by Zoe Chant
The tent itself was dark blue and might fit two people if those two people didn’t mind getting cozy.
“Wait here.” Madison zipped it open and crawled in.
Simon was glad her bulky red coat covered him enough to give him some dignity, but he still felt awkward waiting outside. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He watched the light dance around inside.
“I’m fine. The sweatpants are in here somewhere.” The rustling stopped. “Are you okay with canned tomato soup and beef jerky for dinner?”
“Sure.” He was fine with anything she wanted to share. “Maybe tomorrow evening I can make you dinner.”
We must hunt for her first.
Simon didn’t think she’d appreciate his hawk’s gift of mice.
There was more rustling inside the tent, and her head popped out. “Are you inviting me to dinner?”
“Yes?” Wasn’t he supposed to? Dinner invitations were normal as far as dates went, right? Or was it too much for a first date?
She blinked and ducked back inside. “Here’re the sweatpants!” He took the gray fabric from her hands, holding it out in front of him. They looked like they’d be short on him, but at least he’d be able to repeat his dinner invitation while semi-decently clothed.
“They fit okay.” He accepted more of the camping gear Madison passed him. Soon, he had two foldable chairs and the cooking gear set up while she handed him tin cans, cutlery, and other things they’d need to cook. He smiled when she handed him a bag of marshmallows and a chocolate bar.
“The s’mores are dessert,” she told him, when she crawled out of the tent. She eyed his bare calves. “Are you sure you’re not chilly?”
“I’m fine.” He lit the gas stove. “Shifters are pretty resilient. Can you hand me the pan and the soup?”
“I thought you weren’t making me dinner until tomorrow?” She handed him the equipment.
“I’ve ruined your net. It’s the least I can do.” It was a better answer than ‘I want to cook for you every night from now on.’
Madison turned on the lantern while he stirred the soup. “I told you not to worry about that. But resilient how? And how much compared to humans? I promise I’m not plotting any studies.”
“You are, though.” He smiled to let her know he didn’t mind. “I can tell.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Cannot.”
“But I’m right.”
Madison laughed at that, crawling back into the tent. “D’you want a beer while you prepare the soup?”
“Yes, please.” After the day he’d had, he’d earned it.
She handed him a cool bottle and sat down in her chair. “This is nice.”
“You sound surprised.” He stirred the soup slowly. Did she feel their connection? Should he repeat his dinner invitation?
“It’s been a while since someone made me dinner. Even if it’s just heating some soup.” She opened her bottle and took a long sip.
“That’s a shame.” She sounded so wistful that it made him ache. But on the bright side, did that mean she didn’t have a boyfriend?
She shrugged. “It is what it is.” She took another long sip, and her blue eyes found his. “You’re being nice.”
He frowned, not liking how suspicious she sounded. Was it unusual that people were nice to her?
“I like to think I’m a nice guy.” Had he given her any reason to be on her guard? He’d done his best to be nothing but friendly and open to her questions.
Our mate is cautious. His hawk approved, but Simon preferred it if she wasn’t cautious around him.
“I mean…” She fell silent for a moment. “You turn into a hawk. And there’s this amazing community of other animal shifters out there that I’m not supposed to know about because I’ll lock you up in a lab. Except here you are, heating soup for us, even though less than an hour ago you were stuck in one of my nets.”
She gestured at him with the beef jerky. “You should be angry! You shouldn’t even be here. If I were you, I’d be back home warning people about what had happened, and how to make sure the ornithologist didn’t breathe a word.”
With a pang, he realized his family had to be worried sick by now. “Can I borrow your phone?”
She reached for the inside of her jacket, then hesitated. “Why?”
“I have to tell my family what happened. I was only supposed to go for a quick flight, so they’ll be expecting me to come back soon. It’s not to warn them or so they can make dastardly plans against you, but so they know I’m all right.” He hoped they’d save the ‘I told you so’ until tomorrow.
She finally nodded and handed him her phone. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He dialed his parents’ landline, and his father picked up.
“Dad, it’s me.”
“What’s going on? Why are you calling us from this number?”
Of course his father had noticed it was an unfamiliar number. “It’s a long story, but I ran into the ornithologist.”
“What? How? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you the whole thing tomorrow,” Simon told him, and his father harrumphed. “But I’m fine. We’re talking about her research and why she’s here, that kind of thing.”
“Hm, so long as you don’t tell her too much about why you’re there.”
He winced, glad his father couldn’t see him. “I’ll be careful.” He understood his father’s reaction, but he couldn’t exactly explain he’d found his fated mate and it’d be fine to tell her everything with Madison sitting right there.
“And don’t stay out too long. You know how difficult flying at night is for us hawks.”
“Yeah, I know.” Amazing vision during the day did not translate into amazing night vision, unfortunately. “It’ll be fine. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay, first thing in the morning.”
He made his goodbyes, then gave Madison her phone back. “See, no warnings.”
“He sounded like he had a bunch of questions.” She put her phone back in her jacket.
He went back to stirring the soup. Judging by the smell, it was almost done. “He does. Just like you do.”
To his delight, she laughed at that. “You haven’t answered many of them yet.”
“Where do you want to start?” He stopped stirring. “If you give me a bowl, I can answer while we eat.”
She handed him two bowls. “Why aren’t you angry? Why do you want to stay and answer questions instead of going back home to warn everyone I know your secret?”
“And then what?” He carefully filled a bowl and handed it back to her. “If I left when you let me go after I shifted, you’d have called your scientist friends about what you’d seen.” He’d learned how to defuse situations, and while he hadn’t had to do it often at the museum, a simple conversation took care of a lot of things. “By staying and explaining things, you don’t need to question your sanity.”
And then there was the fact that the thought of leaving her hurt. He didn’t want to leave his mate all alone in the wilderness, even if she was well-equipped and had her tent.
“Also, this way, I get s’mores.” His grin widened when she laughed.
“I owe you so many s’mores over that net.” She moved forward, sticking a marshmallow on a skewer and holding it close to the stove. “You get dessert early.”
“I really would like to invite you to dinner.” His heart raced in his chest. If he was moving too fast, he could take the rejection. Probably. “I can’t promise a gourmet meal like canned soup, beef jerky and s’mores, but my lasagna’s pretty good.”
She made an interested noise. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
She took another sip of her beer, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Okay. Sure. Dinner at your place, tomorrow night.”
He managed to keep from cheering, but only because he was holding a bowl of soup. “Awesome.”
She pulled the marshmallow away from the stove’s fire. “What do you
think?”
It was a nice golden brown, and while probably not perfectly gooey yet, he nodded. “Hit me.”
They both ate s’mores in between spoonfuls of soup, and Simon thought he’d never had a better dinner in his life. He could sit here under the stars with his mate forever. He’d surreptitiously moved his chair closer to hers, although considering her amused snort when he sat right next to her, probably not that surreptitious.
Her brow furrowed as they sat together. “I’ve been thinking about tomorrow.”
He hoped she didn’t mean she was reconsidering dinner, although if she wanted to grab lunch, he was fine with that. “Oh?”
“About my fieldwork.” She looked up at him, her mouth so close it would be easy to lean in for a kiss.
He swallowed the impulse. “What about it?”
“Well, I have to put up more nets, because the whole point of coming here now is to catch migrating birds. But you obviously want to fly around as well and I don’t want more shifters in my nets. I don’t want to stop you from living your life or spill your secrets.”
She sounded so worried, and it made him worry for her. “We’ll be fine. We already assumed we wouldn’t be able to go out for the next few weeks.”
“But you shouldn’t have to!” She gestured with the skewer, and the marshmallow went flying off into the grass.
“I hope the animals like s’mores,” he murmured, watching it land. “But don’t worry about it. We stay in and don’t shift every year when the ornithologists come. And when other scientists from the university turn up, it depends on whether they’re here for animals.” And to think he’d been arguing for the opposite only a few hours ago with the mayor. But he didn’t want Madison to feel guilty or upset. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know how her university’s research affected the shifters in the area.
Madison skewered a new marshmallow, still frowning. “So what you’re saying is that your freedom has been limited for years now? Because I know our department has been coming here since the nineties.”
He nodded. “Yes, we know. You’re early this year.” He watched her shoulders droop.
“I came early to have more time to prepare, since it’s my first year coming here. I hate this.”
Since the marshmallow looked plenty gooey but Madison didn’t show any sign of noticing, he gently took the skewer from her to make a s’more before it was too late. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. S’more?” He offered her the one he’d just made.
She took it with a smile. “And I didn’t mean to make you and everyone else feel bad. There’s got to be a way around this. It’s very important for my department that we keep coming here for bird research. Visiting the same spot for years and seeing what birds pass through is useful for learning about the long-term patterns. Are there more swifts than five years ago, or fewer? What kind of swifts? Are there other changes in the population, and how can we explain them?” She munched on the s’more. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier about ruining research. I didn’t know you stayed in the entire time.”
“At least we didn’t ruin your data?” he tried. She’d sounded very upset about it.
She sighed. “No, we just ruin your lives.”
“It’s your first time coming here.”
“Okay, so my department’s been ruining your lives.”
He needed to cheer her up, so he skewered a marshmallow to make her another s’more. They went surprisingly well with the tomato soup. “What happened to the usual guy who comes here? Is he coming down tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” she grumbled. “No, Professor Brown retired last year, which means he still visits the department far too often because he thinks we’re useless without his guidance.”
He offered her the s’more. “You don’t seem very useless, judging by how well you put up that net.”
“I know!” She gestured with the s’more before eating it. “He kept emailing and calling me with his suggestions! As if I wasn’t busy enough putting the whole thing together while trying to give lectures and check essays. I swear, if he has the nerve to come down here to make sure I’m doing it right…”
Hunt down her enemies. His hawk was ready to take flight, flexing his talons.
“If he does, I think he’ll mysteriously end up with a lot of bird shit in his beard. That’s the risk of doing bird-watching, you know.” He smiled with relief when she laughed. She sounded so frustrated with the professor and how busy her work was.
Take her back to our nest and feed her mice and rats!
Lasagna was close enough. For now, more beef jerky and s’mores had to do.
“You can’t take a dump on the professor.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh God, in his beard. I’m picturing it.”
“Good. And I can. Hawks are known for their amazing sight and accuracy.”
“Yes, when catching small animals, not when dive-bombing some poor, unsuspecting human!” She eyed him. “Was that why you were out here? To take a dump on the new ornithologist?”
“No.” But he suspected she didn’t entirely believe him. “Honest. My goal was to find out where your campsite was so we’d know where your team was doing research this year. But you said you visit the same spot. Do you mean exactly the same spot? Year after year?”
“As much as possible, yeah,” she replied, still smiling. “I looked through the data and maps from previous trips so I could visit the same section of the woods. Why?”
“If we know in advance where you put up your nets and do your observations, that’d be great. Then we can avoid them and we won’t get in the way.” He knew they could make this work. The forest was big enough for shifters and scientists.
“True. And if you stay close to town while we’re here, it won’t affect the birds because they avoid your town anyway,” she mused.
Of course, she was also thinking of how it’d affect the actual birds. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re probably right.”
She finished her beer. “I don’t really like the sound of ‘probably right’, but it’s the best we can do for now.”
He smiled as he offered her another s’more. “Let me guess, you want to make sure by doing tests and fieldwork?”
Madison turned in her chair to take the s’more and ended up leaning against him as she ate. “Maybe.”
He pressed his arm against her. A warm glow settled in his stomach, not just from the soup and the s’mores, but because of her. Pure contentment and happiness at the thought of many more evenings like this.
“How can we make this happen?” Madison looked up at him with determination and nerves, and he just about remembered she wasn’t talking about more evenings under the stars.
“Right, your fieldwork!” He leaned back and looked at the stove instead. They’d finished the soup, but there was always room for s’mores. “We’ll have to talk to our mayor. She’ll discuss it with others, but in the end it’ll be up to her. The town is her responsibility.”
Her smile brightened. “Persuade bureaucrats our research is important? Oh, I can do that. Usually it involves PowerPoint presentations, but I can do without.”
He had no doubt that she could. “It’s not about convincing her your research is important, but that it has to be done here and that you can do it safely with no risk to us,” he clarified.
She nodded in thought. “Okay, so my usual spiel will need some tweaking, but nothing I haven’t done before. Is there any approach you think will work especially well? Or anything that’ll make her reject the idea immediately?”
He loved her confidence, and she was going to need it when dealing with Mayor McFadden. Kathleen wasn’t easily talked round. “Honesty is your best bet. She’ll have to put her trust in you. We’re taking an enormous risk here.”
“That’s good. Honesty I can do. Besides, if I’m coming here for fieldwork for years to come, I want to deal with someone reliable and trustworthy as well.”
&
nbsp; “She’ll be very cautious,” he warned her. He didn’t want to discourage her, but it was only fair.
“She should be.” Madison eyed the camping stove. “D’you want more s’mores or—”
“Definitely. I can understand why they got the name.” He also wanted to spend more time with her. The longer they talked, the more the thought of flying back home to sleep alone gnawed at him. But he’d have to, eventually.
We can stay in her nest for one night. His hawk felt that Madison’s tent was perfectly cozy. Then welcome her to ours tomorrow. She will never want to leave!
He couldn’t get that far ahead of himself. Dinner first, and then let tomorrow evening play out however Madison wanted.
They discussed the perfect s’more, how gooey the marshmallow had to be, and whether it was better to stick the marshmallow close to the flame or keep it at a distance but for a longer time. “We should do some experiments,” he said, grinning when she laughed.
“We’d have to use different chocolate too.” Her tone was serious as she smiled. “To see how that affects the taste. But for our first experiment, we should use the same brand of marshmallows. Different marshmallows can wait.”
“Oh, finding the perfect marshmallow.” He stroked his chin as if in thought. “Very good question, Doctor Adams. We’ll have to gather more data.”
She laughed again and gave him a s’more. “We can’t do proper research unless we have a hypothesis, though.”
“A what now?”
She was silent for a moment as she skewered another marshmallow. “It’s a fancy way of saying ‘statement I want to test’. For example, s’mores with milk chocolate taste better than ones with dark chocolate.”
“No way, dark chocolate’s better than milk.”
She gave him a mock-glare. “You’ve been eating s’mores with milk chocolate all evening.”
“And they would’ve been better with dark.”
