So Much To Bear (A Werebear Erotic Romance)

by Bethany Rousseau

  ***

  It was easier to navigate the woods by daylight; although Damon’s chores from the previous day had taken them meandering along trails that Jennifer thought she could never hope to retrace, the way that led back to the town was clear enough, though the trek was longer than she thought. Jennifer smiled to herself at every twinge of tenderness she felt between her legs, thinking that Damon was without exception the most satisfying, sweetest lover she had ever been with. Maybe before she went back to him, she could get her hands on a portable radio; she would bring her iPod with her, but Damon’s cave had no power—and no way to keep the device synched.

  The day was gloomy; not as cold as it had been the night that Jennifer had met Damon, but with a clammy chill to the air that promised poor weather to come. As she came to where the forest began to thin, approaching the edge where it met the town, Jennifer looked up to see the plumes of smoke rising up into the air—the sign of people in town awake enough to have started fires to fend off the cold. The clouds covered the sun, leaving a bright corona that filtered through the scraggly leaves of the thinning trees. Jennifer decided that she would spend as little time as she had to in town; she would reassure whoever needed to be reassured—certainly, Jennifer thought, Robert was probably worried about her. But as soon as she could possibly get away, she would be back in the woods, headed to Damon’s cave, hopeful to spend another day, and maybe more nights, with the man who had already come to mean a lot to her.

  As she came out of the woods, Jennifer was startled by the sounds of people shouting, of a hum of activity that the early-morning hour didn’t usually support. She frowned; maybe there had been an accident or a crime while she had been in the forest. There was an angry edge to the sound that filled Jennifer with a sense of foreboding; a kind of growling, muttering quality that Jennifer didn’t like. She came into the town proper, her heart beginning to beat faster with concern. The town she had grown up in was small—they’d had lynch mobs in their past, and Jennifer knew for a fact that there were dark days that no one spoke about in a voice above a whisper out of shame. Maybe it was just Damon’s stories of watching the members of his clan and tribe being hunted to extinction, but Jennifer didn’t like the sound of the obvious crowd that had formed somewhere in the center of town.

  Chapter Six

  Jennifer made her way deeper into the town, following the sounds of angry discontent as they grew louder. She was confronted by a large group, milling about, talking in low, rumbling voices amongst themselves, frowns and scowls on all the faces she could see. Some of the smoke that had guided her back to her home town came from a bonfire that Jennifer caught glimpses of at the center of the gathered mob—and that’s exactly what it was. What had brought the mob together? Jennifer shook her head in confusion, hearing the murmuring, muttering voices but unable to make out details enough to figure out what had mobilized so many people in the town. It was decades from the last time something like this had happened in the quiet, sleepy village—part of the reason that Jennifer had wanted to go away for college had been because so little happened anymore in her hometown.

  Jennifer moved around the oblivious crowd, peering at the people of all ages who had assembled, trying to figure out just what was going on. As her confusion and apprehension mounted, she spotted Robert—and he spotted her at almost the same moment, his eyes widening with alarm and surprise. Robert slipped out of the crowd and grabbed her arm, pulling her back and towards an alley nearby. “Jen!” Robert said, shaking his head and staring at her wide-eyed. “I can’t believe it.” Jennifer stared at Robert in confusion.

  “What do you mean you can’t believe it?” Robert shook his head again, looking at her as if she were a ghost.

  “Liam said you were dead—I—I had to believe him, when no one could find you in the woods where we’d been.” Jennifer staggered back from Robert, shocked by the slightly accusing tone in Robert’s voice.

  “Dead? Of course I’m not dead! I was just…” she hesitated; she couldn’t tell anyone, even Robert, where she had really been. “I was just lost in the woods. I was fine all along.” Robert shrugged.

  “Liam said he’d seen you killed himself. He said there was a beast in the woods, and he’d tried to fight it with his knife to keep you from being hurt by it, but it injured him and then killed you. He’s been telling everyone who will listen that the beast killed you.” Jennifer shook her head in bewilderment, trying to think of how Liam could have even concocted such a ridiculous story—or how he could have been believed. But then, she thought, she’d been missing for a day and two nights; she knew that she was fine, but how could anyone in the town have known that?

  “It’s not true at all—there was no beast, I was never in any real danger—Robert—” The crowd shifted as Jennifer struggled to explain what had happened without revealing Damon’s existence, without putting the man who had gone to such pains to protect her from Liam in danger. The mob of angry town citizens swept past them, pulling Robert into their midst and dragging Jennifer in their wake; Jennifer’s heart began to pound even harder as she saw guns, knives, torches in the hands of people she knew as the most mild-mannered of folk, their faces set in angry lines.

  The humming, muttering murmur of discontent had risen into shouts and chants, and Jennifer wheeled around, trying to figure out where the crowd was going; they were heading out of town, clearly, headed for the woods. As she looked around in panic, she caught sight of Liam and his father at the back of the crowd, shouting encouragement for the rest of the members of the mob; as the shouts filtered through her brain, Jennifer realized with a shock that the mob was going after the “beast” that Liam had claimed had killed her and injured him, that they were whipped into a killing frenzy by the entitled brat and his father. Jennifer’s throat was dry, but she called out, trying to stop just a few of the people around her, trying to catch anyone’s attention at all. “I’m not dead! I’m right here! I’m fine! Please—please stop and let me explain what happened!” She shouted, she screamed, but no one heard her; the mob marched relentlessly forward, towards the forest that shielded Damon.

  Jennifer’s eyes stung with tears and her throat was tight from her shouts, from the panic that gripped her. They were going after Damon. Her heart pounded in her chest. The mob was in such a frenzy of rage that they wouldn’t stop until they were all exhausted or until they found the “beast” that Liam had identified as the cause of her death. “Liam is lying to you all!” Jennifer screamed, even though she knew it was pointless, that no one was willing to stop, or willing to even listen. They were wrapped up, consumed with the business of being an angry mob.

  Jennifer stopped in her tracks, letting her neighbors, people she had known for her entire life, push past her, flowing around her without seeing her as they made their way into the woods. Jennifer wondered just how good of a description Liam had given the people of the town that he’d managed to convince to go on this crazy hunt for Damon—if he had been too scared to really take in the man’s features, if he had been able to credit the fact that he had seen a man turn into a bear. Her thoughts swirled around in her head, and Jennifer felt torn between the desire to cry and the need to do something—anything she could—to protect Damon from the mob that was headed for him.

  Before she could consciously make up her mind, Jennifer found herself walking into the woods, picking a different path from the one the members of the town had taken. She consulted her memory and tried to figure out how she could skirt around the mob that was out to avenge her—not knowing or even caring anymore that there was nothing to avenge. They just knew that a “beast” had supposedly killed one of their own, and had injured Liam—nothing more than that. Jennifer thought about the trek she had made from Damon’s cave and consulted her memories of the woods as best as she could—trying to remember anything that might give her a quicker path through the forest. She knew instinctively that Liam would have them take the course that the group had taken the night before last; th
at would be the only path he knew—and from there they would scour the woods to find Damon. But Jennifer at least knew where Damon’s cave actually was; she didn’t have to hunt for it. She recognized one of the trails she and Damon had taken the day before while they were completing his daily chores and followed it, still able to hear the distant shouts of the mob as she skirted around them, walking as quickly as she could.

  One benefit she had, Jennifer thought as she jogged along the path that her feet found, was that being by herself she could move faster than the big group. They would have to shift numbers around, forming a line to get through some of the denser tree stands and pausing to consult with Liam or Robert.

  Gradually the sounds of the mob retreated behind her as Jennifer pulled ahead, panting with exertion but determined to warn Damon of the danger coming straight for him. It was only a matter of time before the angry mob found his cliffs; while she had been lost in the forest, it wasn’t that big, and they would eventually figure out where the werebear was hidden deep in the green gloom. If she could just get to him in time, she might be able to find a way to convince Damon to leave the woods, to take shelter in the next town, leaving the members of her own community baffled at their failure to find the “beast” Liam had told them about.

  Jennifer was out of breath, her head spinning as she came to the cliff that housed Damon’s cave. She inhaled as deeply as she could, trying to slow her panting and the rapid clamor of her heart enough to keep her hands and feet steady for the climb. She could hear the mob in the distance behind her and knew that time was absolutely of the essence. Jennifer took another deep breath and began to climb, biting her lip as her eyes stung with angry tears at the thought of what Liam had done. If she had ever had any remotely friendly feelings towards the young man due to his friendship with Robert, those feelings were gone for good. It was clear to her as she made her way up the cliff that Liam had taken his humiliation at Damon’s hands as an insult, and he was determined to see the werebear dead rather than deal with the fact that he’d been beaten down for his rude, entitled, and aggressive behavior. Jennifer had known that Liam had a bullying streak, but the fact that he was willing to whip up a mob to kill one man for embarrassing him showed the depths of his real cruelty.

  Jennifer came to the entrance of the cave, still breathless, and wrenched the curtain aside. “Damon!” she called out, coughing as the shout made her dry throat tighten. Jennifer peered into the dimly-lit cave and realized in an instant that Damon was gone—that he was completely absent from its cozy confines. Jennifer’s heart began to pound again and panicked tears welled up in her eyes. Where could the stupid bear-man be? Jennifer bit her bottom lip to forestall the sobs that welled up in her chest, inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose. She had to think. Where would Damon be, if not in his cave?

  Their tasks of the day before came into Jennifer’s mind with a sudden burst of clarity. Of course. Damon was not the type of person to spend the day moping at home just because Jennifer had left; he was a good woodsman—he would be out checking his snares, going about his daily routine, taking care of his affairs the same way that he would any other day. He would be out in the woods, along the meandering track and trail that they had followed the day before. Jennifer felt a low, deep dread; they had wandered through the woods in such a circuitous route that she could have sworn she could never have retraced their steps even if she hadn’t been in a state of panic at the fact of an angry mob out to kill the man.

  Calm down, Jennifer, she told herself firmly. Panic isn’t going to get you where you need to go. You need to find Damon and you need to warn him. You’ve lived near these woods your entire life. Surely you can figure out where his spots are. She took struggling deep breaths to calm herself and began to climb down from the cave, looking around her and up at the sky. It had been about this time of the morning when she and Damon had set out the day before. It couldn’t possibly be that hard to find his trails in the woods. She had walked them, she had followed him, and deep down some part of her brain had to have recorded landmarks, little differences that would lead her straight to him in time to warn him of the mob headed his way.

  Jennifer let her feet lead her away from the cliffs, into the woods away from the mob. She acted on instinct, not stopping to question how she knew where to go. She spotted a cluster of the berry bushes that Damon had stripped for her breakfast and peered into the foliage, finding the particular ones that he had stripped. She followed the trail by muscle memory, breathing in the air deeply as if to track him by scent, as if she had the same preternatural abilities that the werebear might have. She knew she didn’t, but by the same token, Jennifer felt as if their liaison of the night before had somehow honed her knowledge of him, as if she could somehow feel his presence in the deep, quiet calm of the forest. She would find him. She had to.

  Jennifer came to the first of the snares and stopped; it was empty when she carefully pulled back the foliage that concealed it—but she couldn’t know if that was because Damon had already taken whatever animal he had trapped, or if he had simply—as he had mentioned sometimes happened—not been successful. She followed the trace to the next of the snares quickly, thinking that she would either find him or find some evidence that would indicate whether or not he had been there. The next snare, several yards from the first, was just as empty, and Jennifer groaned with frustrated dread, closing her eyes for a moment as if to sense the man she was searching for. She went to the next snare, further away than the first two, and once more found no sign of the man she had come to feel so strongly connected to.

  In desperation, Jennifer went to the river, thinking that perhaps Damon was still washing his clothes, or that he was retrieving the ones he had washed the day before. Did Damon wash his clothes every day, in small loads, or did he only do it when he had enough clothes to merit the chore? Jennifer ground her teeth in frustration and rising panic as she came out of a stand of trees near where she had harvested the greens and berries for their repast the day before, only to find the area just as vacant as the snares had been. “Damon!” she called, in as quiet a voice as she could manage, desperation creeping up along her spine. She couldn’t hear the mob; they might have simply gotten lost or stalled in the woods, but something about the deep silence of the forest around her told her that simply wasn’t the case.

  Jennifer scoured the area, finding the empty clothes line and swallowing against the growing lump that formed in her throat. Any minute now, she thought, she would find him. She would run into Damon, and have the time to tell him that the mob was after him, and they would run away together. Jennifer checked the area where the bee hive was and still failed to find him; she shook her head. He probably didn’t visit the hive very often—he was a responsible denizen of the forest and wouldn’t raid the bees more often than he needed to for something sweet. Jennifer found herself climbing through parts of the woods she had never been in, even in her circuitous route with Damon the day before, climbing over felled trees, tripping over unseen stones as the ground began to rise in a gradual slope.

  As the loamy soil, fallen leaves, and underbrush began to give way to more and more rock, Jennifer realized that she was climbing up into a new set of cliffs. She was so deep in the forest that she wasn’t even certain how far the town was from where she found herself; she could hear the river, but the disorientation of looking only for Damon, of not paying attention to where she was, meant that she had no idea of where along the river she had arrived. There was an angry rumble, a low grumbling mutter, and Jennifer felt her heart pounding faster. The mob was obviously close.

  Jennifer spotted Damon, but in the very next instant she realized that she was too late; the mob had come onto the cliffs from another direction, and they were milling around, talking angrily amongst themselves about the discovery they had made. “That’s him! That’s the creature!” Liam’s voice rang out from the back of the mob, and Jennifer cried out, rushing forward in instinct.

  “Who are
you calling a creature?” Damon asked, confused and obviously angry. He scowled at the mob, and Jennifer stopped, compelled by some quality in the way the man stood, the sound of his voice. “Why do you feel the need to disturb my peace? I haven’t done anything to harm any of you. I live alone in the woods, taking nothing from anyone. I am the very last of my people and all I want to do is live in peace.” Damon shook his head. “Why are you here to attack me? Answer that!” The mob milled about, uncertain for a moment. “I have never ventured into your town, never even done anything to any of you. And you call me a creature—you don’t even know me!” Damon spat off to the side in disgust. “Get back to your own lives.”

  From the back of the crowd—Jennifer thought it was Liam’s father who shouted, but she couldn’t be sure, her heart was pounding in her ears so loudly, “That creature killed one of our own! He’s an evil, violent animal!” Jennifer opened her mouth to protest, but several members of the mob surged forward, galvanized by the shout, weapons raised and aimed at Damon. Jennifer lurched forward but found herself pulled back by a pair of strong arms, a startled shout leaving her throat only to be muffled as a firm hand clamped over her mouth. She turned her head and saw that Liam had grabbed her from behind—somehow he had seen her in the crowd and knew that she could ruin his plans. She struggled in his arms, trying to break free of the grip he had on her, but he evaded her stomping feet and clawing nails alike, dragging her backward.