Avenging Autumn

by Marissa Farrar

  For once, Mia wished she were back in her human body so she could council her friend. She briefly debated trying to force the shift back, but several things stopped her. One was that everyone was getting back on the move now, and she didn’t know how long it would take her to shift back. She didn’t want to hold people up. The other thing she was nervous of was the pain. It hurt so badly when she’d shifted into animal form—that pain still so fresh in her mind—and she was frightened to do it again. Also, if she shifted back now, she’d end up naked around a whole heap of strange males. She knew Peter would protect her modesty, and they’d put changes of clothes into Lakota’s truck before they’d left, but she didn’t want to attract that kind of attention to herself. Finally, she didn’t want to leave Peter in big cat form. This was the first time she and Peter had run together, and she loved the sensation of having his strong, agile form running at her side. It was an exhilaration she’d never experienced before, a sense of them being one unit. She’d never felt so at one with another being, as if they were created from the same cloth, and that said a lot considering she had a twin brother. More than anything, she wanted to keep Peter at her side, so she wouldn’t shift back until this was all done and he was ready to.

  The newly swelled group got on the move again. The humans divided between the two trucks, with Autumn, Chogan, Daisy, and the soldier in one, and Marcus and Angie in the other. The shifters gave each other space as they ran or flew, never moving too far away from the vehicles and the road, making sure they could still catch sight of them between the trees.

  Sahale and Tocho, both tigers, one a golden yellow, the other white, ran together just ahead of her and Peter. Nadie and Tala flew in advance of everyone else, using their aerial view as an advantage.

  One of the wolves of Tooth and Claw ran alongside Mia. He bumped his shoulder against hers—he stood taller, but she was longer and bound with muscle. She snapped and snarled at him, and almost lost her footing.

  Peter must have noticed something was up, he fell back and then approached the wolf from behind. With a snarl, he lashed his front paw out, claws catching the wolf’s hind leg. The animal faltered and fell over his own feet.

  The creature rolled and jumped back up again, bounding away, a doggy-style grin on its muzzle. It jumped away, its tongue lolling. If it wasn’t for the sheer size of the wolf, she’d have believed she was looking at a pup trying to encourage its pack mates to play.

  Peter let out a low growl, a deep rumble in his chest that made it clear he wasn’t going to put up with any messing around.

  Mia continued to run, but from out of nowhere, her vision grayed over at the edges. She slowed, and Peter slowed with her. The world spun around her, the ground not quite stable beneath her feet. Alarm fired through her veins and she came to a stop, wishing she was able to voice how she felt. Peter nudged her and nuzzled her with his nose, his coal ringed, amber eyes filled with worry, but she couldn’t have him close to her right now. Sudden nausea swept over her and she turned away from him. Her mouth filled with a rush of saliva and her shoulders hunched as her stomach and diaphragm contracted, forcing the contents of her stomach from her body. She retched and vomited onto the dirt ground, her eyes stinging, and the stench assaulting her nostrils.

  Fear worked its way through her bones. What was wrong with her? Was it something to do with the shift? Had her body reacted badly to it, or perhaps it was because she wasn’t used to all the running. As a woman, she never ran anywhere. Autumn had often tried to get her to go along on her hour long runs around the lake back in Chicago, but Mia had always told her that she wasn’t built for running.

  She reached into the back of her mind, trying to connect with the spirit animal whose shape she was currently residing inside, but the animal seemed to retreat, not wanting to connect any further. They were newly bonded, and hadn’t yet created the years of trust that had been formed between the older shifters and their animal guides.

  Once again, she wished she had the use of language to communicate with Peter and ask him all these questions, but even as she was thinking it, the nausea and dizziness began to subside.

  She turned back to him and let out a low rumble of a purr to let him know that she was all right. The muscles in his shoulders and back relaxed slightly as he heard the sound, and he nuzzled her again. This time she returned the affection.

  The others were getting some distance ahead of them by now. They needed to catch up. Whatever had been wrong seemed to have passed, so Mia jerked her head in the direction they’d been going, and started off at a quick trot, just to make sure the dizziness wasn’t going to return. She felt as strong as she had before, and so increased the trot to a run, Peter matching her pace with every footstep.

  Chapter Eight

  WITH BLAKE MANEUVERING the wheels with his hands, Lakota pushed him out into the forest. Both of them hoped being closer to nature would help Blake connect with his wolf more easily. He desperately wanted to believe his father’s ancient spells would work this time, but when Lakota had tried before, Blake had felt nothing. Except when they’d tried before, they’d focused more on mending Blake’s body than anything else. This time, Blake only wanted to connect with his wolf. Lakota would try to send Blake’s spirit to the same plain on which his wolf guide resided, and try to make contact.

  Nerves churned in Blake’s stomach as he used his arms to lift himself clear of his wheelchair. His father wound an arm around Blake’s waist to try to help him, but Blake knew his size and weight were far too great for an elderly man like Lakota.

  “Leave me, Father,” he chided. “I can do this.”

  He was grateful for his upper body strength. He remembered how he used to train, doing exercises where he’d needed to lift his whole body weight because he’d never wanted to get into a situation where his physical strength would let him down. Of course, he’d never had paraplegia in mind when he’d been training, but at least now it was paying off.

  Blake lifted himself off the chair, and then awkwardly dropped to the ground.

  “You need to lie down,” said Lakota. “Each point of your body will connect with an element of the earth, and your soul ... your spirit ...” he held his fist at his heart, “will be the thing that needs to let go. You can’t allow yourself to think of worries happening on this world, as that will bind you to it. Think only of your wolf, and the plain it exists upon now.”

  Blake knew what Lakota was trying to tell him. He wasn’t to allow his thoughts and heart to be filled with his fears for Autumn, or with his anger and frustration at being in the position he was now. He needed to let go of all of that, and allow himself to connect with his wolf.

  “I’ll try, Father, but I struggle to clear my thoughts.”

  His father gave a sad smile. “That’s the trouble with your generation—you always must be busy and distracted. It’s as if you are frightened of spending time alone with yourself.”

  “You’re probably right, but I’ll try.”

  “Good.”

  Blake lay in the position Lakota instructed and gazed up at the sky. Branches swayed gently above his head, leaves rustling. The sky beyond was blue and endless, only tiny wisps of white cloud highlighting the tone.

  “This may be uncomfortable,” Lakota warned.

  Something hot and wet dripped into his palm, and Blake sucked air in between his teeth. He glanced to the hand. Lakota had dripped hot wax into the center and was now placing a candle in the middle of Blake’s palm.

  “Sorry,” his father apologized. “It’s the only way to get the candle to stand up.”

  “Couldn’t I have just held it?”

  Lakota shook his head. “The backs of your hands and fingers must connect with the earth. This is the only way.”

  The sharp pain had already faded.

  Lakota repeated the process with the second candle and his other hand, and then moved down to his feet. He unlaced Blake’s boots and removed his socks, so his bare heels pressed against th
e forest floor. He set the candles on the ground just below Blake’s feet.

  “The candles join the earth with the air,” he explained. “When the wick burns, the smoke rises upward and joins with the air, and the wax melts downward to join with the earth.” Lakota reached into his pocket and removed a small pouch of herbs. “These herbs will help your spirit rise from your body and join that of the spirit world. You can’t be part of it for too long, though, or you may struggle to find your way back.”

  Lakota dropped a pinch of the herbs into each of the candle flames and they burst and spurted with different colors—white, purple, and blue. Using a stick he’d found on the forest floor, Lakota dug into the ground above Blake’s head and then slowly dragged the stick through the dirt, creating a circle around Blake.

  “The most important shape in this world is a circle,” his father said. “Both the earth and the sky are round, the seasons go around in a circle every year, a man’s life takes us in a circle—from a weak, helpless newborn, back to a weak helpless man as we die. The Power of the World always works in a circle, and so that is what I am containing you in now. We must call for that power, channel it from the Mother Earth and ask it to release you from your physical bonds so you can find your spirit guide and call it back to you.”

  Blake nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “Just clear your thoughts, and focus on the wolf. I’ll do everything else. You may feel strange, but try not to fight it. If you manage to reach the spirit plain, don’t lose sight of your body. If you do, you may struggle to make your way back again.”

  Blake pressed his lips together and exhaled his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect. While he wasn’t afraid of the spirit world—it was something he’d lived with all his life—the idea of not being able to find his way back again was unnerving.

  Perhaps not finding a way back would be a good thing, a dangerous voice in his mind spoke up. Why would you want to live in a broken body anyway?

  He pushed the thought away. This was the exact thing he needed to get away from thinking. He needed to come to terms with the person he was now, not hate it. Yet part of him simply couldn’t.

  “Are you ready, son?” his father asked, leaning over him. Lakota’s strong, lined face eclipsed Blake’s view of the sky and trees above him, his deep brown eyes filled with concern.

  Blake forced a smile. “I’m ready.”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  Blake did as instructed, and the world vanished. The heat of the candles warmed his hands and feet, making him conscious of his connection to both the earth and air. In his mind, he pictured his spirit guide, the beautiful silver wolf with streaks of black through its fur. Mentally, he reached for his wolf, hoping to get a sense of it in the back of his mind, as he always had done, running, or with its nose pushing through a pile of pine needles, following a scent. But there was nothing. Blake was alone with his thoughts.

  Lakota’s footsteps crunched on the ground beside his head. Flames guttered and sparked again, the pungent scents of whatever herbs Lakota was using filling Blake’s nostrils. Lakota sang an ancient song, low and deep, as he moved around Blake, following the circle he’d drawn and feeding each of the flames.

  Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed Blake, the earth beneath him seeming to sway. Lakota’s singing grew quieter—no, not quieter, simply more distant. Though his father had told him to keep his eyes closed, Blake couldn’t help himself. His eyelids sprung open, but he was no longer lying on the ground. Instead, he stood, twenty or thirty yards from where he’d been lying.

  Blake’s heart stuttered, his eyes widening. His body still lay on the ground, the candles placed exactly where they had been, and he watched his father move around his body, singing his ancient song. As he watched, Lakota dropped more herbs into the candles, and the thick smoke filled the air above his body.

  Something else made Blake’s head spin in wonder. He glanced down at his feet, placed firmly on the forest floor. His feet were bare, as were his legs, and as he assessed, so was the rest of him—it appeared he was unable to bring clothing with him into the spirit world.

  But, more importantly, Blake was standing.

  He froze, terrified to attempt to walk in case he fell flat on his face, but he couldn’t just stand in one spot the whole time. Cautiously, he curled his toes, and they responded. Then he pushed up onto the balls of his feet, and he didn’t fall down. His calf and thigh muscles felt strong, his knees and ankles flexible.

  Could he walk again?

  With his heart in his throat, he took a tentative step forward. It was more of a shuffle, but everything seemed to work, so he repeated the process with the other foot. Tears of amazement and delight blurred his vision. He could walk again! But then his elation burst. No, he couldn’t. His spirit could walk, his body still lay, half paralyzed on the ground. He needed to remember the reason he was here. He was supposed to find his wolf spirit guide, and reconnect.

  Blake listened. How would he know how to find his wolf?

  The spirit world was different. He’d always imagined it would be brighter and more vibrant than the real world, but instead it was faded. The colors were mute, the sounds not as sharp, and, with a shock, he realized the place was utterly devoid of all smell. For the first time in his life, Blake was unable to smell a thing. He’d never noticed before how his nose had constantly picked up on the slightest of scents—smoke from the candles, musky dirt of the forest floor, even his own breath—but here there was nothing. It was a strange and disorienting sensation. No wonder the spirit guides were often so eager to shift.

  Except his wasn’t, he reminded himself. That was the whole reason from him being here.

  Blake opened his mouth. “Hello?”

  His father’s head moved slightly in his direction, as if Lakota had picked up his voice on some level. But otherwise, he felt alone. He turned away from his body, and his father, and looked into the forest. He remembered what his father had said about him not losing sight of his body, but he needed to explore. He’d never find his spirit guide just by standing here. Besides, he wanted to experience how it felt to walk again—hell, he might even try a quick run. Too much time had passed since he’d been able to stand, and he’d almost forgotten how it felt.

  Blake walked away from his body, his steps growing more confident with every stride. Where normally, the forest would be filled with life, this place was empty. No insects buzzed around his head, or beetles bored their ways into the trees. The branches overhead didn’t rustle with alighting birds, and the sound of their songs didn’t fill the air. He could have been looking at an intricate painting, beautiful, but devoid of life.

  If this is the afterlife, he thought, I’m not sure it’s such a great place.

  “Where are you?” he called out. “I’m here. I can walk again. I need you to come to me.” He sent out the energy he’d always channeled when he’d wanted to shift, hoping his wolf would sense it once again. Every part of his body was poised to pick up on his spirit guide, his ears straining, his eyes wide. I’m here, he spoke with his mind. I’m here ...

  In the distance, came the lonely, mournful howl of a solitary wolf.

  A smile touched Blake’s lips.

  His wolf had heard him.

  He continued in the direction in which he’d heard the howl, his feet moving him forward. He ducked his head to peer through the trees, hoping to catch sight of a streak of silver fur.

  There! Movement darted between the tree trunks. Blake increased his pace, breaking into a trot.

  I’m here, he called again with his mind. Don’t go.

  He was so focused on finding his wolf, he almost forgot the thing his father had told him to remember—don’t lose sight of his body. Blake turned to look over his shoulder. Suddenly, all of the trees appeared the same, and his usually excellent sense of direction had vanished. He glanced up at the sky, planning on using the position of the sun to find his way back, but, though it was light, the golden orb was nowhe
re to be seen.

  Shit.

  Blake spun in a circle, fear spiking through him. Up ahead, a faint whine filtered through the trees. His spirit guide must have sensed his unease. Blake felt the animal distance itself from him again, but he couldn’t think about that now. The idea of being stuck in the spirit world—even if he could walk again—didn’t appeal to him. He needed to get back to his body.

  He figured he’d been running toward his spirit guide, so, hoping to head back the way he’d come, he turned one hundred and eighty degrees. He’d trained for orientation during his army days, but this situation removed any of the usual things he’d look for to find out his direction—no sun or stars to pinpoint his direction, no moss growing on certain sides of the tree trunks. Even the lack of scent in this plain served to heighten his disorientation.

  He couldn’t have gotten far from his body. He’d only lost sight of it for a minute or two. He wished he could still smell the pungent aroma of the herbs his father burned. With his ears straining for the sound of Lakota’s singing, he pushed through the low hanging branches in his way. Had he come this way before? He couldn’t be certain.

  A rising panic began to build in his chest, but he tamped it down, drawing on all of his military training. If he panicked, he would lose control, and that would be the end of him. He needed to stay calm in order to process things properly and find his way back.