of the house, or where she was.  Best bet would be to grab her phone.  Or any phone.

“Come on, then.  Mind we’ll be listening in, of course.”

“And no code words, either!” the other woman added, as if it’d just occurred to her.  Shame.  Amelie did know a few code words to say to her father.  He always stressed about memorizing some.

“What are you doing?”  Robin approached them at the top of the basement, wearing that heavy scowl on his square-jawed face.

“We were going to let her call her father...”

“No,” Robin said flatly.  “We can’t detect what a code word sounds like.  We can’t risk contact like that.”

“Jesus wept, you people are so fucking paranoid,” Amelie said in exasperation.  “Is this the first time you’ve kidnapped someone?”

A glint in Robin’s expression implied as much.  Wasn’t often that Amelie got to deal with total incompetents.  Except that one time where she worked in a convenience store for work experience and found that somehow the stupidest people in the universe ended up attempting to buy things from the store.

Probably the only person more paranoid than them was her father.

Chapter Four – Robin

Something about the woman fascinated him.  Past that hard exterior of hers, there must be something.  Everyone had their breaking points.  Things that made them tick, laugh, cry.  So far, she had treated their attempts to interrogate her as almost a source of humor, and none of the Maguires really knew how to handle that.  They wanted now to use her to help persuade hunters to stay away from the reservation, and to help relocate some of the troublesome animals that were wreaking havoc on the ecosystem in parts.  Might as well take advantage of her nature and skills to benefit them.

He watched her as she examined all of her equipment, preparing to go out and tranq the mountain lion chomping at their farmstock.  They didn’t want to kill it, but nothing short of a total relocation would suffice.  They were planning, of course, to do it themselves, but why not test out the newcomer?  Why not give her a chance to prove herself as an asset rather than a liability?

She wore tight-fitting, insulating clothes under her camouflaged jacket, and might as well have been preparing for the zombie apocalypse.

“What’s the chance I’m going to run into another one of you bear people?  Are all the bears people?”

“Not all of them.  We do have actual bears, and we take their protection seriously.”

“Are they grayclaws, like what you look like?”

“No.”  Not that he paid attention to what type of claw they had, or anything.  “Just… normal grizzlies.”

“Great,” she said, now slotting her tubed tranquilizer darts.  “Grizzlies are the most vicious.  Can you mind-control them or something?”

“No.  We can try communicating with them, but they don’t think or see like we do.  So, it’s a little hit and miss,” Robin admitted.  He came up behind her just as she loaded her gun, fighting the impulse to do something stupid, like touch her from behind, or lean over her shoulder and whisper something, just to see how the hunter reacted to it.  Still, he stood close enough to see the skin on the back of her neck prickling, as if it’d come over in a cold shiver.  He wondered if her upbringing happened to be as silly as his.  Always squabbling over family ancestral lands, panicking whenever new humans stumbled into them, panicking if the fire lookouts and rangers might be onto them, even though they’d explicitly given permission and allowed humans into their lands.

“Is personal space an issue for you or something?”  Amelie moved to the side, scowling at him.

“Is it for you, then?”

“I don’t like being watched over my shoulder.  Or having someone so close.  Makes me feel unsafe.”  She gave a little shudder, and Robin considered this for a moment.

“You’re not much of a hugger, I take it, then?”

Amelie gave a moody shrug, still sorting out her weaponry.  She did it with such care, Robin could tell she’d spent a lot of time doing something like this.  Maybe with her dad, assembling and dissembling items, locked up in some dusty workshop somewhere, with some retro car gutted in the corner.  “My mom and dad aren’t big on the hugging part.  Or the affection, come to think of it.”

“Then how do you know they love each other?”

Another shrug, this time, more doubtful.  “They just do.  No arguments.  No real conflicts.  Allowing each other to go and do their own thing.  Most people break up after a set number of years.  They’re still together after thirty.”

Robin couldn’t help but feel that if she defined love by living without conflict in a house for thirty years, she was way off the mark.

Not that he knew better.  He went on occasional trips outside Valor Lake and flirted with the general human population in bars and clubs.  Slept with them as well.  He never committed anything further than one-night stands, because he had somewhere to return to.  A family to serve his duties with.  “I’m not sure that sounds healthy.  Seems they’ve given up trying to convince one another of their views.”  He remembered how his mother and father used to argue ferociously.  However, their arguments came from reasons of loneliness, not being paid enough attention, missing one another, feeling unheard.  They got everything out in the open, and the conflicts got solved.

After all, hard to resolve a conflict when neither side is made aware of it.  He wondered if her parents quietly lived their lives, pretending there were no problems, ignoring issues rather than giving them a time and place.

It didn’t seem right, somehow.  Being dishonest in such a way.

Of course, he might be way overthinking the whole situation.

“I think it’s a good relationship.  Both can do their own thing, both still find time for one another.  No one’s trying to stop each other from doing what they want.  My mom’s got her career, my dad writes and blogs about hunting.”

Like you, eh?  “It just seems strange to me.  I’m used to my family being open.  You know, talking about sex and body parts and gross habits like it’s normal.  My dad likes to poop with the door open, so he can have conversations with people.  He likes spending the time on the toilet speaking to my mother or reading comics.”

Amelie screwed up her face in disgust.  “What?  Ew.  That sounds so weird.”

“He spends twenty or so minutes on the toilet when he goes to poop.  So, it’s not uncommon for deep conversations to take place, or to have him catch up with his children if they’re there.  I don’t think it’s so weird.  It’s a good use of time.”

He found her reaction vastly amusing.  Clearly she came from a very reserved family, and didn’t much appreciate this kind of talk.

“No way.  My dad closes the door.  My mother would freak if you opened the door by accident.  Neither like showing much body parts.”  She finished loading up her backpack and tucked the safety-latched rifle in a strapped gun holster.  “That’s just normal.  You don’t want to be caught naked or doing something so… crude.”

“Natural process, though.”  He followed her up the stairs, through the main hall, past the dining table where grandfather Varnas sat, skimming through the Iliad for what was probably the hundredth time.  Since Varnas had Alzheimer’s, he worked especially hard to preserve his memories.  A momentary flash of sadness went through Robin, as he remembered sitting on his knee and hearing all the stories Varnas liked to tell about the ancient mythologies of the world.  He had a thing for the Greeks.

It instilled a quiet rage in Robin all the same, to know his grandfather’s own mind warred against him.  That there was only so much he could do until his own brain cells eroded against him.

“Your family is so damn big,” Amelie said as they passed more people.  “You must have hundreds of relatives in this place!  I only know three from my side.  Mom, Dad, food grandma.”

“Food grandma?”

“That’s just what we call her.  She cooks for us, like, three days a week,” Amelie said, turning and facing him with a soft smile.  It transformed that rigid face into something capable of great beauty.  It carried a warmth and radiance that Robin could, quite frankly, get behind.

“There’s not that many in my family,” Robin said with a grin, examining the smaller woman in front of him.  “Though I agree we do have a lot of relatives.  And half-cousins and things.  It makes me anxious about the idea of marrying people from the Valors and the Witsels, because some generations back, you’ll find we’re all genetically linked.”  He liked the way she strode, with purpose, like a lithe cat.  If she was a shape shifter, he could see her being a snow leopard, or something small but incredibly agile.

Outside the huge farmhouse at last, they walked past the lake, which glimmered in the morning light.  Fish danced underneath the surface, and the early summer sun penetrated the landscape.  In the near distance, the fumes of the paper factory belched smoke into the air.  A strain on Valor Lake.  A tearaway clan that wanted nothing but profit.  The old families living by the lakeside wanted little association with them, though Lamarya had pretended to be on their side for a while.  He saw how Amelie eyed the smoke with distaste from the side profile she presented.

Right.  She’s one of those eco-warriors or something.  Saving the animals.  Environmental activist.  “You don’t like the sight of that factory, I take it?”

“What’s it even doing here?”  Amelie’s eyes followed the smoke.  She stopped to let Robin lead the way, since she obviously didn’t know where they intended to go.  Sensible of her.  “I thought you bears were happy tree friends.  That’s not happy trees at all.”

“Not all of us.  We are humans.  Sort of.  Greed strikes a deep vein in some of us.”  Robin pointed at a distant four-wheel drive, which he intended to use to drive Amelie partway up the mountain.  And hope she didn’t shoot him again, leave him, and steal the car.

Damn, they really were putting a little too much trust in her not to just take complete advantage, weren’t they?

He had to trust in honor.  In a person who didn’t kill those she hunted.  In a person who posted her exploits online, in a way that irritated him.  Like she was rubbing it in how good a person she was for not killing the animals.  Like she was morally superior, or something.

“I hear you on that one.  Guess besides the bear thing, we’re a bit more similar than we’d like.  Which makes me think —are there others?”  She paused, staring at him in earnest with those green eyes.  Again, he was struck at how uncannily bright they were.  Like they could contain the whole world in a look.  “Like, are there more than just bears?  Is there a whole hidden world out there?  Do people transform into all the animals?”

He wasn’t sure, however, if he liked the gleam that entered her expression then, or the edge in her voice.  Better stave off this direction of thought.  “Yes, there’s more than just bears.  I don’t know all of them myself.  Please don’t do an Instagram thing about them.  We have enough trouble trying to stay quiet without whistleblowers.”

“Oh…” her expression dropped.  “But maybe I could help promote them in a good light.  If I got people to believe you existed, of course…” she fell into a thoughtful silence.  “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t, yeah,” Robin said, with more venom in his voice than he originally intended.

“Whoa, chub, cool it.  I won’t threaten your little bear lives.  I’m just going to help you with your big cat problem, prove myself, yadda yadda, then I get to go home.”  She gave him a smile and an arched eyebrow.  “But maybe you’ll let me come back camping, no?”

You wish.  “And have you shoot me in the ass again and clip my nails?  No thanks.”

“Spoilsport.”  She didn’t seem particularly bothered.  “Just to check, you sure it’s just the one lion?”

“Yeah.  We think so.”

“You ‘think’?  I don’t have an awful lot of darts, you know.  I have five left.  And I don’t always hit them.  If we run out, I’ll need to go back to my supplier in North Dakota, since he’s the one who does the pink tranq darts I like that fit with the model.”

Robin resisted the urge to glare coldly at her.  Pink tranq darts.  Seemed only a woman would be so obsessed over the damn color of a dart.  “If you think I’m going to just let you go back to North Dakota and trust in you to come back, you’ve another think coming.  You understand we can’t fully take you at your word.  Our secret is everything to us.  That’s why at least half the family wants you dead.  We don’t want the secret getting out.”

They reached the car at last, and she hesitated near the hood, feet partially sinking into the soft ground.  The lake banks often flooded near this point, and the rains always lingered for a few days after heavy showers.  Robin loved the scent it left in the earth, a kind of wet, heady, almost offensive smell, along with the squelch and sink of mud on boots or paws.  Bears weren’t exactly opposed to mud, after all—or the feeling of washing off mud in the rivers.

“The way you talk about this to me, I can’t help but suspect your lot are planning to kill me off anyway.  Just trying to squeeze out a bit of use from me during the process.”  She gave him a hard stare, almost hostile.  A cold shiver went down his spine at the prospect.

Was that what he sounded like to her?  Constantly talking about how his family wanted her dead.  Making out she was lucky he was allowing her this chance, because it was quite normal for the bears to just kill humans.

It wasn’t, really.

But then again, humans didn’t often find out their secrets, either.  There was a whole town in Valor Lake, after all, where the humans lived.  And never knew that a fair number of the people they saw also happened to change into bears and had kept an entire secret legacy over the centuries of their existence.

“Look, that’s not what I’m trying to convey,” he began, not really knowing how to reassure her, because he could see his father jumping the gun and smiting her down.  “I’m just—I’m trying to stress to you how important it is for us to be a secret.  And there’s just—there’s no guarantee from you.  You can say that you want to live, but all I see is a person who loves posting on social media all of her achievements.  A person who really enjoys the attention such a platform gives them.  I think the temptation of being able to tell thousands of followers that you’ve met bear shifters for the first time must be too much of a prize.”  He shrugged, teasing his fingers into the handle of the door.  “I can think of plenty of people who’d love that opportunity.”

A flash of annoyance went over her face, as if she was offended by something.  He didn’t think there was anything wrong with his question.

“Fuck you.  I’m not that kind of person.  You should be able to figure that out from the things I post.”

“Yeah.  Like you get a hard-on with everyone seeing how moral you are,” Robin said, a bite of irritation in his voice.  Her expression darkened further.

“Excuse me, but I’m not the one who has threatened me with my life unless I end up doing some stupid thing for you, in which case, it probably won’t work anyway.”  She rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, apparently so frustrated that she could no longer express herself.  “If you knew me, you’d know I wasn’t that kind of person.  I’m not—I wouldn’t do something like that.”

Robin wanted to believe her.  He really did.  But someone like her, a person who carried around hunting gear, who got a kick out of claiming trophies, who had a weird-ass, prominent hunter dad...

“Get in the car,” he finally said, not wanting to pursue the subject any more.  To think about it.  Better to stay in the present, where he didn’t have to worry about any potential future deaths.

She clambered into the side seat beside him, and the engine thrummed, before leading them out into the wilderness.

Didn’t take too long to get to the spot, since it was about ten minutes from the Witsel family farmland, a huge expanse that tracked a quarter way up the Broger Mountain.  The last mountain lion sighting was somewhere near the cowsheds.

“You know,” he said, as the four-wheel drive bucked up the stony slope, rattling past branches, the engine screaming, “it’s a rare mountain lion.  Bet you can do your little posing next to it with your stupid pink dart sticking out.”

“I’ve already done a bunch of mountain lions,” she replied, staring straight ahead, a little disengaged with what he was saying.  “Pretty sure people are bored with them now.”

“Ah, but have you done a Valorian whitespot lion?  My ancestors named them, you know.  Only a few hundred left in the wild.”

A gleam of interest materialized in Amelie’s eyes.  Yes, Robin thought.  She was like one of those prize collectors.  Always wanting to be near something valuable.  And what was more valuable than shape shifters?

“I’ve not heard about that species.  Can I see it?  You got a phone on you?”

“Yeah, sec.”  He came to a halt in a bend in the road, and quickly pulled up the article about the mountain lion.  He didn’t hand the phone over to her, though she did attempt to peel it away from him but stopped when he gripped tight.

Well, she certainly seemed a lot more excitable about the whole process.  “You got any more of them obscure animals like that here?  Wait.  The lion isn’t a shape shifter, is it?”

“No.  Just bears in these parts.”  He continued driving and parked at last.  He hauled out the camping gear and watched as she reattached her weapon and squelched up the pathway.

Time to go hunt a mountain lion, then.  The back trough of the four-wheel would do it.  Just had to hope Amelie didn’t stick something in his ass first and tow him away.

Chapter Five – Amelie

Amelie really, really hated having someone watching her while she hunted.  It messed with her mojo, made it hellishly difficult to concentrate.  Her dad was the same, so when Amelie came along on his hunts, she had to be deathly quiet and keep her breathing to a relaxed minimum to not mess him up.  Got a few punishments for not doing it correctly, but she had learned.  She had adapted.

Shame the things she did with her dad were a little hard to talk about with the girls at school.  Shame as well she ended up having a mini-revulsion for girl’s toys, preferring to play with toy trains, trucks, and fake guns, rather than dolls, clothes, and fake kitchens.

Now this huge bear-man lumbered behind her, practically up her ass, as she tracked this elusive mountain lion.  It wouldn’t be found near a hundred meters next to them, with this kind of noise.  And, she wasn’t entirely convinced it would be a lone mountain lion, either.  Anticipation wriggled in her insides, and she enjoyed spotting the signs of deer, bear, all the little critters prominent in these parts.

“Usually hangs in this area,” Robin whispered, now stepping next to her, his big feet slapping the stone.  “I can smell it.”

“Is that your tingly bear senses doing it?”

“Maybe.”  His voice came out in a gruff sort of growl, and the grin on his face wasn’t so terrible to look at.  Something fierce and manly behind it.  She wondered what that face might look like if it ended up doing anything else a little more compromising.

Shit.  Need to concentrate.  She beat back the rising crimson on her face, maintaining an aura of calm.  Not a great idea to allow any thoughts of potential randiness to go through her head.  Even though it might increase her chances of survival if he happened to grow even the slightest bit attracted to her.

Not that she was exactly attractive, or anything.  Dad’s eyebrows and his stupid chin are fucking me up, she thought sourly.  Made her look sort of blobby with eyebrows that loved threatening to turn into monobrows.  Also, she tended to sprout out hairs in places she hated, and places that embarrassed her, so she ended up paying a fair amount of money to laser those parts.  Still didn’t stop the occasional hair deciding that growing on her breast, back, and partway down her thighs was a fantastic idea.  Or those four hairs in her neck and chin that kept growing, which now left a cross shaped scar in the soft flesh under the edge of her jawbone.  She kept them because, honestly, she enjoyed tugging the little fuckers out.

“You sure the lion don’t live too far from here?” she said, slowly licking her lips as she examined Robin.  Built like a mountain.  Most of the bear shifters were, and Amelie was partial to a bit of muscle.  Or, in Robin’s case, a lot of muscle.  Punching him would probably be like punching a wall.  “I mean, we can always call it a night and camp near those cowsheds.  Get some of that nice natural air.  Roast some marshmallows over the fire and share sob stories or something.”

He let out a low chuckle, those dark eyes of his glittering in amusement.  “Think it’s a little early in our interactions to be toasting marshmallows together.  Bag us a lion, then we’ll talk.”

“Where you planning to dump it, anyway?”

“Don’t worry.  I got the perfect place in mind.”

Amelie wondered what her dad would think, with her hanging out with one of her attempted trophy hunts.  Or what her followers would think, seeing her hunt with a bear.  The image lit on fire in her brain.  She could almost see all the pictures, with Robin lounging by her side in his bear form, maybe picking salmon with her.  What an image that would be.  No poor, toothless and clawless Russian performance bears.  What if she got the real thing and posed with it?  Could tag it as conservation efforts, promoting the complexity of bears or something.  Shit, her popularity might blow up.

She itched to be able to touch a phone again, to snap pictures and skim through the legion of comments, from happy to trollish assholes sweating in their bedrooms as they spewed hate like poison.  She liked kicking them off after last, biting words.  Futile, but sometimes she just loved the feeling of having the last word with some dramatic one-liner, all snappy and Twitter worthy.

Shouldn’t be on that social media much, her dad had warned.  Leeches away your soul and makes you forget what’s out there, if all you’re doing is performing for an audience.

Like he didn’t do anything similar.  He even got a place on that Netflix documentary about those hunters.

Staring at Robin, a slight twinge of guilt went through her.

Moral superiority, he’d said.

Nothing morally superior about her, to be honest.

They tracked for a good few hours, stopping for drink several times, once for food, from what they’d taken with them.  They kept moving until the sun began to set, and Amelie didn’t spot any definitive tracks that would lead them to the creature.  Part of her wondered if Robin was just outright lying to her, just to see how she might behave with the opportunity to escape.  She didn’t voice that suspicion, because she already was in the shithouse.  Best not to make it any worse.

They set up camp after a short discussion about whether or not to head back to the house, and did it in an area that already showed signs of human activity.  Not bear, thankfully.

“We don’t got marshmallows,” Robin said as he coaxed the fire to become a little brighter.  Amelie rested on top of her neon blue sleeping bag, partially out of the tiny tent.  Which Robin expected to share with her.  Yeah, nothing could possibly go wrong here.  Though it made sense—these parts did get cold at night.  Even in the bag, the parts of her exposed shivered in the cold air.  Robin tossed her some crackers and cookies, which she began crunching through.

“Shame.  Coulda made a real summer trip out of it.  Sure you want to get in here with a woman with a rifle?”  She wriggled her toes in the sleeping bag for good measure.

“Please.  A wisp of a human like you could barely measure up to this.”  He flexed one of his arm muscles, showing a rather impressive bulge.  Speaking of an impressive bulge…

Her eyes rather discreetly drifted down to his legs, though he’d shielded that part from view.  No.  She wasn’t thinking about what it might look like or anything.  She was just… curious.  Like, did bear shifter junk even look the same as normal person junk?  Was there something different?  Some kind of animal magnetism going on?

Maybe.  Not that she was exactly a great judge of what constituted as magnetic.  Given that her last foray into the wonderful world of sex didn’t exactly end… well.

She’d tried a few times, admittedly.  Once with one of the school jocks, but it turned out he’d screwed her on a dare.  Once with the sweet nerdy guy, but seemed he only wanted to get himself laid, not committed.

And then she had the legion of people who wanted to screw her in imaginative and slightly disturbing ways online, the kinds that made her stomach coil up in disgust, that humans could even think of doing things like that to one another.  Certainly had put her off the path of sex for a while.  Maybe considering a bout of lesbianism or something.

Then there came a bear.

“Guess we better prepare for bed now...”  Robin slouched over to the tent, peeling off his jacket and black hiking boots.  Bears didn’t take their clothes with them when they transformed, did they?

“You know, I’m wondering about you bear people.  Is it possible that you can pass on this bearness?  Is it like what they say about vampire and werewolf bites—you can infect someone else?”

Robin gave her an unimpressed look under his hooded eyes.  “No, it doesn’t work like that.  We can’t pass it on, nor would we want to.  The bear spirit will have our asses for breakfast.”

“Wait.  Bear spirit?”  She gaped at him as he began wriggling into his bag.  “There’s a spirit?  Like there’s real magic?”

He settled himself finally into his sleeping bag, with only the tufts of his dark hair sticking out.  “It’s how all the shape shifters can transform.  We beseech the animal spirits, and if we’re lucky, maybe they grant us a blessing.  It’s been a while since anyone’s been blessed with transformation, though, so don’t start harboring any expectations about that.”

A slight flash of disappointment went through her, though truthfully, she hadn’t been thinking of that at all.  It just… the brief mention surprised her.  The thought that magic existed—she’d long been used to the concept of a world without magic.  Best reserved for wistful dreams and book series about witches and wizards, but not as something tangible and actually there.  Though how else would someone shift into another beast, if not fueled somewhat by something mystical?

Did that mean there were real psychics, then?  People who could shift into giraffes and mice?  Vampires, werewolves?  She frowned at that, not being a fan of the vampy type.  It vexed her, in a way, to imagine an entire world of magic hidden under her nose.

Maybe she should have spent less time hunting animals, and more time hunting magic.  Though all the others would simply laugh her into humiliation if she ever mentioned an ambition like that.

“Any more questions?” he asked.  “Since I doubt I’m going to sleep if you’ve got them all bottled up there.”

Questions?  Did she have some?  Yes, millions of them.  How long did bear shifters live for, how much did they retain of their minds after they shifted, did they think themselves above humans, did they have beefs with other shifters, could she visit this bear spirit…

They all bubbled to the tip of her tongue, then dissipated into, “Do you bear people only have bear partners?  Or do you… do you take, um, human ones, too?”

She burrowed herself a little deeper into the sleeping bag so he wouldn’t see her expression, or feel the heat coming off her face like a furnace.  Where did that question come from?  No, it was perfectly innocent to ask this, of course someone might want to know…

“It doesn’t matter for us,” he eventually said, breaking that awkward silence.  “We take humans as well as other bear shifters, though it’s a little less common for humans.  For obvious reasons.”

“So, there are other humans who know about you as well?  People who do live with you or whatever and don’t say anything?”

“Yes,” he said, though he sounded a little reluctant.  The heat of the sleeping bag really made Amelie uncomfortable now.  She wanted to surface for air, but also didn’t fancy risking Robin glimpsing her face.  “But generally, we’ve known them a while before the reveal.  Or they’ve just been raised up that way, to never share the secrets.  Someone like you is an unknown.  You could be a whistleblower.  We have had dangers in our past like you, but we either bring them into the fold, or...”

Or kill them, Amelie thought with a chill.  “Is there a way for me to be trusted for certain?  To be, uh… accepted into the fold?”

The silence between them lasted so long that Amelie was certain now that she’d fucked up.  She took one deep inhale, getting nothing but hot, humid air and the overwhelming smell of new polyester fiber, as if taken straight out of its plastic packaging.  Her left leg was cramping, too, so she adjusted her position to deal with it in the tight confines of the bag.  Please say something, Amelie thought.  She didn’t want to be left in a void of awkwardness.

“There is… but that would mean you getting involved with a bear shifter.  And by involved, I mean romantically inclined.  Willing to give up a former life to integrate into Valor Lake, and to eventually take part in raising a family.”  His voice turned low and soft.  “And, of course, you’d need to find an interested person to commit to this with.”

Well, it was easy to see that no one would want to commit to someone like her.  Not that Amelie exactly gave much thought to that.  Her lifestyle left little room for love and the contemplation that came with it.

But she needed to do something to make them trust her.  “I don’t want to die,” she said then, feeling that awful stab of fear.  It sent a cold shiver through her body, a flashover of heat followed, and she had to wriggle out of the bag to gasp in some marginally fresher air.  Robin stared right at her in the faint light of the tent.  His flashlight left strange shadows on his face, giving him an ominous appearance.

“Help us with the mountain lion, then we’ll talk.  It doesn’t really matter what I think.  It matters how my family thinks, understand?  The Maguires, though we do think our secret will spill out one day regardless of what we do—we respect the wishes of the other clans.  Don’t worry about it for now.  Just… do what we say.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Amelie breathed, searching for something in Robin’s face.  She didn’t know what she wanted to see.  But perhaps not pity.  She didn’t like anyone regarding her with pity.  Like they sometimes did when they found out what kind of parents she had, and just how much affection they bothered to show her.

Something about Robin’s presence nearby stirred her blood and brain, too.  It wasn’t even rational, honestly.  They didn’t really know one another.  Yet the more she looked at him, the more she became aware of just how close they were.  All she needed to do was reach out an arm and there—contact.  And if she did something provocative, like stroke his face, his chest, reach down below… she wondered just how exactly he might react.  Disgust?  Would he draw away from her?  What if she made herself confident about it?  Like those women who all seemed to know how to act and how to get what they wanted.  Could she emulate that?  Did she want to?

He’d probably view her as childish to do so, and it’d hardly endear her to him, after this conversation.  He’d know the only reason she bothered.

They bade one another goodnight.  The light went out, and both fell into silence, only punctuated by the rustle of their bags, their breathing, and whatever night animals scuffled around the wilderness.

Amelie didn’t sleep for quite some time.  Too aware of how close he was.  Of the almost non-existent space between them, and the curiosity that burned in her soul.

Didn’t help that she became ever so slightly aroused by her thoughts as well.  So she ended up lying there with that awkward, unsatisfied itch between her thighs, along with irritation that she allowed herself to get so heated up in the first place.

She knew better than that.

Her father taught her as much.

Chapter Six – Robin

He knew himself to be somewhat of a fool for getting in this situation.  Robin watched as Amelie prowled the brush in the early morning, having spotted the faint pawprints and signs of animal activity nearby, which suggested that maybe the mountain lion had gotten close to their camp.  It was smart enough to evade danger when it perceived it, however.

Robin perhaps wasn’t so smart.  He studied Amelie’s back, remembering how oddly uncomfortable it was to have a woman so near him, yet so far.  He told himself it was just sleeping—but that didn’t stop his mind coming up with feverish ideas.  Ideas such as that maybe he could save her.  Simply by claiming her as his own.  Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate the gesture, though.  Humans weren’t like bears, who fought over a female then claimed said female as a prize when the deed was done.

Though then again, women did like strong men, didn’t they?  Weren’t they drawn to the animal, the primal side?  Didn’t they like the idea of being near such power?

He studied her camouflaged back intently, debating this.  A hunter like her—they hunted power, to obtain a part of it for themselves.  Sort of like how ancient tribes used to consume a part of an animal or a foe to assume said foe’s power.  Maybe for her, it was osmosis from being near fierce and rare creatures.  Perhaps Robin could understand that sort of drive, if not all the other motivations.  He could try explaining that to his family, see how they reacted.

Least she didn’t dart me during the night and run off.  I put a lot of risk in that situation.

“Robin, do you have better scent in bear form?”  Amelie swirled around to look at him, gesturing to broken twigs and scratch marks on the bark.  “I’m seeing signs that there’s more than one mountain lion here, which is making me nervous.  I’m not sure if I have enough darts to deal with them.”

Robin gave a great sigh, before he started stripping off his clothes.

“Wait, what the fuck are you doing?”  Amelie backed away from him, eyes wide and alarmed.

“I don’t want to ruin my clothes by shifting.  So, I’m taking them off.  Keep an eye on them, will you?”  He worked down to his boxers, yanked them off, tried to act nonchalant that Amelie was looking at him in all his naked glory again, and then began the transformation.

It took a thought, a bout of concentration, a desire to be one with the bear spirit.  His skin bulged and rippled into the bear form, and he plopped onto his front paws, sniffing the air, amused as Amelie backed away from him a little further.

In the cocktail of natural scents, he caught the presence of other lives.  The sharp, hot stink of mountain lions marking their territory.  Amelie followed him at a safe distance when he began to trot, trailing the most prominent scent path.  He couldn’t quite tell how many lions… but certainly more than one.  He did a few grunts, hoping Amelie might get the message, and ignored a brief flare of worry that hit him when he saw her holding that rifle.

Maybe he should have brought more people if there were a bunch of mountain lions.  But all reports suggested it was just one harassing the Witsel farmstock.

He kept going ahead, occasionally checking that Amelie stayed close.  His paws scraped the stone and knocked aside pebbles.  The intruding scent of the cats grew stronger, assaulting his olfactory senses.  Perhaps he’d better turn back now, shift and run.

He stopped.  Amelie crouched next to him, seeing what he saw.  There, parading up a steep slope with a rabbit tucked into its mouth, was a mountain lion, with those distinctive colorings denoting its rare species.  Amelie inhaled sharply and shifted her position so that the rifle pointed at it.

Another mountain lion appeared over the edge, and the one carrying the rabbit paused, tail swishing.  It dropped the rabbit and emitted a high-pitched, growling scream, ears flattening.

Oh my, Robin thought, and Amelie stared in amazement as the two lions circled.  The one that carried the rabbit acted spitting mad, and the prowler, a male, seemed to be sniffing for something.  I know what this is.

Female cougar, hissing, spitting.  Likely she had cubs.  The female lion pounced on the male, and they got into a furious tussling match.  Three small cubs could be seen darting into another position, followed by—another three?

Six cubs?

The fight continued, and Amelie took aim, her rifle following the male lion.  A pause, as she stopped breathing.  Click, a quiet shot, and the dart sped out from the Onager rifle to thunk into the male mountain lion’s flank, who didn’t appear to notice the commotion.

“Come on,” she hissed.  “I don’t have enough darts for this, and we don’t have enough people to handle them.”

Obediently, Robin hobbled after her, mind whirring at the speed of light.  Was that why the mountain lion had attacked farmstock?  Easy food to carry to the cubs?  How long had she had the cubs for, anyway?

Either way, it meant their mission was a failure, and Amelie had said—didn’t she say she needed to go to a specialist store in North Dakota?  Robin’s blood began to chill, because he knew the other bears wouldn’t accept this turn of events.  Maybe they could lie about relocating the lions, but then all the others needed to do was to come up here and check.  And that would be it.

About twenty minutes away from the site, near the vehicle again, Robin shifted back into his human form, and Amelie wordlessly handed him his clothes, her face troubled.

“Will I be given another task?”

Robin spent a moment wriggling into his pants.  “We can—we can get another rifle, and the tranquilizers that go with it.”

“I don’t want another rifle,” Amelie said.  “I want my Onager.  I can aim best with it.”  As stubborn as a redneck not wanting to let go of his trusty machine companions.

“Just… for fuck’s sake.  Do you want to live?  Get your fucking darts and rifle nearby.  Come back here—I’ll bring more people, and get them dealt with.  Enough with this idiocy!”

Amelie’s eyes went slanted and cold.  “Fine.  Where’s the guy who can do this?”

“I...”  Robin paused.  They didn’t have a gunsmith or ammunition maker in Valor Lake.  They disliked guns in general.  And they were looking into ordering rifles, but never quite got around to it… bears preferred to hunt by tooth and claw.  “I don’t know.”

Amelie’s face flushed in anger.  “Then let me go to the person who I know makes the ammo I want.  He’s a chemist, he can get the dosage right for the little ones, too.”

Both of them stood there, glaring at one another.

“I can’t let you go.”

“So, come with me.”

Wait, what?  He blinked, feeling slightly stupid for not thinking about this solution sooner.  His anger deflated like a punctured balloon.  Of course, it wasn’t exactly a perfect solution.

But he did realize that his former hate towards her had completely evaporated.  He didn’t want her to die.

“Please, trust me,” she said.  “I know… I know you don’t really have a reason to.  But I swear that I’m not planning to sell you out or anything.  All I wanted to do was pose with a grayclaw bear.  I got my photo.  You can leave me over the border, or you can follow me and make sure I fulfill my promise.  Either way, I’m not planning to sell you out.”

Although silence lingered, it wasn’t as awkward and unpleasant as before.  Her keen, vibrant green eyes stayed locked with his own brown ones.  They twinkled.  Not like emeralds, more like… the glassy depths of an algae-filled lake.  The moss on the rock that parted the stream or crept over the bark of a dead tree.  Such a proud and stern face, maybe echoing her father’s expression.  He briefly entertained the mad, impossible idea of crossing the distance and scooping those tight, displeased lips to his own, but held back the madness long enough to say, “Let’s go.  We won’t go back to my family yet.  I don’t want them asking questions or jumping to conclusions.  Let’s… let’s get you your darts.”

A small smile covered up the displeasure, and her face relaxed slightly.

“Thank you.”  She swallowed what appeared to be a lump in her throat.  “I know how important trust is.  I don’t… I don’t want to let someone else down.  Do you understand?”

He nodded, not willing to say anything else on the matter.  Not trusting himself.

* * *

I’m mad, he thought.  Driving from the north end of Niagara to North Dakota, Flemming, did that to people.  It meant being stuck in a huge vehicle with a woman for nigh on three days, since he didn’t plan to drive for any longer than eight hours before calling it a day.  And he didn’t plan to do any sightseeing, since this wasn’t a road trip for fun, and Amelie wasn’t his girlfriend.

The first time he dropped into the cheap, rundown motel at the end of their first driving day, and they got their single room, two beds—he suffered a nightmare that he’d just wake up and she’d be gone, without the faintest trace that she’d been there.  Gone and back to her family, and a liability to his people once again, because he made the false judgment of trusting her.  He hated feeling so vulnerable, beholden to someone in this strange dance, where he didn’t know whether he should bump her off, or risk letting her escape.  Mad, once more, to be lying opposite her, with her presence so close, and all their camping gear in the back-seat trunk, hidden from view in his mud-splattered, blue four-wheel drive.

And, to be honest, being this near reminded him of all the things he didn’t have.  A woman to share secrets with, a person to look forward to coming home to.  A future entwined with someone else.  Not really a path he’d bothered to consider so intently before, other than the urgings of the elders who wanted more grandchildren to bounce on their knees.  Not that Robin thought prospects in Valor Lake were particularly great.  The main female from one of the old families was that Yara Valor, but the fact she was Valor meant no way in hell.

Valors and Maguires didn’t really… get along.  And that ghastly Gilnes Valor Witsel, dead from a duel a few weeks ago, had a whole bunch of offpsring, legit and illegitimate, scattered over the town, all slowly being drawn into his recently made clan.  His current heir ran the factory lands, some Franken Witsel or something.

Frankenstein, more like.

The first hotel night, after awful, greasy food of fatty burgers and fries bigger than his own fingers, Robin watched Amelie’s sleeping face, trying to fathom her out.

Trying to resist that urge to close the gap and just… test her out.  Pin her arms to the bedsheets, let that beastly attraction inside him take over and claim the female for himself.  He didn’t think she’d really appreciate the whole being claimed part.  Human ways were more about… courting for months, or dropping into seedy clubs for one-night stands, weren’t they?

Could solve tensions with his family, though, if he just said the girl was his.  No one wanted to be responsible for killing a bear shifter’s mate—that tended to have dire repercussions for them.

Maybe he could just… try something.  Go over there, run his hands over that small, thin body of hers.  Maybe risk waking everyone up in the motel when she screamed and flailed out at him.

Eventually, whatever courage he had left in his heart utterly failing, he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Second motel night, though, after yet another long bout of driving, and a brief stop at a clothes shop for them to grab fresher clothes and abuse the laundromat for their small pile of dirty ones, he also decided to purchase a small pack of cards from a convenience store when they grabbed chips.  Amelie watched, now wearing a green turtleneck top that seemed three sizes too big for her, baggy black pants, and a sullen look.

“Second motel, and of course, it’s another dump.”  She curled her mouth in disdain, green eyes as cold as winter-frosted glass.  A small surge of irritation went through him at the attitude.

“I’m doing this for you, so my stupid family don’t get any funny ideas about executing you, seeing as you trespassed onto our lands, shot me, and risk exposing us.”  He hoped the hotel clerk hadn’t overheard that, as they sauntered down to their new room, two sets of keys clamped in Robin’s meaty hand.

“That still doesn’t mean we have to stay in such awful places.  I’m not touching any of the food and drink here, I might get fucking poisoned.”  One of the hotel guests, a beer-bellied man with a beard longer than his arms, stared at them in mild surprise.  “I’m not going to leave because I’m not a dick, but you know, you could at least, say, treat me to a spectacle.  Not being stuck in a cluttered car, baking or freezing!”

“What kind of hunter brings six darts with them anyway?  If you’d just brought sufficient ammunition like normal people, we wouldn’t be doing this trip at all.”

“Okay, first off, fuck you,” Amelie snapped, arms folded as he unlocked their motel room door, which seemed to almost fall off the hinges as it swung open.  “Second, you said one mountain lion.  If it’d just been one like you said, we’d have finished your slave mission.  And third, I already spent most of my ammunition on other animals during my planned trip.  Finding a grayclaw was last on my list before flying back home.”

Irritated, Robin flung their backpacks on the double bed.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m sure I asked for two doubles.”

“Doesn’t look like two doubles, does it?” Amelie said, the annoyance in her face now turning to slight amusement.  “Looks a lot like one double.”

“I’ll go back...”  Robin began to head for the door, but Amelie gave a light snort.

“Afraid of sleeping in the same bed as me?  Think I’ll bite?  You were fine in the tent.”

Holding his temper in check and ignoring the weird stirring in his gut that definitely had nothing to do with nerves or fear, he whirled on her.  “I’d have thought a lady… like yourself… would at least want to have her own bed.  And not share one with me.  And have you seen my size?”  He flexed one arm at her for good measure.  “That shitty little double bed can barely fit me, let alone you as well.”

“I really don’t give a shit.  I hate extra hassle.”

What Robin didn’t want to say was that he didn’t trust himself to be in the same bed with her.  Usually best to avoid temptation.  And if they were sleeping together, potentially touching one another, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t get turned on.  And, well, yeah, he could just stop himself, but it sure might make for some uncomfortable sleeping.

Unless, of course, she responded back.  Then that might make things a lot more interesting.  But… he didn’t think he picked up any real signals that she liked him in any way, given that she spent most of her time scowling.  And not exactly acting impressed with him.  And given that they didn’t exactly meet on the best of terms, and they weren’t here for the best of reasons…

Yeah.  Just sleep on the furthest side possible and hope it all turned out alright.

“Fine.  No hassle.  But we’re going to spend some time tonight talking and playing.  Because the night before was boring as shit,” Robin said, now fishing for his pack of cards, wondering if he should have gotten a lot more than just one pack.  Her eyebrows pinched slightly, before raising, once she saw what he had in store.

“This is how you want to do it?  We’re gonna, what, spend the next three, four days playing cards in seedy motels?”

“We can get more eventually,” Robin muttered, feeling awkward and stupid under her scrutiny.

“It’s fine.  More of a fan of talking rather than playing, though...”  She gave him another one of those wry smiles that made him wonder if she was mocking him or not.  He could never quite tell.

“Gonna ask me more questions about my bear form?”

“Nah, I think I’ve asked enough on that.  How about some questions about who you are as a person?”  She reached for his pack of cards and examined the cheap plastic-covered papers.  “Since, if we’re going to be spending any length of time together, might be nice, right?”

Might be.  He pursed his lips, not really sure if he was interested in divulging anything about himself.  Least of all, to a human he probably wouldn’t see past the interaction of what his family wanted her to do.  Though it did feel like it made less and less sense, the further he drove from Valor Lake.

He approached her and sat close, feeling a surge of heat go through his body.  Staring into those moss-green eyes of hers, he started wondering exactly what reasons he was giving himself to be polite.  To not just reach out and try to claim this strong-willed woman for his own.  He’d wanted to do that from the start, right?

Out of anger, yes.  But now?

He leaned closer to her, making sure not to break eye contact.  “I don’t really feel like talking.”

A tiny flash of surprise in her expression.

Good, he thought, before moving in closer for the kill.

Chapter Seven – Amelie

Her first impulse was to slap him away.  The second, more powerful, caused her to freeze in place as his lips touched hers.  He began to move them in a passionate motion, and she remained perfectly still, like a startled animal playing dead.  Her heart and mind went into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation, and he eventually pulled away, slightly puzzled, slightly disappointed.

“Amelie?”

God, even the way he said her name just then, all full of both desire and nervousness, gave her a powerful kick in the gut.  “Um,” she managed to say, working her mouth up into some semblance of speech.   Shouldn’t be thinking about this.  Shouldn’t be even considering letting it happen.  Stupid and irresponsible.

Her mouth and heart, of course, decided to work independently of her brain.

“Just… give me a moment.  I’m...”

“Oh.”  He blinked rapidly, making his hand movements appear awkward.  “I’ll just… uh, go, shall I?  Over to… somewhere.”

“No!”  Her hand snaked out to grab his wrist.  “Don’t you fucking move.”  She surprised herself with her ferocity—hot enough to dispel some of the embarrassment blooming through her.

Another electric pause.  She was aware she probably contradicted with her actions, but honestly, she didn’t know how to express the turmoil inside.  Without possibly exploding.

After a couple seconds more of lingering stares, he launched himself forward to her, grabbing her hard and pushing her onto the bed.  The speed and ferocity sent her pulse thumping and induced a rising splash of arousal, as if it poisoned her blood, capturing her mind within its trap and sending shivers all over her body.  All foreign sensations, and things she didn’t know how to handle.

He pressed his strong, almost overbearing body hard into hers, one knee wedged between her thighs, creating a kind of delicious friction that mixed with the insanity going on.  His mouth dove onto her neck, kissing and sucking hard, and she let out a surprised gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure, struggling to think clearly, to exert any kind of control over her limbs.  It was as if every single cell in her had drastically weakened, leaving nothing able to resist.

Holy shit, she managed, just before drowning in the touch of every inch of her skin covered by him, from her neck to her stomach to the burning itch between her thighs.  She should tell him to stop, before they did something they both might regret.  She didn’t—didn’t have—

He began to tug off her turtleneck, revealing the soft flesh underneath, and enthusiastically lowered himself to start kissing her stomach.  The burning itch grew stronger without his knee pushing there, but she seized him by his dark hair roughly.  “Wait!” she said hoarsely.  “Condom.  Do you have?”

He stopped his movement, mouth still on her belly button, and his eyes met with hers.

“Well...” he said.  “No.”  Creeping disappointment began to show on his face.

“Then you go and fucking get one.  Or three.  Now,” she hissed, injecting as much force as possible into her voice.  It came out breathless and choked, like she’d suddenly gotten a head cold.

“You think you’d be able to wait that long?”

“Better fucking hurry then, shouldn’t you?”  With supreme effort, she pulled herself away from him, and watched as he scampered out of the door, partially shielding his arousal from view.  She stripped off her clothes while waiting for him, and very idly played with herself, mind fluctuating between excitement and maybe I should run for it while I still can.

Then again, Robin was likely panicking that the mood might be killed as he scurried for some condoms.  She grinned to herself, before lightly touching her bundle of nerves, noticing better just how soaked she was, though peeling off her panties had been the first clue.  She worked on keeping herself aroused enough to maybe want to finish it off herself, before jumping in fright when Robin banged the door open and shut again, red-faced, breathing heavily, holding a small plastic white bag with what looked like 5 condom boxes.

“Whoa, boy,” Amelie said, grinning.  “Not sure if we have enough time to have that much sex.”

His eyes went wild and big, seeing her sprawled out on the bed naked, and he wasted no time in tugging off his clothes.  Amelie grabbed a box as he did so, and pulled a plain white condom out, peeling it from its packaging and unveiling the little piece of latex.

Snatching it from her fingers, Robin rolled it onto his erection, which, to be honest, looked quite impressive, and perhaps bigger than she anticipated.  She liked the way his muscles seemed to crumple in concentration, the abs in his stomach so tight that she thought that punching them would be a supremely bad idea.  She grinned as he shoved her back against the bed again, and closed her eyes and sighed when he rubbed his erection against her entrance, testing the wetness.

It slid in with relative ease, aside from resistance from her after months of lack of sex.  She opened her eyes once to see him so blissed out with how she felt wrapped around his erection, that she wondered if she’d accidentally sent him on a drug-induced high.  He moved down to bite her neck hard as he began to thrust, and she whimpered, clutching him, spreading her legs out wider to accommodate him more.  His scent intoxicated her, mixing sweat with salt and earth.  The rough sheets brushed against her back uncomfortably, so she arched to reduce the friction, and sent all her mental focus onto the activity between her thighs.  That strange, hot treacle feeling already nestled somewhere in her guts, promising release.

“I’m getting close,” she hissed into his ear, digging her fingers into his scruffy hair.

“Already?”  His huffed voice sounded surprised, but he didn’t slow down.  The release of his teeth against her skin sent small relief.  “Thought it took ages… for women...”

“Well, I didn’t exactly sit around… waiting, did I?  Oh...”  She let out a strained whimper, trying to return her mind to some sort of reality.  “Kept myself… going… while you went.”

“I bet you did,” he said with a delighted chuckle, now pumping harder into her.  She hissed encouragement in his ear until the orgasm began to rocket inside, causing a powerful tingling in her head, arms, and thighs.  She slammed her head back into the pillow and gasped out her pleasure as he continued to move, until he seemed to shiver, and came to a halt inside her.

“Fuck,” he said.  “That was hot.  Seeing you all… you know.”

“Stop talking.”  She lay there in a slight daze, endorphins floating through her, leaving a happiness.  It always went so soon.  She wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

“You seemed so fragile,” his voice continued, irritatingly.  “I wasn’t sure if your little body could withstand mine.”

“What part of ‘shut up’ don’t you understand?”

“Oh.”  He rolled off her at last.  She didn’t see what he was doing but heard something hit what sounded like a plastic bag, along with the hollow clang of metal.  “Are you okay?”

“Jesus wept!”  She snapped her eyes open, part furious, part amused.  “I just want to focus on the orgasm you just gave me, okay?  And your tongue wagging—” she waved at his face, “—is seriously putting me off.  Just… be cool and bearlike or whatever.”

A faint growl rumbled in his chest, which sent another jolt of shocked pleasure through her.

“You keep talking to me like that, I might need to punish you.  And you’re way too small to stop me.”  A salacious grin spread over his lips.

She let out a sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.  “Okay, so you’re a talker.  Got it.”

“I ran all the way to that stupid convenience store, hiding my dick.  The cashier looked so fucking alarmed when she saw me grab all the boxes.  I just kept imagining you lying there on the bed, getting more and more annoyed ‘cause the clock was ticking.”

Despite her initial irritation, Amelie couldn’t help but smile.  Damn it, he was kind of sweet, wasn’t he?  “Well, at least you won’t need to worry about getting any more for a while.”

“Oh, so we’re planning to do more?”  He quirked one eyebrow, now leaning on his elbow in a casual, show-off way, which somehow made him look hot and adorkable, all at once.  Probably best to control her impulse to laugh in his face.  She idly began picking at an annoying wodge of skin next to her left thumbnail, considering.

“We’re not going to have so long together, are we?  After I’m done with those overgrown house cats.  And you do,” she added, her heart now pulsing strangely, “have… attractive qualities.  We can make it a fling, right?  A taste of the other side?”

“I guess,” he said, his expression clouding over.  He didn’t seem overly enthusiastic at her suggestion.  “It’s just… we don’t just ‘casually’ screw around.  We—I have responsibilities to my clan.  And, well, you know… because we did what we just did… in the eyes of my clan, you’ve got a pass to our lands now.”

“Huh?”  Now this was something Amelie wasn’t particularly aware of.  At all.  He had the grace to squirm slightly, as if uncomfortable with the statement coming out of his mouth.

“I mean, we don’t have to tell them, but being with me in this way does… offer.  Well.  Certain protections.  If you’re willing to come back to Valor Lake at any point.”

The implication of his words sank into her mind, and her mouth fell open slightly.  “I’m spared your death penalty because we screwed?”

“Pretty much.  We’re nothing if not old-fashioned.  I mean, it’ll be awkward if I do admit it, since my family will be pissed off if I sleep with anyone else, and they find out you have, but you should be safe for now.”

Would I even have to do this stupid mission?  She didn’t say that, however.  Her stomach had all sorts of weird, floaty things in it, even as her mind continued struggling to process recent events and this little reveal.

“Wow.  I guess you really fucked yourself over, didn’t you?”

He began to nod, before it turned into a frown, since she couldn’t quite hide the smirk.  “Wait.  Was that a pun?”  She didn’t reply.  “If so, that was terrible.”

“Thank you.”  Acutely aware that they were still lying next to each other, naked, their legs entwined in a way that their knees began to burn against one another, she said, “You know, it’s a shame you’re some weird bear shifter from some weirdo family overly enthusiastic on human sacrifice.  Otherwise in another universe, I’d totally consider asking you out on a date.”

He grinned at her for the remark.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  His big hand began creeping over her stomach, and he acted like he wasn’t aware at all of what his hand happened to be doing.  “I’d say we have some unfinished business now.  Wouldn’t you?”

The bed creaked as he leaned over her, pressing his lips onto hers once more.  And just like that, she found herself turned on all over again.

Guess I won’t be sleeping tonight, she thought with a wicked grin, hooking one leg over his waist, kissing back in earnest.

* * *

Over the next few days, she couldn’t help but learn more about him.  Which was probably normal if someone happened to be cooped up in a room and a car with someone else for that long.  It started with small observations, like the kinds of foods that Robin preferred.  He definitely enjoyed meats, and she saw him pluck the tomatoes and jalapenos out of a burger.  He loved the greasy foods, relishing being able to lick his fingers at the end, whereas she wasn’t really a fan of such foods for the same reason, hating the stickiness over her fingers, always needing to wash her hands several times over the course of such a meal.  He liked fish, she didn’t.  She loved spinach, he avoided it with loathing.

He liked to shower twice a day, morning and evening, and seemed to be attracted to greens and browns as a color scheme.  Also, he sucked at card games, because he didn’t know how to put on a poker face to save his life.

Martin from Ganson’s Guns and Ammo Supplies instantly provided her with the tranquilizer darts, each with different dosages.  She took twenty for smaller creatures like the cubs, and fifty for larger, which took a steep chunk out of Robin’s wallet, since the specialized darts were far more expensive than basic ammo.  Felt strange to be back in her home town in North Dakota, there only on a precursory stop and stock, rather than visiting her dad and seeing how the old man was getting on.

“Know any good places to eat around here?”  Robin rubbed his stomach, glaring at the stream of cars dashing through the main street.  “Might be nice to have a treat before we shack up in another motel for the night.”

“We could always stay at mine,” Amelie suggested, though she thought that she’d have to do some hasty tidying up once she stepped through the flat doors.  “Maybe save you some money?”

“Nah, I want to be heading out as soon as possible.  I’m already getting some suspicious messages from my sister, wondering if you’ve left my ass in a ditch and hightailed it out of there.”

Amelie suppressed a silent groan.  Sex aside, she hated staying in the motels.  But since the trip took 3-4 days with the pedal on the gas, she might as well roll with it.

Or I could escape.  She’d be lying if the thought didn’t tempt her in the darkest recesses of her mind.  Logically, why not?  She couldn’t guarantee bear temperament, even with Robin’s declaration that sleeping with one sort of meant you were on their side.

She shook the desire out of her mind, and suggested going to Tuckly’s, a favorite of hers, for its delicious, juicy steaks and distinctive lack of tomatoes.  Happened to be a favorite of her dad’s as well.  She used to go there with him after some rigorous hunts as a sort of victory meal.  When she placed her hand in Robin’s, he appeared surprised but otherwise delighted, and she found herself maybe focusing on his touch a little too much.

Something about holding someone else’s hand did something strange to her.  It made her wonder how others might perceive her, aware of their uneven paces, which needed to be adjusted so neither ended up dragging along the other.  It also made her want to grin like an idiot.  A little better than clutching a gun in her hands, honestly.  Thinking of guns… she wouldn’t mind taking Robin to her favorite shooting range, to squeeze off some impossible shots and show off her accuracy.  Her father once suggested she try out for Olympic shooting.  It remained something that lingered in the back of her mind, but also something she never quite got around to researching and committing to.

She squeezed Robin’s hand tighter when she saw a familiar figure emerge from the entrance of Tuckly’s, wiping his grizzled mouth as he did so.  Just as quickly as she squeezed her anxiety onto Robin, she released his hand.  Her father turned his bright green eyes upon them, settled on her, and his face lit up.  He began walking faster to intercept, and Amelie forced a smile onto her face.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, noticing Robin’s reaction—from confused to understanding.  “Long time, no see.”

“Where the hell you been?” he said, though still wearing that bright smile.  “Been trying to contact you, but no answer.”

That would be because my phone’s stolen, and the bear shifters don’t want me to have one.  “I was busy, Dad, trying to hunt a grayclaw.  Got really into it, you know?  And… I might have lost my phone crossing the stream.”

“Hmph.”  Her dad stood in front of them, his grizzled, weather-beaten face showing a life spent in hot countries.  “Did you succeed?”

“Yeah, actually.  I found one all alone.”

“Well done!  I’ve never found one myself!”  He grinned and clapped her hard on the shoulder.  “S’pose you spared it?”

“Of course.”

He shook his head as if she was mad—and finally, his eyes settled on Robin.  Amelie knew full well he’d noticed Robin from the start.  He just wanted to insinuate that Robin meant nothing to him—even if Robin turned out to be a mysterious new friend or lover in Amelie’s life.  “Who’s this meatsack?”

“That would be Robin,” Amelie said, doing the obligatory hand gestures.  “I met him… while hunting the grayclaw.”

“That so?”  Her father nodded in approval.  “Real man’s sport, hunting.  Good to see you’ve found one.  You hunt a lot?”

Robin, apparently realizing he should speak, said, “Uh, yeah.  I do lots of hunting, me.  Your daughter’s a good shot with her gun.”

“Should be.  You know, she could have made it onto the Olympic squad,” her father said proudly.  “M’name’s Greg,” he added, reaching out a hand for Robin to shake.

“Robin.”  Her dad attempted to do a death grip on Robin’s fingers.  Robin responded by exerting his formidable strength, and Amelie worried for a moment she’d hear the breaking of fingers.

“Boy, this one’s all meat and muscle, isn’t he?  Real bear of a man.”

Amelie and Robin exchanged casual glances, both trying not to laugh.  “Exercise is important,” Robin supplied, once again feeling the pressure of talking.  He didn’t seem to do it very well.

“If you’re dating my daughter, we oughta have a talk sometime, just you and me.  Come round for dinner and meet the missus, too.  Just so we can get a feel for you as a person.”

Amelie blushed, but decided not to deny her father’s assumption.  “Maybe he will.  Still early days.  Thought I’d show him around the home town, then he could show me his.”

“Come for a drink if you want, I’m just heading down to the Reeter’s Bar, meeting Jimmy and Crank.”

Jimmy and Crank were among the smelliest humans Amelie had ever had the misfortune to encounter.  She wrinkled her nose in the memory of their odor.  “I’ll give it a miss, but thanks, Dad.”

Her father scooped her up in a gruff hug, before announcing, “Try the Hungry Man’s Steak if you’re going to Tuckly’s.  It’s on offer and it’s delicious.  And make sure you treat my daughter right,” he added with the suggestion of a growl behind his words.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Robin replied, standing up to attention.

“You go and live in your bunker now,” Amelie said with a grin, watching as her father began to amble away, seeing the Harley Davidson badge stitched onto the back of his leather jacket.

“It’s almost done!” her father replied, raising a hand into the air to wave.  “You’ll be thanking me later when shit goes down.  Mark my words.”

Waiting until her father climbed into his car (a new model Amelie hadn’t seen him drive before), Robin turned on her, one eyebrow raised.  “That was… interesting.  Your pops… seems kinda nice.”

“Oh, he can be,” Amelie said, scratching at the back of her neck.  “He’s been a good old man to me, at least.  Even though he doesn’t really approve of my choice with hunting, he doesn’t condemn me for it.  Better than nothing, I suppose.”

“I kind of want to see this bunker of his,” Robin said with a mischievous smirk.  “See how he’s sorted out his system for the upcoming apocalypse.”

“Yeah, no.  It’s just a bunch of trailers stacked together in a former mining quarry.  I don’t think he’s sorted out the oxygen issue yet.”

When Amelie took one step forward, her legs almost collapsed under her, and only then did she register just how damn nervous she was from the confrontation.  She didn’t really know why, aside from the fact that maybe a small part of her had been worried that her dad wouldn’t take to Robin at all.  As much as she liked to pretend she didn’t need her dad around anymore, his opinion mattered a lot.  Enough for her to become all wobbly at the prospect of introducing a new boyfriend.

Wait.  Boyfriend?

No, she thought furiously.  We’re just having a fling.  There’s nothing more to this.

Still, that thought didn’t stop her from grasping his hand again, and gently leading him into Tuckly’s.

Chapter Eight – Robin

Even now, as Robin crouched next to Amelie, watching her line up her shot at the mountain lions they’d so painstakingly tracked down again, he wondered how they’d progressed from keeping Amelie in the basement, to crouching next to her, trying not to think about all the times they’d taken one another in the motel rooms, of the exhausting week-long road trip, and the barrage of messages with his family in which he’d spent a good deal of time attempting to appease their concerns.  No, Amelie hadn’t left him for a fool.  Yes, he trusted her.  No, he didn’t want to admit to them that he’d claimed her so soon.  That might cause a backlash he wasn’t ready for, including a long tirade about irresponsibility from Lamarya.

He didn’t really know how to stop Amelie from just leaving once she fulfilled her side of the bargain, though to be fair, she could have abandoned him multiple times already.

He lumbered next to her in bear form, in case something went terribly wrong with the attempt.  The dart didn’t knock them out instantly, after all.  It took time to work, which meant that they might well be attacked during the process.

The mountain lions hadn’t moved since their last check, so the dart didn’t startle them off.  They had to wait for a couple of hours in relative silence until the mother returned home.  Amelie prepped and shot her rifle, hitting the lion on the first shot.  The lion swished her tail, agitated, but otherwise didn’t seem to register the threat of the dart.  Much like how Robin had done, until he realized too late the drugged essence going through his body.  Amelie then loaded the ammunition intended for smaller animals and succeeded in darting one of the six cubs.

They waited quietly for twenty or so minutes, then ventured upwards.  Three more cubs darted, as they flocked around their mother in confusion.  One spotted Robin but not Amelie, and growled in a squeaky voice, ears flat on its skull, before dashing into a small rocky enclave, where presumably, the rest of the cubs hid.  Amelie shot the last two, and they soon began carrying the unconscious mountain lions down to the four-wheel drive, stacking them up in the back.

“I feel kind of bad doing this,” Amelie said, her mouth wrinkled in distaste as she cradled two cubs in her arms.  “They obviously don’t know what’s happening to them, and then suddenly their mother is unconscious...”

We are helping them, Robin thought, though he couldn’t exactly answer her back in human tongue.  They’ll be safe at a distance.  Otherwise the Witsels will kill them off.

He carried the mother draped over his back, and it took them half an hour in total to finish loading up the truck.  He transformed back at last and took the wheel, slightly relieved that it had all gone so well.  He expected something awful to happen, really.  He knew the recently deceased Gilnes still had relatives making trouble.

They drove through the bumpy mountain trails, and Amelie stayed with the lions, making sure the little ones didn’t get jolted too hard.  She also took pictures to prove the success of their task, and when they drove a rocky fifty miles to the west, they finally dropped off the unconscious mountain lions in what seemed like a safe habitat and waited by the side until all had woken up from their induced slumber.

“I’m glad that went well,” Amelie said, watching as the cubs began to sniff around their new clearing, and the mother paced around them, still a little distressed from the mysterious relocation.  “I always dread I might have overdosed, you know?  You have to be so careful with the little ones.”

Robin grunted in mild agreement, his heart sinking.  Arriving back at the Maguire family residence would seal Amelie’s fate.  And he couldn’t quite promise they wouldn’t just off her anyway, without sound intervention and claiming from his part.  He actually felt quite queasy at the daunting prospect.  To pull his mind off the unsolved dilemma, he attempted to talk with Amelie once more.

“Well, now that we’ve got all this out the way… only took a week and a bit, bet you’ll be glad to see us off.”

Her green eyes seemed to crinkle in disappointment.  She chewed on a strand of her long, dark hair.  “How could you say that?”

Robin’s pulse went slightly higher, seeing those eyes bore into him.  He knew full well their effect.  Having experienced her in certain compromising situations quite a few times.  The way those eyes glazed over in bliss, the way her voice redacted into breathy moans, and her body arched into his…

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t keep going back to that, should he?

“Isn’t it true?  We have been a thorn in your side.  And we consider you a thorn in ours.”

She shook her head, clearly not satisfied with his answer.  “No, I wouldn’t be glad.  You show me magic—and then you send me away with my lips as sealed as the grave?  I’ll have this massive secret tucked in my head that no one is supposed to know about.  I’ll be listening to people argue about how magic is all fake and stupid, when there’s a world where people transform into animals living under our noses, and I have to pretend that none of this happened?”

She gave him an almost disgusted look, and for some reason, his heart soared lighter.  Through the swimming litany of doubts that tainted his mind, one thing became abundantly clear.

A part of her wanted to stay.  Perhaps in her position, he’d feel the same.  Though now, he’d upset her, so he needed to work upon cheering her up.

“Look, I’m not trying to say I want to be rid of you.  I’m just saying I’d understand that without any more obligations or tests to prove yourself, you’ll be welcome to leave.”

“And would you come with me?”

Oh.  Something annoying and ticklish kicked in his stomach, and tension coiled in his legs as they approached the vehicle, ready to drive back to the Maguire grounds.  “You’d want me to?”

She placed a hand on his, which had been inches from turning the ignition.  “Are you fucking retarded?  Of course I’d like you to come.  I just don’t expect you to.  What with the whole family obligation thing going on.”

His whole family could stuff their obligation thing, then.  Since if Amelie was actually willing to have him around… who was he to refuse?

And to think, just over a week ago, I was considering leaving her to her fate.  Funny how things turned out, really.

He whistled tunelessly to himself as he started the engine, unable to shrug off the wriggling in his stomach.  Neither did he want to.  Maybe the bear spirit wouldn’t mind someone like Amelie around.  Walking all badass with her rifle and darts and crazy survivalist relations.

Surely, his family would come around to reason.  Once they saw the pictures, listened to him reason.  He wouldn’t need to reveal his claim on her.

It’d all be just fine.

* * *

“We should kill her,” Tielman, Robin’s father, said.  “I always thought this mission was pointless, anyway.  Getting someone to do something for you in no way secures their trust.”  Tielman paced up and down the living room, though many of the others chose to sit around the dining table, sofas, and the two leather beanbags.  The curtains, wide open, revealed a bright sun that trickled light, illuminating the usually shadowy corners, casting silhouettes under the wall lamps.  The whole room had an oddly musty odor to it, which likely came from the very ancient rug beneath that had seen better days and more regular washes.

“You know it’s clan law to allow someone to at least have a chance to prove themselves before we execute them, Father,” Lamarya said, sprawled out in her careless way as usual.  Robin never knew whether to be impressed with his sister, or pissed off with her, for the blatant disregard she gave to family propriety at times.  It certainly annoyed their father to no end.

“Yes, and we allowed it.  But someone like her, with her social media postings, her disregard for animal life—”

“She’s pretty respectful, last time I checked,” Robin said, though his voice cracked.  Damn it, he needed to sound more authoritative.  Being stared at by all the prominent family figures made him nervous.  He was glad that Amelie had been escorted into the basement dungeon again.  He doubted she’d much appreciate how the Maguires discussed the matter, or to hear the words of the few Witsels there, who notoriously disliked mixing their bloodlines with humans.

“Hunters operate with a disdain for life,” Tielman sneered at his son.  “We are the same.  We are stronger than other life forms, and we claim their flesh to eat without qualms.  Someone like her is a threat to our people.”

Robin’s mother and a couple of his cousins began to nod, and a cold sweat trickled down his spine.  No.  He couldn’t have people agreeing with his father.  Amelie deserved better than a mauling in the woods.  After all that effort she’d done, the fact she didn’t run away…

“Seven mountain lions to shift.  If I hadn’t seen the pictures with my own eyes...”  Tielman drifted into thoughtful silence.  “But it doesn’t matter.  We need to find a way to dispose of her.  Perhaps fake another mission, take her over the border, and kill her there, so there will be no suspicion upon Valor Lake, no attempted purge of our bears.”

Another murmur of agreement and panic invaded Robin’s guts.  “Come on!  She could have run away at any point during the mission, Father.  Hell, we had to go to North Dakota to get more darts, since we didn’t expect the cubs.  We went to her home town, bumped into her own father, and she said nothing.  She’ll keep our secret.  Just like she kept her word to complete the mission.”

Lamarya glanced at Robin in interest.  “You went by car?  Both ways?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t like the way she pursed her lips.  “Tell me you didn’t, brother.”

“Didn’t what?”

He wanted to edge out of the room and vanish now, but all the attention rooted him in place, feet planted against that ugly red antique carpet.

“Brother, did you or did you not claim her during your impromptu trip together?”

Several gasps, mostly coming from the elders of the family.  “Surely no Maguire would be so reckless…!” Grandmother Audrey said, her rheumy gray eyes almost popping out of her shriveled head.  “To sleep with a suspect…?”

“See, I was hoping you guys would be reasonable, and I wouldn’t have to mention anything about this,” Robin said, his lips curling in a faint snarl at Lamarya, who appeared nonplussed.

“Fucking knew it.  This is what happens when you feign chastity for years,” Lamarya said, now folding her arms with an air of triumph.  “You’re still a guy at the end of the day.”

“Did you claim her?” Tielman demanded, relentless in his pursuit of a clear answer.

“Yes,” Robin said, wincing slightly at the exclamations, particularly from the Witsels.

“And will you… feel obligated to defend her if one of us attempts to claim her life?”

A short pause, before Robin replied, “Yes.”  Feeling as if he’d let the guillotine fall upon his neck as he did so.  His father made an odd jerking motion and glanced to the door that led to the hallway.  And also the basement.

“How about you go and tend to your claim, brother?” Lamarya said, eyes now flints.  “Just to make sure no one gets any clever ideas about approaching her when you’re not with her.”

“You’ll stay here,” Tielman snarled, but Robin had already left, pelting down the corridor, smashing through the basement door and hurtling down to the dungeons.  Visions attacked his head, of Amelie attempting to scream as a bear crashed into her, biting down on her neck, stopping her from breathing…

Maybe his father had already arranged for someone to kill her, in case his foolish son had done something stupid.  And Robin had been so naive, that he’d blundered into the mansion with Amelie, not considering that someone might try to kill her secretly, since bears were meant to have honor.

He skidded to a halt, seeing Amelie leaning over the shoulder of Joel Witsel, examining something on his phone.  Both of them were grinning at whatever they saw.

“Amelie?”

She looked up, smiling at him, and Joel gave him a friendly wave as well.

“Hey, man,” Joel said.  “Gotta say, Amelie knows some funny shit to look at.”

The rage and terror inside Robin deflated slightly, and he lowered the hand that had been in a prime striking position.  “What are you doing here, Joel?”

“Protecting her,” Joel grunted, with a slight eye roll.  “Might have overheard some scheming earlier, figured I’d go and keep your girl company.”

“Couple of guys came down,” Amelie added with a bright smile.  “They seemed really pissed off to see Joel here.”

“Thanks, man,” Robin said, shaking inside, since Amelie had come close to death.  Because of his negligence.  “How long ago were these people here?”

“Like twenty minutes or something?  Not so long after you went,” Amelie said, now jabbing at Joel’s phone, giving him something else to smirk at.  “Almost like they didn’t appreciate all the hard work we put into proving I’m trustworthy, but, eh.”

“She told me you guys already screwed.”  Joel gave Robin a sly wink, which did nothing to calm Robin’s nerves.  “I’d say she’s worth sparing.”

“We need to get her out.”

“What, because we screwed each other?”  Amelie didn’t exactly appear impressed with the announcement.

“No, that’s not what I meant...”  Joel’s blue eyes screwed up in apology.  “I mean, you seem like a nice, decent girl...”

“Who also happened to screw your friend.”  Amelie’s voice was flat, and Robin now felt the need to step in before tensions mounted.

“Thanks for helping Amelie, Joel.  Right now, she needs to get out.  But I don’t have a spot outside the mansion for her.”

“No problem.  I have some holiday cabins,” Joel said, giving a small, nonchalant shrug.  He idly flicked the iron of Amelie’s jail, and the door creaked open.  “Your family won’t try and stop us if we leave?”

“They shouldn’t.  I already… said she was my claim.”

He tried to ignore Amelie’s bulging outrage, focusing heavily on Joel.  He’d likely pay in some form or another later, but right now, knowing two people had come down to kill her, ordered by his own father, he wanted to rush her out.

Humans could live in bear territory, but it did come with a price.  Either they lived in blissful ignorance, or they learned the secrets and became bound to the bears themselves, blessed or rejected.  And, to be honest, he didn’t exactly want to recommend that people live in such a place.  It did get awfully lonely in the wilderness.

“I’d much appreciate if you let me stay in the cabins.  I have a feeling I might not be too popular with my bear family right now.”

“What about me?”  Amelie didn’t look as if she liked the sound of where this was going.

“You?”  Robin’s heart gave a squeeze of anxiety as he contemplated her, from her pale, smooth features, to the pointed chin and the sad green eyes that he couldn’t get enough of.  Even after spending several delightful nights staring into them.  “I think it’s about time we let you go home.  You have done your mission.  I accept you.  I don’t think you plan to tell.  So… let’s let you go, shall we?”

Her expression darkened, and she started chewing on a strand of frayed hair again.

She didn’t have to be happy with the verdict.  She just needed to be safe.

Beckoning Amelie to follow behind him, Joel and Amelie stalked behind.  He vaulted through the basement door, to come face to face with his father.

“Father.”  Robin puffed himself up, trying to fill more space than he currently felt like he was.  His father had a way of taking up a lot of space just in the way he stood and surveyed everyone around him, as if he had the mantle of their bear ancestors propping him up.

Not exactly someone Robin was used to defying.  Clearing his throat to get rid of the sudden frog wedged down there, Robin maintained his silent defiance.  When Amelie emerged from behind with Joel, his father’s face darkened further.

“I would have expected better from a Witsel,” Tielman snarled, more lines than usual covering his great, wide face, “than to interfere in matters that do not concern him.”

“Does that also include matters of injustice, such as killing someone’s mate whilst they are distracted?”  Although Joel sounded rather bland, his words had a biting effect on Tielman.

“In my defense, I was… unaware at the time.”

“Sure,” Joel said laconically.  “Easy when you don’t even pose the question.”

A deep, bass growl rumbled from Tielman, and Robin wondered if the two might clash here and now, and he’d end up bearing witness to a rare Honor Duel.  He didn’t relish the idea of seeing one of his best friends and sire duke it out to settle their disputes.

“Is there anything more I can do to prove myself?  There are humans who get accepted without much issues, right?”  Amelie spoke to his father, and Robin had a split-second horrific vision of his dad slapping her face in fury.

Tielman regarded her for a moment, no warmth in his face.  “We’re okay if the human is someone that doesn’t have much popularity.  But you have hundreds of thousands of followers on that little device of yours.  You’re a bomb waiting to explode.”

“All you need to do is get to know me,” Amelie said.  “Then maybe you wouldn’t feel so inclined to act this way.  I won’t say anything.  I have zero interest in ruining people’s lives for my own gain.”

“But animals’ lives?”

She smiled grimly at him.  “You can’t stop people hunting.  But maybe you can teach them that they don’t have to kill to have a successful hunt.”

More of Robin’s family members gathered in the hallway, wanting to see the resulting spectacle, but none came.  Tielman stood aside, his jaw clenched tightly, as he said, “Perhaps I do have one last mission for you.”

“Oh?”  Amelie tapped her foot, and Robin’s curiosity was piqued.  His old man had something else planned, other than the protection of their livestock?

“If you stick by this peculiar policy of non-aggression that you claim to have...” Tielman’s dark, black-hole eyes bored into them both for a moment, “and if you succeed in this next little mission, I will no longer consider you a threat.  I swear by the bear spirit, and out of respect for my son, foolish as he may be.”

Some of the tension in Robin’s muscles left, but he knew better than to let things go as they were.  Robin tried to think of what possible missions Tielman might come up with.  Knock out twenty mountain lions?  Catch 500 fish?  Delete her Instagram account or something to prove she was deadly serious about not telling anyone?

Might be nicer if he just let her go.  She’d be safer back in North Dakota, rather than in the bear heartlands.

And their fling would be over.

It’s for the best, Robin thought, even as his heart twisted in slight anguish, suggesting that he wasn’t exactly satisfied with the notion.

“There’s someone that has been of interest to us for a while,” Tielman said, working his mouth reluctantly, as if he still wasn’t sure whether he should allow the human to do something important.  “Someone who has been causing trouble for all the families in Valor Lake.”

Robin held his breath, hardly daring to believe what his father might be about to suggest.

“I’m listening,” Amelie said.

Chapter Nine – Amelie

Stuck in one of Joel Witsel’s cabins, Amelie stared moodily out of the little window into the woodlands and the pouring rain that thudded against the glass and trees, creating a rushing, hissing sound that sent chills down her spine.  It didn’t help that the wind, when going through the small gaps between the cabins, ended up creating a kind of demonic howling noise that made her briefly start wondering if ghosts might actually exist.

Given that bears, and apparently other animals, could be creatures humans shift into, she thought it possible.

Though Robin seemed to think ghosts didn’t exist.

Just spirits.

They’re the same fucking thing, she thought sourly, even as she watched the heavy rain.  She’d been stuck in Valor Lake for an additional three weeks since Tielman unceremoniously dropped his request on her.

“I need you to drug and bring in Marcas Valor-Witsel,” he’d said.  “Legitimate son of the recently disposed of Gilnes, and currently causing a lot of headache for us at the moment.  He’s bullied some of the smaller bear families into giving up their lands and is currently building the foundation for three separate factories.  Since this will cause pollution to Valor Lake, loss of habitat, and piss off the bear spirit, who happens to be responsible for blessing our food resources, I’d like to have him here to… exchange a few friendly words with him.”

Judging by the smile on Tielman’s face, Amelie could ascertain that “friendly” was the last thing on his mind.

One small scouting mission later, and she realized that this Marcas Witsel guarded himself so heavily, he was at least as paranoid as her father.  The two foundations were a long way from the main lake and behind the paper factory he ran, but pipelines had already been set to run off into the main stream that flowed into Valor Lake, which likely spelled pollution issues once the factories were up and running.  Also meant that water would become more valuable.

Except how the fuck was she supposed to get near enough this stupid bear shifter to dart him in his stupid ass?  Him in his fortified mansion and his dozens of bear guards prowling the place?  A human like her could be smelled for miles.  And a human carrying a simple tranquilizer rifle in the middle of a bunch of angry bears who wouldn’t think twice about killing her…

Sheer absurdity.

And yet they just acted like there was nothing at all wrong with the idea.

“You’re a great hunter,” Robin had said.  “I’m sure you’ll get him, no problem.”

Yeah, and if the only people willing to help me on this insanity are Joel and Robin, I’m sure everything will be just great.

Grumpy, still examining the clear raindrops that pelted the window, the gloomy backdrop of an iron-gray sky, and the pungent aroma of wet soil and plant life tickling her nostrils, she whipped out her phone (returned at fucking last) and automatically went through her Instagram posts.

Honestly, now that she’d been so long without it, she felt less and less inclined to keep up with everything, or to read the hundreds of messages people sent her a day.  She used to spend at least an hour sucked into the allure of pictures, memes, trolls and ego-stroking, but now… she could almost feel the poison burning into her palm as she looked at the phone, and the bright glare of the screen caused throbbing eyes.  She still tried at least one update a day, due to the flood of concern from her less regular posting – but all that concern seemed… empty, somehow.

The memory of Robin’s touch lingered with her.  She closed her eyes in an attempt to recall it, to remember his strong, earthen scent and the beautiful flex of his muscles.  Something about it filled a void she didn’t even know she had.

One moment, everything in her life had been fine, exciting, chasing the next big hunt, basking in the adoration of nameless people.

The next, it was as if all these memories had been cast in a slant of monochrome colors.

And the days turned into weeks.  And Robin never left.

“Hey, Joel reckons he might have found a way to infiltrate,” Robin’s voice came from beyond the kitchen where she dwelled, just as her thoughts turned to a reflection of her father, and of who she was as a person.

Damn this weather, and the rain.  Dragging her mood down with it.

Robin showed her so much affection that it actually embarrassed and ashamed Amelie.

Father had never shown anything even close.  No kisses to the forehead, like her mother.  Very few hugs, and a stubborn tenacity to not mention feelings, and dismiss them as weakness.  Always telling her to toughen up, to stop crying like a baby, to make him proud if she did what he wanted her to do.

So that left… what?

“Amelie, I hope you haven’t fallen asleep again, dear, because this is super important.  Oh.”  Robin stopped dead, seeing her now slumped against the windowsill, cellphone dangling morosely from her hand.  He wore loose-fitting clothings—a shirt with a printed design on it of a bear with a dreamcatcher in the background, and the stretchy kind of pants that fit all sizes, short of being morbidly obese.  His hair was slicked back from a recent shower, and the top of his shirt seemed wet from run-off.  It also meant that his short sleeves clung to those bulging arms of his—not a look Amelie exactly felt opposed to.

“I’m just bored,” she said, now tapping her phone against the ledge.  “And as much as I want to do this mission of yours or whatever...” and continue staying in Valor Lake, near you, “I just don’t see it working out, unless he happens to have some private cabin in the mountains that no one goes to, or some special hibernation cave or something.”

“See, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” Robin said with a huge grin lighting up every inch of his face.  “Our resident Big Bad does have his own private cabin up in the mountains.  It used to be his father’s back in the day, and is only accessible by flying there, then walking barefoot through the glacial valleys that lead to it.”

Her heart, at first marginally excited at the notion they could corner this Marcas at last, sank again into her feet, along with the insidious sloshing of her emotions.  “And how the fuck do you know about this location?”

“Memories from those who knew Gilnes, and of Joel’s niece, who is married into the Valor-Witsels.  Her mother is Joel’s cousin.  The niece says that her godfather keeps promising to take her there, but he’s never gotten around to it.  The godfather being Marcas, of course.”

Amelie attempted to wrap her mind around the stupid, complex relations of all the bears who somehow managed to host generations of family in each clan, and lifted one inquisitive finger.  “So… your old folks knew where Gilnes liked to go?”

“Just his siblings.  Before it all went to shit, as far as I’m aware.”

“Great!  So… how often does he go?”

“Ah… we’re, uh, working on that.  And procuring a helicopter to do the job as well.  Gilnes used to use a little jet for the travels.”

Amelie ignored him—she hadn’t heard a definitive solution that meant instant action, so she wasn’t interested in anything else.  The impatience itched at her.  Her now self-induced isolation, even with Robin accompanying her in the best possible way, happened to be driving her crazy.

Plus there was that whole wondering who the hell she was as a person.

She thought she knew.  Her identity hinged on the whole “Prepper’s Daughter” theme.  Her mom and dad, big into the hunting, the meats, the collection of long-expiration-dated tins and practical foods, along with the lifelong pursuit of building an impenetrable bunker.  Living up to his expectations.  Killing animals and posing with him, before her morals shifted, realizing how many fucking species humans had wiped out.  That animals she was so used to seeing might not exist in a generation’s time.

Clashing with her dad over it.  How sick to the stomach it made her to defy him, but she kept doing it, even with the fear he might disown her or something.

He never did.  Even if he was some hillbilly redneck shooter, he was her hillbilly redneck shooter.

Then Amelie saw all the videos and posts people did, and gradually dipped her toe into those waters, before becoming addicted to the scarce affection people showed her from likes and comments.  More than what her dad ever gave, since he was so damn awkward.  More than her mother, who, by extension, was a female version of her dad, and just as struggling with affection.

Is that all I am?  A person who seeks temporary affection, because… what, I don’t have any in my actual life?  Enjoying the hunt and the attention they gave.  Seeing herself as some sort of moral activist, making a point, changing the attitude of hunters, one shot at a time.

She wasn’t sure if she liked the person that stared back at her from the translucent reflection of the window.  This person didn’t seem to fit with the different concepts in her head.  Concepts like magic, of being cared for, of excitement and adventure interspersed with really quite a lot of waiting around.  She’d gone from bold and bright and dedicated to her online activities to not really enjoying logging online anymore.

“What’s up with you?  I thought you’d be way more excited to hear about this.”

Amelie gave him a moody shrug, unsure of how to explain the conflict.  It seemed so small, so insignificant.  “It’s nothing.  Just me being silly.”

“Doesn’t really look like nothing.  You’ve been out of it for a few days, now.  Having doubts about the mission?”

Among other things.  She warred with her emotions for a moment, contemplating telling him more.  That was what lovers were supposed to do, right?  Partners.  Friends.  Loved ones.  “Being with you makes me realize that things aren’t as perfect as I thought they were,” she finally said, putting her phone down, turning away from the pattering rain.  Her voice came out in an almost accusing way as she added, “My life was just fine before you came along.  I had plenty of people who admired me for what I was doing, and plenty of time to waste keeping my followers entertained, getting sucked into those black-hole pits of words.”  Though it wasn’t always fun, reading people’s bile.  “If I hadn’t chosen to track down a grayclaw bear, I’d probably be somewhere in North Africa, hunting my next big game.”

Robin stepped up until they could almost touch.  She saw herself reflected in the black of his eyes, and she looked a mess.  No good.  She felt foolish for admitting it, foolish for spilling out more of herself than she’d ever intended, and immediately wanted to act on the desire to change the subject.

“Ah.”  His expression was a little more understanding than she would have liked.  Like he could somehow see into her wretched brain and pull out all the threads.  That might be nice.  She barely managed to fathom the depths of her own brain.

But at the same time, she didn’t want anyone knowing.

“Seems to me,” he said, his eyes bright and earnest on her, “that you’re not used to the idea of a relationship.”

“Is that what this is?” Amelie said quickly, even as her insides did a nasty lurch.  “Coulda fooled me.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”  He gave a shrug, finally breaking the mesmerizing eye contact by examining the pattering rain.  “Could it be that you’re actually enjoying the way your life is going at the moment?”

No was Amelie’s instant impulse to answer with.  She even opened her mouth to do as such, but then hesitated long enough to consider.

Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he?  Certainly couldn’t complain about the times they’d spent together, chasing these stupid missions.  Even with the threat of the axe above her.  In fact, if anything, a part of her enjoyed that looming sense of danger.  A part of her wanted to continue associating with the grayclaw for this reason.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “Like you say, I’m not used to this kind of thing at all.  I guess I’m trying to decide if I mind this or not.”

“Best not to overthink, to be honest.”  Robin now appeared amused, his lip curling slightly.  “Just be in the present.  Be with me.”  The smile turned into something wicked, and the eyes went hard.  A shiver rippled through Amelie, and she felt as though she was pinned by his stare, and all her limbs had locked in place.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, glaring at him as his hands touched either side of her hips.  “You doing this… thing.”

“You can always say no,” he said, his voice low, wrought with desire.

“But you’ll be disappointed,” she said, closing her eyes, feeling the brush of his lips against hers.

“I’m a big boy,” he assured her, his lips wandering across her cheeks, leaving a wet and burning trail.  “A little knock to my pride is nothing compared to having you unhappy.”

Amelie seized his shirt, finding her grudging arousal suddenly ramp up to unforeseen heights.  “Well, I won’t be refusing you today...”

She bit onto his lower lip, pressing her front against him, preparing to lose herself in a storm of touch and bliss.

Chapter Ten – Robin

Finding elusive enemies was the worst.  The helicopter, due to arrive in half an hour, hosting Joel with his fledgling piloting skills, had made Amelie excited.  She paced up and down the cabin, in a place where they’d already ended up making memories.

Five days since Joel first informed them about the pending holiday.  Five days since he confirmed a date for when the son would be holidaying in Gilnes’s private cabin in the heart of the mountains by being all morally gray and extracting it from an unassuming source, a distant relative who had nothing to do with the conflict.

It just involved a hell of a lot of trudging around and shit.  He watched as Amelie bustled around, double-checking her gear, having already spent some time cleaning out her rifle to make sure that it existed in prime condition for their new hunt.  They had enough supplies to last them probably a week, though he probably shouldn’t shift if he wanted to keep his backpack—and Amelie’s energy infected the room.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, scowling at him.  “I get to damn well shoot something again!  Wonder if he’ll be a bear when I do it.”  That thought seemed to rile her up a little too much.  Robin wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed.

“Well, we might be eaten by other animals before we reach him,” Robin said cheerfully, though his warning fell on deaf ears.

“Been raining for like years… gonna be all squelchy and shit when we make it outta here and down the ravines.  Oh!  I better call my mom and dad, tell them what’s happening...”  She already had whipped out her phone and began tapping on it, leaving Robin alone in the room with two bulging backpacks dumped on the sofa.

How did he end up being saddled with a human?

Him, an important Maguire member, still young, still in the market for a relationship—and he ended up helping and growing fond of the human who shot him with a dart.  Funny how things turned out.

More than fond, perhaps.  “Fondness” wasn’t an adequate explanation for why his blood stirred at the sight of her, why he wanted to drink in her features every time she came near.  He wanted her close, to stare into those gorgeous green eyes of hers, to watch in amusement as she chewed on her dark hair, to the point where it split at the ends.  He itched to reach out and touch her, to see how she reacted to his touch, whether she crinkled up her face in annoyance or brightened up in joy.

All this emotion for a human.

I’m hopeless, he thought, smiling.  Tielman would need some persuading.  He had anxieties about whether children who were a result of mixed couples might contribute to weaker bloodlines.  Wait, I’m thinking about children?  Best not go there.  Not while they had another mission to sort.

He supposed to a human, the threat of a bear shifter community was a dangerous addiction.  Especially one who went to far-flung countries to hunt animals, safe, rare, and deadly.  Perhaps it felt good, somehow, to have a ticking clock in the background.  A quest, so to speak.  Maybe that was why, even when she brought up the concept of leaving, that she never did.

In her position, he doubted he’d be able to walk away from such a situation, either.  But her life… he couldn’t promise to keep it protected.  Accidents happened.  Angry bear attacks certainly happened.

His momentary peace dissolved into nervous sweating.  Amelie bounced back into the room, holding her cellphone up triumphantly.

“My dad wants me to take pictures of all the grayclaws I encounter, so… maybe you and Joel can pose for me at some point, hmm?”

Robin decided not to mention the notion that her dad might want the pictures so he could suss out the location himself and kill bear shifters in his manly hunting way, and smiled.  Outside the cabin, a new, rhythmic noise entered the atmosphere.  “Great!  Make sure you’re done with packing, because I think I hear the distant thrum of a helicopter.”

She grinned at him, her face losing years of tension in an instant.  “Yes!  I’ve never been in one before!  Has to feel different from a plane, right?”

The whirl of blades and rumbling engine penetrated the air, and newformed gusts of wind blasted some of the mud and pebbles on the earth into the cabin clearing.  Joel Witsel, wearing a ridiculous headset and goggles, even though he didn’t need them, waved as he touched down, and Robin went to grab the backpacks, one with two sleeping bags attached, one with a pop-up tent.  They hurried outside, and he saw Amelie flinch when going underneath the churning blades, even though they were nowhere near her head.  The helicopter itself looked like it might have room for several more people, except said room was taken up by provisions.  Joel, apparently, enjoyed eating, since he seemed to have several weeks’ worth of tinned goods and noodle packets stacked up.  Not exactly healthy, but enough for sating hunger, unless either of them chose to hunt in bear forms and catch something.

Or get Amelie to waste one of her precious darts in downing an enemy.  Not short on options, anyway.

Dumping the bags on the metal floor, he heard Amelie let out a shriek of amazement when Joel lifted them off without waiting to see if the entrance doors were shut.  It was normal to ride like that, but seeing her slight fear, Robin instead went to close them, so she didn’t have any potential anxieties about falling out.

“I was totally fine about that,” she said, with a rather windswept look, convincing no one.  Her knuckles were bloodless as her hands clutched the seat in the middle row.  The vehicle rose vertically up in a smooth motion, before drifting forward.

“Welcome aboard the Dicky Bird,” Joel announced from the cockpit, which was in full view of them.  “Please sit down and enjoy your flight, and the scenery.  I promise you I haven’t been drinking on the job, so we’ll probably only crash into a couple of trees today...”

“Dick,” Robin said, before adding, “this is your fourth flight since getting your license, right?”

“Eighth.  You think so little of me.  I’m practically a veteran now.  Got them mad skills.”

“Is it easy to learn to fly a helicopter?” Amelie asked, the interest sharp in her tone.  “Maybe I could consider investing in flight lessons.”

“Not so hard, actually,” Joel said with a grin.  “Though experiences can vary.  Got four main controls to watch out for.  Cyclic stick here, collective, throttle, anti-torque.  Master these and your flights are sorted.  Cyclic, see this—I tilt the main rotor disc with this… and here I go, forward...”  He slipped into more enthusiastic explanation when Amelie edged forward, bombarding him with questions.  Robin had heard it all before and tuned out.  He had no interest in learning to fly himself—he hated being off the ground.

“What if the engine cuts out…?”

“Then we go into autorotation to gain a safe landing… it’s where we disconnect the main engine so that the air pressure itself keeps the blades spinning, allowing a safe landing...”

The mountains, admittedly, looked beautiful from so high up.  Swathes of green, brown, gray and white, along with speckles of blue, and the distant Valor Lake, where all the buildings lined up near the edges, surrounded by farmland, ranches, grazing areas.  Joel flew lower than usual, obviously not wanting to have too many people noticing the lone helicopter heading through the Valor skies.  His knee did a nervous jig.  His brain imagined all the various scenarios that might happen.

Not finding Marcas at all, so wasting their time in the deep wilderness.  Finding Marcas, who might have brought protection with him, or even a lover.  Family might be hostages.  Joel might be taken hostage, Amelie might be seized.  Wild animals might set upon them.  Wild bears so desperate for food that he would no longer be able to reason with them in bear form.  They didn’t form words or thoughts the same way.  It was more like a series of visual images, and emotions attached to those images.  Human and fear were all too common.

Too many variables.  He’d rather not risk Amelie at all, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she disliked backing down from challenges.  If someone gave her a mission, she wanted to see it through until the end.  An admirable trait, but perhaps not one that guaranteed long survival.

Maybe he should consider moving out of Valor Lake after this was all over.  Stay with her for a while, see how things worked out, or if he got any yearnings for the culture of his people, of visiting the bear spirit in his glowing blue grotto, of dealing with family drama revolving around endless land disputes.

Really, it seemed like not a month went past before some new dispute cropped up.  First it was the Valors claiming the Maguires stole land from them two hundred years ago, then it was the Witsels who felt like they didn’t have enough land and endlessly attempted to bargain to obtain more.  The Witsels compensated with cabins all over the place, but that didn’t matter if the main area of interest was in the Valor Lake vicinity itself.

Fucking endless, really…

He slipped off into a half-dozing state, allowing strange thoughts and dream-like images to flit across his mind.  Amelie turning into a bear, a beautiful golden one, and him following her, right into the pitfall trap she’d made—except the trap underneath took him right into the bear spirit’s grotto itself.

In a swirl of blue and the pungent smell of moss, and the gentle trickle of some hidden spring, he saw the bear spirit itself drinking from the sacred waters.  Glowing and blue and emanating an immense aura of wisdom.  Strange… he was sure the bear spirit would be less solid to look at, and more like a transparent ghost, an afterimage of life.

All are welcome to the secrets of our lands, the spirit whispered, the voiceless sentence reverberating through Robin’s skull.  The hunter is as sacred as the healer.  All have roles to play.

Shame flooded through Robin then, though he couldn’t have explained why.  The huge bear affixed luminescent, silvery eyes upon Robin, and it felt like the spirit was scouring Robin’s soul.

Come and pay me your blessings soon.  A long time ago, I transformed worthy humans into my image.  There is no shame in loving a human.

The guilt continued to swim as the words struck home.  “I’m not—I’m not guilty about that...”

“What are you mumbling about?”

Robin’s eyes snapped open; Amelie had been shaking him by the shoulders to wake him up.  “Seriously, this is the first time I’ve heard you talking in your sleep.  This isn’t a regular thing, is it?”

“Uh...”  The lurch of a vehicle reminded Robin that he was on a helicopter, flying towards an obscure destination.  “How would I know, if I was asleep?”

Her face scrunched up.  “Good point.”  She took the opportunity then to snuggle up to him, her head nestled on his shoulder, arms looped up as well.  Her presence now gave off a familiar assurance, that somehow, everything would be alright.  As long as he stopped stressing, worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet, and enjoyed the moments they had together.  The scenery changed around them.  The trees became a darker shade as they entered the evergreen portion where everything was pines and cones.  Joel located a small clearing after checking his coordinates and lowered them down with deft maneuvering.  The engines cut out as they landed, and the roaring of the rotor blades churned to a halt.  Gathering all their expedition gear, they set off into the dense wilderness, apprehensive and excited at the same time.

The words of the bear spirit dream lingered, making Robin suspect that it wasn’t just a simple hallucination.  Somehow or another, the spirit had chosen to make one of its rare visits, just to say… to not worry about dating Amelie?

Were they even dating?  They hadn’t done so much of that at all over the weeks.  Just chasing around errands and taking advantage of the time alone together.  Sharing secrets of the heart, willingly or not.  And then there was that fear that pervaded him, whenever he thought about Amelie meeting her end in any sort of way.

Shit.  He probably was in love.  He stared hard at Amelie’s back, with her green camping gear strung all along, and her rifle poking skywards, tucked in its leather sheath.  In love with this peculiar human being, with her strange desire to hunt and not kill, and to bring awareness to the world.  For a few moments of humiliation on his part, she could spread a message to treat the animal kingdom with respect, and put a light to all the dying species out there.

If we succeed in this, I’ll help her, Robin decided, and a knot lifted from his body.  He hadn’t even realized the knot was there, and the release made him let out a long, soothing sigh.

“Does anyone actually know where they’re going?”  Amelie slid on a particularly muddy patch of soil, and her breath burst out in surprise and irritation.  “Or are we just going to wander aimlessly around and hope we find the hidden place?”

“Roughly,” Joel said, holding up a compass to demonstrate his orienteering skills.  “It’s really just a general sense.  We know it can’t be seen from above, so it’s likely a den, a cave of sorts in the deepest parts of the mountains.  We know the landing spot I used is a popular one.  We can also track scents, so it shouldn’t be long before we find him.”

“Is it worth just waiting at the landing spot?” Amelie asked, posing the question Robin himself intended to ask.

“No.  There’s multiple locations… and if I spend time searching for an aircraft, I might run out of fuel.  It’s obviously not here—no signs of disturbance for days.  No recent scents.  He’s not approached from this direction.”

Amelie hissed under her breath.  Obviously not a fan of trekking through mud, it seemed.

“It’ll be alright,” Robin said, trying and failing to keep the smirk out of his voice.  “You’re in great company.”

“Reckon if I hang out with you lot for long enough, I’ll end up shooting you all,” Amelie grumbled.

"Please don’t do that,” Robin said with a grin, fully aware that he could tag team with Joel to wind Amelie up.  Except they probably shouldn’t talk so much.  He walked by her side and grasped her hand, which she accepted reluctantly, not reacting at first.  She really wasn’t used to intimate contact, and he intended to cure her of that disposition.  And pretty much the only way to do so was to make sure she had constant reminders that people were not like her mom and dad, lacking slightly in the open affection department.  Maybe it worked for some people to have gruff compliments and to be included in things, but Robin wanted to show her another way.  That bonds did form when people were open.  And emotions did not equate to weakness.

Hunter types always seemed to be reticent in their attitude.  Amelie at first kept giving awkward glances over to Joel, as if expecting him to say something about the holding hands issue.  Joel, of course, didn’t mind, and even afforded a wink and a smirk.

“If you two do decide that you want to get things heated up at night, either be quiet about it so I can’t hear, or let me join in.  Thanks.”

With a spluttering noise, Amelie went as red as a ruby, barely able to articulate her own embarrassment.  Her other hand also seemed to twitch close to her rifle, as if she dearly imagined following through with her threat from earlier.

They kept walking, stopping to eat, attend to nature’s call, and finally set up camp for the night, with Amelie fairly convinced that Joel was leading them nowhere.  The camp itself was in a small hollow, as there wasn’t a lot of room in the dense wilderness that allowed comfortable conditions for rest.

“Marcas’s scent is all over this,” Joel growled, tapping his nose for dramatic effect.  They used flashlights to illuminate the hollow, since the wood and soil were too damp to make a campfire.  “So he’s definitely rested here before.  As long as we keep heading in this direction...” he pointed vaguely southwest, “we should be able to find him.”

“How old’s the scent?  Can you tell?”  Amelie chewed on a protein bar and was mixing electrolyte powder into her bottle of water.

“Old.  It’s faint, so probably a few months ago.”

“You don’t think this is his ‘private residence’?  Just finding hollow dens and sleeping in them?”

Robin cast a worried glance at Joel, who only shrugged.

“I don’t think so.  His father liked to show off his wealth, so I imagine there’s some fancy bastion they keep to themselves.”  Amelie looked doubtful at the information, and Robin felt equally uncertain.  Chasing a lone bear in the middle of an unknown forest was just asking for trouble, and probably a lot worse than the needle in a haystack thing.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

“I just want you to know, Amelie,” Robin said in the dim glow of the flashlights, each adjusted to their lowest setting, “that whatever happens out of this—if you succeed or fail—if you want...”  Robin cleared his throat, anxious all of a sudden.  Maybe she’d reject his offer.  Maybe she only stuck with him out of convenience.  “I would come with you to North Dakota and pretend to be human.  Just to… you know.  Give things a shot.”

For a moment, he heard Amelie stop breathing.  Her body froze, as still as a monument.  It took her several seconds to remember that basic function again, and her voice came out tremulous and disbelieving.

“You… would?”

“Yes.”

Joel shuffled nearby, getting himself more comfortable.  Listening intently, of course, so as not to miss any juicy tidbits.

Something like a choked laugh came from that beautiful woman.  “No offense, but I’m not sure I can see you fitting in with that kind of life.  You’d prefer being with your own kind, wouldn’t you?  Not in the hustle and bustle and whatever.”  Her voice went quieter then.  “I don’t think you’d be happy.”

The words tickled Robin’s heart in just the right way.  He had to resist a silly grin in case Joel started mocking him and attempted instead a tone of brevity.  “Well, you’ll need to get me a big field to transform in, some stuffed bears, visits to the zoo… and I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Dick.”  Amelie grinned, however, betraying her true emotions.  “I… I’d like that.  Might not be able to get the field straight away, but the stuffed bears, that I can do.”

“Sorted.”

Sorted enough for them to soon settle down into a light slumber, curled up in the relatively small hollow, more designed to squeeze in one bear rather than three humans.  But they made it work, anyway.

* * *

They continued the miserable trek for two more days, with fear eating them up that nothing would result of the journey, and that Marcas would have long since gone home.  After all, people went away for just the weekend, didn’t they?

“Think of it like this,” Joel whispered as they continued to follow Marcas’s scent through the overgrowth.  “Even if we don’t encounter Marcas, as long as we pinpoint the location, we should be fine.  As long as we don’t get too near, so our scent’s all over it.”

“That makes it sound like we may not be able to do this again,” Amelie said with a frown.  “Since the scents linger, don’t they?  You smelled Marcas in the hollow.  What’s to stop him smelling us some weeks later when trekking through, and just abandoning the place?”

“Nothing,” Joel admitted.  “But maybe he won’t go this way.  So we could be lucky.”

They paced in moody silence, stomachs grumbling, not really satisfied with just bars and cold tins.  Not much of a meal to be gained out of them.  Robin had cravings as well, of sweet, raw meat, of hunting down prey, chasing it with a lumbering charge until it succumbed to his strength.  He also craved the trickling of a mountain stream, and the salmon that leaped out in the spring season.  He felt cold and wet, and hated breathing in the perpetually damp environment and seeing the murky skies above, when they were afforded glimpses.

“He’s near, I think,” Joel whispered, now carefully laying down his equipment and beginning to take off his clothes.  “I’m going to transform now, in case there’s any other dangers.”

“Good idea,” Robin hissed, quickly giving Amelie a kiss on the cheek, as if they’d been in a relationship for months already, and carefully removing his gear.  Marcas’s scent overwhelmed him at this point, and it carried with it a freshness as well.  He’d been here recently.  Perhaps even hours before.  Their quarry was near.  The man who employed dozens for his protection as he built additional factories, thanks to bullying tactics—the man that Robin still hadn’t met, despite knowing of his presence for so long.  He’d only met Gilnes, before that shifter met a sticky end with the Valor family.  The same family his sister had played double agent with, pretending to be part of Gilnes’s squad, just to find out more of his plans.

Robin felt a brief surge of pride for his sister.  He stripped off his pants and boxers and eased out of his socks and boots in a way so the mud wouldn’t get on the blue fabric, and morphed into his familiar and comforting bear form.  Joel’s anvil-gray form shambled into existence, and Amelie stalked behind them, now unsheathing her rifle after having dropped the gear, and thrown some mud, branches and leaves over it to partially conceal the items from sight.

He did, however, scowl inwardly when he saw her take out her cellphone, apparently unable to resist a snap of two bears so close together in front of her but tucked it away again instantly with a slight apologetic expression.

“Sorry.  It just looked really cool.”

He rumbled his assent, before rummaging through the dense foliage, tracking the target’s scent.  It took perhaps another five minutes or so before they emerged into a strange, grove-like clearing, which had tree trunks and branches so thick, and leaves so prickly and broad, that the entire place would be impossible to see from the air.  Virtually no light penetrated those depths.  However, there were strings of electricity along the branches like Christmas lights, keeping the whole place dimly illuminated.  Also like the bear spirit’s grotto in its own right.  A small yet pristine cabin sat by a narrow stream, making Robin think of the Hansel and Gretel story, where any moment, a witch would come out of the gingerbread house and cook them.

Amelie seemed to feel as much as well and had her rifle ready and pointing.  Joel and Robin inched closer.  Robin prayed that it would all work out, that somehow, they could find Marcas in here and capture him, bringing him back to the Maguire mansion for some… extensive questioning.  Just to make sure he hadn’t done anything like mysteriously kill off the minor bear families and the humans in the area.  That he hadn’t forgotten the importance of respect to nature and her animals, and that shiny human trinkets weren’t worth it in the long run.  Sure, they needed income to be able to maintain a presence with humans.  Taxes and travel and accessibility.

But if he was eventually planning to turn their entire paradise into a new logging and exploitation situation, selling the lands they’d spent entire generations protecting…

His paws padded against the soft ground.  The damp smell of grass and bark surrounded, as well as the varnished quality of the cabin, along with the faint smell of something cooking.  Both bears prowled cautiously around the entrance and rear, determining if there was a more private way inside.  Amelie, without words to guide her, kept watch on the actions of the bears, showing good instincts.

If this mission succeeded, he’d make it home, and Amelie surely would be accepted.  No more attempts on her life, no more fear of living in Valor Lake.

No back entrance, Joel whispered to Robin.  Only way is through the front door.

Cautiously peering through the window, Robin saw no one waiting.  And when he tested the front door, it swung inward, surprising him.  Unlocked.  How foolish.  Did Marcas consider himself so safe in his sanctuary that he feared no possibility of being found out?

The cabin, however, turned out to be much, much larger than previously thought, due to the fact that the door which led to a supposed basement actually led to a vast, snaking tunnel, warmly lit with the fairylights.

I don’t like this, Joel hummed, concerned, and Amelie clearly showed a similar sentiment in the way she loitered some distance behind them, examining the shelves and walls and furniture for any clues.  The bear shifter scent grew stronger, more pungent as they ventured down the twisting tunnel.  It sloped deeply underneath for two minutes of solid pacing until they reached the end, revealing a vast, underground den, laden with goodies, blankets, consoles and TV screens, and a very fat bear with shaggy black fur covering his body, lying on his back, paws in the air, rolling himself in a patch of sand on the floor.

Now the big question remained.  Was this Marcas?

Thunk.  Amelie’s rifle went off, and a tranq dart sank into the rolling bear’s stomach.  The bear gave a startled roar and rolled upright, spotting them for the first time.

Trespassers!

Are you Marcas? Robin demanded, not really expecting an answer, but nonetheless hoping for one.

The bear snarled and shifted instantly into a man.  Naked, black hair, furious coal-dark eyes, and a shaggy beard similar to his coat.  Too late, Robin realized he was reaching for something under a cloth—a gun—and the man pointed it at Joel and fired.

Joel shrieked in agony, lumbering forwards—thunk—Amelie had fired again.  Didn’t she say something about it being dangerous to overdose?

Bang.  Searing pain in Robin’s shoulder, as something red hot thudded into it.  I’ve been… hit?

He staggered in a groggy manner, unable to register what had happened, his eyes fixed on Amelie, who had by now rushed into range of the man who might be Marcas and was attempting to wrestle the gun out of his hand.

“Filthy human!  Get your hands off me!”  The man’s struggles grew weaker with two doses of sleeping drug in him, and Joel and Robin circled warily, not wanting to inflict harm, but bleeding out as they moved.  Finally, the man fell, unconscious, and Amelie whirled on them both.

“You’re hit!  Oh no… we should have been better prepared… we’re so fucking stupid, and I just followed blindly like a puppy instead of listening to my instincts...”

Where are you… hit, Joel?

Paw, Joel grunted.  I blocked it, but damn… Joel grumbled at Amelie’s fussing.  She rushed then to Robin, eyes wide and frightened as she registered the gunshot wound.

“Jesus wept, he took a real fucking shot at you.  Will you guys be okay?”

In response, Robin shifted, his hands out to persuade Amelie to back off.  “I’m fine,” he said, wincing as he did so.  Yeah, that’d persuade her he was fine.  The wound burned like hell, and he didn’t want to move at all.  “Let’s just… let’s get this lump out of here.  Then we’ll decide what to do from there.  And… got signal… with that phone?”

Amelie nodded, her eyes shining with concern.

“We’re gonna need a phone call outta here.”  Despite the pain, Robin managed a grin.

They’d succeeded.  Sure, with a couple of gunshot wounds, but nothing bear regeneration couldn’t handle.  Though he did rather appreciate the worry from his little human lover all the same, so he put on a sort of brave grimace, enjoying her attention.

Reveling in the fact that they would soon be free.  To stay in Valor Lake, or to start something completely new in North Dakota and beyond.

Though they were taking the damn plane this time.

Chapter Eleven – Amelie – Epilogue

Seemed she’d come a long way since venturing into Valor Lake to claim her first trophy of a grayclaw bear.  She didn’t post so much on Instagram anymore, nor had a need to do so, because her time was better spent socializing in Valor Lake, as the community of bear shifters gradually accepted her.

Or, to be more precise, Robin most definitely accepted her, and she certainly accepted him back.

Even if he did try to act like he was the survivor of a massacre with that gunshot wound.  She’d been so damn scared, but both of those great lunks just shrugged it off as a “mere flesh wound.”

She closed her eyes, picturing Robin clearly in her mind.

Even some weeks after dragging Marcas back, confirming it was him and hearing about the rigorous questioning he was subjected to, Amelie still felt as though she existed in some kind of weird dream.  She didn’t know what happened to Marcas.  Nor did she care.  The only thing she found herself earnestly caring about nowadays was Robin Maguire.

Damn man was a mystery wrapped up in yet more mystery, though not for his lack of talking.  Amelie envisioned his dark eyes, that rakish smile of his, and the way his skin felt pressed against hers.  Little wriggling worms in her stomach accompanied the thoughts.  Good, comforting worms.  Familiar ones, by now.  She certainly enjoyed this whole “falling in love” thing.

And now she lay on Robin’s bed as he whistled tunelessly to himself, showering next door.

Since the whole little mission completion, she managed two more hunting trips—one near the Yukon district in Canada, one in Montana.  She had taken Robin with her as a traveling companion.  And sometimes, a bear could be seen in the background of the photos she took of her journey.  Her followers on Instagram made memes out of it in the end, calling it her stalker, since she always acted like she wasn’t aware the bear was there.

In honor of her dad as well, she was making a miniature nuclear bunker in a cleared patch in Valor Lake, spending time also dreaming up ways to stave off boredom, as that would be the biggest issue next to basic survival.  People didn’t want to be stuck in cages, waiting for that Geiger counter to drop down in intensity.

Swinging open the door, bold and proud, Robin swaggered in with a towel around his midriff.  “How’s my favorite human doing?” Robin said with a lazy smile, lying next to her and taking the time to run his thick fingers through her hair.

“You know, you don’t have a good base to compare to,” Amelie said with a smile.  “Since I’m basically the only human you’ve talked with on a regular basis.”

“Doesn’t matter.  You’d be my favorite, even if I knew all of them.  But I don’t want to.  So there.”

Sometimes, Amelie needed to pinch herself, just to check she wasn’t dreaming that she’d fallen in love with an idiot.

“I’m starting to have some serious doubts introducing my father to you.”

“Already too late.  He’s seen me.  It’ll just be catching up at this point.  Oh, by the way, I was thinking, in this bunker of yours that you’re designing, you’ll need to get a king-sized bed for us.  If we get too hot we can spread out and have plenty of space for all sorts of horizontal activities.”

“I was thinking of two singles,” Amelie snapped back, and Robin gave a light chuckle against her neck.

“We’ll just push them together.”

“Anyway,” Amelie said, trying to resist the urge to keep tongue-lashing him, “thought you’d prefer a nice cave or something.  Actually, do you have a form you prefer to sleep in?  Do you people, like, hibernate like real bears?”

A slow, lazy smile spread over his face, the kind that sent all sorts of interesting feelings coursing through her body.  Along with that nice little flush of warmth.  Feeling affection—no, love—it sunk into the soul, making her float in a sea of emotion that she wasn’t customarily used to enduring.  It was everything.  Butterflies and a kicking happiness and that suggestion that she might possibly be drunk on love.  Those feelings went away, eventually.

Everyone told her that.  The drug-love period which dissolved to normal love and affection, to old couples amiably walking together, secure in one another, compared to the horny teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands away from their lover’s body.  Amelie did that now, letting her hand glide under Robin’s shirt so she could rest her palm against his chest and feel his throbbing heartbeat.

Not a position she imagined herself in a few months ago, for sure.

“I’m sorry we put you through so much trouble with us,” he whispered against her hair, wrapping his big arms over and under her, trapping her in a warm vice grip.  “Not really the ideal situation you want to meet a future partner in, is it?”

“Thanks for not killing me.”

“No problem.  It’s fun, though, to go up to my relatives and friends and be like, ‘I’m dating a trophy hunter,’ and then they just give me this look like I’m crazy, you know?  That has to be the best thing about this.”  He gave a small, almost derisive laugh, which rumbled through his chest and into her.

“Oh, really,” she said, lightly punching him in the ribs.  “So, I’m not the best part about all this?  So flattering.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that...” he let out a huge, pretend sigh of exasperation.  “No one understands me.”

“Perhaps if you listened better, they would.”  She kissed him on the neck, then worked up to his lips, which were soft and pliable, faintly tasting of salt.

Life didn’t always have to be about the grand gestures, did it?  She hunted for the thrill, the fun, and for recognition.  To carve her mark in the world, somehow, to not be some useless, obscure person that nobody knew.  She wanted an article on Wikipedia, to be remembered after she died.

But maybe she didn’t need to worry about that.

Maybe all she needed was her hunting, her family, and a lover.  No fame required.  Just the pursuit of happiness.

And a nuclear bunker in the ground, she supposed.  Just in case that apocalyptic world scenario came knocking.  She was, after all, her father’s daughter.

“So, uh...” she said, finishing kissing his lips, “any chance of a planning commission in the near future?”

He pressed his chin against the top of his collarbone to examine her more thoroughly, one eyebrow lifted in suspicion.  “As long as it isn’t Marcas quality.  What are you thinking?”

“Oh, nothing big.  Or noticeable.  I’ll tell you about it later.  Just after I’ve finished having my way with you.”  She grinned at him, heart fluttering in excitement, already running through all the things she wanted to do to him in the sanctity of their bed.  He seized her more tightly and flipped her over, so that she nestled under him.

“Think you’ll need to wait your turn for that matter,” he said with the suggestion of a growl behind his words.

Peter’s Mate

Bears of Valor Lake

Book 3

Lisa Daniels

Chapter One: Kiara

Kiara glared at the wall clock.  Looked like one of those cheap, shitty, plastic ones, with some cracks on the glass that suggested it might have fallen off the wall more than once.  The reception area itself had a hideous orange splash on the walls, along with a dull and lifeless blue carpet, and Kiara privately wondered if they intended for this color clash to make patients feel even more sick than they usually did.

The coffee table in the middle of the room of squashy armchairs was laden with out-of-date magazines and newspapers, and a small aquarium sat on top of a bookshelf on the opposite side of the clock, sporting a few wretched-looking specimens that floated aimlessly through the scarce decorations.  One child examined them now, another played with the abacus in the corner, making an incessant clacking sound that made her want to reach out and strangle them, and the parents scattered around the room either stared dully ahead, watched their children like hawks, or played on their phones.

I should have just ignored her wish and gone in with her, Kiara thought to herself, more than a little disgruntled, hands fidgeting in her lap.  This very room seemed to suck the life essence from her.  A doctor’s waiting room in a small, Canadian G.P.’s house.  Complete with reception and a few doctors and nurses in the facility.  And this god darn awful room where they expected people to wait for hours.  It reminded her of the dental surgeries, when she needed braces for her crooked teeth.  In reflex, her tongue ran over her teeth, reassuring herself that they were indeed straight.

Hopefully it didn’t take too long.  She had a project to work on with a looming deadline—three thousand words to squeeze out before Saturday, and some audiobook work another client wanted, using her neutral midwestern accent.

The terrible plastic clock ticked off another minute.  The smell of must and old people and a faint aroma of decay from the person sitting next to her, who looked like they had been wearing the same clothes for decades, made Kiara get up from the chair, pretending to be interested in the books, none of which appealed.  Annoyance continued to pound at her skull, along with the looming pressure of the deadlines of all her work.

Surely they wouldn’t be much longer, would they?  It was just… growing pains or something.  Not something serious.  A momentary spike of fear iced Kiara’s heart.  All the Googled symptoms from a cold to cancer marched across her mind’s eye.

The clack-clack of heels reverberated outside the room, then stopped.  “Kiara Helston.”

Startled, Kiara turned to regard the doctor now beadily eyeing her through half-moon spectacles.  “Yes?”

“You better come with me.”  Without another word, the stern-faced doctor turned, and her heels thumped the polished floor, long brown ponytail whipping from side to side.

Dread expanded in Kiara’s stomach, and she followed.  This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.  In and out.  Get some prescribed drug, the end.  Not being summoned, as if whatever condition little Leah had was so horrible that the doctor needed her alone.  “Hey, is Leah alright?  Is my little girl alright?”

No answer.  Down one narrow corridor, a left, and into a small office with some chairs, a desk, computer, and a patient bed and apparatus at the end, occupied by Leah, now flicking through a picture book.

“Is anything wrong?” Kiara asked, with an edge of demand in it, because she hated being denied answers, and the doctor’s refusal earlier grated on her nerves.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious,” the doctor—Doctor Arlen—said with a tight smile.  “I just need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay,” said Kiara, thoroughly unconvinced that it wasn’t serious.  She also saw that her daughter scowled slightly on the sterile white bed.  Leah didn’t want to have her mother here, watching her.  So right now, she seemed entirely too engrossed in her picture book.  Giving an eight-year-old a picture book—Leah could read words just fine.  Insulting, Kiara thought, before plastering on a big smile for the doctor.  “Shoot away.”

“First one is this.  How long has Leah been displaying the symptoms that have been listed here?”  Arlen glanced at her patient document on the computer.  “Aches in the legs and arms, increased appetite for meat, a burning ache in the jaws, and unexplained hair growth?”  She listed them like a robot, and Kiara again felt a stab of irritation.  Would it kill this doctor to show even a millimeter of emotion?

“Several months,” Kiara said, wondering now if she had indeed missed some horrifying illness and underplayed it too much, and the doctor planned to accuse her of poor parenting.  “The hair growth itself didn’t seem that unusual.”  Or the muscle growth.  Leah certainly was stockier than the average child.  “And I thought, well, growing pains for the rest, maybe losing her baby teeth early...”

“Reasonable,” Doctor Arlen said, drumming her long, pale-painted nails on the desk.  “And I see you consulted one other doctor before me as well, who gave you a similar answer to what you’ve just told me.”

“Yes.  But Leah seemed insistent something wasn’t—wasn’t quite right, I guess.  I’m sure I’m just being overprotective, or you must see me as paranoid, but I wanted to ease her mind.”

“Second question,” Arlen said, ignoring Kiara’s words, “is more personal.  Are you still with Leah’s father?”

Something that felt like pressure tongs clamped on Kiara’s brain, and a faint flush entered her cheeks.  Best to get the details out the way, to avoid any more peppering by the doctor.  “No.  Actually… I never really got to know him.”  Or remember him.  “He was a, uh, one-night stand.”  She’d searched the recesses of her muggy memory for something, especially after receiving that pleasant bit of news that she happened to be pregnant.  All that panic about raising a child at eighteen without a father, being stigmatized by everyone around her, having to give up her prospect of a potentially decent career path…

And she had to be as fucking drunk as a skunk.  What an embarrassment for this child.  What an embarrassment for herself.

“That’s a problem,” Arlen said, her voice now becoming clipped.  “But not an unsolvable one.  Is there anything you remember about the father at all?  Anything that might help with identity?”

“Why?”  Kiara became instantly suspicious, and now Leah had tilted her head away from the book, examining her mother with mild curiosity.

“I’ll explain.  But please tell me what you can remember; it’s important.”

Still heavily suspicious, but also used to obeying the commands of a respected figure like a doctor, Kiara closed her eyes.  “Nothing.  Believe me, I’ve tried.  Just a bad decision made that resulted in a good thing.”

“Fair enough,” Arlen said, making a sucking noise with her teeth.  She looked weary and, judging by the number of stained mugs on her desk, someone used to surviving on caffeinated drinks.  “We’ll find the father eventually.  The reason why I ask these questions is because there is nothing wrong with Leah in the usual sense… but there is something different about her, and it will be because of the father.”

“What do you mean?” Kiara said, once again racing through all the worst-case scenarios her frantic searching had to offer.  Really, she needed to stop with the paranoia.  “He didn’t have some gene problem, did he?”

“You… could say that,” Arlen said, with a smile like she knew some inside joke.  “I will tell you this, though.  This father most likely comes from a place called Valor Lake.  Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah, I have.  Huge reservation, right?  To the south, near Niagara Falls, sort of?”

“Sort of,” Arlen agreed.  “I come from there, too.”  She tapped her badge.  Arlen Maguire.  “Though I left some years back to attempt a career as a doctor.  It has been many years since I’ve last visited.”

This was all very well and good, but Kiara wanted the question answered: what was wrong with her daughter?

“Arlen says I’m a bear shifter,” Leah said calmly from the bed.  “She says I won’t be able to turn until I’m a teenager, though.”

The utterly bizarre statement was greeted by incredulous silence from Kiara.  “I beg your pardon?” she eventually managed, even as Arlen got up from the chair, carefully placing herself in front of the door.

“It’s true,” Leah insisted, her blue eyes piercing.  “It’s why I feel like this.”

“What the hell have you been telling my daughter?” Kiara hissed, whirling on Arlen, only to notice that the doctor was far too casually taking off her clothes.  “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a rather obvious demonstration,” Arlen said, tossing her glasses on her lab coat and shirt.  She hadn’t taken everything off, but raised her hands skyward—and her skin rippled.  Kiara barely suppressed an alarmed shriek of terror as the broad-shouldered doctor rapidly transformed into a huge, towering bear, the remaining clothes bursting from the fur.  Kiara instantly backed to the bed, her heart frenzied, her mouth opening and closing, speechless with shock.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Leah said, placing a reassuring hand on her mother’s elbow.  “She’s just a bear shifter.  Like I will be.”

“I need—” Kiara gasped, now grabbing her phone, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she intended to do with it.  Call 911 in this place because of a bear?  Police?

“I can do something, Mom, look.”  Leah waved her hand excitedly, and Kiara, not wanting to take her eyes away from the big, scary-ass bear that had replaced the doctor, flicked a peripheral glance which resulted in witnessing her daughter change one small hand into a hairy, clawed paw.  “This is it, though.  Isn’t it so cool?”

“Uh,” Kiara said, blinking owlishly, still brandishing her phone, unable to register what the actual fuck was happening.  Maybe she should scream, but then—her daughter…?

The bear blocking the way out seemed to shrivel in on itself, the great brown fur pinching and paling into the pink of exposed skin, and a very naked doctor Arlen Maguire faced them.  “Give me a second,” Arlen said, apparently deeply amused by Kiara’s struggling comprehension.  “I have some spare clothes in my filing cabinet...”

Kiara remained resolutely silent as the middle-aged woman—still in good condition with her body, of course—pulled on new panties and a bra.  Leah, meanwhile, continued to demonstrate that she could fluctuate between a normal hand and that hairy monstrosity of a paw.

“Let me make it simple to you,” Arlen said, now prim and proper again, with her half-moon spectacles firmly in place.  “Shape shifters exist in this world.  You have undoubtedly seen with your own eyes the evidence.  I can transform into a bear.  And your little girl will eventually do the same, but it will likely be another 3-5 years before the results show.”

Silence persisted after that, and no one sprung out of anywhere to say “Surprise!” and she was most definitely awake and registering the dingy little doctor’s office.  And Leah kept transforming her hand with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I knew something was different,” Leah said then in her soft voice.  “Always, always knew...”

Weakly, Kiara sat on the bed next to her daughter, unsure whether to scream, smile, or cry.  She couldn’t exactly ignore the fact that the doctor did indeed shift into a bear.  Or her daughter’s gleeful demonstrations.  Kiara took deep, quavering breaths.  “Shape shifters exist?”

“Yes.”  Arlen adjusted her glasses, apparently finding fault in the way they nestled on the bridge of her nose.

“And… whoever I slept with… he was a bear shifter?”

“Yes.  And I recommend, if you want the best life for your daughter, to find out who the father is.  The bear families in Valor Lake are wealthy and revere the young.  You find the father, she’ll be set for life.  But there will be a problem.”

“Yeah?”  In Kiara’s experiences, there were always problems.  “What’s that, then?”

“You may end up not having much contact with your daughter when you do find her father.  Since if this father has married someone since this… one-night stand, he won’t break up that marriage for anything.  Bears mate for life in this territory.”

A familiar, buzzing sensation of stress wrapped itself around Kiara’s mind.  The implications were only just beginning to stack up on her.  “Oh.”

Arlen gave a tight smile, but not without some pity.  “I can send word back home.  Tell them your situation, and Leah’s, and we can find the father.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Kiara said.  “It all sounds so complicated, doesn’t it…?”

“I want my father,” Leah said, her face turning into a thunderstorm.  “Keep me from him and I’ll hate you.  I’ll hate and hate until I can’t hate anymore.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kiara said, nevertheless feeling real alarm, and a spike of anger and despair at her daughter.  Leah did hold grudges.  And Leah had been asking why she didn’t have a dad from the moment she was able to fathom concepts and notice how the children at school didn’t seem to be missing a father.

She had no choice, did she?  The knowledge squeezed Kiara in place, making her mouth dry.  I wish… I wish I remembered something.  That… she wanted to think about wearing protection but thinking that meant she didn’t want Leah to exist.  Shit.  The doctor glanced at her computer, checking the time.  Time.  Kiara didn’t have the time to think this through.  Maybe she could ask for more?  Just to let her consider her options?

“Please, Mom.”  Leah tugged at Kiara’s arm.  “I don’t want to be the only one who can do this.”

“Eff it,” Kiara muttered.  “Fine.  Contact your…  shifter family, Arlen.  Let’s see what we can do for my daughter.”

“On it,” Arlen said, already tapping in her phone, taking Kiara’s option to change her mind further away.

It had to be this, Kiara thought, with a kind of grim fear boiling inside.  Whatever she felt, whatever screamed inside her now, to run away from this madness—she couldn’t run away from her daughter.  She couldn’t ignore the reality that presented itself to her.  Even if she ended up hurtling down a path that ten minutes ago, she could have never predicted would open itself up to her.  About the man she didn’t remember, and a world she didn’t understand.

She really, really wished she could, however.

Chapter Two – Peter

Peter stared out from his usual place outside the factory grounds, smoking.  There was a sort of dull, dismal air about the place, as if it actively sucked out the lifeblood of the land, leaving it a pale imitation of what it once was.  It made a horrible contrast between the natural vigor of the woodlands, rivers and mountains, leaving instead wire fences, uniform paths and places for trucks to come and go, and people like Peter, who preferred to hang outside and smoke when it came to their break times.

He sucked in smoke from his cigarette, leaning against the brick wall, examining the boundaries past the wire fence where guards patrolled.  Personally, he hated the factory, but it made him money, and if you lived as an exile, then you needed all the money you could get.  Not like those damn Valors and Maguires and Witsels who comfortably sat on hoarded, generational wealth, never having to worry about a thing.  A pang of jealously hit him, thinking about the easy life others had.  Should have been a member of the Valor family.  Should have never been in this position in the first place.

Right until his parents did the unforgiveable.  Right until they sided with Gilnes and his grand plans to modernize Valor Lake and bring it into the future.  Then after Gilnes’s… untimely death, straight to his son, Marcas.

Honestly, Peter wished he was back out in the world again, traveling, tasting the different cultures and different women, rather than forced into an allegiance he didn’t particularly care about.

“Yo,” someone grunted, and Peter turned around to face Gerran Valor-Witsel, who was holding a long, white cigarette in his fingers.  “Got a light?”

“Yeah.”  Peter tossed him one, eyes tracing over Gerran’s ugly lip scar that left a slight tear on the left-hand side, like a malformed cleft.  The older man, half-brother of Marcas, scowled up at the sky, which now formed dark gray clouds, adding a somber mood to the occasion.  “You look like you’ve swallowed a porcupine.”

“Marcas still isn’t back from wherever he’s been taken,” Gerran said in his gruff tone, dour as he took a deep drag.  “Went to his private residence and vanished.  They found his copter, and evidence of other people in the residence, so he was found.”

“You think they killed him?”  Peter raised an eyebrow, before making a ring of smoke leave his lips.  Smoking did help with that anger inside, for sure…

“Possible.  Lot of people aren’t happy with his plans.  Scared of other people making money,” Gerran sneered.  “And they think somehow we’re planning to destroy Valor Lake.  Idiots.  We’re going to make it.”  The burnt end snapped off his cigarette, drifting in the faint breeze.  Peter instantly felt himself switching off.  He didn’t want to listen to yet another rant about the short-sightedness of the main families, and all the stupid intrigue and assassination attempts and doing everything in a cloak-and-dagger way.

“Does that mean you’re acting head, now?  If Marcas doesn’t come back?”  Peter privately thought that if the heads of the factories kept vanishing like they did, it’d be a miracle at all that it kept running.

“For now.  And I already have a line of succession, in case anything happens to me.  Gilnes has enough bastards, and I’ve got a few wayward sons myself to fill up the game.  Never quite unprepared.”

“Long as I get paid, I don’t care,” Peter said, stabbing out his cigarette.  All the family politics and bickering were beyond him.  All he wanted was just enough.

Though when they paid him more to do grunt work, as, like all bear shifters, he was built like a tank, he did that as well.  Marcas had approached Peter once to intimidate the families of the flatter areas of the reservation, in their singular houses scattered over farmland and trails.  It was triple his normal pay, so he did it.  Knocking on their houses to “persuade” them to sell to Marcas.  Among other things.  A tiny sense of relief intermingled with the guilt.  At least they wouldn’t be asking him to do grunt work again.  He wasn’t sure if he’d say no if they offered money.

Wasn’t that principled, after all.  And everyone had their price.

Sometimes he had restless nights, thinking about the people he might have potentially made suffer.  Other times, he told himself that they got money, they would have found somewhere else to live.  But if any were Valor Lake bear shifters, then none would want to move.

The pain of separation from the bear spirit trumped all.

“Might have another job for you soon,” Gerran said, giving Peter a light pat on the back.  “But for now, take the rest of the day off.  We’ve hit quotas.  We should be fine for the rest of it.”

Peter attempted a smile, though really, he would have liked the extra hours.  “Thanks, boss.”  Wasn’t about to refuse a friendly offer like this, though.  Tork and Callum were off duty, and drinking.  They’d invited him out, but by the time he finished, they would be gone.

Not so now.

He grinned, fishing for his cellphone to message his friends.  He gathered his belongings and headed off towards his favorite bar.  It only took about twenty minutes hard walking from here.  He left the dull, gray pasted factory and concrete grounds, with its stacks of crates lying around, the numerous guards patrolling, and the diggers working on the outside to expand.  He followed the main dirt tracks back into town and went into the bar, anticipating the taste of alcohol upon his tongue, and a good conversation with his friends.

Not a bad life.  Could be better, could be worse.  Even with the pain of exile, it was worth living.

Chapter Three – Kiara

The moment Kiara walked into the bar, the man’s icy blue eyes settled upon her.  They widened in recognition, as if seeing a ghost, but Kiara didn’t remember a thing.

It couldn’t be this man, could it? Kiara thought.  This hulking beast of a man who looked like he could murder you with just his eyes, let alone everything else that came attached.

“Oh, God,” Arlen said, her hand now gripping Kiara’s arm tight.  The doctor, now transformed into a travel friend, didn’t exactly appear pleased with the prospect.  “If it’s this traitor, I swear to the bear spirit that you need to find better people to have one-night stands with.”

A tiny surge of defiance mixed with the shame inside Kiara.  “He’s quite attractive.  I’m sure people would like his type.”  If they’re into gang members with tattoos down their arms.  Because yes, this man, no, bear shifter, had arms green and black from the tattoo sleeves spanning them.  Patterns of trees, branches, leaves, all snaking up him as if being consumed by nature itself.

The man, meanwhile, with his piercing blue eyes, dark blond hair, and wide cheekbones, continued to stare at her like she was a ghost.

“Don’t look at him,” Arlen hissed, her eyes glowering from behind her half-moons.  “We’ll keep searching.  We haven’t asked the Witsels yet if they might have anyone who remembers going on holiday, meeting you over the border.”

Kiara’s heart sank further at the thought of approaching more of those stoic family members, sequestered in their fancy mansions and staring at her like she was dirt, as Arlen met and spoke with them.  Kiara didn’t consider herself a slut, but being scrutinized by these people, finding out she was a single parent of a beloved potential bear-shifter child—their judgment lay heavy on her heart, and diminished her in presence.

At least they deemed the importance of her child enough to let the men of the households attempt to recall her in memory.  But, holy shit, did she hate being here.  She could be back home, researching and editing, except that, of course, her daughter would be giving her those accusing stares, wondering why she never even attempted to look for the father.  She was sore, tired, frazzled and craving her home all the same.  “Look, why can’t it be him?  It doesn’t have to be someone from one of the main families, right?  Just a bear shifter?”

Arlen’s cold, dark eyes bore into Kiara for a moment, before she took a tremendous gulp of black coffee from the white porcelain cup.  The chink of cup against plate broke the silence.  She began absently dusting her blue turtleneck top as she said, “There are some people, some bears, who you might consider unscrupulous and dangerous.  There is a conflict with the main families over land, you could say.  Land and pollution and keeping secrets.  And mark my words.  If your child belongs to anyone from the wrong side of the tracks, one of the shifters responsible for killings, chasing people out of their homes, destroying habitats and heritage...” she ran a dramatic finger across her throat.  “You won’t be very popular with the main families.”

Panic squeezed Kiara’s heart, before she attempted to calm herself.  Surely Arlen was exaggerating.  You didn’t have that kind of conflict in real life, right?

We don’t have bears that can transform in real life, either, Kiara thought.

“Hey.  Karla?  No.  Kiara.  Is that you?”  A gruff voice, words dripping with recognition, came from behind Arlen, and Kiara’s eyes snapped back to the hulk of a man who had approached, one of his bushy eyebrows raised.  “Though perhaps you won’t remember me.”

Kiara was at a loss for words.  Her stomach twisted itself into uncomfortable knots, and Arlen plastered on an imperious, disapproving expression.

“Look what the dog dragged in.”  Her lips curled into a sneer as she faced the man.  “The very man responsible for scaring off innocent families so that his master can build on their lands.”

Kiara emitted a tiny squeak of horror, as the tension within the little café heated up.  She even heard a growling resonating from somewhere deep inside her child’s doctor.

“Perhaps if your families didn’t have an unfortunate habit of cutting people out of your wills because of minor offenses, and condemning their children who did nothing wrong, then I wouldn’t need to find work where I can, would I?”  The man smiled, and it came laced with threat.  “Do you mind if I speak to the lady next to you?”

“I mind,” Arlen said, but Kiara raised a weak hand.

“Arlen,” she said, feeling like death warmed over, “if he recognizes me...”

The doctor’s face clouded over, but she nodded curtly and fell silent.  Kiara noticed that she was gripping the coffee mug tightly, however, with the last grains swirling sadly at the bottom.

“You don’t, do you?”  He pursed his mouth, amused rather than disappointed.  Which perhaps should have been a warning sign.

Fully aware she might just be facing the father of her daughter, Kiara smiled nervously.  “I don’t… remember much.  Sorry.  But… I came here, because I was… wondering.”  Somehow, telling this virtual stranger face-to-face that she had a daughter that might be his failed to come to her lips.  Understandably, of course.  Not really the kind of bomb you wanted to drop on unsuspecting bear men.

“Curious about what?”  He pointedly ignored Arlen, scratching at the dark yellow stubble on his chin.

“If the person I… was with… was in this town,” she finished lamely.

He gave a snort.  “You’re looking at him.  I remember all the women I’ve been with, sober or drunk.  Might need a moment to recall the name, but the faces are easy.”

All the women rang in Kiara’s ears, making the blood rush into her cheeks, warm and tinged with humiliation.

“You wanted another lay, was that it?  Well, maybe I can open my schedule for you later.  Have another little taste of you.”  His eyes roved up and down Kiara’s form, and Arlen let out a noise of disgust.

“Why would I want another lay if I don’t even remember you?” Kiara said stiffly, her voice veiled with anger.  She was beginning to feel like Arlen—it better not be this sucker who happened to be the father of her child.  But unfortunately…

It probably was.

Wonder if I can just say I didn’t find him, Kiara thought desperately, imagining her daughter now with her sister, waiting expectantly for a phone call from her mother to confirm that the father had been found.  Doubtless Kiara’s sister would be picking Leah up from school now.  She can’t have an asshole for a father.  I can’t believe I let myself get dragged into this.

The memory of Arlen’s bear form and Leah’s strange, shifting hand came to the forefront of her mind.  A cerebral crack of responsibility made her face the sneering man.

He appeared momentarily unsure of what to say to her answer, before continuing with, “Let’s not waste either of our times, then.  If you came back looking for me, there’s nothing to find here.  I’m not interested in a relationship.  Or a friendship.  Fuckship, though?  Sure.”

“Unbelievable,” Arlen said, folding her arms, looking close to murder.  “I’m sorry, Kiara, but it looks like he’s a rotten apple.”

“What will I tell her?” Kiara said, slightly pleading, mostly desperate, and Arlen knew instantly what she meant.  “Didn’t you want me to do this?”

“Yes,” she said, lowering her voice, “until we found out that the father is probably a degenerate leech.  I had hoped maybe… from a good family...” her voice trailed off.

“Hello?  Are you just ignoring me now?”

“Yes,” Kiara replied to the man, turning her back firmly on him.  A whisper of memory tickled her brain.  Maybe she did recall something about those features.  Strong arms on either side of her.  An offer of a drink.  Getting entirely too close during a sweaty dance in the club they were in.  She saw something of those eyes too, boring into her.  Maybe she did remember.  “What will happen if I go back, she grows up, and there’s… who will she talk to?”

Both of them still ignoring the bear man, Arlen said, with a worried scowl, “If she doesn’t have a proper heritage, she will have issues when it comes time...” she paused.  “Let’s say this elsewhere.”

The man had already turned on them, ordering something from the counter, his body language stiff.  His black leather jacket appeared so tight that one wrong movement might tear the material, and what looked like his cellphone bulged from his rear pocket.  Earthy yellow Timberland boots completed the look—so this man wasn’t completely poor, it seemed.

But entirely inappropriate for Leah to know.  Kiara wanted nothing more than to walk out of the room, leave all this behind, and slowly disengage with Arlen so she could leave this world of bear shifters behind.

“Let’s go,” Arlen said, before examining the expression on Kiara’s face.  Kiara’s heart also raced faster than usual, giving a shivering tendency to her hands.  “You can tell him if you want.”

“And you won’t sneer at me for it or whatever?”

“No,” Arlen said with a sigh, the severe line between her eyebrows lessening, leaving a faint white wrinkle.  “You can.  I just… wish it could have been someone better.”

Kiara silently cursed herself for getting so drunk that she fell right into the arms of a stranger, instead of having Leah born to someone she was married to, in a stable relationship, long after Kiara had sorted out her career.  She thumbed through her cellphone as she walked up to the bear man, whose name she still didn’t know or remember.  “You,” she said, and he turned around in a state of exaggerated annoyance.

“What now?  Changed your mind?”

Ignoring the sudden leer that covered his previously handsome face, turning it a shade ugly, Kiara thrust her phone into his face.  “This is why I came to look for you.  You see that little girl?  She’s your daughter.”

The man blinked rapidly, looking amused and disbelieving.  The barista had paused in their cleaning activities, clearly eavesdropping.  “Oh, you want child benefits?  Nice try, love, but you probably should have come, what, ten years earlier?”

“Hard if you don’t remember the person.  Besides, I never intended to find you,” Kiara said, shaking in anger.  “But it turns out my little girl is special.  Special like you and my friend Arlen over there.”

His arrogant demeanor slowly dissolved into incredulity.  “What?”

“And Arlen told me, she needed to find her father.  Her family who were special like her.”  Stuffing the phone back into her pocket, Kiara gave what she intended to be one last look at the man, unless he took her baited words.  “Looks like we’ve found her father.  But it’s probably best she doesn’t get to know him at all.”

She stalked off to Arlen, knowing that if there was even the slightest hint of curiosity in the man, he’d call after her, or follow.  If he didn’t stop her…

Then he didn’t care, and likely would never care.

Though it is probably coming down on him fast, she worried, poking holes in her hastily contrived plan.  If some woman turned up and suddenly announced I had a kid if I was a guy, I’d probably not believe them…

“Wait!  Hang on a second!”  The man caught up, eyes wild, and Arlen seemed to grow in height, growling ominously as he approached.  They left the café, and Kiara couldn’t help but notice he’d abandoned whatever drink he intended to slurp from.  “So I take it you know… about…?”

“Bears?  Yes,” Arlen interjected, glancing around to make sure nobody else could hear.  Not everyone knew about the bear shifters, even in Valor Lake, their supposed home.  “Her daughter is a shapeshifter or will be.  She’s close to a full transformation.  I thought the father would of course be interested if he had a child with abilities, but you’re not exactly one of the major families, are you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the man snarled, blue eyes flashing with disgust.  “Why should family have anything to do with this?”

“Because of the shame of being associated with something like you!” Arlen snapped.  “A bastard who probably couldn’t even raise a mouse.”

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after some brat, same as you.  I don’t need a fancy mansion and hundreds of relatives to do it.  I can teach the ways, no problem.  And,” he added with a low snarl, “I do carry the Valor name.”

“A false name,” Arlen hissed, and Kiara practically felt the sparks burning between them.  “You don’t deserve that title.”

“Yet here we are.  Me with my title.  My name, which you can’t take from me.  You two better not be fucking with me,” he said, now turning hard eyes upon Kiara.  “If that’s my girl… if that one-time sex resulted in her, and she’s—she’s got powers...” he drew himself to a stop, deflating as if punctured.  “I’ll see her.”

Regretting coming here more and more, Kiara examined the intimidating man, wanting her life to somehow return to normal.  Just sitting back at home, working, editing, chasing up whatever job she could, Leah babbling about whatever she’d learned at school, or demanding her to read Harry Potter at night while she fought sleep.  Even just their normal arguments about food and presents and spending time with one another were better than something like this.

Really, she hadn’t thought this through.  She should have considered first more intently that the guy might want to see her, instead of shrug off the sudden-child syndrome.  “I suppose Leah will want to see you,” Kiara said grudgingly.  “She wants to know her father.”

For the first time, something that approached an almost genuine smile crossed the man’s lips, before it was dispelled, leaving Kiara wondering if she’d imagined it.  “Yeah, okay.  So, uh, how we gonna do this?  You come here next week with her to my house, or…?”

Kiara was about to say okay when Arlen braced her with a cool palm.  “My next free day is on Saturday.  Three days.  Kiara, if you can’t make it then, we’ll go on Wednesday.”

“You want to come with me?” Kiara said, secretly glad, because the thought of approaching the man alone didn’t appeal to her much at all.

“Of course.  I do want to make sure this is safe for you, and we can’t yet trust him.”

The man bared his teeth at the offense, but otherwise didn’t comment.  “Fine.  Saturday?  I can manage.”

“Me… too,” Kiara said, panic flaring to life in her belly, because this was a hell of a lot sooner than she’d been anticipating.  Not that she’d been anticipating… much.  Aside from silly daydreams that she’d meet some handsome, rich prince or something, given the way Arlen described the old bear families, and then suddenly their lives would become easier.  She knew such things to be wistful fantasy, yet couldn’t help indulging all the same.  Would be nice to have a magical solution to her problems, to be resolved in one lucky stroke.

Would be nice not to worry about staring at her bank, stomach growling, as she constantly made choices for the cheaper options and scraped together every cent she had.  Especially since her parents refused to lend her money, feeling she should atone for her “sins” in having Leah out of wedlock.

“Good,” Arlen said with a taut nod, glancing around the street once more as if expecting someone to pounce out at them.  “We’ll see you again on Saturday.”  She gave a haughty sniff.  “You better not be living in some dust-riddled hovel.”

Before the two bear shifters could tumble into another sniping argument, Kiara asked, “What’s your name?  I’m sorry.  I don’t...”

“I don’t think I told you,” he said, some of the rage dissipating from his rugged face.  “I’m Peter.  Peter Valor.”

“Peter,” she said, tasting the name.  Probably not a name she’d want to call anyone, but it suited him, somehow.  “I suppose it’s good to meet you when sober, at least.”

“Save that for Saturday.  See if it’s still good, then.”

They exchanged cellphone numbers, and he went off on his way, walking with a strong, confident gait.  And Kiara, heart somewhere in her mouth, unsure whether she was frightened, hateful, or intrigued by Peter, watched him disappear out of sight.  Wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life by allowing this door to open.

Chapter Four– Peter

The days couldn’t pass fast enough.  Peter sat in the quiet bar.  It was always quiet in autumn and winter, when the few tourists that came were even fewer.  The bar displayed fake animal heads mounted on the walls, bears and deer and badly sculpted wolf heads.  Behind the rustic bar rested an old musket rifle, with a silver plaque under it denoting the age and occasions when used.  A wonderful bar for people who didn’t like having too many questions asked, or wanted to open up with people in a neutral environment.  Callum and Tork sprawled themselves by Peter’s left, waiting for their drinks to come.  Big, earthy men and just as big, earthy bears, they shared much of the legwork Peter enjoyed with the factories.  Callum smoked like a chimney, and Tork, asthmatic, avoided smoking entirely.

As much as Peter tried to underplay it, act like it was no big deal and that he was still the big, tough guy who worked in the factories, only concerned with earning his bit of coin, there was a kind of… lightness about the world, somehow.

He even made an effort to tidy up his home.  Not exactly a mansion, not exactly a hovel, either.  Just a nice, respectable cabin in an isolated patch of woodlands, near the western mountain trails, a mile’s walk to the factory.  He preferred walking around—still didn’t know how to drive a vehicle.  Nor did he care to learn.

Why bother, after all?  He had everything he needed.  The woods, the fish and the streams, and the comfort of his bear when the human world became too dull and stressful.  Who had need for big old houses when the whole world waited?

“Right, let’s get to business, mate,” Tork said, smiling in what he probably thought was an endearing way at the barmaid, a pretty little thing with pixie-styled red hair, heavy dark makeup, and lips far too used to smirking.  “Unless you wanna do business with me, hot cakes?”

“No,” she said rather bluntly.  “No fraternizing with the customers.  Need t’pay the rent somehow, honey.”

“Aww...” he watched her go, before remembering he wanted to say something to Peter.  “Now, listen, mate.  I reckon this Kiara woman is playing you.  Probably looking for someone to be her baby daddy and get money in.  I’d run as far away as possible.”

“She knew that Peter was a bear shifter, though,” Callum said in a low voice, one meaty hand curling into a fist.  He was built like a barrel, with a belly to match, whereas Tork maintained a more proportionate body.  Both men were hitting their late thirties, and in some ways, saw Peter as their protege.  “So that means the child most likely does have shifting powers.  And she’s a human, isn’t she?  A bear baby without a parent to show them the ropes, that’s gotta be rough.  Don’t know what I would have done without my pa.  It’s a scary time, transforming.  And can easily go wrong if you don’t have an idea how to control it.”

The words sent a cold, sweeping ghost through Peter.  Imagining being alone when his powers first came to him.  The pain of the first full transformation.  The haze of instincts obscuring his own mind, and the panic and fear that came with them.  Before their… demise in the petty faction bickering, they at least guided him through the experience.  He never had to worry about transforming alone.

And if that girl transformed uncontrollably in a human setting…

Then she might as well be dead.

He had no obligations to her, not really—aside from the decree of the bear spirit.  Blood must be with blood.  Children were sacred and all that.

“She didn’t approach Peter after all this time, though, like, what, ten years or something?  That’s fishy, that is.”

“Again,” Callum said in his slow, measured voice, “that would make sense, if she had assumed the child to be human.  You said she was with a Maguire, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter said, not quite able to keep the scorn out of his voice as he looked at his oldest friend, with the gray starting to peek through his black stubble.  To think Arlen saw someone like Callum or Tork as evil.  They were just fucking cast-outs, that was all.  Trying to eke a living.  Nothing wrong with trying to survive, was there?  “Arlen Maguire.  I think that bitch went and made herself a doctor in Canada somewhere.”

“Never trust a doctor,” Tork declared, before gulping down his dark beer brew in earnest.  “Liars, the lot of ‘em.  Just want to pump you full of pills for their money.”

“She’s got Kiara in her clutches, for sure,” Peter said, now feeling ill with the prospect.  “Probably poisoning her and my—” he couldn’t quite say daughter, “—making sure they end up seeing how much of a bastard I am just because I work for Marcas and Gerran.”

“That reminds me, Marcas still isn’t back.  Who thinks we’re going to stumble on his bones at some point in the wild?”  Tork appeared gloomy with the revelation.  “I don’t like Gerran.  He’s got a nasty glint about his eyes, that one.  Reckon he’ll start doing layoffs, make sure we haven’t got room to turn or breathe.”

In Valor Lake, their rights diminished depending on how low down the ladder they were in the view of other bears.  People like Tork, Callum and Peter barely registered as being allowed to live at all.  They were above humans, just about, on virtue of having the sacred form, but without connections, without prominent family…

And she’ll be in this position, too.  Only associating with people like me and these men here.  Defiance flared.  And what’s wrong with that?  What’s wrong with being true, without the fetters of those stupid families?

“I’m not sure you should see this girl,” Callum said suddenly, dragging Peter out of his brooding.  “I don’t think it’ll do you any good.  I’ve never heard you talk about settling down or being even remotely interested in something like that.  This will change your life.  You won’t have the freedom you want.  You’ll have to spend your money on the girl.  Probably not the mother, since I doubt you’ll want to live together… but it’s a big responsibility.  I had enough trouble with my ones.  All these gray hairs you see?  My kids.”  He pointed to his chin with a weary smile, and again, a sense of panic intruded.

Losing freedom.  That had to be the worst thing.  Fucking Callum was right, wasn’t he?  Peter should have just point-blank refused, instead of wandering up to their table because he happened to recognize the woman.  It’d been, what, nine, ten years since they met in the club.  She’d already been so drunk then, and it was easy for him to insinuate himself there, buy some more drinks, scare off the other guys circling her like vultures.  They knew prey when they saw it, and so did he.

Easy lay, for sure.  Sloppy kisses, hot breaths and scrabbling at one another’s bodies all around.  All of it passed in a blur, and he left her snoring like a steam engine when he was done, zipping up and going away.

I slept with plenty of others, he thought, now tracing a line in the beer coaster with his nail, and I didn’t care about any of them.  His blood chilled further.  How many more children might I have waiting in the wings?  I didn’t use protection on all the women, I know that…

He continued sweating over the thought of dozens of phantom children out there, all waiting to turn up and claim shifting powers.

Maybe he should just make himself scarce…

“I’d do the mother if she was hot enough,” Tork said, pouring some salt on the idea.  “If she told me the kid was mine, I’d say, sure.  Long as I got to do her.”

“Don’t you have a wife, Tork…?”  Peter tried to disguise his irritation at Tork’s manner.

“Yeah, and?  If someone turns up saying I got a kid, I’d want something out of it, you know?  If they gonna make me spend time with the whelp, making sure it doesn’t go psycho and kill a bunch of people.”

“Wonder how Gerran would react.  He pays you a small dividend, doesn’t he?  In future payment for any grunt work you end up doing,” Callum said.

“He won’t care,” Peter said glumly.  “I could probably turn up with a bunch of children and he wouldn’t blink an eyelid.  He might consider using them as blackmail, though, if I wanted to refuse orders.  Like ‘how do you expect to provide for them if you don’t have a job’ kind of bullshit.”

Callen appeared exhausted, before giving a nod.  “He’s done it a couple of times with me.  I wasn’t comfortable with intimidating the human home owners, but… I don’t want him sending anyone to my home.  So that’s that.”

They soon changed the subject matter to other things, such as being worked too hard, how long until the new factories got built, and other things which Peter didn’t particularly care about, on account of him puzzling over whether he wanted to meet this so-called daughter of his or not.  And just what exactly he expected to happen.  He’d never fostered fatherly emotions, after all, never really saw himself with a kid.  Didn’t think he happened to be one of those types.  In between scaring people, drinking in the bar, traveling and sampling the local women, and holding a bitter grudge against the snobbish families, all because of some bad choices his own family made…

Someone like him wasn’t equipped to be a father.  Someone like him… a terrible role model.  He stared moodily at the dregs of his drink for parts of the conversation, that horrible, stirring feeling in his gut spreading into his veins like poison.

As for what he remembered of Kiara—barely enough to matter.  Pleasant enough, pretty enough—but wasted out of her mind by the time the night was through.  They didn’t have any kind of relationship.  Any kind of bond.

Well… that was a lie.  He had been curious about her.  Had wondered where she might be.  And when he saw her for the first time in years, in his home town, he got excited—right before asshole mode kicked in, with that Arlen bitch watching over her like a hawk.  I would have been nicer if she wasn’t there, he told himself.  I would have invited her out for a drink, tried to actually get to know her.

“Well, time for me to be off on my shift,” Tork declared, snatching a swig of Peter’s wasted alcohol, since he’d run out.  “Let’s meet up again tomorrow.  No, not tomorrow, you’re meeting her, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Peter said in an apologetic tone to his friend.

“Ah, you tell me what you gonna do about that woman, alright?”

“I’ll be going as well,” Callum said softly, giving them both a smile.  “I need to go and check in on the wife before she thinks something’s happened to me.”

Peter smiled and waved at them, and once they had left, he remained sitting, staring morosely at his beer.

Unsure of what lay ahead for him in the future.  Unsure if he was making a mistake.

* * *

She should be here by now.  He paced up and down anxiously by the bus stop, re-reading the sparse exchange of text messages between them.

Hey, this is Peter.  If you’re still up for Saturday, we can meet by the bus stop (there’s only one in Valor Lake, so can’t miss it), around noon?

Kiara: Hello.  Yes, that sounds good.  Leah is looking forward to meeting her father.  She wants me to send you this.

Attached to the words was a picture of a girl, about eight-nine years old, eight, we met about nine years ago, with the same blue eyes as him, same dark blond hair color.

Honestly, it was startling to see the similarities.  She even had the broad shoulders, stocky stature that bear shifters in general had.  If he had never met Kiara or her daughter, he would have put money on the daughter being a potential bear shifter.

It was like looking into a female mirror of his childhood self.  This little girl leaped out of the photo, leaving an afterimage in his brain long after he clicked away from her.  He hadn’t answered that message, too afraid, somehow, of sullying it with his presence.  He checked himself, noting his jeans, shirt, jacket, no stains or anything out of place.  Perhaps his boots appeared scuffed, but he only had work boots.  This would just be a routine meeting.  Probably full of awkwardness—the kid would be disappointed to see someone like him waiting for her.  So many things that could go wrong.  People always disappointed each other in real life, especially after they ended up building impossible expectations that no one could fulfill.

Noise rumbled, and a moment later, the dingy single-decker bus trundled around the corner, with what looked like only three passengers inside.  Two sitting together, one small—Peter’s heart did a treacherous leap, and he had to fight to not grin like a complete moron at the sight, just in case he might be wrong, and in fact this was another woman and her daughter silhouetted in the bus…

The green bus came to a coughing, juddering halt, and the two figures got up and out of the bus, along with the third.  Kiara and Leah.  Both in dark blue rain jackets, which probably made sense, given the towering clouds above, promising later rains.  And, of course, that doctor woman followed as well.  Arlen Maguire.  All his blood pulsed madly, and he couldn’t stay still, or pretend to be nonchalant, either, since he’d been watching the bus like a hawk.

Maybe he should have sent a picture of himself back, so Leah could at least recognize him, and let the idea of him sink into her brain.  How could he have been so stupid?

“Hello,” Kiara said, giving a small, nervous smile, her hazel eyes oddly stiff.  She was on guard, and to an extent, so was he.  Blue rain jackets—a matching set on both of them.  Both wore black boots, but Leah favored baggy jogging pants, and Kiara a long-skirted dress.  Leah’s hair lay split into dark blonde pigtails with blue bows in each one, and Kiara left her dark hair in a severe ponytail.  Arlen gave a suspicious, mistrustful glare, but said nothing, standing back behind the mother and daughter, arms folded in a dark raincoat.

“Hey,” Peter managed to grunt back, his throat sticking almost as much as his mind.  Both of them.  Here.  Quick, say something smart or welcoming or shit.  “It’s good to see you both.  And you...” he fixed his gaze on Leah, after lingering eye contact with Kiara, “I have been told that you are my daughter—and after seeing you in person… I think… I see the resemblance.”

Leah, however, said absolutely nothing.  Her eyes were wide, however, drinking in the sight of him, and her thin lips (again, like his!) were pursed in concentration.  He noticed that she squeezed her mother’s hand tightly, to the point where he was sure there might be white imprints on Kiara’s skin.  Peter didn’t know whether she was frightened or awestruck.  Hard to tell when someone clammed up like that.

“Do you have anything to say?” Kiara nudged Leah, prompting the suddenly mute daughter to respond.  Arlen let out a soft snort which made Peter wrestle the temptation to snap at her.

“G-good to meet you… Dad.”  Leah’s voice came out tremulous, admiring, and she attempted a smile.  When Peter smiled back, it helped bolster her confidence.  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

No soppy feelings or whatever entered him, but he did appreciate that she seemed to mean every word.  “Yeah, okay, kid.  Come on then, let’s get you both to my house.”  And see you transform in person.

Kiara smiled at the both of them.  A lot of nervous smiling going around.  When he walked in front, he did so stiffly, feeling very self-conscious of everything happening.  Neither of them spoke much to each other during the walk back, but Kiara did utter low conversation with her daughter, which he was able to pick up good chunks of, due to his better than average hearing.  Arlen’s sneering superiority grated on his nerves.  Better to try and treat her as a part of the background, unless she insinuated herself otherwise.

“Got to be careful,” Arlen muttered, apparently addressing Leah.  “This man may be your father, but we don’t yet know him...”

“That’s why we’re here,” Leah replied with straightforward logic.  “To get to know him.”

Peter had to grin at that.  Sensible kid.  Still couldn’t quite grasp the idea that this was his daughter walking behind him.  The concept scratched at his mind, lingering like a ghost of a suggestion, for something that needed time to be taken in, absorbed.

“Some bears as well don’t maintain a good control of their minds when they transform,” Arlen persisted.  His boots thumped into the sidewalk and clumped up the dirt path through the copse of woods that eventually led to his house, far away from the lake, blighted by the image of the factory in the near distance as it belched out its fumes.  Precisely why such lands were cheap.  “So I’ll be here, just in case something goes wrong...”

“I’d thank you,” Peter said icily, not turning around, “to not poison her mind against me before we’ve even started.”

A sharp intake of breath greeted this remark, though he couldn’t be sure from whom.

“He does have a point,” Kiara said in her rich, warm voice.  “You are putting a negative downer on this man.”

Thank you, Peter privately thought, feeling an odd surge of warmth towards Kiara.  It dissipated instantly when Arlen opened her big, arrogant mouth to protest about something else.

All these fucking bear families were like that.  If you weren’t them, you were worthless.  And if you came from bad blood…

They continued bickering among themselves as the scenery dissolved into colorful oaks, beeches, and pines.  The more impressive redwoods lay somewhere to the eastern side of Valor Lake, untouched by the encroaching advance of the factories.  He breathed in the heady smell of wet earth, not yet dried from yesterday’s rains, and not far off from being pelted again.  It wasn't quite autumn yet, otherwise the paths would be strewn with leaves.  Small signs of bear activity displayed.`

Peter kept stealing glances at Leah, and noticed the little firecracker doing the same in return.  At least she didn’t seem to hate him.

But she might once she found out the situation.

He swallowed the anxiety as best as able and led them past the rope swing hanging from the old sycamore, and made it up the rough, uncut grassy pathway to his cabin.

“Cabins owned by Marcas and his ilk,” Arlen spat from behind, and Peter half wanted to turn on her and lunge in his bear form.  The wicked bitch knew he couldn’t do anything without proving her words right.  He snapped at her, he would just seem bad tempered.  He attacked her, he would prove he wasn’t a stable influence.  He knew all this, but damn if it wasn’t tempting to just lash out.

“Perhaps if your people stopped taking all the best spots for themselves and being nepotists, then I probably would be living in an equally nice mansion as well, wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t bet on it,” Arlen muttered, and Peter ignored her all the way up to his dark brown wooden and stone woven cabin.  He didn’t think it looked bad, actually.  Rustic and charming, more like.  Sure, maybe he didn’t have gold displayed in the windows or something, but he didn’t need fancy ornaments or a decent heritage to live his life the way it was meant to be lived.

“Home, sweet home,” Peter announced, bowing them inside after he turned the lock.  He gave Arlen a rather hard smile and saved a more pleasant one for Kiara and Leah.  Inside, he watched as they looked around his simply designed cabin, Leah and Kiara with an air of appreciation, and Arlen with her nose wrinkled, as if the whole place might have been coated in slime.

Shame.  He’d actually made an effort to tidy it and everything.  Spotless counters, fluffy-looking blankets on the two three-seater sofas, fresh towel in the bathroom, hanging on the rack next to the shower stall…

“Wow, is this a real fireplace?” Leah piped up, peering at the grating that covered the coals stacked up and ready for winter.  “Mom has an electric fire.  But I’ve never seen this before!”

“Yep, kid.  It’s a real fire.  Wait til it gets to winter.  Then it’ll be on all the time.  Got a small crate outside where I store all the wood I collect in the forests for the fire as well.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” he said, before giving Kiara a cursory glance to see if it was indeed okay to take the squirt outside.  Kiara nodded, following behind as he led Leah to the crate, showing her the half-full container of logs.  He didn’t like them following all up on his ass, but he gritted his teeth and bore it.  He shouldn’t expect to be trusted.  He wouldn’t trust himself either in the same situation.  But, man, did it suck to think that.

“Will I turn into a bear that looks like yours?”  Leah’s bright blue eyes bore into him as he closed the container.

“Probably,” he told her, now crouching before her for a moment, “and I’m sure I will show you later what I look like.  But for now, I like this set of clothes I’m wearing.”

A small flash of disappointment covered her features, and Peter wondered whether he’d said the wrong thing.  Maybe he was just being lazy?

“Look,” she said, holding up her hand.  Peter politely stared at it, watching as she forced through a small part of the transformation.  It covered her hand, her wrist—a not-quite-there bear paw.  But definite proof that the little girl possessed the powers of shapeshifting so revered by Valor Lake bears.  That whimsical great bear spirit had quite calmly deposited a pre-teen girl onto his lap.

“Not bad!” Peter said.  “I wasn’t able to do anything like that at your age.  Interesting kid, aren’t you?”

The little girl’s face erupted in delight at the compliment, and he led them all back inside, giving them the tour of the rest of the rooms.

“You’re not bad with her,” Kiara said, just out of earshot of Arlen when they both went to inspect the little bathroom.  “Keep it up like this and she’ll never shut up about you.”

I intend to, was his first thought, before having it followed by but I can’t.  The ideological conflict swirled, blocking up his throat, so he only gave her a sort of floppy smile instead.  Torn between mild pride and mild panic.  And being this close to Kiara reminded him what he found attractive about her, too.  Maybe he’d like sober and motherly Kiara far more, especially if she didn’t have angry and waspish Arlen hovering over her.  “I know it’s not much, where I live, but I always thought I didn’t need much.  Got a big place to roam out there after all, and bears don’t really care about houses when they’re shifted.”

“You can’t get paid very much,” Arlen interrupted then, making Peter glare at her and wish she would vanish.  “If this is all you can afford.  And living in one of his properties to boot...”

“Lay off him,” Kiara said, making Peter blink in surprise.  “He’s let us into his home, he’s talking to Leah.  That’s polite.  Least we can do is to be polite back.”

Fucking right.  “Thanks,” he said to Kiara, who had a little irritated glint to her eyes.  Yeah, Arlen really was going on about it.  And Peter was sick and tired of hearing that kind of shit from others.  Just out of curiosity, he allowed his hand to “accidentally” brush hers, and she didn’t recoil or do any sudden inhales or anything, but her focus lingered on him a bit longer.  Giving a kind of fiery confidence to his actions.

The hours seemed to tumble by.  Leah continued to insist on seeing his bear form, and he finally relented, changing out of his clothes in the bathroom and wrapping a towel around his waist, before going to transform outside.  His bear form sat on its haunches, allowing Leah to coo in excitement as she examined his shaggy, dark blond fur, and tried to reach up to touch his snout.  He allowed the actions with benign grace, and in his bear form, he could definitely sense the potential in her.  She didn’t have much of his scent on him, which made sense, given that they had never met before this.

This little girl, Peter thought, trying to let it sink in, is my child.  Missing the diaper years, the screaming, the test of relationships… and if he accepted her now, it meant going into an arrangement with the mother.

Well, maybe it was time for him to do something else with his life.  And what better opportunity than this?

After turning back into his human form and slipping into loose-fitting clothes, he took them into the kitchen for some drinks.

“You know,” Kiara said, now sampling some coffee he’d managed to rustle out of the kitchen.  He didn’t drink the stuff himself, but the guests did.  And he wasn’t some total slovenly wretch.  “I really don’t understand this strange emphasis on family with you bears.  Arlen makes it sound like you’re some disgusting leech, but here you are, looking all… unleech-like.”

Another one of those stabs of irritation.  “I’m no more a leech than anyone else,” he said to her.  In a twist of fate, perhaps, with some more luck ladled on top, he might have been living with her in a grand old place.  “And it’s not like I chose to be exiled.”  He directed a filthy glare at Arlen.

“Actually, why are you exiled?  What does it mean, being exiled?”  Kiara raised one of her thin eyebrows in interest, and Leah now tottered closer, curious, clutching her orange juice.

“You want to know?  I have two words in answer.  My parents.”  He cast about in his memory what they said to him.  Before they finally got sick and tired of the treatment.  “My parents agreed with what Gilnes wanted.  They agreed to help him build his factory.  And the main bear families decided that if anyone wanted to side with Gilnes, then, well, they didn’t deserve access to the family lands or houses anymore.  The Valor family—that’s the one I’m related to—they cast us out, cut off our access to their wealth, and let me suck up the consequence for it years later.”

Arlen’s gaze was still hard as he added, “I didn’t choose to be put in this position.  I didn’t make my parents’ choice, but I was punished for it all the same.  And then, when you grow up—the only bear shifters offering me a job were the same ones that were exiled.  Clanless ones who have nowhere else to go, or no desire to leave the confines of Valor Lake.”

Something like consternation swept over Arlen’s features, but she didn’t say anything.

“That’s… that sounds awful.”  Kiara rested a tentative hand on his shoulder, and he accepted it.  Leah—he wasn’t sure how much the kid could follow, but she looked rather upset, too.

“That’s not fair on you, is it?”

“No, kid,” Peter said.  “But life isn’t always fair.  So you make do with what you have.”

“You still choose to make your bed with these traitors,” Arlen said then, apparently unable to let the whole sorry business go.

“Because you give us no choice,” Peter said with the trace of a growl.  He noticed then Kiara glancing at her watch, looking slightly anxious, but not saying anything.

“Are you late for something?”

“A little,” Kiara admitted, appearing apologetic.  “I don’t want to cut the meeting short or anything, but I do have some deadlines sort of slapping me in the face… it’s pretty volatile, working online.”

“You’re welcome to come again,” Peter said, a small stab of disappointment going through him.  He thought they’d actually been getting on, and Leah certainly seemed to delight in being here.  She couldn’t keep her hands off his stuff, all the little relics he’d managed to accumulate, such as a small bear toy he’d scooped out of the dumpster, inexplicably feeling sorry for the inanimate object.  Fucking stupid, really, but he washed it, let it dry, and now it stood there on his mantlepiece, one eye missing.  Rejected, but given a new home.

“I’d like to,” Kiara said, looking at Arlen as if daring her to disagree.  “I want… if possible… I’d like Leah to get to know her father.  Maybe… next week?  Saturday?”

“Sure,” Peter said.  He took a deep breath.  “Well, I suppose we better get going then.  I’ll take you guys back to the stop, okay?”

Leah’s face fell, but she perked up when Kiara promised they would try to visit him every week.  For one moment, Peter wanted to say, no, you can’t, it’s not your decision to make, but in the same instant, he quelled the impulse.

He also wasn’t sure if he wanted them to visit, in a way.  If the older families got wind of a woman and a child visiting him…

“Arlen, I need to speak to you for a moment alone,” Peter said to the older woman.  She appeared surprised, before setting her jaw grimly and following him into his bedroom.

“What is it you want?”

“Arlen, have you told your family that this child is mine?”  He was aware he danced on his feet, agitated with the thoughts inside.

“No.  But I was asking around, trying to find Leah’s father.  Because all bears want to know their children.”  She gave him a rather contemptuous twitch of her lips.

“I need a favor from you.”

“Favor?  You need a favor from me?”  Arlen appeared almost speechless with indignation.  Her glasses slipped further down her nose, balancing precariously on the edge.

“If—if I accept Leah and Kiara fully, they’ll be exiled like me.  Leah will be in my position.”  He swept a hand over his forehead, not really sure where he was going.  His heart hammered rapidly, and he fully expected this woman to keep snapping him down.  “Is there—is there any chance you could pretend… she wasn’t my child?  Not—not tell the families she is?  So she… she could have… a better life.”

He expected Arlen to explode with laughter and scorn at these words.  Instead, the woman pursed her lips, saying nothing for a long, horrible moment.  The silence continued to stretch, along with his nerves, until she finally cleared her throat.

“Regardless of what I think about you, I do appreciate what you say about the child.  She had… no choice in her father.”  Arlen looked him up and down, her glasses still a millimeter from slipping.  “I won’t tell the Maguires who the father is.  But they will need to know if she’s going to end up staying in Valor Lake once the transformation is complete.  And she’ll need to visit the bear spirit to be inducted.”

It was more than Peter expected, and he nodded gratefully.  “Thank you.”  It was a stay of execution for her.  A few more months, maybe a few more years before people would find out.

“I’ll think on it further.”  She swept past him without another word, as if finding it difficult to be in the same room with him for long.

The squeezing knot in his stomach lessened slightly.  Kiara didn’t need to worry about exile.  She wasn’t a bear.  But to a bear, to be cut off from all the best spots, from visiting the bear spirit, from being involved in the community and starved of contact with all the main family members…

Not to mention businesses just refusing to serve, and jobs locked up for him… it sucked, being an exile.  It left him nowhere to turn to but the enemies they exiled his family for.  It left him susceptible to blackmail, and blackmailing others.

Whatever blackness tainted his heart, he at least didn’t want to see any offspring of his end up in the same situation.

They deserved better than that.

Chapter Five – Kiara

They actually managed to keep up the meetings.  Aside from missing that one time because she got slammed with a threat from one of her clients, she had managed to keep up weekly visits for two straight months, always for a few hours in the afternoon.  These almost holiday-like visits certainly helped endear Leah to her father more.  And now Arlen only showed up occasionally, because she said she needed to be around as “diplomacy” from the main bear families.

Kiara’s little apartment felt wretched somehow, wedged in the pale gray city with the uniform trees planted by the sides of the roads in an attempt to give the place some color and fresher air.

Seeing Leah get excited at the thought of going through her first full transformation, the heavy, weighty importance these bear people seemed to place on their bloodlines—it made Kiara feel left out, somehow.  That her life didn’t have the kind of purpose she wanted it to.  It reminded her that she started off with grand aspirations in her life but let them all fall wayside when she had Leah.  Everything funneled onto Leah, and somehow, all these years had slipped by.  All these years, and nothing to show for them other than a child who wanted to get to know her father.

Easier to be kept awake sometimes at night with dreams of failure and lost aspirations, than to sleep soundlessly, excited for what each day might bring.

She didn’t entirely know her place with Peter, either.

He seemed friendly enough.  Her mind still attempted to wade through the mire of lost thoughts to recall that fateful night, but she conjured up nothing, frustrating her to no end.  She liked the smiles he gave her, the kindness that sometimes displayed in his eyes, which tended to vanish whenever someone tried to breathe a word about Maguires or Valors or Witsels and all those stupid family surnames that apparently meant you were special in Valor Lake.

She saw in Peter’s face the anger of wasted opportunities, a wasted life, and it made her feel even more inadequate with her situation.  She saw him look at her daughter with something like regret, even as he attempted to play games with her.

And she definitely noticed he didn’t want to take them out for walks together, unless Arlen was there.

It felt like in a way he wasn’t quite committed to the idea of having Leah around, and certainly not Kiara.  She should be grateful he even wanted them to come around at all, she supposed.

She just wished she knew her place in the whole sorry situation.

Betty, her best friend, seemed to think otherwise.

“You two really should be screwing each other now,” Betty said, once again thumbing through Kiara’s phone to examine the pictures Kiara had taken with him and her daughter.  One of them playing chess.  Another reading a story together.  Cute things you saw couples put up on social media sites, though she wasn’t interested in such things, preferring to keep all the images to herself.

Betty Houston, friend since middle school, with her bounce of blonde curls that Kiara felt no end of envy towards, and her perfect boyfriend she babbled about, at least always seemed to enjoy Kiara’s company.  Though she did seem entirely too fixated on the sex part of relationships.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Kiara said, heading to her sink to start washing up the slowly accumulating pile of dishes there.  Mostly it was comprised of coffee-stained mugs and cereal bowls.  Betty sprawled herself out on Kiara’s only sofa, skimming through television programs, before examining the bookmarks Kiara had saved.  (Mostly children’s programs for Leah.)

The carpet looked a little dirty, but thankfully Betty didn’t seem to have a need to comment.  Already, Kiara was thinking about the editing she needed to do, calculating how much time she’d have if she kept Betty for a couple of hours as was polite, then picked up Kiara from school, cooked a meal…

“Appropriate?  Bitch, you already screwed this guy once, and we can clearly see the results.”  Betty gave a barking laugh.  “If you guys have been visiting him once a week for so long already, he must be interested in tasting you again, no?”

Embarrassment crept over Kiara’s cheeks.  “I don’t think so.  I mean, we hardly remember what happened that night.”  I don’t, anyway.

“He certainly remembers something.  Bet he’s been thinking about you like you’re his long-lost princess, wondering if he’ll ever find the perfect hole to stick his rod in again...”

“You’re fucking gross,” Kiara said, laughing, before she threw a wet sponge at Betty.  It collided directly with the back of her head.

“Bitch!  You throw a sponge at me?”  Betty launched herself off the sofa, scrabbling for the sponge, throwing it right back.  She missed and it hit the linoleum wall.  “I’ll bash your head in, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah.  But no, I don’t think it’s like that.  I don’t think he’s so interested in me anymore...”  Though… he doesn’t seem to have any girlfriends or anything…

No, best not to get her hopes up or anything.  Besides, he wasn’t some magical prince that could whisk her out of her misery.  He had his own baggage and issues to deal with.

Yet he still made time to meet them every week.

It was something, right?

“I don’t know about you, but if he’s happy to have you and Leah over once a week, I’d say he’s still harboring some interest in you.  And who could blame him?  I’d want a slice of this if I was gay.”  Betty’s green eyes slanted with amusement.  Then she sobered, becoming more serious.  “If he asks to have Leah around for the whole weekend, would you let him?  Maybe even by herself?”

Kiara hesitated on the thought.  “He’s really good with her.  I just… don’t think Arlen would approve.”

“Arlen?  What’s she got to do with anything?”

Only that she doesn’t trust him, and he and Arlen seem to have some weird exchange between them that neither want to elaborate on.  But I can’t exactly say that…

“Arlen just wants to be careful.  It’s one thing to visit someone for a few hours every week, but something else to stay with them for longer.  Isn’t it?  He could be the perfect man, but he’s putting on a performance for us.  We don’t know what’s really going on.”

Repeating Arlen’s words to the letter.

Betty gave a small shrug, starting to help Kiara put away her dishes.  “I suppose I can understand that.  But it still seems highly unusual, that you wait for this doctor’s approval to let Leah see her own dad.  Are you sure there’s nothing going on between this Arlen and this hunk?”

Something is, Kiara privately agreed.  But I don’t think it’s what you’re assuming.

She kept her gnawing doubts to herself, checking the clock all the while for when it was time to pick Kiara up.  She watched the clock far too much nowadays, and that tight band around her head refused to go away.  All that stress didn’t help.  And her parents never wanted to help, disgusted as they were with Kiara daring to give herself up for men like a common prostitute.

She supposed in a way she did understand a little of being exiled.  Perhaps not to the extent a bear shifter felt it, but as acutely as a human like her could.

Being alone was awful.  But at least she had Leah to make it more bearable.

* * *

She stood now outside the cabin that had become a part of her weekly routine over the past two months, no Arlen in sight.  She’d messaged Arlen, of course, but the woman needed to work overtime in the practice, so she couldn’t come.  Kiara always felt a heightened sense of nervousness when she came here.  Arlen’s words still floated in her head about not trusting him, despite all his actions countering the statements.  The factory in the distance, a huge collection of dark gray blocks, belched fumes into the air.  In the distance, she heard sounds of what probably was construction work going on.

The plain wooden front door opened, and Peter stood there, practically spewing his man perfume, clean shaven, wearing a nice white shirt and gym pants with two long, white stripes down each black-dyed side.

“Ah, if it isn’t my two favorite ladies!” he said, gesturing them inside.  Leah skipped in, her head moving from side to side as she examined the room, waiting to see what new addition Peter might have added.  He now had a big box in the middle of the dining table, shaded to resemble an old-fashioned suitcase, with the words Harry Potter on them.

“Is that what I think it is?” Leah squealed, dashing towards the box and touching it.  “It is!  Mom!  Look!”

Noting how proud Peter seemed to look, seeing Leah so excited, Kiara dutifully came to examine the box.  Leah had let slip that she loved Harry Potter and she loved games.  A few weeks before, Peter had admitted browsing through Amazon on his laptop for Harry Potter related products to give to Leah as a treat.  “I have a lot of years of gifts to make up for,” he’d said, right before placing the order for a plush owl toy.

It pleased Kiara on one hand, embarrassed her on the other, because she didn’t have nearly so much money to be able to spend on such things.  She spent time with Leah, cooked with her, tried to visit her at school when needed, and dressed up with her with some DIY outfits on Halloween.

All these little moments with her daughter, and Peter never got to experience them.  Because Kiara thought him as little more than a ghost of her past, a mistake of her life that resulted in someone who she tried very, very hard not to see as a mistake.

Still, sometimes, the regrets seeped in through the cracks.  And her mind trailed back to the what-ifs.  If she hadn’t gone drinking that night.  If she kept herself sober.  If her drunk self had insisted on a condom.  If she did better in her studies, which stressed her out, leaving her to find outlets such as drinking and going out with friends such as Betty.

Arlen might complain about him being untrustworthy and dirt poor, but all Kiara saw was someone who seemed generously rich.  What little he did have, he enjoyed surprising Leah with.  Like he really wanted to take this dad thing seriously, despite having it all foisted upon him without warning.

Still making excited noises, Leah slide the lid off the box and was rummaging through the contents—7 small card deck boxes and a lot of fiddly components.  Eventually, Kiara and Peter helped unpack and try to puzzle out the instructions, before determining their roles, sitting around the table and attempting their first game together.

“You know, you really do good by Leah,” Kiara said to him in a low voice, while Leah agonized over her options and squealed when the “villain” on the board forced her to lose health from her health card.  “It’s surprising to me.  I keep hearing bad stories of guys that want nothing to do with any surprise children that spring up.  But you… I think you enjoy this, don’t you?”

He gave her a rather tight smile, his blue eyes intent.  “More than I expected.  It feels good.  It feels like I have a chance to do something different with my life.”  The words were so blunt, so without self-pity, that Kiara could only stare at him wordlessly.  She still didn’t know what she thought about this man, but now a peculiar fluttering wriggled its way through her stomach, leaving many of her insides feeling weirdly light, as if helium had been injected inside.

It also, for some reason, left her slightly sad.  He’s going along with this because it’s better than whatever life he had before.  The thoughts turned to her own life, as she tried to make the words fit her predicament.  Did they?

Did she do all this because she found it better than the alternative?  To have hope of a possible family?

“People don’t expect very much from me,” Peter continued, accommodating Leah for a moment when she became confused about a rule.  “Yes, you can discard this when the villain makes you do that, and you’ll get two gold… anyway, people don’t expect much from me, Kiara.  I’m used to the attitude.  They just think I’ll be a bottom feeder, working in a bad job, making bad decisions until I go and get myself in a fight with a bear somewhere and end up being the loser in a permanent way.”

You’ll never amount to anything, being a single mother.  The words now bounced in her mind, and again, Kiara thought she saw more similarity than difference.  People certainly did think she’d amount to nothing.  That she wasted her opportunity to study, even though she now made an okay amount of money.  Not enough, though.

Never enough.  Something always seemed to crop up to reduce the amount she owned.  Unexpected taxes and emergency buys and illnesses and not getting paid on time…

Something needed to change.

They continued progressing through the game, referring back to the rules often, though they did seem simple enough.  Leah acted like it was the best game ever, and Kiara couldn’t help but bask in her enthusiasm.

“Mom, can you heal me, please?  I’m really low on health...”

“Right.”  She’d been collecting the “healing” cards.  “Here you go.”

“Thanks!”

She noticed how Peter continued to give her intent looks as they played, and how sometimes his leg bumped into hers underneath the table.  Too often to just be a casual coincidence.  Enough for her mind to start wandering, going into places she’d previously locked up, like what it might feel like to be with someone else—to have those strong arms touching her, to hear his gruff voice against her ear.

“Mom, it’s your turn!”

“Again?  Sorry, Leah.”

The first game ended, but Leah didn’t want to stop there.  Likely she wanted to power through all the games available.  Peter appeared flushed with the success of his game.

“I’m glad she likes it,” he whispered to Kiara, his breath tickling her ear.  “It’s nice to see people appreciate the effort, no?”

“Of course.  You’re a good father,” Kiara said, secretly pleased to see him swallow and blink.  Such a fearsome-looking man, and her words could change his expressions at the drop of a hat.

They played through the second game, and then the third, and seven hours had been sucked into oblivion, just like that.  They ordered pizza, and honestly, it was getting far too late for Kiara to take Leah home.  Shit, I might have to stay here the night.  With him.  A slight shiver went up her spine.  Nothing to do with the chilly autumn evening, or the hot pepperoni on her pizza.  And nothing to do with the fact that she was a tiny bit worried about being around Peter without the barrier of Arlen or Leah in the way.

“If you two want, you can crash at my place tonight.  I’ll change the sheets on my bed for Leah to sleep in.”

His single bed.  Damn man couldn’t have a double bed at least, could he?

“Where would you and I sleep?”  Kiara asked carefully, not wanting to leap to any assumptions.

“You can sleep on one sofa.  I’ll take the other.  Unless you both want to take the sofas, and I’ll sleep in the bed.”

There, the perfect escape.  And what did Kiara do?  Open her big mouth, naturally.  “Nah, Leah doesn’t sleep well unless it’s a bed.  She’s tried at friends’ houses before to sleep on the sofa.  Always gets a crick in her neck.”

Fucking liar.  She sleeps fine wherever!

“Okay, I’ll set up the bed now.  You go to bed early, kid?”  He gave Leah a little wink, and she responded with a huge yawn.  She still wanted to keep playing the game, she was having too much fun, but the sleep attacked her, to the point where all she did was nod.

As Peter spent time changing the bedsheets, Kiara sat there with her near-comatose daughter, the excitement and anticipation building up in her guts.  First night staying over.  No one breathing down their necks.  All those lingering, unanswered glances.  Although she kept reassuring herself that nothing would happen, a part of her wondered if Peter might approach her.  Might test the waters.

Or what if she did?

One bed made later, one Leah tucked away, wearing a shirt far too many sizes too big for her as a nightdress, Leah went out like a light.

Leaving Peter and Kiara quite alone in the quietude of his cabin lounge.

“Game was a success.  Glad I bought that sucker,” Peter said, tidying up some of the components, but leaving the game out, assuming most likely they might play tomorrow.  “This was actually a nice evening.  Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Kiara said, hating how knotted up her throat felt right now.  Surely she could manage more words than yeah, right?  “It was good.”

Someone please kill me now.

“You know what else’s good?  Having you here alone.”  Now something glinted in his face, hungry and predatory, before it vanished.  “Since I think we gotta ask each other some questions.  And I mean real questions, not the watered-down versions we say in front of Arlen or Leah.”

The spike of fear that was conjured up in her body thawed out somewhat, leaving instead the bubbling anticipation.  “Yeah, okay.  That’s true.  Though what kind of questions will we ask?  You want to live together with me or what?”  She said it in a joking way, but Peter’s expression was so deadly serious that the joke died out, leaving her pink in the cheeks.  Stupid, stupid woman.

“Perhaps we better have a drink or two to relax,” he suggested.

“No!”  Kiara’s voice came out so vehement that he looked taken aback.

“No drinks,” she clarified.  “I want my head clear.”

“Ah.”  He stopped reaching for the cupboard where he kept his drinks with a knowing smile.  “Right.  Have it your way.”  They both sat on opposite sofas, eyeing each other like wary animals, unsure what might result from the encounter.  Kiara’s breast began to itch under her top, and she badly wanted to reach under her stupid bra and scratch, but refrained instead with a kind of awkward arm-rub-disguised-as-crossing-arms.

“You start?” she said.

“Don’t mind if I do.”  He took a couple of deep breaths, before saying without preamble, “Are you interested in making this arrangement long term?  Letting Leah see me over the years?”

“Of course.”  It wasn’t even a difficult question.  “She needs to get to know her father, and if her father wants to know him, then what kind of bitch would I be to keep you two apart?”

His lips twitched upward.  “Okay, your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Well, I can’t be the one asking all the questions, can I?  Some have to come from your side, too.  Anything on your mind?”

Thousands of things.  But Kiara settled with, “Do you want to have Leah around for longer, then?  Do you enjoy acting the dad?”

“Yes.  I like not being seen as an asshole by a person of the opposite sex.  It’s a little strange to have someone so adoring of me and my attention, and I don’t want to disappoint her, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.  I hate disappointing her, too.”  And other people.  “She’s a good kid.  Loud, bossy, has a temper something fierce, sure…”

“Think I’ve seen some of that,” he said with a grin, now leaning back on the brown-shaded sofa, crossing one knee over the other.  The underside of his blue sock showed a couple of wood chippings stuck on it.  Kiara took some deep breaths, knowing she was still playing safe with her questions, and drinking in the earthy, woody smell of the cabin, and the faint hint of ash and smoke from the not-yet-lit fireplace.

“My turn,” he said.  “Did you ever consider looking for Leah’s father when she was born?  Or did you only really start looking once she began showing shifting issues?”

Again, something she could answer without much shame.  She wondered exactly where her limit was with these questions—when she’d clam up like in the past and refuse to answer anymore.  “My parents kicked me out of the house when they realized I was pregnant.  Said they didn’t want a ‘promiscuous’ daughter, not after the way they brought me up.  So, I had Leah, as a reminder of my… shame,” she tried not to look too deeply into whatever expression flickered there on Peter’s face, “and I was pretty off men for that time.  Didn’t want to deal with more possible shame, and kind of went all stubborn and was like ‘Fuck my parents.  I can do this.  I can show them.’” She gave a bitter laugh.  “Not had a birthday or Christmas card in eight years.”

“Shit,” he said softly.  “And you couldn’t remember me?”

“Nothing.”  Kiara rubbed her eyes.  “My turn.  Would you...” her heart thumped crazily, and she didn’t know if she could go through with the damn question, let alone cope with her failing heart on the subject matter, “…would you consider getting into a relationship with me?”

His expression froze.  A cacophony of imprecations began hurling around her head, and she wished she could take back the words.  She’d gone and done it now.  Skipped past all the other careful questions she had and gone straight for the one she most feared an answer to.

“I don’t know,” he said carefully.  As her heart plummeted somewhere to her feet, he added, “I’d like to.  But I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to go… public.  And I’m not sure if you’d tolerate me if we were, well, together that way.”

Her feelings picked themselves up again, hopeful.  “You would be interested?”

He set his impressive square jaw.  “Yes.  It’s just...” now his gaze flickered from side to side, unable to settle on her, “you would be marked.”

“Marked?”

His mouth worked on the words he wanted to say.  “Exiled.  If it… became common knowledge, all this—Leah would be exiled like me.  She wouldn’t be allowed a lot of things in this place.  No legacy, no bear spirit, no respect, and she would be in danger every time she went out to the mountains.  The other bears… they wouldn’t think twice of attacking me, trying to kill me if they spotted me alone.”

Bear spirit?  Kiara shook that notion out of mind, instead focusing on the whole attacking part.  “Are you serious?  People would just attack you?”

“Yep.  It’s why I asked Arlen to keep it under wraps.  She says she’s working on a solution for me.  She doesn’t seem to hate me as much as before.”  His mouth grimaced all the same.  “Though she says she’s only helping me because she doesn’t want to see the kid with the same stigma I have.  So the other families don’t really know yet.  They still think you’re looking for her father.”

Darkness coated the outside of the cabin, helping to stretch some of the shadows inside, and leaving a cold chill.  Kiara shivered, not from cold, but from anger.

“That’s bullshit.  Didn’t you say it wasn’t your fault you’re in this position?”

“Yep, I said that.”  He gave her a sardonic smile, world-weary for a moment.

“So why the fuck would they treat you like that?”

“Bad blood.  And the families hate the factories.  Marcas is building two more on top of the one he already has, and he can legally do it.  Second’s almost complete, third’s on the way.  They’ve been trying for ages to sabotage it.  They killed Marcas’s father and several of his sons.  And Marcas vanished some months back, leaving his business partner, Gerran, to take over.  They’d do anything to stop it.”

“What bastards!”  Kiara burned with indignation.  “What the fuck!  That’s not fair at all!”  She paused.  “Why don’t you just leave?”

“I don’t want to.  I’d be damned if I let them bully me out.  ‘Sides, I’m still trying to reclaim the lands my parents once owned.  Before their ‘accidental’ deaths,” he said, his voice choked and harsh.  “Thinking of changing the clan name, you know?  I don’t want to be associated with the Valors.”

The rage was so apparent in him that Kiara’s own indignation died out, and she felt just a little bit afraid.  Someone as big and fierce as him could do some serious damage.  She imagined him for a brief, insane second, transforming into a bear on the spot and starting a mini rampage through the house.  However, he kept a grip on himself long enough to take a deep breath and say, “Sorry.  I get angry thinking about it… and my friends who work with me in the factory.  We’re all in the same boat.  There because all other options and doors have been slammed in our faces.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kiara said, now leaning forward on the sofa, her thumbs twiddling.  She didn’t think she mistook that lingering gaze from him, and it triggered excitement in her soul.  The deep-cut emotion stirred feelings she thought she’d forgotten.  How it felt to be regarded by someone else in a certain way.  How it felt to be… desired.

It did help that on visiting him, she always made an effort with the makeup and the clothes, as opposed to a dash of mascara when picking Leah up and otherwise just slobbing it out in her underwear as she worked from home.

He fell quiet as she did.  The silence remained unbroken until he got to his feet and stalked over to her side of the room.  She watched him like prey observing the movements of a predator, her breath catching in her throat.  Along with that came the shiver of arousal streaking down her spine, infecting her stomach and heating up between her legs.  He gave her a lazy, hungry smile, before pushing her onto the sofa, so that her back pressed into the cushion.

“Just so you know,” he whispered next to her ear, making her tremble wickedly, “unless you have any major protests right now, I’m fucking your brains out.”

She inhaled sharply, even as he wedged one knee between her legs and pressed his body into hers, now kissing and licking her neck.  It came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that a part of her wanted to try and buck him off and snap at him to leave her alone.  The other, more sinful part relished the interaction, and something about his presence conjured that sensation of deja vu.  But there wasn’t any doubt she had experienced this before—drunk her must have loved this, what little of her mind had functioned, anyway.  She thought briefly of Leah upstairs, slumbering peacefully and unaware, and the heat reached a frenzied point when he kissed the corners of Kiara’s mouth, and then her lips.

Just like that, the man was taking her, and she crumbled under his onslaught, unable to offer much resistance other than that deep, hungry excitement, the hunger for closeness and for a climax.  Everything seemed to roll together in her body, from the excitement in her brain to the tightness in her guts.  She kissed him back eagerly, reveling in him taking charge of her, leading her steadily to what she hoped might be the pinnacle of pleasure.

He fumbled at her dress with his huge hands, and she made it easier for him by lifting herself up to let it roll off.  Bra, pants and stockings remained, which he feasted upon with burning arousal.  She insisted on tugging off his top as well, wanting to see the musculature underneath.  Certainly wasn’t disappointed with the result, either.  Listening to his quick breaths, inhaling his hot, musky scent, she eagerly devoured the sight of his strong chest, reaching up one freed hand to touch over one side, fingers trailing the nipple.  The bulge in his pants suggested someone excited and well-endowed, and she wanted to rip off the offending clothing to see what lay beneath.

She unclipped her bra, wriggled out of her panties, but kept the stockings on, enjoying the sensation of friction with his body.  Little mewling sounds of delight came from her throat, the kind she never expected herself to make, and she felt his heartbeat, frenzied and close to bursting point, surely.  His hands kept wandering over her body, feeling every single contour and line her body had accumulated, including the faint stretch marks from giving birth that had never quite vanished from her stomach and thighs—and he seemed to linger longer here, but didn’t appear grossed out by what he saw.

His blue eyes were almost black with desire at this point, and she saw herself reflected in them, looking about a hundred times more beautiful than she felt, usually.  He must really like her sounds, too, so more for his benefit, and because it did help prolong the arousal, she allowed herself to be a little freer with the gasps that left her lungs.

He struggled to get his pants off, then hesitated, once his erection was exposed.  “Condom?  I might have a couple… I’ll need to look...”

“I don’t care,” she hissed, though she knew herself to be reckless.  Worse came to worst, she might fall pregnant again.  But she was just off her cycle, there should be significantly less chance…

He responded by rubbing himself against her for a moment, sending her to almost shouting point, before raising himself up briefly.  She saw him in all his naked glory, with that strong barrel chest, the thick thighs, the long length between his legs, waiting to find a way inside.  She couldn’t quite spread her legs as wide as she wanted on the sofa, but he managed to find a way inside quite comfortably anyway, leaving her to melt in the storm of bodily sensations and emotional cocktail that took her to another plane.  Everything about the act burned a message into her soul—one that said Where the fuck have you been all my life, and made her instantly regret all those years she spent not searching for him.  If only she’d been able to lift the fog from her mind.  If only she hadn’t waited so damn long, and only until her daughter desperately needed answers.

If she wasn’t in the middle of a heavy sex session right now, she’d probably kick herself into next week.  About the least she deserved.  His thrusts became more frantic and forceful, and to her surprise and embarrassment, she found herself close to orgasm.  Just needed a little more on the spot… her hand dipped down to her bundle of nerves, stroking the wetness down there until she shuddered and came.  He slowed down enough to let her finish with that, his teeth gritted wildly, before he took a last, sharp series of thrusts inside her, coming as well.

The heat remained long after he pulled out, and her cheeks were uncomfortably hot.  She floated in the personal paradise that swept through her body, just about registering a look of concern on his features, though he really shouldn’t be feeling anything but bliss.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, unable to fight the idiotic grin off her face.  Why did she need to, anyway?  Nothing wrong with smiling.

“Are you okay?”  He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, compounded by the fact that he happened to be butt naked in front of her.  “I mean… you seemed into it, but then near the end...”

“Just shut up, please,” she breathed, before inviting him into a hug.  “And stay here for a bit.  Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his breaths light against her ear.  “I won’t go away.”

There seemed to be lot of weight on those words—more than what the situation called for.

I hope you won’t, she thought.

Chapter Six – Peter

Several days after Kiara had left, Peter finally came down from his floating, new-relationship high, long enough to stare into the face of a disgruntled Arlen.  Her message had been cryptic.  Meet up.  I have a solution.  No hint to what the solution was or anything, just these simple, tight words that may or may not have meant the doctor was leading him into a trap.

Doubtless she’d kill the mood, but he planned to hold onto it for as long as possible.  Kiara wanted a relationship with him.  Leah wanted him to be her father.  Leah liked all the gifts he got her.  Kiara didn’t seem to think him worthless.  She understood what it felt like to be an exile…

In the park, by a quiet, secluded pond absent of ducks or frogs, Arlen stood opposite him in a trenchcoat, and so did another bear shifter male.

“Who’s this, Arlen?” Peter said suspiciously, trying not to jump to conclusions, but it was hard when the whole world at times seemed dead set against his wishes.  He casually scratched at his nose.

“This,” said Arlen, “is Enyeto Valor.  Distant relative and all that.”

Enyeto inclined his great, shaggy head, showing nothing on his face that might hint at hate or disdain towards Peter.  “Arlen told me about your problem.  And your concern for your daughter.”

“You told him?  Why?” Peter demanded, glaring at her.

“If you listen before you explode, you’ll see.  It’s like this.  Enyeto here has quite the reputation in his family.  Sleeping around.  Being irresponsible, generally a tearaway.”

“Thanks,” Enyeto said blandly, his expression now amused.

“To cut a long discussion short, he agreed that he’d pretend to be the child’s father, since his reputation won’t make it hard for his family to believe it.  Obviously, you need to agree as well.  But Enyeto can help secure a better life for your child, if you’re worried about her being exiled.”

He can, can he?  Instant rage bubbled up to the tip of Peter’s tongue.  Only a supreme effort of willpower stopped it, as he tried to rationalize the proposal.  Enyeto with Kiara?  They’d have to be shown together, wouldn’t they?

“The mother doesn’t need to be known,” Arlen said, as if reading his mind.  “The bears will only care about the fact that he has a bear child.  You can still continue whatever it is you’re doing with Kiara.”

“Will I still be able to see her?”  His voice cracked slightly.  In his mind, he already saw it as the no-nonsense path.  That if Leah ended up having a nice, no-want-for-money life, visiting the bear spirit, being allowed to roam most of the reservation… then what choice did he have?

“Of course you can,” Arlen said.  “We’re not monsters.  The whole point of this is to not take anyone away from you.  It’s to make sure you both get the best out of it.”

Would be nice if we could work on my exile status, though, Peter thought moodily.  Instead of finding a fake father who for some reason was willing to help out, he’d rather just… not be cut out.  Not that I want anything to do with them.

“Why are you even agreeing to help anyway, Enyeto?”  Seemed a bit altruistic.  Maybe too much so.  There was an angle to this, and Peter didn’t yet see it.

“Consider it… mutually beneficial.”  Enyeto’s wide lips split into a wider smile.  “We always have need of people on the inside, if you get my gist.”

Now Enyeto’s eyes became a little colder, and Peter growled.  “So that’s what this is about.”

“It’s a good deal,” Arlen said, looking as if she could barely stop herself smirking.  “We help your child, and you help us look into the factories.”

“You guys did something to Marcas, didn’t you?”  Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck bristling.  “He’s been missing all these months.  You must have done something.”

“It doesn’t matter what we’ve done,” Enyeto said coolly, now picking at his nails with a nonchalant air.  “What matters is if you’re willing to help us or not.”

“You realize the factory is the only place I can get a job, right?”  Peter shivered with rage, feeling squeezed between two irresistible forces.  “They find out what I’m doing, or if I do something to sabotage it—that’s my job gone.  And I don’t exactly see you bastards lining up to give an exile any payback, do I?”

“You can worry about that later,” Enyeto said.  The bear shifter might have been younger than Peter, but his attitude suggested someone superior.  Like Peter was some pond slime that could be easily manipulated with money or blackmail.

And when that money and blackmail involved securing something better for Leah, so she wouldn’t have this stupid life, and eventually need to move out or get killed…

Didn’t exactly leave him with many options.

“You better not be fucking around with this deal,” Peter muttered.  He wanted to hold out his hand to shake, but hesitated at the last second.  If he did this, he as good as admitted that he’d never be free of his exile status.  He’d be making this decision behind Kiara and Leah’s backs.  But he couldn’t exactly explain to them what spiritual pain felt like.  Something about that accursed bear spirit meant that over time, he got wracking pains all over his body the longer he went without visiting it.  Even thinking about the pain threatened to trigger an attack—but he shouldn’t have one.  Not for another few days, anyway.

Kiara might understand exile, but she wouldn’t understand this.

He and Enyeto nodded curtly to one another as they accepted the handshake.  Just when Peter reached for his phone, he realized that it wasn’t anywhere on him.

“Shit.  Musta left it somewhere.”  He hadn’t been home yet, and he definitely had it on him when he went to work.  “I need to go back to work and check… it’s on the locker, I bet.”  Like the last four times he’d left it.

I’m an idiot.

“No worries,” Enyeto said.  “You’re in touch with Arlen, anyway.  She’ll feed me the details.”

Nodding, Peter searched his pockets once more to ensure that his phone definitely wasn’t on him.  Then, with an irritated grunt, he stomped off back to work to retrieve it.

Chapter Seven – Kiara

The days became less of a chore, somehow, with something to relive in Kiara’s mind.  She enjoyed lying on the sofa, replaying the moments with Peter, every smile, scent, breath, and touch.  The memories alone triggered a kind of floating, blissful sensation, and sometimes she found herself sighing, which reminded her of all the times those stupid movie characters did so when they fell hopelessly in love.  Nothing but moony eyes and long sighs.

“Honestly, it’s like you’ve been hit by a sledgehammer,” Betty said, waving her hand in front of Kiara’s face for the umpteenth time.  “You just want to go skipping right back into his arms, don’t you?”

“No!  That’s not it!”  Kiara attempted a passable imitation of someone calm, rational, and definitely not thinking too much about a guy.  After all, damnit, she could cope without needing one on the brain all the time.

“We need to get you out and about more,” Betty said, now beginning to thumb her way through Kiara’s clothes and diminishing makeup pile.  “Time to get you some new outfits, perhaps.”

“I don’t need them,” Kiara said, getting up from the sofa to stalk her best friend into the bedroom.  “There’s better things to spend money on.  Like, food.  Surviving.  A few treats for Leah here and there.  Not new outfits for me.”

“Let me treat you to a dress or something.  As long as it’s under a hundred dollars,” Betty said with a smirk.  “I ain’t that generous.”

“Really, if you’re going to spend a hundred, we may as well get something for Leah...”

“Come on.”  Betty’s face became serious, dropping the joking tone.  “You never treat yourself.  Ever.  Stop with this bullshit and let yourself have this just this once.  Don’t use Leah as an excuse.  Don’t complain about feeling bad and poor and shit.  Just—just let me do this.  Okay?”

Any other small protests Kiara managed to raise were quickly drowned out by Betty, who seemed to find Kiara’s attitude ridiculous.  Truthfully, though, Kiara hadn’t bought herself anything new for years.  She’d learned to be thrifty and preserve the clothes she did have well, or perhaps edge into a charity shop to see if they had anything cheap and in decent condition.  But brand spanking new from an official store?  Not so much.

With a promise from Betty that they wouldn’t be out for longer than a couple of hours, since Kiara needed to work, both women ended up visiting the local mall, passing some of the Christmas-themed stalls, the advertisements, the crowds of people taking awkward paths as if deliberately trying to get in the way of everyone else.

Kiara hated going shopping, honestly, but let herself be dragged around by Betty until they found what she claimed was the “perfect dress,” a shimmering blue wrap that ended at her knees, complete with white elbow gloves to pull off a “princess” look.  Personally, Kiara didn’t think it was that special, but when she paraded in front of Betty, those keen eyes of hers lit up in excitement, and even more so when she saw the price tag was eighty dollars.  (Special discount from one hundred and sixty!  Bargain!)

Now with a brand-new outfit boxed up, Betty left Kiara to it, promising for them to meet up later.  At some indeterminable point in the future.  Kiara wanted to talk to Betty about the whole relationship thing but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it in public.  And it just… slipped out of mind.

She didn’t want to do it by messaging, either.  Too easy to misinterpret things, and she hated emojis.

Sighing, she swallowed up her prejudice and sent a message to Betty.  One along the lines of voicing all her doubts and that it was a bad idea probably to go ahead with it.  Especially when it involved scary bear men.

Okay, maybe not the last part.  Given the whole secrecy thing.

When she went over to pick up Leah in the early afternoon, her daughter squealed that they should visit Peter.  She wanted to get more pictures to show off to her friends and boast about how big and tough a daddy he was.

Wednesday, right?  Kiara chewed her lip.  I think he said he didn’t work on that day.  Maybe I should message or call, see if he wants us to come around.

And maybe… do some more of what they did on the weekend, when they stayed over.  His response to her came back almost seconds later with a Sure.

When Kiara informed Leah of the decision, Leah jumped up and down with joy.  “Yay!  We can play more of that game!”

And I guess I’ll show off this dress, Kiara thought.

* * *

It seemed that Peter waited at home, as usual, not wanting to be seen picking them up, in case someone talked.  The first time was risky enough, apparently.  It did feel a little lonely, just Kiara walking up the lane, clutching Leah’s hand as she bounced along.  Ungainly, as well, since this new dress really didn’t like her taking long strides without threatening to rip.  She made do with shorter, rapid ones to keep up, her low heels clacking and then sinking into the ground.  A chill wind swept up her jacket sleeve, making her shiver, and attempted to penetrate her thick woolen tights.  Maybe she should have saved the transformation for later… but if he looked at her like Betty did when she came out with the dress, the trip would be worth it, then.

Maybe he’d kiss her on the neck, and cup one hand around her back.  Whisper dirty words in her ear and make everything prickle in anticipation, and her knees turn to water.  But not in front of Leah!  Bit of a dilemma there.

Outside his little cabin at last, she knocked.

The person who answered it, however, was not the person she expected.

An older, gray-haired man occupied the space where Peter should have been.  Cold, dark eyes contradicted the wide smile upon his lips, giving him an oddly sinister appearance.

“How nice to meet you,” the man said in a cultured, polite voice.  Leah said nothing, but Kiara bristled, unsure why Peter was absent.  She’d been messaging him, after all.

“Where’s Peter?”

“I’m not sure,” the man said, still wearing that cruel smile.  “But that doesn’t really matter, now, does it?  Not when you’re here.”  He snapped his fingers, and Kiara bit back a scream when two bears ambled from behind the cabin, clearly blocking her way.

Leah, instead of squealing in fear, let out a little growl, going in front of her mother as if to protect her.  A little thing like her… she’d last about two seconds if one of those bears attacked.

“You’re going to kill us?”

The man shook his head.  “Oh, no, no, my dear.  I just want to make sure you come with me.  They’re here as security against any other unfortunate outcome.”  He began ushering them, sweeping them towards his vehicle.  A van, naturally, where it’d be hard to know who was stuck inside.

Bears can run faster.  And I can’t run fast enough in this outfit, with a child.  Was this what Peter once meant, to be an exile?  People just turning up at his door.  Stealing his phone by the looks of it, since she only direct messaged.  Stupid… should have called.  But then she would have accepted if he didn’t want to call…

Fear pulsed in her heart.  And all she could do was move on, across the spongy ground, and let herself and Leah get bundled into the black van.  The two bears changed into humans and got into clothes before leaping in the back with them.  Kiara clutched Leah tightly, fighting the urge to cry, though she wanted to sob hysterically and beg for her life, whatever it took to ensure they made it out of there.

One of the bear shifters, an older man who appeared world-weary, gave her something like an apologetic glance.  The van rumbled and juddered, before setting off to its mysterious destination.

“Why are you doing this?” Kiara said quietly, her voice barely able to stay steady.  She searched the weary man’s eyes for intent and saw little else.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “This isn’t something I want to do.  But when I’m told to do something… I do it.”

“Yeah, what he said,” the other guy added, squirming uncomfortably.  “Gotta keep our homes somehow, you know?”  He sounded imploring to her, as if willing her to understand and forgive his actions, though Kiara didn’t care or consider why he’d need to feel that way in the first place.  The movement of the van caused Kiara to slip up and down, and secretly dread what the impact of a crash might do to all of them—crunch them against the wall that separated them from the driver and passenger seats, probably.   She always insisted Leah wore a seatbelt…

“But why kidnap me in the first place?  What did I do?”

The younger of the two gave a moody shrug, while the older one braced himself against the swaying movements of the van, stern and closed.  The van did seem to have wooden benches nailed into the side, which both men occupied.  The rug beneath them was dirty with mud and pebbles and plant matter; Kiara felt unclean just touching it.

Although Kiara didn’t recognize the men, something in their features made her think she might know them from somewhere.  Peter sometimes talked about his workplace.  He said he had two friends he talked to.  Some old grizzled guy called Callum or something, and a younger, dark-haired man who looked like a gorilla called Tork.  There was something gorilla-like about the younger man, and white hairs mixed with the black on the other man’s chin.

“Are you Tork and Callum?”

The gorilla-like man she sussed as Tork winced, and something flickered in the older man’s gaze.  “I’m right, aren’t I?  Are you selling out your friend?”

“Please, it’s not like that,” Tork began, before Callum nudged him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” the older guy muttered, unable to look into Kiara’s eyes.

“You’re betraying Daddy?” Leah asked, her voice high and piercing.  She didn’t quite pronounce betraying right.  Her little hands clutched Kiara tighter.  “But Daddy always talks about you two, he says you’re his best friends...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tork groaned, now placing his hands over his face.  Leah barely blinked an eye at the bad language.  Not the first time she’d heard it, with everything on the television, and Kiara slipping out curses despite her efforts to contain them.  “What are we doing, mate?  They’re right.  We are betraying Peter.”

“Do you honestly think we have a choice?” Callum retorted.  “Peter’s in the same boat as us.  We wanna keep our jobs, our families?  We do what we’re told.  Besides, nothing will happen to them.  They’re just insurance.”

Insurance?  What for?  “I don’t understand,” Kiara said, cutting through Callum’s excuse-riddled monologue.  “Peter’s boss is doing this?”

Both men glanced at one another, clearly aware they’d been giving far too much away.  As if to compound this, the driver thumped the van wall, yelling, “You fucking idiots better not be spilling out your guts in there!  Don’t give them a thing!”

They remained in stony silence for the rest of the uncomfortable ride, with Leah squeezing tighter and tighter to her mother all the while.

Chapter Eight – Peter

No phone at work.  Despite using the fucking thing to respond to Arlen’s message, somehow, he had failed to take it out of work with him.  He frantically searched his blue-painted locker, bumped his knee against the sitting beams in the middle, and was seconds away from a frothing, desperate rage, before he reined in his temper.  There was a rational explanation for why he couldn’t find his phone.

Or someone’s fucking sniped it off me.  I was sure I put it in my pocket.  Did I bump into anyone?  He strained his memory for an answer.  Maybe he did bump into someone, but that didn’t necessarily mean they stole his phone.  Maybe when he went to the bathroom—he did leave it unattended… someone took it?

He sweated at the thought of someone rifling through his messages.  Finding out his contact with Arlen, the sickly-sweet messages he and Kiara had exchanged, the father/daughter ones with Leah.

No.  He was fine.  Nothing would come out of it.  Just to be certain, though, he went to security and asked if they could run footage of the locker room.  Security consisted of an overweight man in a dirty blue shirt.   A bear shifter gone slightly to seed.  He specified the timeframe.

“Shouldn’t leave your phone lying around, should ya?” the security guard grunted, narrowing his weasel-like blue eyes, before going through the footage for the locker room, over-exaggerating his huffs of annoyance as he did so.  Peter tried not to hover anxiously but shifted his weight from each foot in a pattern as he waited for any kind of result.

One incident on the footage showed Peter going to the bathroom, leaving his phone in the unlocked locker.  Shit, that’s what I did.

Barely a minute after he’d left for the bathroom, someone strode into the locker room, heading straight to his locker.  His heart sank, and a horrible wave of nausea swept over him as he saw Tork rifle through the locker until he got the phone.

His friend.  His so-called friend, taking his phone.  Why?

“Huh,” the security guard said.  “I’ll phone the boss, tell him we got a thief.”  The guard reached stubby fingers to the landline and hit the speed-dial button.  He frowned in concentration, waiting for the voice on the other side to answer.

“Hey, boss.  It’s Sid from security.  We had an employee come in, Peter Valor, concerned about a possible thief.  Just found out his phone was stolen after reviewing footage.  Should we—”  He paused, listening.  Peter strained his ears to hear but couldn’t catch anything.  The earpiece was tightly pressed against the guard’s head, and he had turned to face away from Peter.

“What?  But, boss...”

More listening.

“You’ll deal with it there?”

A few more seconds listening, and Sid placed the phone down.  “Boss wants you to report to him directly.  You need to go to his office.”

“Okay,” Peter said, a little concerned at how closed the security guard had become.  Then again, the guy seemed hot and cold within the blink of an eye anyway.  He thanked Sid and headed off, down the thin, claustrophobic corridor (how did the guy squeeze through this?), up the stairs, over the walkway, to the set of offices above the main factory floor where all the papers were organized and formed.  The rails were dusted in rust from the humidity, and he didn’t entirely trust the walkway to not break off its chains.  Cheaper to have hanging chain walkways than to build entire platforms, apparently.

The trepidation inside him seemed to rise the closer he got to Gerran’s office.  Doubtless he was overthinking things, but he found himself hesitant to go through the door.  Two mean-looking guards waited outside it as well.  Hand-picked bear shifters good with their human forms, as well as their bear forms.  Both paid no attention to him other than a side-glance.

You’re being ridiculous.  He knocked, waited for the “Come in,” and walked inside.

Gerran sat behind his mahogany desk, a cup of something steaming in front of him, smiling languidly in his neat black tuxedo.  The room itself was stuffed full of pictures of some baseball team, as well as some inspirational quotes such as “Just Do It,” which struck Peter as slightly inappropriate within this moment.

“Welcome,” Gerran said, in the same moment that the two guards shoved their way inside.  All sorts of alarm bells were ringing at this point, but Peter kept a smooth exterior.

“Hey, Gerran.  I heard you’re going to help me with the thief?”  With Tork.  With a person I thought I could trust.  The betrayal continued to simmer inside, making it hard to concentrate.  He’d spilled everything to Tork and Callum.  That was what they did.  Bitch about family problems and work problems to make the mean world seem a little less cruel.

“Sort of,” Gerran said, snapping his fingers.  The door closed.  Peter eyed the closed door out of the corner of his vision, increasingly anxious.  “You see, there’s been a slight change of plans.  New information come to light.  Your friends were rather talkative about your new, ah, ‘family,’” he said with a mocking smile.  “I pay them to spill, after all.  I own everyone here.  Or, well, Marcas does, anyway.”

Ice crystallized down Peter’s spine, and his eyes bulged from the words as they slammed into him.  Before he had time to recover, to sift through the implications, Gerran continued with, “My men are at your house, picking up a certain woman and her child.”

Pain throbbed inside Peter, and he registered, dimly, that his spirit pain now prickled through.  Pretty much the worst possible moment for it to arrive.  He tried to keep his brain sharp above the roaring descent into pain, and managed, “Why?  What did I do?”

“Nothing personal.  You’ve been seen talking with Arlen.  You’ve been seen with a woman and child entering your cabin.  Earlier on today, you were seen meeting with Arlen Maguire and Enyeto Valor.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure that some kind of deal is being arranged.  The families are desperate to get spies.  I’m just ensuring they can’t spy by making sure your family is safe.”

Safe… Peter let out a sarcastic laugh.  “And how safe… would they be if it turns out the families want to get informants?”

“About as safe as an informant would be if they were discovered by the people they informed against, I’d imagine,” Gerran said with a light laugh, his eyes cold and calculating.  “So best to be safe, no?  You know the families want to do everything to tear us down.”

“Did it occur to you,” Peter said between gritted teeth, because he found it harder and harder to concentrate with the pain burning through him, “that I hate the families, and don’t want anything to do with them?  That I’m not about to jeopardize my only chance at a job for bastards who exiled me anyway?”

“It did,” Gerran said in an affable tone, “but the risks far outweigh the choice to leave it alone.”

“You’d… they were going to adopt her...” Peter’s words became slurring, slow, “so she wouldn’t feel… like this.  Ah!”  He collapsed to one knee, and fixed Gerran in his sights.  Gerran appeared amused and delighted.

“Oh, you’re having your monthly pains, now?  How like a woman you are...”

His voice swirled out of perception.  Fire raged through Peter’s veins, the kind that threatened to burn him alive.  Every cell screeched in agony, and colors flashed in front of his eyes, odd and distorted.  Despair and pain scraped through his soul—the bear spirit’s punishment for him not honoring his gift, not visiting his distant ancestor.

Any words that might have made sense dissolved themselves into screams and grunts of torture, leaving nothing but a mindless shell.

* * *

Coming to sometime later, Peter found himself flung in a cell.  A cold and damp one, with a filthy mattress and blanket by the side.  Whoever had shoved him in here didn’t bother to place him on said bed, but straight onto the stone floor instead.  A tiny, framed window let in cold air above the bed, and was only big enough for an arm to stick through.

Great.  Well, at least the pain had faded to a memory.  Ready to return at some point next month as a pleasant reminder of all the things he couldn’t have as an exile.  And the thing his daughter would have if connected to him.

He couldn’t see out of the cell door unless he moved the slit, and he did so, peering through the dimness to a brightly lit corridor that looked like part of the factory.  Hadn’t moved him far, then.  Not that this was any comfort.  Is this where some of the workers went?  The ones who we thought quit their jobs?

He felt too weak to do anything other than sit there sullenly, trying to get his brain to work at full speed again.  And consider the events that led him to this room.

Betrayal by Tork.  Perhaps Callum as well.  They sold the information he gave them on Kiara and Leah.  On his interactions with Arlen.  He felt suddenly, terribly alone at the thought.  No one left to stand up for him.  The people he cared about, traitors or locked up or worse.

Though if they hadn’t risen against him, he would have spied against them for the sake of his family.

“Fuck you all,” he hissed from between his teeth, wanting nothing more than to start banging the door and yelling.

He knew Gerran to be an ambitious slimeball.  Same as all the exiled nobility.  First Gilnes, then Marcas, and now Gerran.  People like Peter were tools to be manipulated, tools to be turned against homeowners and families, all for the sake of upping their profits, while keeping his wages low.

And he’d told himself it didn’t matter, he didn’t care.  He needed the money, he couldn’t get it elsewhere, so whatever.  If they paid, they paid, and he wasn’t about to cry about how potentially immoral it might be.

Slumping against the door, back pressed against the cold metal, Peter dabbed at his sweating head, soaked from the spirit pain that had wracked his body previously.

Fuck you, bear spirit.  I’d visit you if I was allowed, but I’m not.  Don’t fucking punish me for something I have no control over.

Don’t punish him because he dared to try and have a family.  Kiara flashed into his mind.  Smiling with her thin, tasteful lips.  Tossing back her dark hair.  Giving him an admiring stare.  Saying yes when he wanted to try out a relationship.  All things burned positively into his skin.  And Leah, so excited by all the gifts he gave her, so eager to see him, to speak to him, to spend time with him.

Two short months and a bit.  That was all the time they had.  Less than that.  A few hours every week.  A total run time shorter than most relationships.

Yet he looked forward to the visits.  He entertained the idea of making it something more.  Of being important to someone in a way he’d never been before.

And just like that, they wanted to tear it away from him.  He risked listening to Arlen, he risked his boss’s wrath—just to secure a better future for all of them.

Now his future looked like a locked cell with a manky bed, along with a stale, unpleasant odor, a cold, unforgiving gust from the tiny window, and the distant clangs and rumbles of the factory.

He didn’t know how long he remained sitting there, brooding and pissed off, wondering just what exactly Gerran had in mind.  His thoughts liked to fixate on torture and suffering to his eternal misery, because he saw nothing but bad outcomes.

It would have been better if he’d never reached out at all.  Just acted like he never recognized Kiara, or not allowed himself to get drawn in by the notion of a small, needy child wanting her father, and wanting someone to share the burden of bear shifting with her.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, at first blending in enough with the background noise for him to doubt what he heard, and then igniting to life when they became louder and more distinct.  Someone was coming for him.  Or maybe someone else locked up in one of the little rows of cells.

It has to be me.  He licked his lips nervously and backed away from the door after closing the gap.  He couldn’t fit a transformation through the door, but by hell, he’d fight if he needed to.

Eyes appeared through the slit, cold and dark.  “If you’re going to attack us when we open the door, we’ll come back next week.”

Callum.  Peter hadn’t heard any other footsteps other than one pair.  Perhaps he was losing his touch…

“Are you in on it as well?  Getting paid a little bit extra to ruin one more family?  This time, mine?”  He raised his voice at the end, and it cracked from the strain.

“Believe it or not, it wasn’t my choice.  When the boss says he’ll kill your son, you’re going to stop him from doing so by making sure he gets what he wants.”  Callum didn’t have the wheedling tone Tork preferred to adopt when justifying himself.  There was no inflection in it at all, as if the soul had been leeched out of him.  “As a sign of good faith, the boss wants you united with your partner and child.  And to tell you this: he’s not a monster.  He just needs to take precautions.”

“Then why am I in a cell?”

Callum had no answer to that but got to work unlocking the door.  Tork followed, sheepishly leading Peter out of the dank little cell.

“Can’t disobey orders,” Tork mumbled, sweating profusely, refusing to look anywhere else but at his shoes.  “Nothing personal.”

“Feels pretty fucking personal to me,” Peter snapped, anger boiling in his stomach.  He seethed at the notion of his friends betraying him.  It didn’t matter how much he related to their philosophies.  He still hated they had been used against him, hated that they didn’t have enough backbone to resist.

They could have done something different from him.  But they didn’t.  As much as he wanted to meet Kiara and Leah as well, he dreaded in a way doing so, not fully able to know what kind of compromising position he’d find them in.  For all he knew, they could have been tortured to check if they were spies.  Suffered in the hands of cruel, hard men who didn’t give a fig about anyone but themselves.

Sounded pretty familiar to himself, once upon a time.

Chapter Nine – Kiara

Somehow, Leah had fallen asleep.  Kiara didn’t have the presence of mind to do the same, constantly worrying about potentially waking up and discovering Leah had been snatched from her, suffering under some nameless bastard’s hands.  The stress wore her out and left her mind frazzled.

Well, at least they had a nice room to wait in, she supposed.  Big double bed, tasteful purple curtains contrasting with the plain white, a dresser, mirror… it looked like a modest woman’s bedroom at first glance.  Though Kiara couldn’t imagine any modest woman being okay with this.  Leah slumbered on the bed in Kiara’s arms, to the point where her heat became sticky and uncomfortable to be against.  Eventually, despite her heavy misgivings, Kiara did fall asleep.

Waking up to the sound of the door opening, she saw Peter being ushered in, followed by the two men who had captured her.

Wordlessly, he stalked over to them, angry and relieved at the same time.  His arms enveloped her and covered Leah, and he whispered, “I’m so sorry about this.  Seems my own friends decided to sell me out.”  She caught more than a hint of bitterness behind his words.  She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling for the first time a sense of hope, though she didn’t want to let it burn too brightly, lest she find herself losing it all.

“Have you been captured, too?  Or are you free?”

“Captured,” Peter said.  “And I’ve been staying in a far less pleasant place than you.  Didn’t even give me smokes.”  He frowned.  “Or put me on a bed.  And I want to apologize.  They took you two because of me.  Because I’ve been talking with Arlen and she wanted to make a deal for Leah...”

“Wait, what?”  Kiara shrugged herself out of his embrace, glaring at him.  “Say that again?”

He grimaced, before telling her about Arlen and a man called Enyeto, following swiftly with how he’d confided in his friends some of his troubles, only to have them turn on him because they were threatened.

“It’s what they do here at this accursed factory.  We work here, and we better be damn grateful that we do.  For most of us, it’s the last place we can get an official job in Valor Lake before we get pushed out.  And if we get pushed out...” he shivered.  “It’s painful.”

“I really don’t get it,” Kiara said, absently stroking Leah’s hair as her daughter stirred from the noise, registering her father in front of her.  “Why is it so difficult just to leave and get a job elsewhere?  You know you can work out of town, right?  Come back at the end of the day?  Or just plain well leave it?”

Peter’s face momentarily clouded over, as if he hadn’t considered working out of town before.  The two men behind him shared similar expressions, and Kiara began to dimly realize that these people were practically spoon fed that they needed to stay.

“To be honest… I hadn’t really thought of that.”  He rubbed the back of his head, awkward and embarrassed.  “They always sell it here that unless you’re in Valor Lake, you’re a failure.  And our boss here keeps telling us that we have nowhere else to go...”

“That’s because he wants to control you,” Kiara said bluntly, starting to feel a great deal of anger about the situation.  These idiots were like people running around in a glass bowl, unaware of how easy it would be to step outside, because they were too focused on their own problems.  “You leave—problem solved.  No more drama or whatever.”

“It is true,” Callum said hesitantly from the corner of the room, causing both Peter and Kiara to deliver a death stare in his direction, “that we can’t leave for long.  We… get something.  I don’t think Peter has told you this, but there’s a grotto of the bear spirit in Valor Lake.  The same one that gives us our powers.  If we don’t make regular visits to it… it physically hurts us.  We get pain all through our bodies.”

“And we get it as regular as a woman’s periods,” Tork added with a scowl, one of his feet tapping nervously upon the ground.  “Them stinking families don’t let us have access to the bear spirit.  So we have to go through the pains regularly.  These pains get more intense if we move away.  The closer we are to the source… the better.”  The younger man smiled grimly.  “I moved to Florida, trying to get away.  Let’s just say after a week spent in burning agony in a hospital bed, instead of a few hours if we’re in Valor Lake… I wanted to move back sharpish.”

“Pain?”  Kiara puzzled over the implication.  All the men looked deadly serious, though she kept half hoping one of them would burst out, “Just kidding!”

Of course, no one did.  “You mean, like, actual pain?”

“Yes,” Peter said.  He appeared extremely reluctant to admit this little fact.  “It’s something all bear shifters with ties to Valor Lake experience.  We have this… gift.  Curse.  Whatever you want to see it as.  And it gives us these powers—but we have to pay homage to the spirit.  And if we can’t visit the spirit… then we get intense pain every now and then.  Like an epileptic fit, I suppose.  It’s why being exiled is awful, because the families just cut off access to the grotto.  They leave protection around it at all points.”

The words continued to float idly around Kiara’s mind, until they settled in her skull with an awful realization.  “Will Leah… will she go through this pain?”

Guilt shone in Peter’s eyes.  “It’s why I tried… I tried to get Arlen to help.  She promised—Enyeto Valor would pretend Leah was his child.  She could be ‘legitimate,’ and not have the stigma of being associated with me.”

“So you were going to betray the boss,” Tork said, eyes wide.  “No way would they have happily let you do that without something to help them out.”

“That doesn’t make what you’ve done any better,” Peter snapped at his friend, and the shifter shrank into himself.

“Wait...”  Kiara rubbed her aching head.  “You tried to get a fake father for Leah, because of this pain… behind my back?”

Peter gave a half shrug, turning his gaze onto Leah, who stared just as intently back at him.  Both looked so similar, despite the gender and age difference.  Same stubborn tint to their faces, same eye color, same hair color…

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said eventually.

“You suppose so?”  Kiara grabbed Peter by the arm, forcing him to look into her eyes.  “Ever occurred to you to tell the damn truth?  Just say what the issue is with being her father, explain about this spirit pain thing, and let us know… instead of doing crap behind our backs?”

“It’s not something you’d understand,” he said.  Kiara wanted to slap him on both cheeks.

“But you never gave me a chance to even try to understand.  You just assumed.  Do you think so little of me that I wouldn’t listen?”  A thought occurred to her.  “Do you think so little of yourself that you don’t think anyone would want to listen to you?”

Those words seemed to strike a nerve.  He flinched slightly, annoyed, and backed away from her.  The bed creaked, losing the weight, and he ran a hand through his dark blond hair.  “That’s not it at all.  I was doing what was best for all of us—”

“—As much as I appreciate this little chit chat you all have going on, time’s ticking.”  A new, low voice penetrated the room.  Someone Kiara didn’t recognize.  It wasn’t the driver from the van, but someone who appeared a little similar.  A man in a black tuxedo, gray stripes in his hair like a badger’s, and eyes as dark as abysses.  “This is all very touching.  A long-lost family united.  Noble sacrifices all made in the name of love.  How insufferably sweet.”

Peter growled.  Leah stiffened in Kiara’s arms.  Callum and Tork both exchanged wary glances, parting to let their boss in.

“What the fuck do you want?” Peter snarled.  Kiara wondered if he was close to transformation, close to falling upon this man and attacking.  A part of her longed for that scenario, to see the man crumble under his own machinations when they bit back.  Peter remained still, however, but a menace.

“It’s really quite simple,” Gerran said, wearing a faint, smug smile.  “I would like to recruit your entire family to counter-spy against the main families.  Whatever deal they’re offering, I can do one better.  I did have to make sure you were all in the same location, of course.”

“Any reason why you couldn’t just ask us directly?” Kiara asked, starting to get seriously pissed off with these people’s lack of ability to explain anything.

“Well, honestly… I was planning just to kill all three of you,” Gerran said lightly, adjusting one of his silver cufflinks.  “Too much of a liability, you know?  But some particularly pathetic begging from these two here...” he gestured towards Tork and Callum, who both looked at the ground, downcast, “…and I began to see some merit in sparing you.  I revised the plans.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” Kiara said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  She moved herself into a sitting position, with Leah’s head cradled protectively on her lap.  Leah made a small noise.  A sob or a sniff.  Kiara didn’t know, but she didn’t take her attention away from this predatory factory owner.

“I need to find out what happened to Marcas.  The owner of this place.  I am of the belief that he is not dead, but captive.  And I’d like you, Peter, to use whatever influence you have to find out.  Your lovely partner and daughter, if they are part of some package deal the Valors are doing… then carry on with it.  Access to the main family homes would be ideal.  They have a lot of nasty little cells in their basements, you know?”

“Wait,” Peter said.  “You want us to spy on the people who want to spy on you?”

“In a nutshell.”  Gerran’s eyes flickered, and he appeared about ten years older in that moment.  “Marcas had a spot in the wilderness somewhere.  A very special spot.  He went there for quiet weekends, taking his helicopter and parking it in random locations around the reservation.  Something he didn’t mention, and he’s been rather tight-lipped on the secret, is that he found a way to deal with the pain.  Another way to access the bear spirit, if you will.  One he very rudely didn’t share with the rest of us.”

Something changed in the atmosphere.  All bear shifters held a kind of desperate gleam to their expressions at the mention of Gerran’s words.

“And you’re telling us… why?”  Peter wore heavy suspicion, but his body quivered in anticipation.

“If you find Marcas, you are welcome to extract the secret from him.  I’m sure he’d be prepared to do so, too...”  Gerran closed his eyes.  “We must be free of the main families.  We can’t be beholden to them.  And… attacking, killing anyone to access the grotto… within the very lands of the bear spirit… let us say… the bear spirit will not be kind to those who do.”

Silence fell as they digested the words.  Kiara’s heart perked slightly.  It really didn’t seem like this Gerran intended to kill them.

At least, right now he didn’t.  Nothing to be said for the past or the future.  Didn’t seem like they had a bunch of options to disagree with Gerran, given they were under his power, and he had proven just how easily he could take them and dispose of them without anyone knowing.

Maybe he intended this all along but wanted to cultivate the image of someone who sacrificed pawns in the blink of an eye.

Not that she’d know, because she didn’t intend to ask.  Just in case he changed his mind on a whim because of pride.  These people did seem a tiny bit volatile.

Over the next few minutes, it sank in that Gerran really did intend to let them go.  All for the cost of being a spy.  Of risking the wrath and anger of the main families some more.

Could be worse.

Callum and Tork slunk away with their metaphorical tails between their legs, not wanting to face up to their shame.  Gerran bowed them out, but not without a final reminder that they would seriously regret it if they double crossed him—and Peter, Kiara and Leah went back to Peter’s cabin, made drinks, and sat around the table in the small, dark and warm home, unable to address their new dilemma.

“This was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid,” Peter said eventually, with a sigh.  He looked rough and broken, and in severe need of a shower.  Leah casually flicked through the cards of her game, wearing a mask on her face that didn’t reveal what churned in her little mind.

“Congratulations,” Kiara said, toasting him with her teacup.  “It didn’t work.  And you were going to spy on that guy.”

“I had to,” he said, eyes wild.  “If I told you—the whole truth—how long do you think it’d be before you left me anyway?  It’s not exactly fun news, hearing that your kid or whatever is going to suffer hours of excruciating torture every month because she won’t be allowed to see the spirit—”

Kiara pointed at Leah, who sat staring at them with wide, frightened eyes.

“Aw, crap,” he said, holding his face in his hands.

“Oh crap, indeed,” Kiara said, privately hoping Leah wouldn’t pick up too many bad habits from them.  As much as she wanted to shield her daughter from the words, a part of her realized Leah needed to hear this.  She needed to understand just what exactly awaited her.  That was also the whole point of enabling these interactions.  Not just to get to know her father, but to understand what it meant to be a bear shifter.  And an exiled one at that.

And… Arlen had offered a deal.  With some other guy.  To pretend to be Leah’s father so that she wouldn’t be cut off like Peter was.  They certainly prioritized some different things.  She felt like she couldn’t quite keep up.  That this wasn’t a world meant for her.  The bear shifters should keep their secrets.

Except she couldn’t exactly abandon Leah to the void, since Leah was tied to those secrets.  She eyed her daughter now, frowning as she continued looking at her cards, perhaps thinking of something to say about the conversation concerning her.  Or perhaps pretending she didn’t hear it, because she didn’t like the words spoken.

“Daddy wants me to have a fake daddy… so I don’t have pain.  Is this right?”

“More or less,” Peter said politely, making an effort to remain calm.

“But the mean man needs us to spy on the fake daddy… and the fake daddy needs us to spy on the mean man?”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Peter said, a smile now twitching at the corner of his lips.  Kiara didn’t exactly think this whole reaction appropriate for the dire issue at hand.  Except… it was nice to see Peter smile.  The way he regarded Leah… the way he regarded Kiara… not exactly things she wanted to toss away.  For the first time, she really felt like they were part of a complete family.  Sitting here, worrying about an issue that affected them.  Stuck in the middle of a bad dream—but stuck in that bad dream together.

“We can do both,” Leah said.  “Just tell the fake daddy what you’ve been asked to do.”

“I don’t think it works like that, kid,” Peter said in a rather gloomy tone.

Leah shook her head stubbornly.  “Arlen is nice.  She will help.”

“If they are holding Marcas hostage, though… I imagine they won’t want to have anything to do with us if we mention he’s our primary target,” Peter said.

“Maybe be a super super super spy.  Like a spy who spies but is spying and spying so that no one knows who is spying on who.”

Kiara blinked, trying to register her daughter’s words.  “You mean… double cross the double crosser by being honest about the double crossing?”

“Maybe?”  Leah appeared slightly confused by her own attempt to reason.  Peter let out a little snort.

“I don’t think it works like that.  We’re just going to have to be careful.  I might...” Peter made a slight smile, though tinged with anxiety, “I think it would be better perhaps if we stayed away from visits like this.  I could come over to you two instead.  Things are a bit shit—er—bad when it comes to the family drama.  And I’m now right in the middle of it all, so…”

He put on such a dejected expression, like he fully expected someone to just throw him away on the garbage heap, that she suppressed a maniacal urge to laugh.

“You’ll need to head off home now, I think...”

That mix of noble suffering and sacrifice on Peter’s face was starting to get on Kiara’s nerves.

“What are you thinking we’re gonna do?  We won’t leave you, Peter.  In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re family now.  Family do things together.  Including facing shit together.”

And to be honest, it is exciting… knowing there’s a little bit of danger.

His dejected expression vanished in an instant.  “But… I thought… after you’ve seen how dangerous it is, there would be no way you’d want to keep coming back.”

“Just shut up.”  She scraped her chair back, went over to him, seized his hair, and forced him into a surprise kiss.

The resistance from him crumbled noticeably at that point.  She didn’t do it for long, not in front of Leah—and since Leah clamored to have a kiss as well, Kiara obliged, as did Peter.  Each gave her a kiss upon the forehead, which she pretended was gross and horrible, yet clearly enjoying the attention.

Kids.  A strange, elated feeling welled up in Kiara.  This was the right decision.  Staying with Peter, who was prepared to give up his own happiness for Leah’s and hers… he’d taken the father role like a duck to water.

But… if he was stewing in guilt about going behind her back, she thought that she might let him stew for a while longer.

Couldn’t let him feel too happy about her choice, since he did technically do some stupid shit behind her back.

Sure was nice to see the smile on his face, though, mirroring Leah’s.

“Nice dress you’re wearing, by the way,” Peter said.

All Kiara could do was laugh.

Chapter Ten – Peter

He woke up to the smell of a human sleeping next to him.  One coated with a little bit of city grime, a little bit of a summery perfume, and the faint musk of experienced pleasure.  Moonlight poured in from the window like molten silver, and her breaths were quiet and steady.  His heart instantly soared, before he registered what had woken him up.  A numb, tingling arm slowly losing all life due to being used as a pillow.  Gingerly, he teased his arm out from under her, hoping not to wake her up, since he still felt pretty groggy, and she might want to have sex yet again.  He didn’t think himself up to the task of denying it, either.

Leah slept in his former single bed.  The newly purchased double, in anticipation of them coming around more often and Kiara wanting to share the bed with him, certainly turned out to be a great investment.  All he got the night before was a mischievous grin when she spotted the bed, right before getting to business.  He could think of worse reactions.

Carefully massaging his freed arm, he wriggled his fingers, before slowly edging his arm over her and pressing his nose into her hair.  Slowly, he allowed his mind to drift off to sleep again, and he considered buying the expansion to the game Leah liked so much.  She wasn’t very good at it, so they had to keep repeating a lot of the “games,” and he kind of wanted to spice things up a little better.

Noises like the creaking of wood and the hot grunts from a warm body occupied his dozing.

Crack.

Wait.  This wasn’t part of a dream.  His sensitive ears picked up on noises outside.

He slid out of bed, again silently praying that she wouldn’t wake, before padding over to where he believed the noises were coming from.  The back door to his cabin.

I should look into moving elsewhere, he thought irritably.  Practically everyone knew where he lived, and he didn’t like it in the slightest.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, he unlocked the door, stepped through, and began transformation.

Not a second too soon, either, as he’d barely finished before a weight slammed into him, raking and tearing and biting with sharp points everywhere.  The thickness of his fur and bulk prevented what would have been a fatal injury on a human.  They crashed against the wall before he forced the attacker away, all snapping teeth and swipes.  It became a kind of mute wrestling match at that point—the enemy bear didn’t growl, just tried to rip into him, and Peter didn’t exactly waste his breaths either.  A flash of pain in the darkness, in the stink of wet fur and hot breath and the slip of soil.  His shoulder sang with pain; the bear had sunk teeth into it and now attempted to toss his head to impact the injury further.  Peter took the opportunity to ignore the pain and seize the enemy bear’s neck with his teeth.

Biting down savagely, the pressure on his shoulder slackened, and he continued to hold his deadly grip on the bear’s neck, even as a burst of coppery liquid coated his tongue.

He let go when the movements stopped, lumbering backwards to see his foe transform—because it had to be another bear shifter.  The face beneath him melted into a naked man with light blond hair.

Not one he recognized.  Just as he transformed back into human form, he noticed Kiara standing at the doorway behind him.  In the dim light of the porch, she appeared frightened.  “He tried to attack you?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, self-consciously spitting and wiping his mouth.  He didn’t want her to see him looking savage and brutal.  But if anything, she seemed slightly fascinated by the sight.

“Do you know this person?”

Peter shook his head, still trying to calm his racing heart.  His shoulder throbbed and felt hot and sticky.  Kiara noticed as well, because she let out a small gasp.  “You’re hurt.  Do we need to call the hospital?  Is it bad?”

“No hospital.”  He strode past her, quickly checking his injury in the bathroom mirror.  He didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed of his naked body—she’d seen more than enough of it, but damn, that injury looked nasty.  Kiara hovered anxiously by his side, bringing alcohol swabbing and bandages, leaving an increasing pile of bloody white cleaning tissues until finally the injury was covered with adhesive bandages.

“I’m going to have to contact Arlen,” he said with a growl.  “See if she knows who this intruder is.”

Both of them flashed grim expressions at one another.  It amazed Peter for a moment just how prepared this woman was to be with him.  That instead of screaming about her safety, she had rushed to tend to him.  Instead of balking about the body now outside their back door, she accepted it with a sort of grim fatalism.  Something a lot of the bear shifters had.

It did something to the psyche, being in Valor Lake.  Regular human rules didn’t have as much sway.  Tooth, nail, claw and families had power.  Survival of the fittest.  And the fittest dictated how the rest could live by limiting access to the one thing they were bound to.

Not exactly a place for the faint-hearted.

Chapter Eleven – Kiara

Another day, another hour where no one targeted them and tried to murder them.  Perhaps Kiara had gained her wish for a little more excitement in life stronger than anticipated.  Being with the strong, confident Peter was one thing.  Getting all gooey-hearted over the fact he genuinely cared for Leah, another.  And then there was assassination attempts, apparently a part of everyday life.

“Survival of the fittest,” Peter said, like it wasn’t a big deal that someone turned up at his cabin late at night to try and murder him.  Or that their cabin had been targeted once before, and she got shipped off in a van with her daughter.  Leah already treated it like some huge and fun adventure, and Kiara went along with it, because ultimately, she didn’t want to lose Peter, or the connection to this magical world.  She didn’t want to lose romance, and a second chance to do things the right way, when she’d messed up before, and gotten kicked out of her family home for it.

Right now, Kiara and Peter stood by the side in the Valor mansion backyard, as Enyeto and Arlen, along with a newcomer, Joel Witsel, grimly identified the dead body.

“This is a Witsel,” Joel said in his calm, deep voice, his square jaw taut with anger.  Kiara’s attention briefly went over some organized flower beds, fancy little garden benches with snaking ivy, and a peculiar collection of gnomes gathered around a small pond, where a few koi carp swam lazily within.  “An exiled one, to be exact.  We haven’t heard from him in months.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Peter said.  Kiara thought about her daughter, currently at school, with Betty promising to pick her up afterwards.

“So this guy was sent by Gerran?”  Kiara tried to wrap her head around the potential information.

“Not necessarily,” Peter replied.  “Not all exiles end up working for him.  Sometimes recent exiles try to ingratiate themselves back into a family’s good graces by targeting enemies of that family.  Since I work for Gerran, I would be considered an enemy.”

“Does that work?”  Kiara stared at him, slightly horrified by the revelation.

“Sometimes,” Joel said, cutting into the conversation.  “There have been a handful of exiles who have made it back into the fold.  But it’s not exactly an impressive number...”

“And what drives them to do things like this?”  Kiara folded her arms, averting her attention away from the body, and the towel draped over its lower half.

“The fact that we control access to the bear spirit,” Arlen replied.  “I assume you’ve already been told about this.”

Peter began to speak, but Kiara cut him off.  “We know that you have Marcas.”

Alarm flickered in Arlen’s eyes, along with a sharp glance from Joel and Enyeto.

“Kiara, what are you—”

She shut up Peter with a hiss, before plunging on with, “We know that Marcas has access to another shrine.  And that you’ve been keeping him to try and figure out that access.  Gerran wants us to try and rescue him and extract the information ourselves.  Apparently this Marcas doesn’t like to share the knowledge.”

Peter let out a strained groan, as if he expected them to be murdered on the spot.  Joel seemed to increase his size, appearing more threatening.  Enyeto let out a snort of amusement.

“Guess you guys know a lot more than we intended,” Enyeto said.  “We also didn’t intend this Gerran to know so much, either...”

“That’s the thing,” Arlen said, appearing deeply uncomfortable with what she planned to do.  She kept finding things to fiddle with, from her glasses to her sleeves to the edges of her shirt.  “They—the Maguires, I mean—they’ve been trying to get out of Marcas the location for the new grotto.  The secret one the bear spirit goes to.  They want control of it, so...” she gave a sigh, “so they can continue to have us split into exiles and true bloods.”

Power, Kiara thought with disgust.  It always came down to damn power.  These people absolutely hated sharing it, apparently.

“Can’t you let it go?”  Her question came out pleading, and her thoughts flickered to Leah, imagining her being in pain.  Perhaps a pain like that crucio curse from Harry Potter that she so loved.  Perhaps something far worse.  “Can’t you just… let people have access?”

“Then what power do our families have?” Enyeto said.  “With us in control, we can keep things secret.  But if we’re not in control, how long do you think it’ll take before everything changes?  We have had power for centuries, through the generations.  It’s not something we will let go.”

“Change happens,” Kiara said to them, pitying them for a moment.  “You don’t have to like it.  Factories get built.  Trees destroyed, new ones grown.  People look for answers for their situations, not wanting to stay idle with their lot.  And it seems to me that the cruelest form of your control is to deny people access to the very thing they are made out of.”  She gave a mocking laugh.  “I bet when you talked to this spirit, it was all, ‘Sure, control my entrance so only the ones you like get to see me.  That’s why I gave you power.’”

Peter stared at Kiara as though she had grown an extra head.  Kiara’s heart pounded a mile a minute, and her hands shook from the nervousness that accompanied the tirade.

The three bear shifters, Valor and Maguire and Witsel, all gave one another long glances.  Then, with a determined set to their faces, they turned back to Kiara and Peter.

“It seems,” Arlen said softly, taking off her glasses, “that we have a lot to discuss.”

Epilogue – Peter

Change certainly did happen.  Arlen and Joel and Enyeto, against their better judgments, apparently, wanted to consider the idea of allowing the exiles access to a new shrine.  Of course, it still meant pumping the information out of their captive, Marcas.

They couldn’t propose to allow them access to the main grotto.  None of the elders would stand for it.  But a secret one?  Perhaps.

Honestly, Peter felt amazed that he had somehow gotten away with telling the truth to both Gerran and Arlen.  Both knew he was being manipulated into a spy position.

Also, Arlen no longer seemed to hate him quite as intensely as before.

“It’s the little improvements,” Kiara whispered to Peter, snuggling up to him.  They were due to look into Marcas later.  Arlen informed them earlier that Marcas was kept in a luxury cell.  They weren’t torturing him endlessly like savages.  But they didn’t plan to free him anytime soon.  They had yet to hash out the details, but Enyeto thought it might be an idea for them to stage a rescue.  If Marcas ended up being the lesser of the evils they had to deal with on the exile side.  And if Peter succeeded in the rescue, then he would be in Gerran’s good books for sure.

“I still can’t believe it,” Peter said, tugging the duvet over himself and Kiara more thoroughly, sharing their body heat.  “It feels like a dream this is happening.  I have a partner, a daughter, a chance to visit the bear spirit, and the chance to be… favored by both the families and the exiles.  This is a weird position to be in.”

“A good one, though.  Looks like we’re about to bring change,” Kiara said softly to Peter.  “And people will no longer have to be afraid of being exiled.  The families can’t control your spirits this way anymore.  As for the factories… seems they’re going to have to accept them.”  Kiara looked into the distance beyond the bedroom window, where the fumes marred the atmosphere.  “I don’t pretend I like them myself.  But they do give people jobs.  Might have to do something about the ones who run them, though...”

“We’ll get somewhere with them,” Peter said with a glint of determination.  He clutched Kiara’s hand and gave her a deep, intense kiss, thinking of all the years they had missed together, and all the potential years they would now spend catching up.

All the years he missed in seeing Leah grow.  But he’d at least get to see her grow up into an adult.

To think that it all started without him knowing he had a child.  A one-night stand that resulted in something wonderful.  Something that came to seek him out all these years later.

Something that meant he would never have to worry about being alone again.  A family.  A real family, ready and waiting.  All he had to do was to reach out and take it.

He watched Kiara’s eyes fluttering closed, with a fond, warm smile upon his face.

He planned to reach out with both hands, seize the moment, and never look back.

Joel’s Mate

Bears of Valor Lake

Book 4

Chapter One – Teresa

It was a lonely job, but a good one. Summer blazed through the stuffy window, slowly heating up the single room where Teresa was bound for one long month. She didn’t mind the wages, and certainly not the isolation—she was in a stage of her life where she needed it, before life drove her insane. Lack of a phone signal in these parts also meant imposed isolation from the internet, though she could still activate her laptop for basic offline activities.

No internet was good, though.

Her blue-sheeted cot lay in the corner of the open floor room, with a small desk of drawers for all her clothes—no wardrobe. The whole place held a woody, rustic smell. The toilet cubicle sat in a small stall, with a shower so tightly packed into it that the hose would spray the toilet if left in its normal position. Tinned supplies and noodles and snacks clogged up the cupboards beneath the sink, but the most interesting monument of all was the bookcase next to the desk where she filled in her daily reports, squeezed with books written one year ago to a hundred years ago.

Outside spanned a vast, beautiful wilderness of green and brown and gray, along with speckles of flowers. People didn’t often venture into this part of Valor Lake, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t. It also meant that if people were in danger, her little tower, with her radio, was the only point of contact. She could reach main base with it and send help if needed. But only if they accessed the right signal. All adventurers in Valor Lake were warned about this, and given the exact frequency, but that didn’t mean they necessarily… followed.

Sure, the outside did seem disgustingly beautiful, with nature dominating and all that, with the heady and sweet air, not a trace of contaminants in it, and the rolling slopes, trees, meadows, and snowcapped mountains. But it did get a tiny bit boring after a while. Probably why they offered a fairly decent wage for the job.

Fire Lookout. And general idiot lookout and putting-out-idiots’-campfires lookout, too. She did the job once before in her gap year before university. Now she did it again at thirty, an entirely different time in her life, but the craving to sort out her head the same.

Best part about the nature spotting probably came down to the nature part. And really, hell of a lot of nature out there.

I could do this every summer, she thought. Forced separation from the world. No one to judge her, laugh at her bad sense of fashion, or to hear her parents sigh disapprovingly when she didn’t make the choices they wanted.

Especially when it came to Jack.

Her stomach dropped somewhere into her boots, just thinking about him.

Jack was the true reason why she was out here now, isolated, a grown, thirty-year-old woman like herself, still chased by her parents despite moving out almost twelve years ago.

Sure, he’d not been a great choice. Sure, maybe he drank a little bit too much with his mates, liked taking recreational drugs when with them (not an addict though, he swore), and maybe he wished she was a better person. But damnit, she loved him. She put up with his sins for a twist of those lips and a twinkle in his dark eyes. And there were enough happy moments…

She took deep, gulping breaths.

Good riddance, her parents had said when the police found his body at one of the bars he liked to go to. Dead of an overdose of badly mixed drugs. He was never good for you, anyway.

Good fucking job she didn’t tell them she was fucking pregnant, then.

Did mean that she eventually signed herself up for an abortion, knowing that her parents would not want to help support Jack’s child. But every day after that, she carried a weight in her womb and chest and throat, and it didn’t quite go away.

She needed the isolation again. Nothing but nature for miles around, and the only voices in her ear the fellow lookouts, rangers, and a few disgruntled campers.

Teresa continued to stare, moody and numb, at the wilds, before perking up. Two bears ambled around the nearby stream, splashing in the waters.

She saw a lot of bears in these parts. The instructor told her never to leave the tower without her guns and protection, though she noticed that the shy creatures preferred to outright avoid her if she left the confines of the tower to inspect signs of smoke, or when the other lookouts reported to her that some people were trekking in the area, and if they hadn’t reported back at the regular intervals they were supposed to.

These bears seemed smaller than the ones from the other day. Juveniles, perhaps. Lighter shade to their coats, too. She grabbed the binoculars lying on the desk and held them to her eyes to catch a better glimpse of the animals.

Her thoughts strayed for a second, and with that straying came another stab of sadness.

It could have been Jack and her child here, watching the world go by. Jack if he wasn’t constantly trying to impress his friends. Her son or daughter if her parents would have approved. She never told her parents about the unborn child, and didn’t plan to, but it sucked, really. Having this kind of burden. Knowing the world wouldn’t take it away, because she couldn’t exactly travel back in time and change the choices she made now. She was stuck with all the bones of her failed choices, and she needed this time off.

To clear her thoughts. Process everything without the hustle and bustle of everyday life and the stress of making money. Nothing but nature for her to howl at.

And maybe those cute little bears. She continued watching them for a while, her binoculars pressed into her eyes, until a faint eye-ache developed from the limited view.

“Hello, hello, this is ranger Steven calling… over.”

She reached over for her receiver, answering Steven’s message. “Hey, Steven. Trouble at your tower? Over.”

“No trouble at mine, just bored. There is, however, possible trouble. I’m to send you a message that Susan lost contact with a couple of guys who were supposed to be camping in her area. She thinks they might have made it into your area. Over.”

Teresa glanced at the bears playing in the nearby stream, slight unease creeping over her. “I hope not, we have a lot of bears in the vicinity at the moment. Over.”

Steven’s voice came back, a tint of worry in his gruff tones. “Keep your ears peeled. Any sign of trouble, relay to me, and I’ll get back to Susan. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.”

Well, no point going out there and looking. No hard evidence these “guys” were in her vicinity, but if they tried to radio for help, she’d be the nearest contact. She pressed her elbows against the hard, wooden desk, bobbed the head of her bobble pug, examining the bears below. Trying not to imagine any kinds of horror scenarios.

“We’ve had in total four hundred deaths over the last thirty years,” Khaled had told her. She remembered him from twelve years prior, too, when he first introduced her to the role. Statistically, that meant around thirteen people a year lost to animal attacks, bad falls, exposure, possible hunting accidents. The statistic supposedly was higher around winter time. “Lot more lonely people thinking about ending it all,” he’d said. “When all the families are snuggling up nice and cozy together, that’s when it becomes more clear how lonely they are.”

Teresa wondered if she’d ever be in that situation. One Christmas, when, for whatever reason, she didn’t go over to her parents, probably because she didn’t want to hear them question about what she was doing with her life, or to hear her ancient grandmother demand great-grandchildren before she died. Maybe she’d just sit there, listening to people singing carols, all those Christmas movies on television, all that good spirit going around and happy endings, thinking about how a happy ending didn’t wait for her…

Well, she’d probably not decide to end it by walking through the Valor mountains and dying up there. Too much energy and effort required. Plus, the actual thought of death sent a cold and clammy shiver through her that iced out her stomach and left her breathless and claustrophobic if she lingered on it too long.

No, she’d be too much of a coward to go through with something like that.

The fact I’m even thinking like this can’t be a good sign… Teresa shook her head, trying to remember what made her happy. Reese’s peanut butter. McDonald’s nuggets when freshly made, not when they’d gone slightly stale after a few hours. The fine dining restaurant with the tiny slice of steak and the decorative orange and green drizzle. Long walks in the city park, the rope swing over the river, and Jack when sober and smiling…

Books worked, too. She tried one now, turning the kettle on to pour over her pack of noodles. Listening all the while for a call to be made to her receiver, or someone to hit her radio frequency.

You’d think, after two years, I’d have gotten over him. She had to re-read the same sentence several times to register it properly. Her fingers quivered as she turned over a musty page.

She hadn’t gotten over it, really. That was the whole point of being here.

She thought the isolation would help. Away from city chatter, the approach of friends and family and colleagues, of distracting herself through work and concerns. Even though some concerns boiled in her mind somewhere, usually related to finance and legitimate worries about the future, she was determined not to make them the focal point of today.

Touching the edges of her sadness, however, stung. These were wounds not used to extensive prodding. The hollow in her gut threatened to spread and overwhelm. It was a secret barely anyone knew, and the process of locking it up slowly consumed her from within.

Jack’s face swam into view. A small nose, abrasive features, and a brooding darkness in his gaze that allured her. She tried to hold onto that memory most of all, and not everything else that followed. Or the desperate scramble to stay in his good graces.

A heavy, sickening feeling pulsed through her. All of the frustrations inside her, countered by Jack’s reasons for what he did. He wasn’t neglecting her, he was just tired, angry, missed his friends, needed time alone, needed her to stop bothering him all the while.

She tried then to imagine him as a father. Him smiling and holding a son, a daughter. The best dad possible. Surely he wouldn’t have left the child, or ended up making them feel neglected.

Would he?

He would have, the dark voice in her whispered. A child doesn’t magically fix the problems. It might be a plug for a little while, but people don’t stay changed for long…

A voice crackled through to her, and she realized how she now sat—huddled and small, as if changing her size would somehow make it easier to process the thoughts within.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear me?” Not a voice she recognized. A scared-sounding male one, shaped with youth. She hastened to answer, pushing aside her jumbled thoughts and feelings.

“Hello,” she answered. “Valor Lake Rangers. What is it you want?”

“I… I need help!” Teresa was treated to some heavy breathing. “My friend, Dan, he’s hurt… we heard something, and he panicked, and he fell down a cliff. Can you contact a hospital or something?”

“Yes. Please tell me your approximate location if you can or give me a description of your surroundings.”

She listened to the youth intently as he stumbled through a description, and pinpointed where she thought he was. The nearby ravine, about half a mile from her position, obscured by the tall trees—otherwise she’d be able to spot it from her window. She instantly contacted Steven, who would relay the message all the way down to get the air ambulance coming. Only helicopters served any use out here in the reservation.

Then she gathered up her first-aid gear, a gun for any unforeseen dangers, such as the bears, grabbed a couple bottles of water, and stepped outside, intending to find and administer to the injured youth and his friend. The helicopter wouldn’t arrive instantly, and the people might need immediate aid.

Eager to help, she vaulted down the steps fast and jogged into the forest, heading towards the ravine. Helping would provide her with distractions and stop her worrying about the youths. It would stop that hollow sense in her stomach, that guilt, that shame of a decision made. A decision she didn’t know if she regretted or not. The pros and cons continued to swirl.

Help these people, she thought firmly to herself. Remember the first-aid instructions. She focused on those instead and approached the ravine area in barely no time at all. She carried a transmitter with her and was checking on it every now and then to make sure she was approaching the right direction.

“Someone’s coming,” the voice said to her. “Is that you?”

She didn’t see anyone from her position. “No, I think I’m about a minute off your position.”

No answer came back. A slight, prickling unease went into her. Had someone found the victims? Or was it something else?

She picked up her pace, breathing hard, eyes scanning for her quarry.

There. Items on the ravine, a path that suggested where someone had slid or fallen. She dipped downwards, careful not to lose balance, and finally caught sight of her destination. And with it, something odd came into view.

“What the fuck...” Teresa stopped dead, transmitter held to her mouth, blonde hair whipping in a chaotic swirl in the gust of wind. Ahead in the brush lay one semi-conscious guy, swarmed by two other men, one of them distinctly lacking in the clothes department. Seemed like he’d hastily tied a ripped shirt to cover his privates, but the rest of him shone stark naked, and was built like a tank as he inspected the injured, blue-clothed camper. Leaves and twigs clung to his knees from where he’d been crouched, and dark hair tumbled over the blue eyes that now stared at her.

“Ah!” said the man with a flash of eyebrows and a surprisingly soft voice that made something tickle in her stomach. “You look professional. Are you one of those hu—a ranger?”

“Lookout,” she replied. “I don’t do much ranging.” She attempted an air of calm, remembering from her training that people reacted better if the other person looked like they knew what they were doing. Even if they didn’t.

“Is help coming?” The man with a red tartan jacket stared at her in a wild panic, his hands clutching his injured friend. “I don’t know if Dan’s gonna last here, man.”

“It’s coming. I told them where you are. I just came to see if I could help, because it’ll take them some time to reach here.” She hefted her first-aid kit, and the near-naked man took it, opening the latches to access the supplies within. She now began to unholster her gun. “Are you with these two?” she asked the naked man, trying hard not to stare anywhere inappropriate. “Only I thought it was just the two...”

“I’m a newcomer. Heard the commotion… wanted to see if I could help. I relocated his shoulder,” the man said, pointing at Dan’s left shoulder.

“You have first-aid training?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” He was already pulling out the alcohol wipes, getting ready to disinfect. “Kid here’s got concussion, couple broken ribs. You said he fell?”

Dan’s friend nodded, his weak chin wobbling. “We thought we heard something. He freaked, didn’t look where he was going...”

“Excuse me,” Teresa said, not really sure how else to pose the question, “I don’t mean to be, er, rude or anything, but… why are you naked?”

“Naturist,” he replied, not meeting her eyes as he set to work on Dan.

“Naturist. Right...” Somehow she doubted that, but suspected he wasn’t willing to give her any more answers on the matter. Did she maybe need to send the message to be cautious about him? No, he seemed genuine about his knowledge of first-aid. But way too much flesh on display.

“I’m where the campers are now. Report seems to be as they said—one is injured, the other is okay. There’s a stranger helping them out, too. Have the first-aid kit being used. How long until help arrives? Over.”

She listened for the crackling reply, scanning her eyes across the woods in case one of those bears happened to show up. Though bears were timid and wary of groups, for sure. She just… she wasn’t used to the number of bears she did see in the area, for reports of them being solitary. Maybe they were like those grayclaw bears she read about on that blog where that hunter girl liked to hunt, but not kill. Mission to spread awareness and all that.

She wasn’t really on a mission to spread anything. Just keep things to herself. Until she knew what to do with all that feeling.

“Hey, give it ten, fifteen minutes, the chopper’s launching now. Diagnosis of injuries so I can relay? Over.”

She rattled off the injuries, before stepping over to them and gleaning the rest of the names. Dan and his friend Arnold. The naked man was Joel Witsel—he insisted on adding the surname, as if it carried some real weight.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Arnold said, wincing along with his friend when the bandages were applied. “You’re one of the lake families, right?”

“Lake families?” Teresa arched an eyebrow. She didn’t live in Valor Lake—in fact, on the other side of the Falls—but she did know that Valor Lake did have some pretty big mansions and estates outside the main town.

“Yeah!” Arnold gave her a tiny grin. “They’re filthy rich and own a bunch of land. Factories, too.”

“Not our factories,” Joel said, scowling slightly. “Those belong to people I’d rather not think about. But, yes. I’m from one of the three families.”

He seemed unnecessarily proud of the fact, and she found it a little silly. But then again, people did put stock in names. So, if he came from some locally important family, then sure. The name would be all that mattered for him.

“I’m afraid I’m not from anyone you’d know about,” Teresa said. “But I’m pretty good at this lookout business.”

Even if it is just sitting in a tower and waiting for calls.

“You know how to use that gun?” Joel nodded towards the rifle, though there was a slight expression of distaste in his features.

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate. Although she found something about him appealing, from the way that strong jaw of his accentuated the rest of his face, or the way those muscles hugged his body so wonderfully—but she wasn’t here to examine someone like they were a hunk of meat.

Or think about anyone other than Jack. She swallowed the thought, averted her eyes, and checked over Dan, making sure everything was in order, not moving him any more than necessary. Kid must have been no older than eighteen. No guns, not adequately packed for a long hike or camping trip, judging by the gear, two smallish backpacks and some hiking poles, with sleeping bags attached to the bottom.

“Do you actually have any clothes nearby?” Teresa closed her eyes with a sigh, though she knew the summer’s heat would stop the man from needing to worry about dying from exposure. She’d stumbled across naturist beaches before in France, when she went there with her parents on a package holiday. As far as she was aware, though, naturists wouldn’t be stupid enough to wander about bare-cheeked in bear country.

“Uh… yes. Nearby. I, uh, didn’t really have time to go back and get them. Thought the lad here wanted help.” Joel examined his handiwork, asking Dan how he felt. After asking about the camper’s intentions, that they only wanted to hike for the weekend, take some cool pictures, and then head back to civilization on the Monday, Teresa lapsed into silence, standing guard and waiting for any more messages, or for the sound of the rescue chopper. It came eleven minutes from when Steven spoke to her. Dan was gently moved onto a stretcher and strapped into the chopper, and his friend hopped in with him. Joel told them that he was going to head back and get his clothes, then go home, and the chopper left, the blades creating turbulence on the ground as they lifted the vehicle and soared away.

“Well. Bye, then,” Joel said, making an awkward motion to shake her hand, then apparently thinking better of it. “Guess I’ll see you around sometime, if you’re in that tower. How long?”

“One and a half months. And if I do see you again, I expect you to be significantly less… exposed.” Then, feeling maybe she was being too judgmental of him, “Thanks for helping with the kids.”

“No problem. Happy to help. Can I ask— what’s your name?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

He let out a small sigh. “What’s your name?”

“Teresa.”

“Ter-ee-sa.” He tasted the name on his tongue. “I’ll remember that.”

“Well, I won’t be forgetting you anytime soon,” she replied, turning on her heel and walking off before she ended up engaging in long conversation with him. She needed to go back to the watch post and type in her daily logs. Maybe some more food, some rest.

“See you around!” Joel called, as she picked up the first-aid box and adjusted her rifle so it didn’t rub against her back. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears as well, gave him a casual arm raise with her back to him, and strolled off into the darkening woods.

Not a bad day, to be honest. No one dead, and a charming stranger.

Better than festering alone with her thoughts, though she planned to do some more of that. Even though she doubted she’d see him again, a part of her hoped he would stick to his words.

Nice to have some hope, right?

Chapter Two – Joel

Arthur let out a barking laugh, thumping his empty beer bottle on the table. “This is great! First meeting with a pretty girl, and she sees you in your birthday suit. No spare change of clothes?” His dark eyes scanned the bar entrance, waiting for Emma, his current mate, to make it back from work.

“I only intended it to be a nice run. Paddle in the river, munch on some salmon, maybe play with the cubs a bit. They’re out a lot unsupervised, and I don’t entirely trust the factory lunkies not to do something to them...”

“How’d you even meet a lady all the way out there, anyway? That’s wild country.” Arthur called for another beer, and the bartender cracked to it, though he did give Arthur a rather sour look. The small, simple bar had a rustic charm to it. A rifle was mounted on the wall behind the bar, and the drinks were displayed in an enticing way. Small, dark with natural wood tones, and a perhaps pockmarked floorboard that needed a little sweeping for the dust—the place might have come straight out of the old west. As far as Joel knew, it was built in the late 1700s.

“It’s the rangers, I told you about them already.”

“Ah, right. Forgot.” Arthur thanked the bartender as he brought over another Coors Light with the cap popped, and began gulping in earnest, like it was a refreshing beverage, rather than something that dehydrated. Some liquid dripped down his chin to his massive chest. Pretty common with bears—built like tanks in their human forms, which made the transition less of a stretch. “Rangers and...”

“Fire lookouts. If there’s wildfire, they report it and have teams of firefighters on call to deal with it. And given the heatwave we’ve had...” Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the stickiness of sweat from his rear end clinging to the leather, “it’s possible we might have one. Wasn’t it you Valors who made the arrangement to have the humans watch out for humans in the first place?”

“Maguires, actually,” Arthur said. “Maguires are friendlier to the humans than us. And as for your lot...” He made a derisive sound. “I’m surprised you’re not serving them up for dinner.”

“Come on. You know I’m not like that...” Joel rolled his eyes theatrically. “I don’t eat humans. Maybe I’d eat one out, if you know what I mean...”

“Uh huh. You like this chick?” Arthur nudged his friend, grinning outrageously. “She hot?”

The image of short blonde hair came to mind, and piercing dark eyes on an angular, pixie face. He’d certainly liked the shape of her lips, and the way the combat clothes looked on her, with boots, tight green, brown and yellow pants, and the shirt and brown leather ranger jacket. A strange but welcome sight. And there for six more weeks, give or take. He didn’t know whether he dared to approach her again. She was working a job, and likely had little time to spare for strangers. Plus, naturist excuse. Really?

“It’s not like that…” was what he eventually managed, though there were a few things on his mind that suggested, yes, he wouldn’t mind it being something like that. If she responded back, of course. Hard to justify that when their first meeting was weird, awkward, and on the job.

“You don’t actually have any prospects on the horizon, do you? Maybe, since you’re such a fine upstanding Witsel who doesn’t hate humans, you can go pay her a visit. I bet she’s all lonely in that tower of hers. Anything could happen.”

A small surge of glee coursed through him, before he calmed down. “I don’t think anyone chooses those kinds of jobs unless they have some baggage they’re running away from.”

“Or she’s some millennial wanting to bond with nature. What did she say her age was, again?”

“I didn’t ask,” Joel replied. Though she probably did fit into the millennial age range. So did he. “My family would flip if they knew I was near a human, showing interest in them.”

“Aren’t you practically exiled, anyway? You spend more time around the Maguires than you do with your own family,” Arthur said with a scoff, before giving another glance to the entrance. Joel decided to take that as his cue to go, and he shoved his untouched Coors over to his friend.

“True. Here, take this. I’m gonna head off. Enjoy your date, alright?”

“Yeah. You, too.” Arthur winked, and Joel shook his head, lips squished together, before exiting, and standing at the crossroads to home, the Maguires…

Or to the tower.

I didn’t even get a number. Not that signals exactly helped out there. And it took a good few hours to reach the region, even as a bear.

Nah. He should head home. Not chase blondes, and half-formed dreams. She probably felt ashamed or something to see him without clothes, but since he couldn’t exactly keep the clothes when he shifted…

Clicking his tongue, he crossed the small two-way road, heading towards the lake.

* * *

I’m stupid, he told himself, even as he walked within range of the tower, continuing with said stupidity. For some reason, his left knee was giving out on him as well, and a kind of anxiety now stole over his body.

The last time he’d tried to date a girl, it didn’t end well. Especially when she’d laughed at him in the bedroom, because sex with him was so boring. And the fact he never wanted to show her to his family, because their waspish little comments would begin, about how he threatened their noble heritage by having a human as a breeding partner.

Nonsense. We started off as humans. And now I know more about sex. No thanks to her. She could have at least helped, rather than assume he could read minds and somehow do everything perfectly. Apparently, a lot of sex had to do with looking confident and acting it, even if you felt like an absolute wreck on the inside. Made sense. He’d heard something about most men being under-qualified for their jobs, but getting them anyway by bluffing and swagger, and just learning as they went along. Sex seemed the same.

But now he stood there, with the threat of family issues behind him, expensive drinks in his backpack, gazing up into the tower room (he couldn’t see if she was in or not), wondering just how creepy he appeared. Should he try yelling up at her or not…?

If she was even in. He glanced behind, in the direction where he knew some of the exiled bears to be.

Again, Joel found it entertaining on a level, to think just how close Teresa was to the secret shrine.

The same shrine the Maguire bear shifter family had captured one of the factory owners for—to extract the location from. They never got it, though.

The same shrine that he helped keep a secret after being complicit in the rescue of said factory owner. And the same shrine his family desired, to wrest control of the bear spirit back to the main families and consolidate their formerly nebulous power.

They could all go hang. Continuing this rusting tradition to strip shifters of their privileges, depending on who they offended—this wasn’t the dark ages. All people like his family served to do was to drive the exiles into enemy lands, even as they writhed in spiritual torment. And in turn, people from the main families became terrified of doing something wrong.

Yeah. That shrine.

Joel tucked his hands into his baggy pockets, a fierce determination welling inside. That girl in the tower. She was everything his family hated. Human. Ignorant of their heritage. All the reasons he liked them. No attachment to that idiocy of families, worrying about spirits and appeasement.

Hesitantly, he began the walk up the tower’s many flights of railed iron stairs, reminding himself how much he hated steps as he went along. Several reasons for being here bounced in his mind, all reasons he intended to justify to her, should she be in, should she open the door and not immediately slam it in his face. He looped around the building twice before making it to the top. He supposed the whole thing to be a good vantage point—indeed, he had a brilliant view from this position, seeing the vast stretch of green and brown for miles in each direction, including the path that led to the town, and faint plumes of factory smoke, though he couldn’t see the factories or the lake.

Good for spotting fires. Not so great for accessibility. The entrance to the studio-styled room itself was a reinforced wooden door, and he rapped his knuckles smartly upon it. He waited a minute with a sinking feeling in his stomach, along with a sense of how stupid this was, before deciding to leave.

A creak of hinges behind him persuaded otherwise. His eyes focused on a rather bleary-faced, just-woke-up nightmare of a woman. Her expression cleared in a microsecond, as if splashed with cold water, and she regarded him with suspicious blue eyes.

“You’re here.”

“Yes. I was, uh, in the area, and thought I’d drop by? I have some pretty awesome drinks… look...” He fumbled and pulled out the Bull-Rush Bear red wine he’d been treasuring. Her eyebrows raised up.

“Isn’t that really expensive wine?” There was something off about her tone, and Joel couldn’t quite place it.

“Yes. A branch of our family makes them. Hundreds of dollars per bottle. Worth every cent.” He waved the bottle enticingly, before realizing. “Wait. You do drink, right?”

She made a sucking noise with her teeth. “Not since… but… I suppose… maybe it wouldn’t hurt. You’re not a big drinker, are you?” She conspicuously blocked the doorway as she said so, her eyes hard.

“Oh, not me. Special occasions, only. Little bit of socializing with friends. I’m usually the most sober out of all of them,” he said with a wry smile. It was true. He recalled quite a few evenings where he ended up hauling some drunken bear shifters to safe areas. Alcohol and bear form didn’t really mix so well—tempers got frayed faster, and mistakes got made.

She nodded to herself. “Technically, I shouldn’t be doing this. I am here for a job… but it seems a pretty long way to hike here from the lake to see a lady alone in her watch house. Carrying a lot of money and all… someone might rob you.”

“Yeah… maybe it’s best you let me in, then,” Joel said, sharing her grin. He stepped inside, appreciating the simple design. Everything packed into an open floor, with only the bathroom boxed off from view. Kept shipshape as well. He supposed being stuck here alone might trigger some cleaning habits as compensation.

“I really, really shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, even as she cracked open her first bottle and poured out the expensive wine. “But I’ve always wanted to try one of these.”

“Be my guest,” Joel said with a triumphant smile, glad his decision was accepted. Otherwise he probably would have drunk them with one of his friends somewhere. He didn’t expect her to relax, though. After all, she was alone in a tower with a strange man. He needed to play this in a way that didn’t seem creepy. “I wanted to talk to the lovely lady who saw me… naturing.”

And that’s not the way to do it, he thought, cursing himself.

She snorted. “Is that why you’re here? Just to… talk?”

“Yes. Unless you think I came for something else? Why let me in, then?”

A short silence followed the statement, while he kicked himself even further. She took a light sip of the wine, taking time to relish the taste. The atmosphere between them became more charged, somehow. “Maybe I was a little curious,” she said. “And the wine is just a good excuse to break the ice.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, a brief sense of relief going through him. Seemed the boldness was working, though inside, he felt like a veritable mess. What mattered, though, was how he appeared on the outside, and outside, he grabbed a glass and made his way over to the leather armchair, getting himself acquainted with the drink as well. “So… mind if I ask some questions?”

He almost expected her to say, “I don’t know, can you?” but she instead smiled and said, “Depends on the questions. And mm…” she made an appreciative smacking noise with her lips, savoring the excellent quality of the wine. “Don’t know if I’d pay a thousand for one of these, but damn, that’s some nice stuff. Very… woody. Sweet. With a kick.”

“Secret family recipe,” he said, before scanning the outside view again. Not a great place if you happened to be afraid of heights, for sure. “I might ask some pretty personal questions. You see, those are the most interesting.” His heart pulsed faster as he waited for her reaction.

“True,” she said, frowning as if surprised by how much sense he made. “Let me be clear, however. No sex questions, or anything related to that. Or I’m kicking you out, and there’ll be a rifle prodded at your back.”

“I’m sure,” he said, holding up one hand in a defensive motion. “Okay, so first question. What’s a lady like you doing all alone out here in the middle of bear country?”

“Peace and quiet,” she promptly replied, “which you are disrupting.” She took a little longer with the next statement. “A place to clear thoughts.”

“So, there is something extra going on.”

“Isn’t there always?” She gave him an unfathomable smile. He couldn’t work out the emotions, so attempted humor.

“Drug deal gone wrong? Abusive ex? In debt and running from the Mafia?”

She paused in her next sip, face scrunching slightly. “I don’t think I’ll answer a stranger.”

“Maybe a stranger’s the best to tell,” he said, relaxing further in the chair. He no longer felt quite so nervous. “You’ll, what, go back in a month or so, right? What’s the harm in sharing?”

She shook her head, now looking at her radio station. “Not one for sharing. Usually…”

“Maybe you just never had anyone interested?” Bit of a shot in the dark, but her expression sharpened.

“And you’re interested, is that it?”

“Why not? Look, I’ll make it easier, if you want, and start off with something about myself.” He leaned forward, their gazes locking, enjoying the challenge of trying to crack through, see what delicious secrets lay under her skin. Everyone had a story. And the people outside of Valor Lake—oh, they had the best stories of all.

“Okay.” She downed more of the wine, nodding. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Gladly.” He took a deep breath. “I hate my family. I see them as a bunch of misers who hate sharing their wealth with anyone. It makes things pretty tough for some of the folks around Valor Lake. Hoarding resources, looking down noses at everyone. But previously, I was afraid to… leave them. But… now that I’ve saved a good amount of money, I feel pretty comfortable leaving them now.”

Plus, of course, it helped that they now had access to the shrine, regardless of whether a shifter happened to be in a big family or not. And if enough of the exiles knew about it before the big families got their hands on it, then they could defend it.

“That’s an incredibly vague story,” Teresa said, now running a hand through her blonde hair.

“You can be just as vague,” he said, attempting what he hoped was a warm smile. She sat there, digesting his words. Maybe deciding whether she should kick him out or not. He hoped the latter.

“People generally don’t show interest,” she said.

“Maybe you’ve just never been around the right people.”

She let out a strangled laugh at his statement. “Oh, you have no idea… okay, okay. Let’s try this. One thing from me only. I came here because I felt like life was piling up on me. There were a few unresolved… problems I’d been overlooking. Because I never addressed them. Just worked a lot. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the problems, so in the end, I wanted to take a break. Give myself some time to think it all out, and where better than in a place like this? Also, my favorite color’s blue.”

“Green,” Joel replied, grinning. “That’s one more than you intended to give me, I think.”

“And that’s all you’re getting,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“So… if I come over here again, will I get to ask you another question?”

Her lips quirked slightly. She took a slow, deliberate drink of her wine. He half expected it to trickle over her lips and spill down her white top, staining it. “Perhaps.”

Perhaps was something he could work with, judging by the sparkle in her eyes.

Chapter Three – Teresa

Somehow, it became a thing. There she was, stuck in her tower, trying to sort through all that tangled confusion of thoughts that constituted her memories, wrapped up with a slice of grief and sadness. She expected to spend all of her time alone, just sifting through those thoughts, hopefully coming to a nice resolution at the end where she could return back to society, renewed and full of purpose…

And then the naked guy knocks on the damn door.

Not quite something she expected. Something she should have rejected, honestly. Yet she let him in.

And since then, he’d been coming every day, with some kind of gift, just to drill questions out of her. He was so relentlessly… interested, that it actually flattered her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d found someone that eager to know all about her.

Even Jack… he didn’t ask so many questions. Her mind stumbled over the implication, confused, recalling the first few meetings she and Jack had ever had.

It’d been her interested in him. And he answered questions about himself, and she was happy to ask the questions…

But come to think of it, he didn’t really do the same back. Not in the way this Joel was doing now.

Joel. Jack. Both Js, both four letters long. Hard not to start making comparisons already, despite the fact she knew it to be stupid. People just didn’t compare like that.

Jack was tall, strong, confident, and it sent a thrill in her heart once upon a time.

Joel… well, she didn’t have any plans there. But he seemed… intriguing. Slightly intimidating, if she had to be honest—he was practically double her muscle size. The kind of person you thought would beat the shit out of anyone, and then when they spoke, they sounded eloquent and kind. Nothing like that lilting arrogance she was used to hearing in Jack.

So far, Joel had made it up the tower three times, usually around the same time in the afternoon. He brought the wine one more time, and tried chocolates and cookies the other times. Each time, he knew a little more about her. Things like her favorite foods, her favorite song (Feeling Good), and that she didn’t really like her parents, but didn’t want to openly admit this fact to them. Mostly because she still wanted to be in their good books, and a part of her would always love them, no matter what. She couldn’t pretend she understood Joel’s budding anger with his family, though.

The way he talked about his family made it sound so peculiar, and with so many people who seemed to be hitting their first century without much health problems… she reckoned his genes would be making it to one of those science shows sooner or later. He’d also told her that his family wouldn’t necessarily be pleased to know that he was talking to her.

Sounded a bit like how her parents considered Jack. A part of her had bristled at the implication, but mostly, she started wondering if he only bothered visiting her because it gave him a thrill to defy this extended family of his, somehow.

“Hey, are you there, Teresa? Over.”

Teresa pulled herself out of her thinking long enough to reach over and receive the call. “Yes, here. About to enjoy pot noodles fit for a king. Over.”

“Sounds like a blast. Listen, there’s a group of people heading in your area. Family, two sets of parents and seven children between them. Just to warn you that they might leave a mess, so request their location when they contact you, and inspect the camp when they go. Over.”

Clean-up duty. How exciting. Needed to be done, though, or the wildlife became attracted to the trash the humans left behind. “I’ll be on it. Over.”

She went then to enjoy her “Pot Noodles Fit for a King,” ignoring the peas in it by scooping them all out carefully to the side, and read some more of The Bell Jar, before a familiar sight scurried out of the woods for the fourth time this week. She suppressed an instant grin, though couldn’t quite stop the lurch of her heart, the igniting of her brain neurons working overtime to deal with this new interest.

He wasn’t exactly alone, either. He stopped, looking behind him, and two bears lumbered out, one followed by a cub. The excitement dried up in Teresa’s throat. Her spoon flopped in the pot, splashing warm, murky water over the table and her shirt. She instantly scrambled for her rifle, her eyes flicking back to Joel the whole time. Mother bears were notoriously protective of their cubs. She wouldn’t be surprised if the bear made a move on him.

Something was wrong.

Joel appeared to be facing the bears. Watching them as they ambled past him, now going towards the stream. The animals had ignored him. Her plans to rush out like a knight rescuing a princess dashed to the floor. He continued to stroll amiably, without a care in the world, his big, loose, blue denim pants kept up by straps over his shoulders. The bears, big and brown, began to splash in the river. Only when Joel started up the stairs towards her door did Teresa finally part with her rifle, feeling slightly weirded out. Joel had been… so calm.

He was face-to-face with three bears and had walked off without a scratch.

If Jack had been in that situation, she firmly believed he would have run away screaming. Not a smart thing to do with a creature that could outrun you. But Joel… shit, the thought of that made her knees weak. He elevated a few macho points in her eyes. It made her brain begin to contemplate the possibility of what might happen if she kept letting him knock on her tower door and talk with her.

Dangerous. But persistent. She managed to just about clean up her desk and whip into a new top, when she heard the familiar four-part knock. She almost tripped over her own feet heading to answer and didn’t quite succeed in ironing out all the shock from her face, judging by the expression he gave her upon opening.

“What’s up with you, Teresa?” His mouth twitched into a half grin, half wrinkle of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you?”

“No. But I saw you. Down there. With the bears.”

“Oh, did you?” His grin widened. “Nice, weren’t they?”

“How the fuck were you able to stand there and not be killed?”

He now appeared very smug. “Oh, I have a way with bears. Call me a bear whisperer, if you will. Know how to read them. How to… appear to them. It’s a family thing.” He now fished in his backpack, pulling out two bottles of a purple-colored cider. “Blackcurrant cider. From our homegrown blackberries. Delicious.”

“Sure, why not?” Teresa let him pass, feeling slightly anxious. “I need to warn my colleagues, though. We got a family camping in this area for tonight, and if there’s bears here...”

Joel had already popped one of the caps, and arched an eyebrow as she went to her station and called in with the bear warning.

“Thanks for that, T. Here’s hoping they contact us soon so we can warn them. Over.”

Here’s hoping, Teresa silently agreed. Even if Joel the “Naturist” could apparently not be ripped apart by bears, she didn’t want to think about the chaos of a campsite with seven children, four adults. The mess would be unbelievable. Candy wrappers to attract ants, cooking meat to attract the predators, and when they slept at night…

“I can help make sure the bears won’t be an issue,” Joel said, handing her the uncapped lid of a cider bottle. She took it, trying to clear her thoughts of horrific animal maulings, though she didn’t quite succeed on abolishing all of them. Too many possibilities of things going wrong. Ravines, panic, bear packs… and there were wolves and mountain lions, too. A lot of predators. All it took was one desperate, hungry one.

“Maybe you can, but I’d rather not send a non-worker to do my job.”

“Even if I can do it really well?”

“Even if you can do it really well,” she said, amused at his persistence. Though, to be honest, she might feel more comfortable going out there if he really did have a way with bears. It just wasn’t supposed to be done. The rangers, the lookouts, they needed to operate within the rules of the reservation. Trust no one but their contractors and employees.

Something about Joel, though, added an extra level of reassurance. “I’m starting to think,” she said, striding back to her little kitchenette to wash her hands, “that maybe I didn’t want to be alone, after all. Maybe I did want some decent company. Not with people I know, because they’ll ask the wrong things, or they won’t ask anything at all. It’s all, yeah, you wanna go out, how’s life, how’s it going, you want to come in early to work, are you sure you have the time, and so on. But here… it’s nice.” She sauntered back after drying her hands to taste the cider, her sock-covered feet slipping along the floor. She felt like she was babbling a bit, trying to distract from something. And the closer she got to Joel, the more conscious she became of him.

She didn’t want to stare too long, or to be caught ogling his muscles, or peeking between his legs to see if she could detect a bulge, because if she saw one… well, she wasn’t entirely sure how she’d react. Excited? Worried? Guilty?

It was just… a handsome stranger. Far away from her home town, in a beautiful place. A stranger who seemed to be showing interest, and her, who wanted to get away from everything. All the ingredients for a fling.

Fling… she scrutinized the word and couldn’t quite make it fit her personality. That wasn’t her. She didn’t do nonsense like that. Too busy being responsible. Managing the people in the store, managing her life, her emotions…

“It’s good, isn’t it? I always find that talking to strangers on the internet can sometimes be more fulfilling than talking to people in real life. There’s a kind of honesty there, an unloading you can do because you have no connection to that person. They’re not going to hunt you down or persecute you for your opinions. You don’t need to be as careful around them.” His voice rose with enthusiasm, though Teresa found herself scowling at the words.

“I don’t like it. People lie about who they are, and it’s easier to lie when no one can see you or know you. I never know how genuine the person is on the other side.” She chugged down her drink, and did an internal belch, which made the flavor pepper the inside of her nose. “Ugh, that’s nasty.”

“Don’t drink this too fast or that’s gonna happen more.” Joel leaned forward, one arm straddling the rest of the chair. He still wore his boots, and Teresa wanted him to take them off. She wasn’t a fan of shoes tracking dirt through a house. “Okay, so I get your point, yeah. But I think you can learn to trust some people. Not everyone’s trying to pretend.”

“Joel, some people can live with someone for years, and still not know everything about them. I don’t think it’s any different online.” Her stomach gave a peculiar lurch when she saw how his mouth twisted upwards when she used his name. Like he enjoyed the way she said it with her Midwestern accent.

Trouble about these words, though, she thought in irritation to herself, was that each confession seemed to strike closer to home than she liked.

Just how much did she know about Jack, really? He went out a lot of the time, saying it was with his buddies. But how would she know? She never went with him.

He could have been doing anything. But… she didn’t want to be some suspicious, annoying hag, like the ex he used to talk about, the one that breathed over his shoulder, stole his phone to read his messages. She wanted to be better than that.

“Maybe they just learned all the wrong lessons in life,” Joel said. Something about those blue eyes of his lured her in. “Feels like a lot of people only know how to be assholes. My whole family included.  Spirit damn them.”

At this peculiar phrase, Teresa’s eyebrows knotted together. “You don’t by any chance have Native American heritage or something?”

“Oh? Oh, yeah. I do a bit. Bit of Scandinavian somewhere, too. We have a family legend that when Eric the Red first visited the Americas in the 10th century, some settlers moved west of the falls, and survived to this day. I think personally we probably arrived like the rest of them, since Red’s settlement was destroyed, no history of anyone passing on. But… who knows? Maybe the books missed someone.” He shrugged, before finally working on kicking off those damned shoes and dropping them by the door.

Teresa found herself smiling. “Actually, we have a little family legend ourselves. I don’t think it’s true, either, but my parents love telling it around the dinner table. Thanksgiving, guests… Dad has to crack it out at least once a year.”

“Let’s hear this, then,” Joel said, rubbing his hands in glee. He certainly sounded as gleeful as he looked, and Teresa lapped up the attention, glad to finally be the one to tell someone, rather than her dad.

“My dad claims that we are the descendants of one of the French lords that paid court to King Louis the XVI, right before the French decided that maybe they better chop off the heads of their monarchy. They were one of many lords who fled in the exodus of nobles, as tensions increased. Got on a small boat, fled to England, and then sought passage there on one of the great puritan ships heading to America. My dad says it took months, the journey, and they ran out of supplies, and docked at a small island where the natives traded all sorts of exotic fruit with them in exchange for a few guns and powder.”

“Sounds like quite the epic,” Joel said, nodding along with her story. “Who traveled? Just the noble, or did he or she have family?”

“It was a husband and wife. Jean and Jeanette—part of the reason why I have difficulty believing it,” she replied with a smirk. “When they finally arrived, they founded a little town on the east coast somewhere… can’t remember the name. My dad tells this better. He likes to add sound effects and things.” She gave a dramatic flourish. “But now you know my maybe family legend. Fleeing the French court and boarding a boat with puritans for a fresh start. With peril and trading with savages.”

She’d done some research on the family tree, curious about whether it had any truth. So far, she’d found nothing to back it up. But as long as it amused her dad to tell it, then she didn’t want to point out the possibility that it might not be true. Humans were made up of stories, after all. That was all their lives became, in the end. Another story to tell. Someone like Jack and her unborn child were stories, too. But the kind that stuck a knife in her heart and didn’t let go.

“Maybe I should add some detail to the Eric the Red claim. Have us fighting animals and struggling all the way to Valor Lake.”

His words helped reduce some of the pain and put her back into focus. “My mom doesn’t have a story from her side. Well, she talks about a demonic aunt who stole a business from some grandfather or something, but I never really met her side of the family. Seems like she moved out and in with my father, and they lost contact.”

Joel nodded, and the smile on his lips then made her stomach twitch slightly. A bubbling sensation filled her rib cage, and again, she found herself far too aware of him, and of her own breathing. Did she breathe too fast? Could he hear the way her heart picked up pace? Did he see the heat rising onto her cheeks? Hopefully not.

His eyes lingered on hers just a little too long. They were such fucking amazing eyes, really… an ocean deep blue that made her wonder just what lay locked behind them. She remembered once more how to breathe, and felt slightly irritated at herself for reacting so…

Well, like she hadn’t been upset over someone for two years.

“I suppose some people think their lives are boring. If you haven’t got some claim to some great historical figure, then you’re worthless.” He looked as if he was saying the words more to himself than to her. “And I suppose, even if you did have the claim, unless you did what was expected of you, people would see you as a black sheep anyway.”

Yeah… he was definitely talking about his family. “No offense, but if they really cause you that much grief, I’d imagine it’d be easier for you to just leave, right?”

Something seemed to darken his expression. “Not so easy. People like me… we’re restricted.”

Before she could ask just exactly how, the crackling of sound came out of her radio station. She hurried over to it, picking up the transmission.

“Hello? Hello?”

She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and put on her most professional air. “Hey, this is Teresa of Valor Watch.”

“Oh, hey. So, we need to check in with you guys. It’s me, three adults, seven children, and we’re camping in what looks like a meadow next to a stream. It’s about half a mile from one of those watch towers.”

Teresa hastily consulted her map of the reservation, sprawling it out. “One moment.” Meadows in a half-mile radius… her finger settled to a point east of her. “Okay, I think I know where you are. See a ravine to the south?”

“Uh… south?”

“You do have a compass, right?”

“Richard, she’s asking for our south, what’s south…?” The man’s voice grew more distant as he consulted with whoever happened to be near him.

“That doesn’t seem good,” Joel observed, “if they have people who don’t know where they are.”

“Okay as long as they have someone,” Teresa said. “We do get some first-time campers who just like the thrill of staying out, but don’t always bring the correct equipment with them...”

“Hello?”

She answered him back, waving at Joel to be quiet.

“Yes, there is a ravine south of us. We’re planning to camp here for the night, and head back tomorrow.”

“Okay.” It was getting dark, Teresa noticed. She wasn’t comfortable with their camp choice, given the number of bears she’d seen in the vicinity. “Be careful, don’t make much of a mess, and keep a campfire in a stone pit or contained. I’ll come to inspect first thing in the morning. Any emergencies, please contact. And be aware there are animals. Bears are known to be in the area, but they’ll avoid you, unless you leave any meat out or food that might attract them. So, be careful.”

“Yeah, sure. Richard says the bears won’t target us anyway, it’s too rare.”

They continued exchanging, until the campers stopped transmissions, and Teresa informed her colleagues. Joel watched her the whole while, not taking his eyes off her, and Teresa didn’t know whether to find it creepy or flattering.

Probably flattering, given that the tickle in her stomach certainly didn’t just stem from being pleased to see someone.

“I’m worried that the bears I’ve seen will go there. A lot of people there, so there’s probably a lot of food, and kids can be fussy as hell,” Teresa said. “If they just throw it on the ground...”

“Yeah,” Joel said, his face crinkling in concern. “Plus, some bears...” he stopped. “Some are… hostile to humans.”

Something in the way he said that sent a shiver up her spine. But it didn’t really sound like he was talking about bears. “It’s too late for them to move elsewhere, it’s getting near dark. And speaking of it getting near dark...” her stomach gave a little growl of hunger. “It’ll be dangerous for you as well. Didn’t expect you to stay and talk for so long.”

“Didn’t expect to arrive so late,” he answered. “I’ll be fine. I told you, I have a way with bears. I could set out of there at midnight and be fine.”

“Not if you break your neck,” she said. “Maybe… maybe you could stay here. Just until morning.” She kept her voice deceptively calm, though parts of her participated in internal screaming, because allowing someone like him to stay the night…

There’d be only one way it’d end up between them. She didn’t trust herself to be restrained. Or to have the willpower to say no if he made any covert moves.

“Tempting,” he admitted, his voice dipping in a way that made the skin ripple above her spine. “But I think I’ll actually go.” He got up, throwing his empty beer bottle in the trashcan, prompting her to finish hers off. They passed near enough each other to touch, and his hand grasped her arm, leaving a burning trickle of excitement inside Teresa.

“Maybe another time might be good,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. More heat, more shivers. Shit, she couldn’t resist this man, could she? Even his scent, so close now, did something to her brain. That earthy, woody, natural smell lured her in. She leaned unconsciously closer, feeling the brief brush of his lips on her ear. The cold left with his moving back helped snap her out of it, however.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right. But still, I’m worried. You have a flashlight, at least? It takes a few hours for you to get back, right?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her with a little smile. He seemed so certain of himself, so confident. But the doubt continued to scratch her mind. Logically, it didn’t make sense for him to be fine. But she watched him go, still wearing that smile. She opened up a tin of ravioli to eat, checking the window for his departing form, wondering if she should have insisted harder that he stay.

Regardless of whether or not her body liked him more than she was willing to admit, she should have pulled on some of her responsible attitude and forced him to stay. Anyone else would have done the same. Her mind already seeing newspaper reports of a man mauled to death, a family butchered by bears, she turned up the heat on her stove. Wishing for once she could just abolish these accursed thoughts from her mind.

Chapter Four – Joel

That stupid family, Joel thought with anger, were practically within breathing distance of the Secret Shrine. Somewhere beyond the thick immensity of woodlands next to the ravine was a holiday house the factory owner went to, for his previous days off, when in reality, he was visiting the shrine to soothe his spiritual pain.

The shrine was a hotbed of activity. Both from the exiled bears who now guarded it and allowed other exiles in, and from the main families who searched for it. And they would find it, now that there were guards seated around it, and a few prospective families planning to build homes in the area to keep a greater watch over it. Any idiot would be able to read the movements.

Sometimes visiting the bear spirit made people horny. Joel shuddered to think about those humans, so close. If the shifter’s senses were addled in any way, it could spell disaster. So only one thing left. He needed to guard them.

He made a quick check to the shrine, jogging towards it. Two men were camped at the entrance but let him pass without a word—they knew of Joel Witsel helping with their cause. He intended to offer a few prayers to the bear spirit before protecting the humans for the night. Down the constructed tunnel, he reached a door with a code in it, and punched in the correct code, unlocking the grotto.

A bear spirit found in two locations. The same one. Joel wondered how that worked. Maybe it was just found in everything, but concentrated more in these sacred places. One other bear was in the den, sleeping on a bed of fake green moss. The walls were interlaced with a spiritual blue glow that came from no discernible source. It wasn’t quite as beautiful as the official grotto, though it was slightly bigger, and a lot of man-made installations ruined some of the natural vibrance. Sheep rugs, fake moss, a coffee and tea kettle, some hewn wooden chairs, and even some blankets. The electrical source came from a gas-light single stove, for which presumably someone refilled the canister every now and then, and there was a metal vent where the air escaped out of.

He closed his eyes and knelt on one of the musty sheep rugs, putting himself in tune with the spirit. After a moment, a great sense of relaxation went through his body, as if hidden tendrils of pain evaporated from his skin. He thought he could feel the spirit close by, as well, happy to be visited.

Just sending a few thoughts your way, spirit. I do wish there was another solution for you, though. You shouldn’t be concentrated to certain spots. You shouldn’t cause so much pain to be apart from for long. But you are concentrated, and you do cause pain.

It never answered his thoughts, but he sent them nonetheless. I wish there was something I could do about my family.

No answer, but the peace and quiet did help to relax him further. He also wondered about Teresa, whether the spirit would mind him chasing her, despite her not being a shifter. At this, he thought he could sense approval, somehow. He just didn’t know what the approval was.

But, before the spirit began to weave into his body further, he withdrew, heading back out. Stay too long, and sometimes the mind and body took a life of its own. And he did at least want to keep these clothes.

Outside, he found a tree stump to stuff his clothes in, and did so, briefly shivering in the darkening air, before allowing the transformation to take place. It didn’t usually hurt, though he disliked the pinching of his nose and mouth as they fused to form a snout. With bear form coating him, he padded through the wild paths, startling a myriad of creatures, including the cawing birds in the darkness, until he reached close enough to the human settlement to see their campfire blazing. He saw silhouettes weaving among the flames, heard bursts of conversation, and inwardly grimaced at how recklessly loud the children were.

At least they didn’t go astray—the parents had reinforced that much, for sure.  He didn’t want to get close, but prowled around the edges, making sure no other bears, real or shifter, stepped too close. Even when the screams died out, and the campers eventually settled to sleep, he kept his attention up. Maybe he didn’t have to do this, sure. But if any trouble occurred… tensions would mount on all sides. His stomach gave a rather mournful gurgle, but he could eat well in the morning.

As he patrolled one side in the night, he saw something big amble towards the glowing fire. Hastily, he neared it.

Who goes there? Leave these humans alone! He waited for a response, received none, and entered the clearing. A big, black-shaded bear now rummaged through the leftovers the humans had not bothered to clean up. Fools. Seemed this was a real bear, then. He made himself appear threatening, puffing up his hackles, and let slip a few low, warning growls.

The wild bear practically yelped in fright to see Joel’s massive form bearing down upon it. It attempted some growls in return, wanting to defend its food source, but scampered off when he reared onto his hind legs. A light flickered on in one of the three large tents, just as two more bears strode in. Joel dropped back down.

Protecting these humans, are we? one of the bears sent to him. Chasing our furry cousin from a rightful meal?

They know nothing about the Shrine. I’m here to make sure no one does something they might regret.

We just want to scare them, the bear persisted, leaving Joel little hope of a rational debate. They clearly intended to frighten the humans or worse. And at least one of them was awake.

You cause trouble, Joel growled, and you bring the families to your doorstep. You lose the Shrine. Is that what you want? Or do you value your newfound freedom so little?

That at least gave them pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tent flap open, and a kid hold out a phone with a flashlight.

Recording them.

Of all the idiotic…

Because you’re going to tell on us? The bigger of the two bears started growling incomprehensibly. You’ll rat us out?

No, you idiot, because there will be a lot of attention if eleven fucking humans are frightened or injured or killed. And then the families will wonder why there are so many bears clustered in one spot—and your entrance will be found within days.

They digested his words. Joel bet the kids would have a fun time if they didn’t get any bear wrath—a video showing three bears facing one another, as if having a silent conference. Punctuated by growling every now and then.

Eventually, though they kept growling and throwing insults to save face for themselves, they backed off, melting into the darkness. Joel tried to keep his movements as bear-like as possible. It wasn’t like he could snatch the camera off them. He followed after the shifters like a bear making sure to protect its territory, making small charges, stopping each time.

Out of sight of the humans at last, he wondered how much damage they had done, anyway. Maybe no one would watch the kid’s video. No one would think anything unusual about it.

Did telepathic communication somehow get transferred to the screen? Could another shifter understand what was being exchanged between them?

The thought made him uneasy, even as he kept up his pacing.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

He received quite the shock next morning when someone tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes jerked open, and he stared into the dark eyes of Teresa, dressed up, giving him a disapproving scowl.

And, oh shit. He was naked again, wasn’t he? Hastily, he scavenged for his clothes—last thing he remembered, he was heading back to the tree stump, very tired…

He pulled his shirt over his groin area. “Hi,” he said, attempting a winning smile, trying not to drown in embarrassment. “There’s an explanation for this, I swear.”

“Being a ‘naturist’ again?” Teresa said, steam threatening to come out of her ears. “Did you even go home last night? Were you out all night naked?”

“No! No, I wasn’t. It’s complicated, that’s all...”

“Complicated?” The distinctive sound of the safety clicking off the rifle sent a cold shiver inside Joel. “That’s twice I’ve caught you nearby younger people, with your clothes off. You’re a pedophile, aren’t you?”

The statement was so ludicrous, so offensive, that Joel just stared at her, eyes bulging for a moment. “You fucking what? Think I’m a—a pedophile?”

“You’re lucky as well you weren’t chewed up or died of exposure,” she continued, trembling in anger. “Given that the family I just visited said they had bears in their camp last night. Three of them. I saw the footage.”

A wild, desperate notion seized Joel. He didn’t see any other way out of it. “Listen. Okay, I’m not a naturist. That was a lie.”

“Obviously,” she said between gritted teeth. Her blonde hair seemed a mess, and her army-styled clothes looked as if they’d been slept in. For all he knew, maybe they had. Maybe she’d been awake, listening for an emergency call from her radio, ready to send for help in the darkness.

“Look—I was protecting that family, alright? From the bears.”

“You mean the bears that wandered right into their campsite?” Her smile became dangerous. “Though, of course, they shouldn’t have left all their shit around like that. But you, son—your story doesn’t add up.”

Stung by this, and more than a little panicked that he’d be labeled as a pedo from the woman he intended to court further, he fixed her with the iciest glare he could manage. “I was one of those bears. Telling the other ones to back the fuck off. I patrolled their campsite the entire night as a bear, making sure no one attacked them. Because they’re camping next to a sacred bear place.”

He raised up one hand, knowing she wouldn’t accept his words. “I’m going to transform into a bear now. Do not fucking shoot. I don’t want to die. Back off. Back off!” he snapped, and she went a few paces away, resolutely pointing her rifle at him. “Please… lower the rifle.”

“No.”

He sighed in exasperation. Well, if she shot him… he crouched forward, feeling the bear rise up inside him. It burst through his skin, covering him in fur, extending his nails, and forming the prickling, uncomfortable snout. Within seconds, he was a crouching, sandy-colored bear. He dared not move an inch. Any sudden jerk on his part might trigger her to shoot. Because he saw how much paler she’d become, how much her hands wobbled as they clutched the rifle like a lifeline. He held the form for a moment, to allow her to register that yes, he had indeed transformed into a massive fucking bear, before melting back into his human form.

“I can’t take clothes with me,” he said, as if they were having a perfectly ordinary conversation and nothing strange had happened, “so it means I’m naked when I turn back. With those two guys in danger the other day, I was fishing for salmon in the stream. I heard them fall and dashed over to help. I didn’t exactly have time to charge a couple of hours back home, grab some clothes, then charge back. And this time, when I heard there was a family camping by the ravine here… I had to do something. The bears here get very… protective if anyone gets too close to their special place. And it’s like you said. The kids will leave shit everywhere.”

Finally, after what felt like an age, she lowered her rifle. “You’re—you’re a bear.”

“A bear shifter. We’re humans. Mostly.”

She shook her head, bewildered, exhausted. “I… I can’t deal with this. I can’t believe what I just saw. Heard.”

“Want me to transform again? That might help.”

“No...” She ran a hand over her face, stretching the skin around her eyes. “No, I definitely saw you transform. I’m not dreaming.”

He slowly began putting on his clothes, deciding it’d been quite long enough for him to kneel there in front of her, flashing his flesh. “I think maybe we should talk about this. Later. Since you don’t look like you’ve had enough sleep.”

“No,” she said miserably, lowering her rifle at last. “No, I haven’t.” She regarded him for a moment. “If you do come by later, and if I do let you in—you better bring drinks.”

He let out a soft snort, giving her a roguish grin. “On it.”

Chapter Five – Teresa

That happened, then. Teresa tried pinching herself several times to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. And even when she collapsed into bed in a tired stupor and woke up again in the early afternoon, feeling like shit, she knew she hadn’t imagined it.

Joel Witsel was a fucking bear shifter. No way to avoid that fact. Short of denying reality completely. She didn’t really believe in magic, or ghosts, or spirits—but she wasn’t completely judgmental enough to turn a blind eye to something that happened directly in front of her. Just when she caught her mind rushing to offer explanations to what she’d seen, explanations preferably non-bear-related, she kept braking herself short. The little wooden ceiling of her tower continued being scrutinized by her eyes as she lay under the covers in her bed.

She’d seen him confront bears as a human and walk away unscathed. He always seemed to be popping up when there were bears around. He talked about his family in a way that made them sound odd, like they wanted nothing to do with people at all. That they functioned by different rules, somehow. He said he had a way with bears, he offered to help deal with any bear-related problems…

And then he transformed into a bear in front of her eyes. She wished she had internet, right now. She wanted to start scouring its crazy depths for anyone else who had discovered bear shifters. And if there were bear shifters, did that mean the rest of them existed, too? Werewolves and vampires and dragons? She didn’t know. But now the questions bottled up inside her, screaming for answers. All of it was so terrifying and fascinating that it helped distract her from the real reason why she was here. Maybe this was what she needed, though. A new path in life. A new awakening. Something different to move her beyond the same tired old circles in her mind.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he had said as she departed. “Shifters prefer to keep their identities as secret as possible.”

Humans must accidentally stumble on them in the wild parts of the world. She breathed in the wood-smoked smell of her room, and the faint stink of grease that suggested she needed to change the bedcovers. She worked instead upon that, creating a new laundry load, and hanging up her wet clothes upon the stand next to the washing machine. She dug around for her next meal, porridge, and after breakfast, hosed herself down in the shower. Wasn’t really breakfast, though. Brunch? She listened for more calls and talked briefly with a hiker couple going through the area, telling them to be careful, before setting off to inspect the campsite from last night again, to make sure they really had cleaned up.

Not quite, of course. She grumbled to herself, scooping the trash into a bag, and kept picturing the video, with the three bears facing each other off. How the lighter-furred one had forced the other two to back off.

Everything I knew, I might have been wrong about. The bag rustled and crackled behind her as she moved. Her boots brushed past bone-dry twigs and some withering grass. The heat needled her neck and made walking just that little bit more uncomfortable.

It was funny, really. She came here, wanting to get away from everything. And then Joel came here, wanting to get close. Despite the fact that he held such a tremendous secret. Not for very long—but that was what happened if you stayed near someone long enough. Theoretically. All the secrets leaked out.

But not Jack’s. I don’t know about him.

Back at her station at last, legs burning from the stair climb, she rested on her desk, waiting for a call, bored, restless, hoping that at any moment she’d see Joel strolling along, in his backpack some other special alcohol his family came up with.

He didn’t come, though. And when evening dropped, she faced the fact that maybe he wouldn’t come, and headed off to bed, irritated and discontent.

It took three more days before a knock came at her door, in the godforsaken hours of Thursday morning at the break of dawn. She rolled blearily out of bed, having slept on the covers because it was so hot, grabbed her rifle, and peered through the flap of the door, before sighing and opening.

Joel stood there with a dazzling smile, offensive this early in the morning. “Hello. I have some drinks, but it’s probably too early in the day for them.”

She gave a great, shuddering yawn in his face. “Wouldn’t mind some more sleep,” she grumbled, letting him in. “What took you so long? I thought… I thought, well, that you’d come on the Sunday.”

“So did I,” Joel admitted, his squarish face now chiseled into apology. “A few… unexpected matters turned up.”

She couldn’t resist another yawn, and went to dunk her head in the sink, hoping the cold water might revive her. “Bear problems?”

“Something like that. It’s a long story which I hope I can explain to you. Enough, anyway.” He went and slumped on the couch, resting his hand against his forehead, black pants scrunched up, revealing a little of his ankles. His green top seemed a little ill-fitting today as well, since his muscles left no space in the sleeve at all. Teresa toweled off her face, determined to have some focus. She’d waited way too long for Joel to show up to want to tell him to turn up later instead. She offered him porridge, which he refused, and when they were both sitting opposite each other, the conversation began in earnest.

“Are there lots of bear shifters like you, then?”

“In Valor Lake, sure,” Joel said, one finger scratching the stubble upon his chin. “This place was founded by bear shifters. The family legend is true, though. The Witsels like to claim they’re the first family here, but the Valors are the ones who have naming honors. And, technically, the most power. I’d say there’s dozens of us here, but I don’t know what the numbers are like anywhere else.”

Dozens implied not as many as Teresa had originally thought. It really made them sound like a tribe. “You’re not in contact with other shifters?”

“Not really. Plus, we can’t really move far from Valor Lake.” He grimaced at his own words. “Most of us are born here, and die here.”

“Why?”

“There’s… well, our legends say that the bear spirit granted us our power. But the spirit itself is possessive, even jealous. For those who do not stay close and visit often the spirit’s sacred places, then we suffer what’s known as ‘spiritual torment.’ It’s a pain we have that cripples our bodies and can last for hours at a time.”

Teresa tried to look sad and horrified, but honestly, she didn’t really understand. Spiritual pain? Obviously, it meant something to him, so she wore the expression for his benefit.

“There used to be only one known way to visit the bear spirit. The main families controlled the entrance—that’s the Valors, Maguires, and Witsels. Which meant that if you were exiled, then you no longer had access to visit the bear spirit. Which meant a lot of pain. In… recent times, a new grotto was discovered that also contained the spirit’s presence, and it’s near where your watch tower is. The exiles know about this grotto, but the main families don’t. Yet.”

Teresa thought she was following the story well, but noticed one detail that didn’t make sense. “You’re a Witsel, though. You are main family, and you know about it.”

At this, Joel cleared his throat and nodded with a wry smile. “About that… you could say I’m gunning to be exiled. Since I don’t agree with my family’s core values. I was afraid of parting from them at first… but now that we have another location to access the bear spirit discovered, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what they thought.”

Interesting, Teresa thought. In a way, she wanted to break from her family, too. But she also wanted to be in her parents’ good books, because their approval was still important to her. She didn’t really know how different the dynamics were in a bear family. If they still thought and acted exactly like humans, or if there was some animal instinct that drove all their decisions. Which led to her next question.

“Do you keep your mind when you transform?”

“Yes,” Joel replied. “We do gain perhaps more bear-like traits in our emotions, but the thoughts remain. Unless you’re really angry when you’re a human—the shift to bear then makes that rage close to insanity.”

She absorbed all of this, brimming with more questions, since this was the first time she’d ever been face-to-face with a shifter to ask these questions. Beforehand, he was a mystery. A fake naturist.

“Why were the bears at that camp? Were they wild bears?”

Joel gave a small sigh. “Human bears. They weren’t happy humans were so close to the grotto. They don’t like… humans. Not everyone is nice to them. And sometimes the heightened emotions a bear gets from visiting the bear spirit means they might do something rash. Something they’ll regret. I managed to talk them down—but I recommend that if you get any more humans camping, don’t let them stay at any spots near the ravine. I can’t keep pulling all night protection on them.”

Teresa nodded eagerly, opening her mouth for another question, but Joel lifted one finger. “Nuh uh. I want to ask you questions. Since I’m revealing to you way more than I’m comfortable with. Only fair you do the same back, right?” He gave her a smirk, and her interest dissolved into momentary panic.

It was like being wrenched out of a beautiful dream, and back into ugly, cold reality. As if sensing her rapid drop in mood, he added, “Unless it’s really, really bad. But I would like to know more about you.”

She wanted to drink, just to help relax her, boost her boldness. But at the same time, she didn’t, because that was what Jack did all the time. And that boldness led him to do stupid things. He always claimed that he was in control. Even when he wasn’t. She clenched her fingers hard on the desk, having strode over to it, trying to capture some semblance of balance in her emotions. A part of her wanted to tell. God knew she did. But the other part became hysterical at the thought of telling someone, because that kind of information became a weapon in the wrong hands.

A few, deep breaths later, attempting to calm the wriggling eels in her stomach, she tried.

“My last boyfriend died of a drug overdose. Two years ago.” She turned to face Joel, staring into those magnificent blue eyes of his. The perfect color to cast a spell with. The kind of spell that enabled attraction. Her voice came out as a detached monotone, as if she had leeched all the emotion out and locked it somewhere safe, so she could continue with the story, and not be wounded by it. A small part observed that Joel did seem out of place in the tower, because he appeared so oversized compared to the furniture and space on offer.

When he said nothing, she continued, drawing the chair out from beneath to find a more comfy position. “I loved him, but my parents didn’t approve of him at all. They hated him. As for me, I was so in love that I couldn’t—I didn’t see anything wrong in him.” Even though things were wrong. Even though he sent enough signals for someone with a rational, non-love-blinded mind to have realized something was up. Even the news that he died of an overdose didn’t quite sink in.

Overdose suggested he was bad. That at one point, he had taken an illegal, Class A drug, mixed it with his drinking, and consumed too much of it. Had he been taking drugs every time he went out with his friends? She swallowed that awful thought before it began to inflame her mind. “I loved him, so I didn’t see his flaws. I realize now he was keeping things from me. That he lied to me. But I still can’t shake off that feeling that I’d be disrespecting his memory if I started thinking nothing but bad things about him.”

Joel gave a little nod of understanding, his eyes shining in interest. The attention alone motivated her to persist, since she wasn’t used to having such loyal, undivided focus. Especially from someone as handsome as him.

“The thing that fucked me up was the fact that I was actually pregnant. A few weeks—and he was dead. We’d had sex a day before he died. And when I found out… I knew if my parents knew, I’d get no support from them. I’d be a single mother, barely making enough money, supporting a fatherless child without any chance of making my own life better. Keeping it to honor his memory would have been the right thing… I’m sure. But getting rid of it also was.

“I got the abortion. I made my choice. But even now, I can’t help but wonder if it was the wrong one. If I should have allowed that last piece of Jack to be born, and given the child the chances maybe he never had.” She paused, checking her emotions, unsure if she could keep herself calm enough. It was kind of welling up, but manageable. She hoped. “I never really gave myself time to think it through. I never told my parents about the abortion, or, well, anyone. My parents, of course, were delighted he was gone, saying ‘good riddance’, saying I would have been nothing but miserable with him. Better to dodge the bullet young than when I’m past child-bearing age.” She gave a bitter laugh, noticing her left hand was shaking, along with her left knee.

The silence stretched on. Joel realized she wasn’t adding to the story, and spoke at last. “Your parents sound like assholes. But about Jack…? I don’t know what to think about him. Was he a good guy? Were your parents mistaken about him?”

Good questions, and not ones Teresa had really answered in her confession. Each spilled word had left a strange mixture of relief and trepidation inside her. She did want someone to know, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to pay the consequence of them knowing, either.

“I… don’t know,” she said. “The more I look back on it, the more I start seeing things that… that weren’t right. Like, I know nobody’s perfect. People lie, people want to do their own things. Jack had his own secrets. But I can’t help but wonder if he ever actually cared for me, or whether… whether I was just a convenient place for him to live, while he got to do all the shit he liked.”

She felt awful, even stating these words, because it was like she was agreeing with her parents, in a way, and she didn’t want to agree with them. She didn’t want to give Joel a bad image of Jack, either, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that short of lying completely, she couldn’t avoid that impression.

“What made you think that?” Joel said, gentle with his question. He leaned forward on the armchair, backpack at his feet, hands clasped together.

Another damned good question. She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. The fact that Joel hadn’t stated that he felt sorry for her intrigued Teresa, in a way. That was what people did. They heard bad things, and said they were sorry. But Joel, he just listened, and asked questions. “He… well, he didn’t like me going out with him so much. He wanted to go out with his friends a lot, and he never introduced me to any of them. And he didn’t like me going out with my friends so much...” Shit, saying it like that definitely made him sound like an asshole. Even she thought it sounded bad. “Oh, fine. He wasn’t a nice boyfriend. But I can’t help the feelings I had for him.”

Joel gave a small smile, now pulling his hands apart. “That’s progress. For what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision. With the abortion. A child deserves to have a stable family, and if that child started asking all those questions, and found out who their dad was… assuming you weren’t struggling to support the two of you together, and needing to explain why your own parents didn’t want to help them out...”

Startled, Teresa forgot how to blink. Out of all the reactions she’d expected, this ranked among the least anticipated. She’d heard some ferocious debates over abortion, and the huge stigma attached to it affected some of her thinking. That no matter how justified and logical the decision was, a part would always be fundamentally wrong.

“You really think so?”

“Yep.” No hesitation. “I don’t think you did anything wrong. But it’s good you’re out here to think it through, because I guess it’s been bothering you for a while.”

The whole situation now felt a little surreal, but Teresa found herself nodding along with him. “I honestly thought you’d get angry at the abortion part.”

“Why would I? My circumstances aren’t your circumstances.” He reached into his backpack, pulling out two bottles of another expensive looking drink. Bear’s Valor. “This one’s from the Valor family. We might argue about what tastes the best, but I think it’s great. Don’t tell the Witsels, though.” He placed them on the coffee table. “Look, it’s not up to me to judge your life. I’m just happy you told me. And now we know a little more about each other. You know my biggest secret—I’m a bear shifter, I’m planning to break away from my family, you live right next to what’s considered a bear holy place. I was afraid to leave my family because I didn’t want to go through pain, but now I’m okay with it. And I know yours.”

“That’s one thing,” Teresa said, curiosity piquing, and seizing the opportunity to change the topic away from her own sadness. “I don’t actually know so much about you relationship-wise. I assume you’re single, right?”

“Yep. Very single.” He gave her a wink, which sent a delightful shiver down her spine, coiling in her stomach, before settling into a more serious expression. “No, that’s true. There’s not so much to tell, really. I dated a human some time back, but my family threatened me with exile if I kept it up. I was too much of a coward to keep up the relationship after that. But it did send me on the path to look for another way to bypass the spirit pain issue.”

“Did you love her?” Teresa wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear a yes, but it also seemed the only logical answer.

“I don’t know. I think I could have. But we never really got much time together. I quit it too soon, and never really tried afterward until I was sure it didn’t matter who I ended up loving.”

Such simple words, yet they resonated so raw inside her, that she actually found tears threatening her eyelids. How embarrassing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows now raising with concern. The added concern made it harder to retain the emotion.

“I’m fine. It’s just… I’m not used to someone being so candid. Like you’re straight up talking about love, and showing sympathy, and actually listening… it’s not really something I’m used to. People at my workplace don’t like to spill their lives, except maybe to show the best snapshots. Guys talk about dicking women, women talk about attracting guys. Love’s just for movies, you know?”

Joel shook his head. “You humans suck.”

She let out a strangled laugh from that answer, before it died out when he got up and moved towards her. “I’ll come by later this afternoon, okay? I still have some business to attend to, and I’m getting a little short on time… but I wanted you to know you’re not forgotten. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there before.”

“Why—why did it take you so long?” He was close enough to reach out and touch her. Her mind already started working overtime, imagining the process from when his hands caressed her body, to the final gasp of pleasure as they lay together in the sheets, or on the floor, or maybe with her braced against the deck. Feeling his breath hot against her neck, whimpering as he took her with animal ferocity, hands gripping her breasts hard…

“I needed to check up on the exiled bears, go to the factories, and explain that on no account should they even consider attacking humans, and especially not near where the shrine is, if they don’t want to invite the wrong kind of attention. Then I spoke to a couple of friends from the Valor and Maguire families, people who are… sympathetic to the exiles like I am. The Maguires are the family most likely to want to allow their existence to be known, but the other families don’t want it. Who knows, though? Maybe we’ll have some big changes in the future.” He reached out and touched her shoulder in a very deliberate way, as if daring for her to shrug his hand off. When she didn’t, his smile widened. “Hope to see you again soon.” Her heart gave a crazy leap as he pressed his lips on her forehead. A kiss. A kiss! His body was so close, so warm—her arms gave a tiny spasm, as if wanting to curl around him, but she held herself back, aware of her own rapid breathing, as he withdrew, eyes locked with hers for a moment.

“Thank you for telling me about yourself.”

When he left, she still felt the touch of his lips on her head, as if there was now a scar there, and the hand on her shoulder. All the words she’d said about her past now floated in the air, out at last, and they couldn’t be taken back. Her fear that her parents were actually right in their judgment, her knotted worry over the fact that she’d done the most selfish thing possible, rather than the most logical thing possible when it came to her unborn…

The anchor that weighted down her heart felt a little lighter.

Choosing to come out here, she decided, was the best decision I’ve ever made.

She hummed lightly to herself, resisting the urge to skip, as she now felt lighter than air, and ventured over to examine the two dark red wine bottles for herself.

Chapter Six – Joel

The afternoon couldn’t come soon enough. He felt like the human was almost in his grip. Almost ready to fall together in his arms, and his body fizzled with excitement at the notion. Something about the slow dance they were doing around one another made it invigorating and worthwhile. He wanted them to keep up this mesmerizing dance together, even if they parted at the end, never to be seen again.

And she knew about his world, now. Maybe she didn’t understand it fully, because that couldn’t be something to absorb in a couple of hours of conversation, but she knew enough to do some serious damage to the Valor Lake bears if she divulged any of the information. She knew of their existence, and she knew of the second shrine, though she probably didn’t realize that something physical could actually accumulate there. A spirit that could be seen in the right circumstances.

Though he sure wished that it didn’t matter where he lived or what he visited. That was one terrible aspect of the spirit. It made the idea of seeing the world a harder and more painful dream, except for quick, bursts of trips across states and maybe out of the country, as long as the bear didn’t spend long in said country. They didn’t know of any other communities out there.

He’d seen, sometimes, the bear spirit possessing a shifter, and making them ransack the main family grotto, clawing at the walls, but equally, he knew it granted amorous feelings and serenity.

Depended on the occasion, really. And right now, he much preferred getting back to the watch tower and exploring new possibilities with her than to sit here, under the burning gaze of immediate family members, likely preparing themselves to do the exile speech. Usually, the table they sat around was used for large family feasts. Located in their main estate, the dining hall had an olden, rustic charm to it, a claim to their Viking ancestors who once enjoyed mead-drinking halls. They had invited him here under the pretense that there would be a feast to celebrate the anniversary of one of their great grandparents on his first cousin’s side or something.

But now, dressed in his finery, he faced the scowl of his mother, father, grandfather, two brothers, sister, aunt and uncle, and three male cousins. All the most important and relevant family members.

He stared defiantly into his father’s face, similar in structure to his, but with green rather than blue eyes. His mother had the blue eyes, probably the nose as well, though Joel had broken his a few times in brawls. Now in his early thirties, Joel felt more secure in his position than before.

I have my own house, away from the lakes. I have access to the spirit. I have an independent job as a carpenter that doesn’t rely on a single cent of their wealth. I’ll be fine.

Didn’t stop some of the fear teasing inside, even though he remained confident on the outside. He knew this day would come. He just… a tiny part of him hoped it might never pass. That with all the merciless scorn he held about his family, maybe they did have that one shred of decency remaining.

“As you can see,” his father said, resting both hands on the table from the far end, “we’re not going to have a feast. The feast was a ruse to get you in one place for once, boy, since you rarely visit anymore.”

Joel said nothing, not wishing to antagonize the situation further. His father disliked interruptions, anyway. His father disliked a hell of a lot of things, come to think of it. He watched as his mother folded her arms, back ramrod straight. The others lounged around, mostly bored, and his grandfather simply looked to his father, not giving Joel the time of day. Already the whole family felt distant.

“For too long, Joel, you’ve been behaving like a fool and thinking you can get away with it. You wear an ancient family name, but you do it no honor. You do not respect your ancestors. You consort with humans and treat them as equals, when they don’t have the sacred gift. You dishonor us at every twist and turn. The last straw was when you were seen actively talking and helping exiles, of all people. Those who have forsaken their right to be shifters!”

Unable to keep it to himself any longer, Joel let slip a sliver of his true thoughts, past the anger and the fear. “Many of them are called exile because they didn’t fit into your neat little definition of how the world works. You condemn their innocent children who have done nothing wrong, and you forbid them from seeing the spirit, causing unnecessary pain when the only mistake they made was being born!”

A few snorts of derisive laughter followed his statement, and his father’s lip curled at the defiance. “As we thought—there is no getting through to you. Things are this way for a reason. Tradition is important. We would be nothing without tradition. So for this reason… I think you know what is coming.” He looked as if he was on the verge of leaning over and slapping Joel’s face. His brothers refused to look at him. His sister appeared on the verge of tears—Petra at least felt sorry for him, but she wouldn’t lift a finger to help. Hadn’t done so in the past, wouldn’t do so now.

I have connections with the Valors and Maguires. They’ll help me out if anything goes wrong. I can deal with this. Though a kind of blizzard bottled up inside him, in contrast to the heatwave they’d been experiencing.

“As from now on, we declare you an exile. I do not acknowledge you as my son. You have no family here. You have no home here. You will be attacked on sight if you are found near the sacred grotto. This we have already explained to the other families. It’s been a while since an exile was needed… but this one is necessary.”

“I suppose it helps if you have more than one son,” Joel said with a certain trace of bitterness. “You know, if you’re that terrified of losing power, you really should have kept me around.” He scraped his chair away and stalked off. Ignoring any words that came from them. One more time to be walking these halls, when he used to play in them as a child. The staircase with the chipped banister, the worn-out welcome mat which no longer meant anything to him, and the place upstairs that his sister now slept in, that once was a shared room between Joel and his brother, Kanthen.

The halls were big, but empty. I have a home, he thought desperately to himself, as panic welled up inside. I’ll be fine. I can visit the second grotto. I don’t need the strength of the family to survive. I’ll be fine.

For all his calmness when talking to Teresa about leaving the Witsels, now that the hour had finally come, a powerful urge to sob threatened to overcome Joel. It should never have gotten to this point in the first place. He should have been free to choose what he wanted, and love who he wanted, without consequence.

But there was always a consequence. Wasn’t there?

* * *

His father had already blocked access to the shared family funds. Joel’s inheritance savings account had already been blocked as well, but he anticipated that, hence the personal savings for the past six years. He had his carpentry business, currently on hiatus, and plans to produce alcohol, since he had contact with a botanist who was currently breeding a unique strain of grape for different wine production.

Then there was the nice house just outside of town, an hour’s walk from the bus-stop, and a few more to Teresa’s tower. He was surprised, honestly, that the family didn’t try to interrogate him for the location of the second shrine. They probably don’t expect that I know, he thought to himself. Apparently, they had no idea about the true depth of his betrayal when it came to the families and the power they held.

But things needed to change. And sometimes, change happened, regardless of whether someone liked it or not. They had to adapt, or fall behind.

The problem with his family was that they hated adapting. They just wanted things to be the same as what they were two or three centuries ago. They hated the interconnected world the humans made. They hated how many humans existed on the planet. Joel contacted his friends to inform them to be careful being seen with him, as he was now considered an exile. Enyeto had snickered about it, because he no longer thought it mattered, now that they were about to bitch-slap the three families with a new change.

But it still didn’t stop the one basic error of shifter existence. Why did they need to go and visit specific locations at all?

He trundled to the tower in bear form, keeping his clothes folded neatly in a backpack that he wore awkwardly on his arm. He wanted to stay in that form, as some emotions became easier to handle, like the pinching fear of not being able to go back and see his family again, and knowing his own brothers, as little as they got on together, would kill him if he approached the main grotto.

Finally, by the tower, he transformed by the stairs and pulled on underwear, black pants, gray socks, a white button shirt. He left his sleeveless gray waistcoat in the backpack—too hot to wear it at the moment. The sun beat down vigorously upon the wooden and metal structure of the tower, and the grass was forming that dry quality. Even the streams were starting to shrink—he could see the edges of the bank where the former volume had flown.

Up the twisting stairs, and the gentle vibration each one gave when he placed his foot down. He used the metal railing to propel himself easier, and knocked four times on the door. He waited expectantly for an answer, but none came. The longer he waited without an answer, the more his brain overworked. She was sleeping. In the shower. Taking an important call. Not in, but inspecting a site. Unconscious on the floor inside. Kidnapped by one of the bear shifters outside. Maimed, wounded, worse…

He rapped four more times, trying not to let his imagination dictate things for him. A lot of bad things could happen to humans, come to think of it. And he’d heard bear shifters boast about defending their territories from interlopers. Even though the watch towers and lookouts were approved by the main families, it still didn’t mean that accidents couldn’t happen.

Just before he seriously considered breaking down the door, it opened, and Teresa stood there in the entrance, smiling, looking as if she’d put some effort into her appearance. Her eyes seemed bigger, somehow, her lips thicker and more inviting, and her hair hung in artful curls around her face. She still wore combat fatigues, but otherwise appeared in that moment startlingly attractive. Several emotions bubbled in Joel’s body, but he settled with an answering smile and an “Am I interrupting something?” His eyes rather discreetly flicked to the front of her chest, covered up. Not quite trying to seduce him that way. He pretended the badge on her breast pocket had caught his attention instead. “I’ve never noticed this before. Is this the ranger badge or…?”

She glanced down, as if noticing the badge on her breast pocket for the first time as well. “Oh, yeah. It’s part of the uniform. I get to give all this back when I finish the job. Just over a month left, now.”

“And you just… finish, then go back to regular life?” He stepped into the marginally cooler building—Teresa had turned on several fans to circulate the warm air, and had cranked the window above her bed open—one of four that covered the premises, with the largest being the pane in front of her desk for optimal viewing.

“Something like that,” she replied. He caught a waft of something pleasant on her skin. Had she worn perfume, before? The fact that it seemed like she’d made an effort for his arrival helped direct his mood from possible gloom and despair to excitement and hope. He couldn’t wait to open the drinks, get them both mellow and receptive enough… already, his mind slavered at the thought of undressing her, revealing more and more skin. Now particularly it seemed he wanted to do something with her, because of everything bottling up inside at once. Just someone to take his mind off everything, no matter how short a time they might have together. He certainly didn’t mistake the invisible electricity crackling between them, or the long, deliberate glances shared, either.

“Well, that seems a shame, then. What if I want to see more of you? Might be hard to do that if you’re on the other side of the world.”

“I’m not that far,” she said, now passing him an empty glass. “Besides, if you did see me, it would be in a slightly more realistic environment than this. Surrounded by friends, colleagues, getting healthier foods than what I have on selection here...”

“Oh, speaking of healthier foods...” He turned and reached into his backpack, now pulling out two microwaveable lasagna packages. “Okay, well, maybe not that healthy, but I imagine a darn sight tastier than what you’ve been subjected to so far.”

She gave a light laugh. “Ah, later. I’ve already filled myself up with the non-tasty shit. If you’d like to join me for dinner later…?”

He gave an elaborate bow. “As you command, milady.”

She rolled her eyes at this statement and placed the food in the fridge. It already was starting to appear melted and soggy.  Not quite the romantic meal he had planned…

In fact, it didn’t seem like she had the patience to sit down. Still, they faced each other with their glasses.

Then, with a tiny stab of fear inside, he began to tell her what had happened with his family.

Chapter Seven – Teresa

What felt fantastical was sitting here in a lonely place with a bear shifter. Compounded by the fact that he talked about being exiled by his own family, simply for being himself, and threatened with death if he disobeyed their instructions. Less fantastic but more thrilling was when his glances became so obvious and churning with desire, that she needed to… invite him a little bit. It’d been a while since she tried seduction, and she felt like a clown with all the attempts she made.

It became harder to want to do that when she heard his story, though.

“I really can’t imagine something like that happening to me,” she said, wishing she could say something smart or useful.

“Let’s hope it never does,” Joel said.

Something still didn’t sit right with that story. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. “They didn’t even give you a chance to defend yourself!”

Her reaction caused him to perk up slightly from his otherwise morose mood. She considered that a good sign. “Yeah, I know, right? It’s like, never mind we spent most of our lives together, just fuck off now because you don’t agree with what we believe in.”

“They sound pretty much as bad as mine,” she said with narrowed eyes, hands clenched. “I bet if I’d told them the truth, they’d behave just like yours. They pulled the truth out of you, right?”

“I was probably followed,” Joel said, sounding nervous. “I mean, they found out somehow what I was doing. I don’t think they know about you yet, though. Apparently, you’re my best kept secret now, tower girl.”

“I can think of worst secrets to keep,” she said. “But still. These rules seem so silly. So needlessly arbitrary.” She might have been convalescent herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel any sympathy for someone else’s pain. His was more recent. His demanded immediate attention. And she knew of a way to do just that. Her pulse vibrated in her neck, as she wondered about the timing. If it was… taking advantage, somehow. She shoved her screaming common sense and rational thought to a dusty corner of her mind as Joel stood up, and she ventured over to him, slipping her arms purposefully around his waist. “Now, if only there was a way to take your mind off such thinking...”

She couldn’t believe how bold she was being. What if he just rejected her outright, laughed off her advance? But no. He’d intended for this to happen, had he not? Why else tease her so much, leave her wanting?

Her gamble paid off. Joel, with a hungry, satisfied gleam in his eyes, brought his lips to hers, and kissed hard, his tongue breaking her lip barrier within a moment, exploring her mouth. She gasped at the strange sensation—Jack had never done this—he never really kissed as such.

Their tongues danced, and his arms wrapped around her tight. Arousal exploded through her, and she wanted more, needed more, and began scrabbling at his shirt, eager to take it off. He broke off kissing from her and gave a low chuckle in her ear, clearly delighted with her response, and restraining her hands from stripping him down.

“Me first,” he growled, now using his strength to push her backwards, until they collided into the bed together. She tried to fight back, to push against him, but with that kind of awesome power in his muscles, she didn’t stand much of a chance. Not that she intended to withstand him for long. Heat rose up into her cheeks and ran flush across her body, culminating in a delicious ache between her thighs. And the way he looked at her, so full of desire, so full of admiration—it fanned at her ego, making it hard to stay focused. She wanted to pleasure him, first. To get down on her knees, touch him down there, kiss and suck until he came.

He seemed, however, to have other ideas. His hands were quite busy peeling off her clothing, and every time she attempted to squirm for freedom, he found a way to trap her escaping limbs so she couldn’t do shit.

“No fair,” she protested breathlessly, already finding it hard to breathe because of her excitement. She wanted to drink in more of his body, his eyes. And there was something more between them, wasn’t there? Shared secrets and an intensity there that burned like an inferno, compared to the lukewarm reception of Jack.

Fuck Jack, she thought furiously, sinfully, before rising upwards for another kiss.

Joel stripped her naked, and locked her thighs apart, beginning a trail of kisses down to her core.

“Did you know,” he said, interrupting the moment slightly, “that there’s no such thing as a vaginal orgasm?”

The words came out of nowhere, but caught her attention all the same. “What?”

She remembered somewhere that Jack thought all women could only come from having a dick stuck inside them. That this was the only orgasm that mattered.

“I did some research,” he confessed, grinning wickedly from between her legs, his chin resting on her stomach. She liked the way his throat vibrated against her. Such a weird, wild, exciting sensation. “A lot of research. All your orgasms come from stimulation of this...” he brushed a light finger over her bundle of nerves, causing her to jerk and cry out. “And this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s a lot more of it tucked inside you. And this is what some guys are able to touch when they have sex with a woman. When there’s just enough force, or if the shape is different enough to be felt through here...” his finger slipped into her wetness, and up, entering her for the first time. He made a forward twitching motion with it inside, and immediately felt like she was being touched directly on the nub itself. She let out an astonished, aroused groan, compounded further when he began work on the nub itself, using his lip and tongue to stimulate.

Her head thumped against the pillows hard, and her back arched into the air, as she struggled to deal with the intense stimulation.

The orgasm itself seemed to start on the tips of her fingers and toes, and slowly traveled up her arms and legs in a tingling sensation. Eventually, it erupted in her as a deep, radiating ecstasy, leaving her limbs unable to function as he continued to tease the orgasm out of her.

“Stop! Stop—I just came,” she gasped, as he worked on her now hypersensitive nub. He halted instantly, looking incredibly smug, before pulling off his shirt and undoing his pants, to reveal a huge, throbbing cock.

“A moment,” he said, voice quivering with excitement, as he reached into his pant pocket to pull out a few condom packets. He tore the foil off one and rolled the thin material over his waiting erection, before clambering up her body, and slowly guiding himself inside her. She shivered and whimpered in pleasure as he pushed all the way in—she was so wet, it didn’t take much resistance at all—and now his chest was pressed against hers, his arms braced on either side of her as his hips went into motion. She took in the delightful scent of him, his hot, manly aroma that drove her brain wild, and begged him to go harder, faster.

The tangle of limbs made her heart beat incredibly fast, and she never wanted the moment to stop. His breaths came in hitched puffs of excitement as well, and when she opened her eyes long enough, she saw his closed, his jaw taut, as he crashed into her, before slowing down suddenly, with a quiet gasp.

He must have come, Teresa thought with happiness. And how polite of him—giving her the opportunity to be pleasured first. Not leaving her to finish it alone later.

He… was so much better than before.

And for some reason, she didn’t feel guilty for that thought. There was no place for guilt. No place for bad memories. Only the joy of what they could experience together, for as long as they had before she disappeared back into her world.

Although at this rate, she didn’t want to go back at all.

Chapter Eight – Joel

Happiness only ever lasted in breaths, didn’t it? So one tried to get as many of those breaths as possible. Make all the little moments worth something.

He didn’t like the days ticking away, though. Since their session so soon after his expulsion from the tribe, they found it super easy to keep tumbling into each other’s arms. Just turn up, exchange a few words, and that was it.

The sex did feel a little like running away from problems, though. Neither of them did exactly much confessing on the tricky aspects of their lives, when they were too busy drowning in pleasure. He loved the way she felt wrapped around him, how her body responded to his every touch. He especially loved that praise came from her lips, instead of derisive laughter at his skills. Clearly, all that research had paid off.

But now their feelings crashed, but the words they spoke, of doing the dance to get to know one another—those became far less. He felt a little bereft of opportunity, somehow. And the days ticked down. They slipped into weeks.

Sometimes she was busy attending to her duties, and at some point, he needed to end his hiatus and go back to work. Except he didn’t feel like it. Harder to do that if there was a deep, uncomfortable knot in his stomach, along with the desire to use all time possible with Teresa before she vanished into the world.

Or before something happened within the bear shifter world. When he wasn’t lying next to Teresa, still breathing hard after the sex, or admiring the contours of her body, he was dealing with watching his people, and making sure they did nothing drastic.

His people now being the exiles.

It’s only a matter of time before the families find the second shrine, Joel thought. He pushed away the thoughts of Teresa for now, still pondering the implication of what would happen once the location became common knowledge. Civil war, perhaps. The exiles previously never worked together well enough to mount an attack on the families, but if the families attempted to target them now…

He didn’t think it would be good for the bear shifter community. If only he could just move out of Valor Lake. Maybe he could pursue relationships, then. If he didn’t need to worry about being restricted only to Valor Lake, or having to ask any women he bonded with to give up everything and live in nature. Wasn’t like hundreds of women were lining up to live at Valor Lake—the dating pool remained small.

In bear form, his paws crunched over crispy leaves and withering plants. The heatwave was lasting far longer than usual. All around him, plants not exposed to rivers and bodies of water paid the price, wilting under the rippling heat of sun-warmed air. A drought. Perfect conditions for wildfire. One slice of heat focused in one dried area for too long… and the forests would erupt. In such difficult-to-access places, too, they’d need to rely on helicopters and long-ranged ground troops. A fire engine would have a hell of a hard time getting up the slopes. Four-wheel drives were the easiest mode of travel, if you learned to drive.

The heat left an uncomfortable, sticky sensation on his fur, and the dusty soil rubbed against his pads and between his claws.

The families wanted to maintain their power. It wasn’t enough that they had wealth and prestige. They also wanted dominance over the other shifters in Valor Lake. They wanted relevance in the part of the world they could never leave for long. Distance increased the spiritual pain experienced, after all. It could turn to hours, days of torture at a time.

What they needed, Joel thought to himself, was to come out into the open. Create more business for humans to move in, maybe other shifters around the world. Reveal their existence in a more public way and seek their importance elsewhere. It couldn’t just be one whistleblower, however. It needed to be a group big enough to convince an audience of millions, or they could dismiss one person as a radical.

He padded up the side of the thin stream, mournful that its powerful rush had been reduced to a shadow of its former strength, and paused when he stared down into the ravine, where the shrine lay tucked out of view. A human male—or at least, he thought it a human male—trekked down the sides with two hiking poles, heading in what seemed like the direction of the shrine.

I need to scare him. Joel began hurrying around and down, hoping to cut off the human before he made it too close to the shrine. Whatever warnings he gave, it still wouldn’t stop anyone from reacting impulsively to anything they deemed a threat to their freedom. Hope Teresa doesn’t get a call to come here. With a brief stab of sadness, he realized it to be best she stayed away from all this. That the humans he did end up flirting with and bedding stayed away from the shitty dynamics of Valor Lake.

Teresa didn’t deserve to be looking over her shoulder all the time.

He made it down to the south of the shrine, and then ambled upwards and diagonally, until he spotted the hiker. Bears were behind him, moodily keeping guard, not yet with that proud discipline the main families had with their shrine. The hiker, still making his merry way down, froze like a statue when Joel padded into view. Joel made his slow, deliberate way towards the human, acting as if he was foraging, though there wasn’t exactly much to forage.

His heart sank further when he saw two bear heads poke from the top of the ravine. Then three. Four. Seven bears gathering, as if preparing for an assault. They bore the familiar sandy-colored tint of the Witsel family, and with a horrible, sinking feeling, he wondered if he’d led them straight to the shrine. A couple of what looked like Valor bears, with the huge, dark brown fur coats, turned it to nine.

We need reinforcements, Joel sent to the bears behind him, closer, so he hoped the others wouldn’t catch his message. The main families are gearing up for an attack on the second shrine. They are in the area.

What? yelped a startled voice. They found it?

Yes. Hurry. There’s a human in the way, too. I’m going to try and get him to safety, maybe see if I can delay these bears…

The human had now picked up what looked like a walkie-talkie, and was whispering frantically into it. Contacting Teresa’s tower, maybe. Which didn’t exactly bode well if she chose to come on foot. But she wouldn’t, if there’s bears. The human hadn’t spotted the ones above him, yet. Shit.

No choice for it. He began running at the human, and the man yelped in fright, turning on his heels and running sideways. Joel continued to lumber after him, brushing aside one of the hiking poles the human had dropped. Joel’s mind raced with possibilities and fear. He’d just been exiled. If they got rid of his only chance at solace so soon…

The chase ended when the human toppled out of sight in the brush. Hopefully no bears would pursue him now, as long as none came from that direction…

Hello, traitor.

Joel whipped around to see the nine bears advancing down the ravine towards the shrine, more or less ignoring him. The one who spoke was his father, and a flash of hatred entered his heart.

Father, you don’t want to be doing this.

You are no son of mine.

Darion, Joel replied with gritted teeth, this won’t be like the first shrine. They will fight to defend it to the death. And there are more exiles than there are main family. I suggest if you want to keep your power, you leave this place alone. Power doesn’t have to come from denying something to others.

His words, thankfully, did make a couple of the bears hesitate. Then he heard his brother say nervously, You know, Joel does have a point. We are powerful even if we don’t have control of the shrines. Money and wealth increase over the centuries, and we have more than any other.

Do you want to be labeled as traitor, too? Darion snapped at Jared, and his brother backed away, snout lowered to the rocky ground.

You may not be my family any longer, Joel warned, but that doesn’t make my concern any less valid. This will be a disastrous move. Your arrogance will be your undoing.

Talk any more, boy, and I will personally come over there and rip your head off myself!

Heart heavy, with those words, a horrible, last-resort idea stirred in Joel’s mind. It might work, too, with all that dreadful pride his father clung to. For him, it would be pride over family, every single time.

I challenge you, Darion. An Honor Duel. My victory means that you will not touch the shrine. My death means that you do whatever.

His father stood still, quivering for a moment. His snout twitched, and his eyes bulged in outrage.

No. I will not allow you to thwart our rights. Family—attack him if he approaches.

Joel gaped at his father, unable to believe that the crusty older bear had actually said no.

You forsake your honor this much, Darion?

No. You trick me, traitor. I will not fall for tricks.

The bears all kept wary eyes upon Joel, and he knew he couldn’t get past that. Even one of them would be a challenge. Rushing all of them at once would be tantamount to suicide. People he grew up with. People he loved. People who should have loved him back, but were just so fucking wrapped up in their stupid, ancient family “pride.”

Reinforcements are coming! The voice from one of the guardians came back, frantic. We got some guys with guns coming, too.

Cold washed over Joel. His family acted as if they didn’t hear it—he still refused to see them as non-family—and he made a sudden movement forward, causing intensive growling to vibrate along the nine bears.

If you go now, you’re all walking into a bloodbath!

Sons, family, allies—kill this interloper, Darion spat, and the other eight bears hesitated for only a moment, before they started to bound towards Joel.

I mean it! Joel screamed at them. They won’t fight like you! They don’t care about tradition! They’ll use weapons! Guns!

Nobody responded to his pleas. So he had no choice but to turn and charge off, knowing they wouldn’t chase him far before needing to gather together again for the assault.

And if the other shifters used guns, then what would stop them from just taking over the main shrine? The power would go to their heads. They’d be blooded by this, and realize the families no longer had any sway over them. Absolute disaster. His family—former family—were walking into a meat grinder.

I tried, he thought, his heart almost bursting with sadness. I tried to tell them. I warned them. It’s their own fault if they still persist with this mess. It’s out of my hands.

In his charging, he practically bowled over the human who had attempted to run away from him. The human had been talking into his device again, apparently forgetting bears could run up to forty miles an hour, and let out a wretched scream, waving his hiking pole around like a sword.

He still heard the pounding of heavy bodies behind him.

Fuck. No help for it, then. He seized the hiker by his backpack with strong jaws, as the man continued waving his hiking pole, and proceeded to lumber ahead, encumbered by the awkward position. He didn’t dare glance back, but kept charging as fast as he could, until the sound behind him stopped.

Maybe if I act like I think he’s a cub or something… though, obviously, bears didn’t consciously pick up stray hikers to save them from other bears. This man would have quite the story to tell.

With silence, Joel slowed down his frantic pace. The man in his jaws by now had fallen into a miserable series of whimpers, and there was also the strong, acrid smell of urine. Joel spat him out, and he rolled on the ground, too frozen with fear to take the opportunity presented to him. Joel felt a momentary pang of regret—he wished he could be back attempting to stop his family, somehow. Before they walked into the guns.

He wished it didn’t take something so extreme to force a change. Since either way, if a lot of people died at once in a remote area, it would trigger investigations.

The man, now apparently realizing he wasn’t going to be mauled to death, stared at Joel incredulously. Another thing he was doing wrong, there—maintaining eye contact. He should have been dead three times over. For turning his back and running from a bear, from not seizing the opportunity to run away, and not giving the respect a wild animal was due.

Eventually, the idiot seemed to get it into his thick skull that he could escape, minus his dignity due to the stain on his blue pants, and he hobbled away, occasionally giving frightened, confused glances back.

Joel didn’t think he’d like to know where Valor Lake stood in terms of secrecy within a year or so. Reluctantly, because he couldn’t think of anything else, he began to pad in the direction of Teresa’s watch tower.

Chapter Nine – Teresa

“Yeah, the bear just let me go, and I don’t get it, man, I don’t get how I’m alive, you know?” The hiker’s babble continued to trek through Teresa’s receiver, and she was furiously typing down the report as well. She hadn’t known whether to call authorities or not, because she knew the bears the man saw were likely shifters, and she knew the shifters wanted privacy. They’re doing a fucking shit job of that, though. This guy’s gonna be headline news once he sells his story.

“It’s good you got out of that. Are you injured? Are you now in a safe place?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a couple scratches. Get this—the bear was carrying me by my knapsack. He was running from other bears—I saw them, whole lotta them, coming. I don’t know how he outran them. I think that bear saved me!”

Fuck. Definitely sounded like one of the shifters had picked up Greg the hiker. Are they fighting by the ravine? Did the main families Joel keeps talking about ascertain the location? A small shiver went through her. What if Joel was there?

What if Joel was the bear that carried him? “What color was this bear? Did you see?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I did. Sorta brown-yellow, big bastard he was, like three times the size of me.”

Could be Joel. Could not be. Shouldn’t jump to any major conclusions… “Okay, that’s good. Do you need assistance? I can call in a chopper to your location if you need to get out of there.”

“I’m okay. I’m gonna head back to town now. Just hope I don’t bump into any more bears, yeah?”

She could almost see him smiling in a gormless way on the other side. Should take the offer, idiot. If there’s a lot of bears in the area…

“Okay. Contact again in an hour, let us know where you are. Someone else will pick up if you’re out of my range. I’ll inform the others to let them know what’s up with you. Okay?”

“Great! Thanks a bunch, miss!”

She relayed her information and got the same reaction about him not taking the chopper as she felt about Greg. What an idiot.

She didn’t tell them everything, though. Just that he got spooked by a couple of bears. Best not to mention him being carried and chased by a whole pack. Although if he talked, there wasn’t really much else she could do.

Not much else than just to wait and see. Now, if only she had a damn phone signal out here. Might be nice to try and contact him.

She sat at the desk, her mind whirring with thoughts. Most of her wanted to linger on the time she and Joel shared together, and the little left they would have before parting ways. The other part wanted to explore further the strangeness of a shifter, if perhaps something did fundamentally change. If he was capable of love and attraction, if he felt it more intensely or less so.

Thinking about him made her guilty, though. About the abortion, and her faithlessness to Jack. It should be harder for her to lose those bonds. But they fell away easily when it came to the prospect of something new.

She clung onto them because she didn’t know any better. She had no standard to follow. Then someone like Joel came along and offered a new, exciting standard, helping her to shrug off the shell of old ways.

Jack wasn’t good for me, Teresa thought, staring at the backs of her hands as she did so, expecting to be consumed by guilt. It didn’t come. My parents were right about this, even if I hated it at the time. She didn’t know everything about him. Whether he cheated or whether he really cared. But she no longer wanted to spend her time worrying about it. Or feeling sad for the life that might have been. Too many possibilities existed. Maybe that child could have grown up to be the next president of the USA. Or maybe it would have died anyway. She didn’t know, and it hurt to keep guessing when the deed was long done.

All she could do was keep moving.

Tears welled up, and one spilled straight from her eye to the floor. She stared at the splodge on the floor for a moment, then scuffed it with her sock.

“Teresa? Are you there? Over.” The voice crackled out of the receiver, and she contemplated whether or not to answer, and pretend she was out, before gathering herself together, clearing her throat, and reaching for it.

“Yeah? I’m here. Over.”

“We’ve been getting word that there’s a big gathering of bears in your area. Several other hikers have been reporting in. Please note—if anyone calls in to your tower, advise them to get the flying fuck out of there. Over.”

“Yeah...” Teresa rubbed her face, wondering what the hell was happening. First that hiker called, babbling about being chased by a bunch of bears, and now more reports were coming in which made it sound like a clusterfuck was happening. Bears against bears. All for some stupid shrine. She still didn’t fully understand the whole business about the shrine, why the main family or whatever so desperately wanted to locate it. Why couldn’t they just leave it? So much easier. No risk of death. No spiritual torment or what was it Joel said?

“I’ll keep listening and tell them to stay away. Over.”

“Great. Over.”

With the report finalized, Teresa went back to staring out of the windows, now using her binoculars, hoping maybe she could see some of these events for herself. Safety protocol dictated she remain here. It also stated to protect anyone who came her way and provide them with shelter. She couldn’t see anything happening, as she didn’t have a view of the ravine from here. She also needed to answer more calls from distant hikers, informing them all to steer clear or come to her tower.

Ferocious knocking at the door caused her to nearly drop her receiver in fright, before she gathered herself together. Peering through the doorflap, she caught a glimpse of naked flesh and hastily opened the door.

“Joel!” she exclaimed, before frowning, catching the solemn mood upon his features. “What’s up?”

“Everything,” he panted, and he stepped inside, cheeks flushed, body heaving. “Fucking everything. There’s basically a full-grown civil war in the ravine at the moment. My family discovered the shrine, I don’t know how. I needed to drag a human out of there, he would have been killed otherwise...”

“Ah, so it was you that Greg was talking about,” Teresa said, now digging for something for Joel to wear.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, I’ll change back to a bear shortly. Just—be careful, make sure none of your stupid humans are in the area, and...” he slumped wearily down to the floor, back against the wall. The fact that he happened to be very, very naked wasn’t nearly as distracting as the thought that if a lot of bears were in the area like this, they could hardly keep this big secret of theirs a secret.

“Joel...” she crouched by him, searching for any injuries. “What does this all mean? What will happen to your people if the second shrine you talk about is taken?”

“If it’s taken,” he replied miserably, his blue eyes sad. “The exiles are bringing guns. Breaking the bear shifter regulations of fighting, of course. Seems they’re willing to risk jail to keep the shrine intact. Or maybe spend a majority of their lives instead in bear form. Hard to arrest someone when they can shapeshift.” He told her the events of what had happened as best as able, though he rushed through the parts that included the attempt to warn his family, and how they just ignored him.

That had to suck. She remembered the times when her own parents had ignored her, simply because they thought her opinion less worthy for debate. Age mattered. In a way, she suspected they never quite accepted the fact she’d actually grown up.

“You know, this might be all over the news,” Teresa said, frowning slightly. “Your family ironically might end up revealing the existence of your people anyway.”

He gave another forlorn nod in response to this. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I’m glad you’re safe. I need to go back out there...”

“I don’t think you should,” Teresa said suddenly, a leap of fear moving her guts. “I don’t think there’s anything more that you can do. I think you’re going to waste time and energy for something that was going to happen anyway.”

He frowned at her, clearly wanting to disagree, but not quite mustering the energy to let it out of his mouth. “I feel like I have to do something.”

“Getting yourself killed isn’t a good idea. I suppose you don’t want to tell the police, either?”

“God, no,” he replied. He glanced at her sheepishly. “I suppose… do you have clothes?”

Happy he wasn’t about to run out and suicide, she fished for something that might fit him. She did have one nightdress which could serve as a shirt… it was blue, so didn’t look too girly and stupid. As for underwear… well, her granny panties were probably the best she could do. She encouraged him to take a shower first, since he did look the worse for wear, and when he came out wearing a nightdress and black socks, she at least had the good grace not to laugh.

He appeared glum, so all she did in the end was get him to drag the armchair next to her so they could partially cuddle together, as she continued to answer calls from her station. Gradually, they managed to piece together more of what was happening from other callers. Gunfire. Sounds of gunfire. Dead people.

“This is going to become huge news,” Teresa whispered to an increasingly despondent Joel, as the bears wrote themselves into the history books.

“Father is so stupid,” Joel whispered, not finding the energy to say anything else.

Teresa gently stroked his cheeks, unable to think of anything to say. She’d hoped to have time with him. To spend her weeks with little tower visits, and heated, pleasurable nights. She never expected to fall in with him so deep as well, and help him ride out any pain that squirmed inside. She concentrated on him, kissing the top of his head, soothing him with gentle rubs as he clung to her.

One more call came. A call she’d been expecting. “Can you hear me, ranger?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a fire. And some hikers passed me, warning me to turn away from this area.”

“That’s right. It’s not safe. Where is the fire?” Even as she said it, when she peered through the window, she saw curls of smoke rising up into the air above the trees.

The heat, the lack of moisture, and perhaps the sparks from the guns or whatever the bears were doing had triggered this. Joel gaped at the sight in horror. The high-pitched man’s voice told her anyway. She thanked him, told him he could make his way to her tower if he wanted, and patched in to warn the nearest station about the fire, triggering a chain effort that would send firefighting teams to try and stave off the damage.

“It really is over, isn’t it?” Joel shivered in her arms when the call had finished. He sounded frustrated, strained. “A civil war between bears, dead bodies, and now a fire. Our secrecy is fucking toast.”

What could she say to that? It was true. Nothing short of a miracle would preserve their centuries-old silence. It seemed a shame, in a way. She liked the notion of holding onto a secret no one else had. Of holding it for someone she liked, and might one day love. If she didn’t already find herself falling for him.

But still.

This had been one hell of a lookout job. When everything ended, this would be burned into her memories forever. The summer where everything happened. Where she healed her broken heart, picked up the pieces of her scattered mind, and learned to feel a part of everything again.

A strange thought teased her mind. I don’t want to leave this man, she realized. I don’t want this to end when my job does. The idea invigorated her, and she sat a little stiffer in her chair, the flames dancing on the edges of her vision. They’d need to leave the tower out of protocol. Wildfires had a fearsome reach, and with the amount of dry kindling the flames had…

Better get ready to go, then.

Epilogue – Two Months Later

The funeral still felt like it had happened yesterday. Joel sat in the confines of his cabin house, remembering how the remaining Witsels, Maguires and Valors had been there, bowed in silence. His family were turned to bones by the time the firefighters had dealt with the fire, but they could only contain it, stop it from spreading further. Big patches of the forests now remained as blackened husks.

Father, and his brothers, dead. His mother still lived as the de facto head, but with no youthful male relatives standing, technically, the legacy should have fallen to him. His sister had argued for the inclusion of him in the funeral, and the remaining members allowed it.

The way that silly human priest had droned on and on, talking about God and being blessed, watching crying family members struggle to utter a word through their trembling lips in their eulogies, and hearing his father’s favorite tune, Dancing Wind, being played, all ended up as reminders to him that he could have prevented this. He might not have warned the exiles. He might have been more careful in his activities with the exiles, and thus not be consigned to the same fate. He might not have spent his time being enamored with Teresa, getting back at his ridiculous family by flirting with a human.

But now they were all gone. Teresa included. Joel let the images of the funeral slip from mind, though his thoughts remained split between Teresa, and the intensity of their final moments together and the storm of tears that erupted from her in their last hours before her flight back home—and the fact that the bears had made national headlines.

Anthropologists were already coming into Valor Lake, along with tourists and other shifters. Hemotologists wanted blood samples, and US government agencies had been requesting for them to be tested. The world changed as the humans intruded, and without the Witsels’ hungry grip on Valor Lake, without the secrecy keeping them all isolated, the families found themselves indeed lessened in power. What else would they have expected?

The factories as well generated great interest. Some humans hung like groupies outside them, and Joel wasn’t sure if he liked any of the changes. He hated that people needed to die, and things needed to burn.

And he wished more than ever that Teresa was here. Although he had her phone number, he hated texting, phoning. He wanted to see people face to face, and not their words on a page.

All those nights together. The things she’d told him about her life, the awful secret that weighed down her soul. His soul felt just as heavy, nowadays. He couldn’t help but blame himself for the demise of so many members of his family. He kept running back to that moment in his mind when he confronted them, thinking how else he might have made his argument to them.

How else he might have gotten through to his family. Maybe he should have stood and fought. Maybe, maybe…

Joel cracked open a beer, feeling like a sad, miserable miser, wanting nothing more than to drown his sorrows and sink his mind into sweet oblivion. Better not to think about these things at all.

The world ends with me, he thought, staring into the brown froth of his beer bottle, picturing how he saw his father as a child, sitting impressively in his “special” armchair, smoking a pipe, a pile of empty bottles at his side. Everything we’ve protected for centuries… it ended because of me. I was the one who helped with the second shrine. I was the one who actively encouraged the exiles to go there. And it ended with a bloodbath of fourteen shifters.

At least nature had the dignity to burn her children, if nothing else. Emergency teams were still out there, administering water to the thirsty plants. He felt pathetic, lying there, wallowing in these thoughts.

Was this what Teresa had intended to do when she chose her summer job? Wallow in despair?

Deal with the lives lost in isolation? He hated it. Isolation threatened to drive him crazy. His hand gripped his phone, with the last text message from Teresa.

Slow day at work, so they’re going to let me off early. Thinking of going home and watching a movie. How are you?

Terrible, he’d replied. I’ll manage, though. Then, because he realized how shitty the message sounded, he added, I mostly just feel guilty about my family, but of course, they never listened. I’ve been spending time with my friends from the other families, and they’re in negotiation with the exiles. Something good can come out of all of this.

I’m glad, Teresa had replied. Time will heal you. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, but it’s true. You did everything you could at the time, I’m sure. Anyway, I better go now. Talk to you later. Love, Teresa.

He smiled a little at her love, but wondered just how much longer he could deal with the distance. He didn’t want a long-distance relationship. He didn’t want to pine away after her image, while his heart throbbed for someone to be there, by his side, in his arms. But they simply hadn’t been together long enough for him to suddenly demand that she give up everything and move closer to him. Sheer stupidity.

He continued sitting there, letting a television series blur past him, without really focusing on it. He didn’t care for the plot, characters, or acting, but it was something in the background. Just while he allowed himself to sit there in his pants, opening his third bottle of blackcurrant cider. The hours leeched away. Another day almost gone.

Knock knock. His eyes whipped sharply to the door. Probably Arthur, or someone, come to check on him to make sure he was still floating, somehow.

Mooching over to the door, feet rubbing against the orange and brown carpet, he unlocked and opened it.

Teresa stood on the other side, one eyebrow arched upwards when she took in Joel’s appearance. She was dressed elegantly, with a frilly white shirt, black skirt and tights, and low-heeled shoes. He, on the other hand, wore nothing but pants. “What?” he said, uncomprehending for a moment. “You’re here?”

“I could be a figment of your imagination,” she said. “I mean, who knows if any of us is really here?”

“No, I mean—you were working. You wanted to go home and watch a movie.”

“As you might have figured out by now,” she said smoothly, “that was a lie. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

Dumbly, he stood aside, and she bounced into his house, looking very smug with herself. “How did you know where I lived?”

“You told me, remember?”

He frowned. “Yeah, but I don’t think I was that precise...”

“You have friends who are concerned about you,” she answered, now inspecting the warm peach-colored walls, and the bare minimum of decorations he used for the place. The television continued to flicker with its now muted program, with something terribly dramatic happening. Lots of explosions, people screaming, and the main characters’ faces contorted in various stages of concentration and fear. Teresa’s hair cascaded down her shoulders with a perfection that suggested many, many hours taming it.

“You were sitting here all alone, weren’t you?” Teresa said, amusement showing in her expression. “Planning to wallow in your own misery. You’ve got slob pants on and you’re reeking of beer. Not exactly the eligible bachelor look you have going for you here.”

His first impulse was to take offense at her words. Didn’t she realize how much it sucked to be him? He should boot her out. But… she’d come all this way as a surprise. And she wanted to cheer him up, to stop him wallowing like a hog in a mudbath.

“I’m not drunk yet. Wait a minute. I need to shower fast, make sure I don’t reek. Drinks in the fridge,” he added, before marching off for a quick hose down. It helped revive his senses somewhat, leaning against the tiled wall, letting the cold water hiss onto him. When he came out, refreshed and stone cold sober, wearing slightly more clothes than before, he saw that Teresa had already set to work clearing space on his dining table, heaping his documents onto one chair, and having set out fresh new drinks that he didn’t recognize as belonging to his kitchen.

“Much better,” she said approvingly to him, which caused a warm glow to flow through his skin. “Thought I’d be the one to bring a gift this time. And be the persistent one,” she said with a grin.

“True,” he said, nodding. “It is a bit of a role reversal, isn’t it?” Her past her grief, finding a new lease on life. And me smack in the middle of mine. It left a dull, gnawing ache, a kind of hollow that, if he focused on it for too long, threatened to expand and swallow him whole.

“So, tell me, then,” she said breathlessly, leaning forwards, her leg bumping into his under the table when he sat down. There was slight cleavage exposed, which served to arouse. “Is there anything we can do together to help you? I can’t pretend to be an expert on, well, grief,” she said, uncomfortably close to the subject. He’d have preferred for her not to mention it at all.

“There is,” he said, one eyebrow raising. “But I’m not sure if we should.”

“Hmm?” Her expression clouded over. He hated seeing that, but didn’t know how else to approach the subject.

“I don’t want a relationship like this.” He gestured between them. “It was great when you were here, in Valor Lake. I got to see you every day. Touch you every day. That’s what I want.” His heart hammered furiously, and a sick feeling stirred in his stomach. He knew he was throwing her away, but it had to be said. He couldn’t go on like this. Not when he needed someone. “I don’t want there to be distance between us, Teresa. I’m sorry. And if you’re going to stay where you are, then I’d rather we just called it quits. It’s too lonely otherwise.”

He didn’t dare look at her, instead giving the ugly carpet his undivided attention. He should have stayed quiet, enjoyed the brief moment they would have shared together. What a waste of a journey for her. What a waste of someone’s time and effort.

“Joel, look at me,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Please.”

Reluctantly, he raised his eyes to stare into hers, which now looked like honey-colored pools. She smiled at him, showing no pain, rage, or despair whatsoever. It struck him as odd—didn’t she care for him as much as he’d hoped? Had she come here to say the same, or something? To break up? His mind sluggishly waded through the possibilities.

“I got a store transfer,” she said to him, her smile blossoming. “I start work there next week. It’s two miles away from Valor Lake.”

He stared blankly at her for a moment, his mind not quite able to process what she had just said.

“I might just have gotten a new apartment to rent, too,” she said. “In Valor Lake. Prices seem to be going up now that everyone wants to come and see shifters, though. I’m lucky to get my foot in the door.”

Finally, the words bloomed into something that made sense. His heart leaped up into his mouth. “You’re moving here?”

Her smile became beatific. “I mean, maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, here. But I got that strong impression that we—we clicked well. And I knew you could never leave the area for long, and you wouldn’t ask me just to, like, come here. You’re not that selfish. I mean even if things don’t work out, I’m interested in being in this area anyway, it’s just—”

Joel silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss. All his stress, pain, and anxiety melted away in a fountain of delight and hope. A dream come true. It was as if she’d heard his heart’s quiet longing over the distance. He liked, too, that she’d made plans in case it didn’t work out—he would have hated the thought that she abandoned and risked everything for him, and not prepared for the possibility of failure.

Not that he intended to fail. Not like this. Not when this crazy, beautiful woman had just admitted she’d like a future with him.

He’d need her help in the weeks and months to come. He’d need her arms, her words, her love.

And in turn, he intended to give her every part of him possible.

He could think of worse reasons to move forward. Valor Lake would be a very different place in the years waiting. All bears had access to the spirit. Humans across the continent knew about their existence. Their relationship with the world would change.

Their arms wrapped around one another. They breathed in each other’s scents, taking comfort in the warmth and solidness.

Taking the first steps into their new future together. A new world.

Taja’s Dragon (Preview)

By: Lisa Daniels

Chapter 1

Nothing out of the Ordinary

Taja pulled the bundled-up items to her chest and tried to speed up, despite the crowd around her.  The market was always impossibly busy at this time of day, and the acting stable master knew it.  Still, he had told her not to be late after giving her all of the chores.  Hating that the real stable master had been needed at the noble’s country mansion for a few months to deliver two new foals and take care of them, Taja took comfort in the fact that it wouldn’t be much longer before he returned.  She just had to hold out for another week or two and then everything would go back to normal.

Her blonde hair shone like sunshine, a few stray strands dangling beside her face as the young woman pressed forward.  It would be her twenty-first birthday soon, but she had no expectations.  The stable master was the only person in her life that actually seemed to care about what happened to her, and he would not be back in time.  Not that she wanted to celebrate.  The stable master had been like the father she had never known, so she just wanted him to come back so the nightmare that had been her job without him would end.  One of the other stable hands had taken to harassing her in the stable master’s absence, and the acting master wasn’t about to do anything to stop the boy.  Taja had plenty of experience keeping boys like that away, but it was wearing on her.  That and her mother’s steady decline into the bottle.  Taja didn’t feel sorry for herself.  She just needed that one ray of sunshine back that had made life worth living.

Taja was not a tall woman, just barely over five feet tall.  The first impression people had of her was that she resembled a large doll.  Despite working outside, her skin was pale and soft.  Her large brown eyes were surrounded by thick lashes that combined with her unnaturally yellow hair, hinting that she was perhaps not fully human.  The perfect symmetry of her dainty features was striking, and it had gotten her into plenty of trouble when she was young.  It was only after she met the stable master that Taja had calmed down and started trying to make a better life for herself.  That had been three years ago.  Until that point, she had been a complete mess, sleeping with any boy who would give her gifts and expensive items.  Her mother had used her daughter as much as possible, turning expensive gifts into high debts with many of the taverns.  The stable master had given the young woman something worth living for outside of her different types of abuse.

It was times like these as she was darting through the crowds that Taja was really thankful for being so small.  She was able to more easily slip through spaces between people.

Still not fast enough.  I’m going to be late.  Her mind was already calculating her distance and current rate of speed.  Moving her legs a little faster, she shifted to the outside of the crowd.  It was risky, particularly since she would be moving so close to the carriages and horses, but it was the only way she was going to get through the crowd in time.

As soon as she reached the outside of the crowd, Taja’s speed more than doubled.  With a grin on her face, the young woman hurried past the throng.

Without warning, one of the people moving in the opposite direction stepped into her.  He had been trying to step out of the way of a noble lady, and did not notice the young woman trying to get by on the other side.

Taja lost her balance, and fell.  Instinctively, her arms tightened around the things she had brought, trying to keep them from spilling all over the road.  Scrambling to get up without dropping anything, Taja looked up.  A horse was making its way quickly right toward her.

With a little gasp, the stable hand tried to crawl out of the way without getting the things dirty.

“Seriously?  Is that stuff more important than your life?”  The voice was unfamiliar, but warm.  The accent was light, but it was obvious that the owner of that voice was not from the area.  And he was clearly male.  Taja felt a pair of hands on her waist and she was suddenly lifted off of the ground.  Clutching the items to her chest, she couldn’t believe that someone had stopped to help her.  Her mind registered the miracle as a warm and firm body pressed against hers.  The sound of the horse’s hoofs rumbled past her as she tried to fully comprehend what had just happened.

As soon as the horse was past, she heard the rider calling it to stop.  The warmth moved away from her body as she tried to get a hold of herself.

An angry voice was so close to her, and Taja knew it was the rider.  “Do you know what you almost did to my horse?”

Taja turned to look, to apologize, but someone else spoke first.  “Are you a fool or an idiot?  Oh, yes, I see, you are one of the noble.  A bit of both, then.”

Taja’s eyes went wide as she turned to look at the man who had pulled her from the ground.  Her gaze went back to the noble, and his expression read the way she felt.  Neither of them had heard a noble insulted so publically before.  Her head turned and she saw the people in the crowd starting to watch them.

The noble had found his voice.  “How dare you insult me!”

“Ah, you make it all too easy.  A woman is knocked into the street, and you yell at her for what, exactly?  Being in danger?  Blaming the victim is easy, but it is also very clear who the villain is in these cases.”  He tilted his head to the side.  Taja couldn’t see his features very well, but his stance suggested that the man was accustomed to power.  He was not tall for a man, but standing this close to him she could tell he was about 5 foot 8 or 5 foot 9.  His body was not bulky, but remembering what he had felt like as he held her, she knew that the man was muscular.  Sinewy, her mind supplied.

The man’s clothing was very nice, which meant that he was at least upper class, if not something higher.  His hair was an inch or two long, a style that she had never seen before.  Though it was a dark brown color, it shone, highlighting the fact that he was clearly more than just a commoner.

The noble moved his hand like he was about to strike when the young man held something up at him.  Taja couldn’t see what it was, but from the look on the noble’s face, the man who had rescued her was far above the noble’s level.

With her concern growing about who the man was, as well as knowing that she was again at risk of being late no matter how quickly she moved, Taja slipped into the crowd and continued toward work.

The rest of the trip back to the stables went much smoother, and Taja made it back with a little time to spare.  The acting stable master frowned down at her, eyeing her muddy clothing, but there was nothing he could say since she had returned with everything before the items were needed.

Knowing that smiling at him would only anger the man, Taja lowered her head and inquired, “What would you like me to do next, sir?”

Apparently she had struck the right tone and posture because the man had no insults for her.  When she risked looking up at him, she saw his beady eyes looking around.  Unlike the stable master, this man was clearly out of shape.  His stomach hung over his pants in a way that suggested his body was trying to escape the confines of clothing.  His hair was long and greasy.  This was pretty normal for stable hands given what they did, but it generally took a full day’s work to look as bad as the man did early in the morning.  It was clear from the man’s features that he was once handsome.  Time and his ego had led to his decline, a fact that had not improved his personality.  He couldn’t have been older than early forties, yet he acted like an old man with a grudge against life.

“Damaris, sir,” the simpering voice of the boy who had been harassing her grated on Taja’s ears.  The look of annoyance on the acting stable master’s face nearly matched the way she felt.

Damaris turned to the stable hand, his expression one of barely contained rage at being interrupted.  The stable hand saw his mistake and immediately started to bow to the man.  His hair was a dirty blond color that might have been nice if he tried to keep it clean.

Taja doubted the boy cleaned more than once a month, a fact that had often helped her as she could smell him coming.  The boy was 17 years old and very self-assured, although Taja had no idea why.  His face was always covered in pimples and scabs.  His nose was nice, but the way he grinned made him look very unattractive.  The boy also had a very uncommon name – Semaj – as if his parents were trying to force a better future on him than he was ever likely to have.  Semaj’s personality alone would keep him down his entire life.

The boy was bowing lower.  “Damaris, sir,” he simpered, “I was wondering if you would like for the two of us to work together.”

Damaris looked down at the stable hand, then turned his gaze to Taja.  “I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”  His question was directed at Taja.

Fighting the urge to violently shake her head, Taja tried to keep her voice level.  “I only want to complete my work today to your satisfaction, sir.  If you wish for me to work with others, I will make sure to be more efficient.”  If she had flat out denied wanting to work with Semaj, Damaris would have put them to work together just out of spite.  If she had said she wanted to work with the boy, Damaris would have some very nasty words, and probably some physical punishment for showing interest in the boy.  As it was, all Taja did was hint that she didn’t mind, but the choice was entirely up to Damaris.

He gave a huff, then looked between them.  “Semaj, I dare say you are trying to get someone else to do your work.  Panding duty for you for your hubris.”

Semaj’s face fell as he realized that he would not be able to see Taja again for at least a day, perhaps more.  It was clear that he wanted to argue, but there were worse things than panding.  “Yes, sir.  I will make sure it is done well.”  He tried to use the same flattering words that Taja used, but there was bitterness in them.  Damaris missed the boy’s expression and had already lost interest in the whole affair.  He wiped his grimy hand on his nose as he looked down at Taja, who still stood in readiness to do as he said.

“Go home, Taja.”  She had to fight to keep her eyes trained on the ground.  His words were a shock, but she knew that he could easily change the orders.  “You look like a pig who escaped the slaughter house and found a river of mud.”  He laughed at his own words and walked away.  Taja grinned.  Damaris wanted to make sure she knew that he wasn’t doing it out of any satisfaction derived from what she had done, but because of the way she looked.  Considering she would usually look much worse than she did after falling in the road, Taja knew the real reason he was sending her home – he was too lazy to figure out what she should do.

It doesn’t matter, her thoughts were very clear.  The acting stable master didn’t care if she was there or not, but it gave her the time she needed to finally recover from being overworked for months on end.  Her heart was light as she turned toward the door to leave.

A hand grabbed her upper arm and forced Taja to turn around.  “I am waiting for you, Taja.”  Semaj was too close, his blue eyes looking down at her too eagerly.

With a smile, Taja told him, “You can do so much better than me, Semaj.  Even your name shows that you will do well someday.  Why don’t you focus on the women who deserve your attention instead of an old lady who works in the stables?”  She smiled up at him.

The young woman had to fight the shudder that tried to pass over her body as his eyes took in her body again.  He wanted her to know that he was thinking about what she looked like under her clothing.  “I can clean you up, make you feel young again.”

Taja slipped out of his grasp with a dainty laugh, “You know that you are in a worse state than I am right now.  I dare say you will want to wash up as soon as you get home after all of your work for the day.”

She knew very well that he had done virtually nothing, leaving the work to others, but the look on his face showed that he didn’t understand the real meaning behind her words.  “Perhaps if you were willing to wash me, I would enjoy bathing.”

She frowned at him, “That is the duty of your wife, not a stable hand.  You had best be careful or you will give me the wrong idea.”

Semaj stepped toward her.  “Maybe I want you to get the wrong idea.”

She turned and moved away as his hand shot out again to grab her.  “Semaj, you are such a tease.  Now if you will excuse me, my mother needs me-”

“I need you.”  His voice was firm.

On the other side of the barn several older servants entered.  Their voices carried across the barn, forcing Semaj to adopt a different pose.  Taja frowned at the boy and shook her head.  The men saw it and immediately headed over to talk to the pair.

“Taja, is Semaj bothering you again?”  The first man to approach was smiling, but there was concern in his voice.

“Indeed he is, sir, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle.”  She bowed at the man.  He worked with the lord, so his concern meant something, but she also knew that he would not be there if anything happened.

He gave her a quick bow.  “Well, you let me know if he becomes too much and I will have a word with Damaris.”

She bowed low.  “Thank you very much for your concern.  I shall keep that in mind.”  Taja knew full well that Damaris would do nothing if the matter was brought to his attention.  She just had to wait for Braylon to return, then everything would be fine.

As she raised her head, she gave both of the newcomers a gracious smile and said, “Have a very pleasant day.”  With that, she turned and left.

From a little distance, she heard the men talking as they walked in a different direction.  “She really is a pretty young thing, isn’t she?”

“Yes.  It seems a bit harsh to put a beauty like her in the stables, but can you imagine what it would be like if she were inside?”  They both laughed.  “It has been enough of a challenge just having her working close to the lord’s home.  We’ve had to make sure that the young master doesn’t find out about her because he will certainly try to…” their voices trailed off.

Taja sighed.  It was always the same, people always thought of her looks first.  It was like she wasn’t even a person, just a plaything for others to use as they saw fit.

Suddenly a warm voice went through her thoughts.  “Seriously?  Is that stuff more important than your life?”  “Blaming the victim is easy, but it is also very clear who the villain is in these cases.”

Taja shook her head, trying to clear out the images and any residual feelings.  The man hadn’t gotten a look at her, or he wouldn’t have done what he did.  He would have kept a hand on her, making sure she could not escape.  Anyone who could intimidate a noble the way that man did was in a high position indeed.  He would certainly have required payment for what he had done.

“My life is worth less than that,” the young woman muttered as she walked toward home, “but it doesn’t mean I don’t hope for better.”

Chapter 2

An Errand and a Price

Taja felt a little uneasy as she went home.  She was certainly happy that she would get away from work for a bit, but her home life wasn’t exactly something that was enviable.  The temptation to just run away and figure things out on her own, if only for a few hours, slowed her steps.  Still, there was no way she could go through with it.  Her mother needed her.  The only person Taja had in the world right now was her mother, and despite everything, she wanted to take care of the woman who had given her life.  It was why Taja worked so hard at the stables, and why Taja endured so much even now with Damaris in charge.

Braylon will be back soon.  I just need to wait a little longer.  Besides, it’s not like this is the worst I’ve ever had to deal with, so it’ll be fine.  Everything is going to be fine.  It had become her mantra over the last few months as she tried to give herself the courage to get through everything.

While she didn’t feel energized enough to speed up, Taja was able to smile as she headed home.  After all, dealing with her mom was something the young woman had been doing forever.  It was far easier than dealing with a guy like Semaj, and she knew exactly what her mother was thinking.

Taja was still smiling as she opened the door.  The smile vanished as something smashed close to her head.  Reflexively Taja ducked, but the shards had already struck her neck and ear.  Most of the bottle fell to the floor, and she immediately began to pick them up, ignoring the blood trickling out of the cuts from the rest of the bottle.

“You are home early.”  Her mother’s voice was slurred and threatening.  “Don’t tell me you have been fired already.”

Taja looked up and forced a smile.  “No, mother.  I was paid this morning, and I finished all of my work early, so Damaris let me come home early.”

Her mother huffed, “Then the man is a fool.  And you are an idiot.  You could have stayed and worked more.  Gotten more money.  How am I supposed to pay for both of us?  Do you think that money just comes out of the ground?”  Her face was turning redder as she watched her daughter clean up the broken bottle.  “What are you smiling about?”

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Table of Contents

Arthur’s Mate

Chapter One – Emma

Chapter Two – Arthur

Chapter Three – Emma

Chapter Four – Arthur

Chapter Five – Emma

Chapter Six – Arthur

Chapter Seven – Emma

Chapter Eight – Arthur

Chapter Nine – Emma

Chapter Ten – Arthur

Chapter Eleven – Emma – Epilogue