Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1)

by Mikaela Nicole

  I go out and hunt five short times—unwilling to leave Ryan or the fire unattended for long—finally on my last try I am able to hunt down a lost caribou. Chasing and killing that thing is an experience I’ll never forget; part of me hopes I’ll never have to repeat it, but I know I will eventually. I never would have had the courage to kill the thing if I hadn’t thought of Ryan waking up starving and me having nothing to feed him.

  Instead of dragging the whole thing back—I was afraid of drawing predators—I tore off hunks of meat, washing as much blood off as I could with snow, then hauled it back. I cook the meat even though I worry that the smell of it roasting will draw predators. I waft the smell toward Ryan, hoping to draw him out of his slumber, but it doesn’t work.

  What I don’t eat I stuff in the pack. I divide the rest of my time between watching Ryan breathe and watching the blustery world around us, Shiver being unusually quiet.

  Ryan draws in the kind of deep breath that means he’s waking up. Slowly he sits up, his gaze roving around before resting on me. I smile with relief. Ryan stiffly reaches over and grabs his folded shirt. He shrugs off the jacket before yanking it over his head and fixing me with a sincere gaze.

  “Thank you.”

  “You would’ve done the same.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay Ryan! Lis and I were very worried about you. You should’ve seen her dive into the water—she watched over you very carefully,” Shiver says proudly, the cloud of sadness that had been around her dissipating.

  Positive I’m blushing I ask, “Are you hungry?”

  In answer Ryan’s stomach growls. Smiling he answers, “Very. How long was I asleep?” he asks while I get out the meat.

  I hand Ryan four strips of meat before answering, “About three days. Do you want me to warm the meat up first?”

  Ryan shakes his head and takes the meat indifferently, but the minute the food reaches his mouth, he eats it ravenously. Laughing I hand him three more pieces.

  “We need to make the food last as long as we can,” Ryan says although he’s practically drooling for more.

  I hand them back reasoning, “You need to eat, get your strength back. Besides, I’m sure we’ll find more along the way.” I don’t have to say anymore, hungrily he wolfs it down.

  The next morning, in the form of a wolf since I gave my jacket to Ryan, I squint my eyes against the biting wind, waiting impatiently for him to put on the tattered jacket. Which is taking a lot longer than it should. Shiver tries to burrow deeper into my fur.

  “Come on!”

  “Okay, okay. My fingers are numb.”

  Instantly I worry that I hadn’t done a good enough job keeping him warm. Ryan seems to sense this and assures me that it’s from last night.

  “Which way?” he asks.

  Inhaling deeply I can faintly smell a forest. I turn the scent of the forest over and over in my mind. It smells strange, and not in a good way. Instinct warns that the forest is dangerous but still I say, “Let’s go this way.”

  * * * *

  It takes us half the day to reach the end of the wintry land. Ryan sheds his jacket, shoving it into the pack. Lissa. I have never been so thankful to feel warmth on my skin. Ryan looks just as appreciative. The heat rolls off the forest in front of us in thick waves. But I’m not going to complain. The forest has an alluring golden shade to it. Beautiful green leaves rustle lazily.

  “Wait,” Shiver says suddenly.

  We stop and look down at her. Hesitantly she says, “The forest is a trap.”

  Ryan looks at me. “How do you know?” he asks.

  She takes a few steps back. “My mom told me about places like this. The creatures are nasty—they play tricks with your mind to lure you in. Can’t we go around? Please?”

  “Sure,” I agree reluctantly.

  Shiver sticks very close to me as we go around the forest. At one point I hear laughter that resembles a hyena’s. I look at the others but they don’t seem to hear it. I think I glimpse an ugly looking creature with red eyes, but it’s shrouded in mist and hard to make out. It disappears. Whatever it is must be bound to the forest—nothing has tried to attack us yet.

  I scan the field we’re walking through even if there’s no point. I’m not picking up any traces of other animals—just small critters and cheerful songbirds.

  A part of me is disappointed. I’m eager to put Cuven’s training to use—prove that I’m capable. Instead, I try to relax and listen to Shiver’s happy chatter.

  Chapter 14

  “When do we stop walking?” Shiver asks through a yawn.

  “Soon,” I say.

  “The sky is getting dark. Maybe we should find a safe place to sleep now,” Ryan counters.

  “Oh yay,” Shiver tries to say enthusiastically but I think she’s already half asleep. “Will you carry me Lis? I think my paws have fallen asleep.”

  Laughing softly I pick her up. Ryan scans the jungle. We entered it a few hours ago. It resembles the jungles I’ve seen on TV. Heat muddles around the trees, which are extremely tall and thin, their bark sleek, their smell tangy. The foliage is thick in places and we have to walk around it.

  “What about here?” Ryan pokes at a thick tangle of vines and leaves with his bow.

  “That should do,” I say and walk over to him. I peer underneath. Hollow. Basically.

  I pick through the vines. Most are about the size of my wrist. The twisting vines are a dark coffee brown, the leaves a pine green. I have always been terrible at recognizing plants, unlike Trevor who seems to know every plant species on earth. I just hope these aren’t poisonous.

  Ryan crawls underneath and I follow. Resisting the urge to curl up against him, I keep a good foot between us. Suddenly exhausted, I fall asleep instantly.

  * * * *

  The luscious smell of cooking meat coaxes me out of my dreams. Dim sunlight pools on the dirt floor and on my eyes, waking me. I crawl out from under the vines. A small fire burns a few feet away. Three slabs of meat—a stick going through them—are hanging from crudely made posts carefully placed beside the fire.

  “You’re finally up.”

  My head snaps around at Ryan’s voice. His arms are full of small dry sticks.

  “Was I asleep long?” I ask. I take the sticks from him and place them near the fire, adding several.

  Shiver bounces out from behind him, carrying a few sticks of her own. She spits them out and says to me, “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

  “No, you weren’t asleep that long,” Ryan says. “Shiver just woke up really early and then she woke me up by throwing dirt in my face. I bet it was revenge for grazing her with that snowball.”

  “It was an accident! I was hungry and looking for some food,” Shiver chirps apologetically.

  Ryan laughs. “I know. I’m just teasing,” he tells her gently.

  “Do you think this is done?” I ask, my stomach growling.

  “Yes.” He gives Shiver a piece and then hands one to me. Ravenously I bite into the meat.

  After I’ve eaten some, I look around. It looks like an ordinary jungle stretching ahead of us, of course ordinary would include tigers and such.

  An hour later, I wait as Ryan meticulously puts out the fire and clears away any sign that we’d been here at all.

  “We still heading straight?”

  “Yes.” I think.

  “I’m glad you guys know where we’re going. Every time I try to go in a straight line I always end up going in a circle,” Shiver says.

  We push our way through the giant, broad leaves, thick, dangly moss-covered vines, and trees that tower like buildings. The chatter and screams of monkeys and shuffling of little animals scurrying under the brush follow us as we wind through the jungle. An hour later, and my shirt is thoroughly drenched with sweat. Ryan sits on a fallen tree and starts wringing his shirt out as best he can. He mutters something then just pulls his shirt off and twists it. I look away and plop down next to him, the soft sponge
-like bark squishing.

  “What are the chances of us running into a tiger?”

  I inhale deeply but I can’t pick up anything that warns of a predator. “I think we’re fine.” I bunch up my hair and fan my neck. “I might be able to hear it before it’s on us.”

  “Might? That’s reassuring,” he says.

  “Cats are very silent even when they’re not stalking their prey. There’s only so much I can do.”

  I glance around the thick foliage, my eyes slowing when they reach him. I mentally relax when I realize his shirt is back on.

  “What about water?” he asks.

  “Not unless we stumble upon it.”

  Ryan snorts. “Why don’t you just turn into a tiger or snake or gorilla and lead us to it?”

  “Gorilla? Really?”

  He shrugs. “Just popped into my head.”

  “I can try but I’m not a dog, mind you.”

  Tiger. I open my mouth and draw in the muggy air. After several minutes I pick up something. “Let’s try this way.” I pad through the bracken slowly to make sure I don’t lose the scent of what I anticipate to be water.

  After a short walk we reach a small stream. I give the water a small test lick. Yuck. The water is warm and heavy, parching my mouth more instead of hydrating it.

  “It’ll have to do.” Lissa.

  Ryan gets on his hands and knees, peering closely at the water.

  “Think it's safe?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I say.

  Shiver gulps up some water before saying, “I drink from murky pools of water sometimes. This stuff tastes fine to me.”

  Ryan shrugs. Cupping the water he quickly drinks it, water dribbling down his arms and chin. I can’t help wrinkling my nose at the thought of drinking the warm water. But I force myself to bend down and cup some of the water.

  “That’s all you’re going to drink?” Ryan asks.

  I wipe off my hands on my shorts. “Yes.”

  The look on his face says he thinks I should drink more but I don’t so we keep walking.

  I gratefully stop at the edge of an empty riverbed and plop down. It's difficult to tell how late it is, but I’d guess there’s an hour or less of sun left. I’m not enthusiastic about staying in the jungle overnight. We’ll have to keep going even if trekking through here in the darkness would basically be a suicide mission. But if I shift we should be fine.

  I look up at Ryan when he draws in a quick breath. He’s staring at the riverbed, his eyes not actually seeing it. His gaze hardens and he abruptly turns away. If we do stay here—which we might be since Ryan doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get going—we don’t have many options about where to sleep. Trees are out of the realm of possibility. The branches don’t start until hundreds of feet up. There’s no tangle of vines here, just thick vegetation, which any forest animal could quickly trample through.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  Ryan has set his stuff down and disappeared into a thicket of leaves. I can hear him, but not see him.

  “I’ll sit guard first while you sleep then we’ll switch,” he tells me, sitting beside me.

  “We can’t stay here. If anything decides to attack us we’ll be dead in minutes.” You could be dead in minutes.

  “Ah, your trust in me is so little,” Ryan jokes. “We’ll be fine. I didn’t have all those lessons with Cuven for nothing. Besides, out of all the things in the forest what are the chances it will single us out?” Ryan pulls me up and guides me over to the spot he stomped down.

  “That’s always how it happens,” I mutter.

  Reluctantly I lie down in the small clearing and gaze up. Nothing but endless treetops laden with leaves turned orange with the setting sun. Shiver yawns and curls up close by. I shift uncomfortably. I want to see the stars. I sigh in my head.

  “You okay?” Ryan asks.

  I must have sighed out loud as well. “I’m fine. I just would like to see the stars.”

  I roll onto my side and shift so I can see Ryan when he doesn’t say a word. Shadows mask his face.

  “My mom loved the stars. She told me once that stars were people’s souls. That . . . once you die you became a star so that you could provide light in darkness, be a comfort to those you left, because even though you’re gone you’re still there. She said that the weaker stars were evil people and the brightest ones were the purest people. It's ridiculous but . . .” Ryan shrugs.

  I look back up at the dizzyingly high trees.

  “No it’s not. I think we all need something to believe in. It keeps us together in some ways. Provides comfort when we’re lost, or just need something to hang onto in times of trouble.”

  Ryan stares into the darkness and starts softly murmuring. I can’t understand the words, but his gentle voice lulls me to sleep. And for the first time since I got here I'm not afraid of the nightmares I’ve been having recently.

  Chapter 15

  I lose track of days and hours as we continue hiking toward our destination. We begin a routine at night, depending on where we are. If we are in a forest or jungle or just a place cramped with vegetation, I’ll go out and hunt while he starts a fire—it turns out Ryan is very good at getting a fire started—then I’ll stand guard while he skins and guts the meal, since I can’t stomach that part. Then we’ll just sit there roasting it over the fire. We don’t talk as much if Shiver is asleep, we just let the fire crackle and nature rustle. I don’t mind. Being near him is enough—and he likes to sit pretty close to me.

  We mostly talk in the daytime or under the starry nights—once we’ve eaten—until we fall asleep. I didn’t even know so much talking and good-natured bickering could even exist without running out of things to say.

  Although we run across animals, both predator and prey, their numbers don’t seem as large as I would expect. We give every animal we come across a cautious, wide berth.

  * * * *

  “I think we should go that way,” Ryan says, pointing in the general direction of northeast. We’re in an apple orchard, disagreeing, while overripe apples drop unceremoniously around us, causing me to frequently cover my head if I feel one is going to hit it.

  I shake my head. “We should go this way,” I say, pointing more west, “straight.” I’m pretty sure I’m right because my instincts are directing me that way.

  “How do you know that way is straight?”

  I’m about to say, “Because I do” but Ryan keeps talking. “I think we’d be turning. We’re not heading in a perfectly straight line so we should go that way.”

  Why is Ryan so insistent we go that way? An apple plummets to the ground inches from my head. Up until now he’s let me lead, but now, apparently, Ryan wants some say in it. Ryan picks up an apple, rubs it on his shirt until it gleams then takes a bite.

  “What if there are worms in that?”

  Ryan takes another bite. “Extra protein.”

  “Gross.” I turn away from him, looking back and forth between my direction and his. The sound of crunching interrupts my thoughts and makes me look behind us. A copper stallion and his small herd of females stand near the edge of the orchard, crunching on fallen apples. A colt, its coat a mix of copper and blond, watches me curiously.

  I draw my eyes away from the horses and they come to rest on Ryan, who is carefully watching me.

  “Shiver what do you think?”

  She’s snuffling around in the grass but her head jerks up when I say her name. She sticks her nose in the air and sniffs dramatically. “I really have no idea where we are,” she admits.

  “Ow,” I mutter as a bowl-sized apple hits my head. I rub the spot. That hurt. I want to move closer to Ryan since all the apples appear to be avoiding his head. Instead I go and sit at the base of a tree. Perhaps it’ll be even safer here. “Why that way?” I finally ask him.

  Ryan comes and sits Indian style next to me, putting only inches between us. How is he always so comfortable being so close to me when I can ba
rely touch him without my heart racing?

  “Because I think we need to head northeast. Generally speaking.”

  I don’t say anything. Ryan sighs.

  “Why are you doubting me now?”

  “I’m not. Why are you doubting me?”

  “Don’t turn this around,” I mumble, crossing my ankles and leaning back on my arms, then frowning, uncertain. I thought I’d been leading, but had Ryan actually been directing me? Now that I think of it, it had been Ryan who’d chosen almost every invisible pathway we’d taken. I shake my head. Whoever had been leading before, it didn’t matter now.

  I decide to change tactics. “Come on Ryan, you always get to pick.”

  Ryan chuckles then lays on his back. Neatly catching a falling apple he polishes it, takes a bite then says, “Fine we’ll go your way.”

  He doesn’t say it, but I can hear it just the same: if we get lost it will be my fault. I watch the horses. They keep a respectful distance, but stay within the confines of the apple orchard. They are gorgeous. Their coats are glossy, their manes and tails long and flowing. They’re also huge, easily twice as big as regular horses. I wonder how fast they are. I look back at Ryan. His arm is thrown over his eyes. I nudge him. “Let’s go.”

  Ryan mumbles something unintelligible and I prod him again then stand. Reluctantly he follows. We head in the direction I had pointed.

  * * * *

  “I smell chocolate.” In front of us is a thick wall of growth, beside that, a long strip of grass melts into sandy shoreline.

  “Of course you do. Come on, let’s walk on the beach.”

  I’m going to object because that chocolate, wherever it may be, is demanding to be eaten, but Ryan is already walking away. Catch up to Ryan or follow that smell? I take a step in the direction of the chocolate. It feels like forever since I’ve eaten something sweet.