“Less. Believe me, she has a long way to—”
I stopped. The marten had woken and reared up against the side of her cage, nose wriggling madly. When she saw me watching, she chirped, then started racing laps as she waited for food.
Daniel laughed. “Someone’s definitely feeling better.”
“That’s not—” I peeled off the gloves. “That’s not possible. It should take days before she’s even walking.”
“You’re just too good a nurse. You need to go visit your grandma, let your dad and me take over, slow things down.”
It’s true—the animals don’t heal as fast when I’m not around. That sounds like bragging, but we saw it every time I went away. Daniel knows how to do all the stuff. So do my parents. But when I’m gone, the healing process slows.
Dr. Hajek, the Salmon Creek veterinarian, says some people are just natural healers. She sometimes calls me into town to help with pets that’re in a lot of pain—I calm them down so she can do her thing, and in return she volunteers her time with cases of mine that need serious medical attention.
Still, as good as I am, there was no way the marten should have been racing around her cage. When I said that to Daniel, he only shrugged.
“Obviously she wasn’t as badly hurt as you thought. Hate to break it to you, Maya, but you can be wrong.”
“Dr. Hajek did the diagnosis.” I leaned over the cage. The marten reared up again and chirruped at me. “That bolt went into the right haunch and—”
I stared at the marten’s haunch. The skin was bare, where Dr. Hajek had shaved it. Underneath, the only sign of injury was a pale scar crisscrossed with dark stitches. When I’d checked the marten yesterday morning, I’d thought she was healing fast. But the wound had still been there.
I reached into the cage.
“Um, Maya?” Daniel said. “Gloves? Those teeth and claws are like needles. You’re the one always telling me …”
I didn’t hear the rest. It was as if my hand was being pulled into the cage against my will. The marten didn’t even flinch, just sat there and waited, dark eyes on mine, calm and trusting.
I touched her wounded flank. Pain ripped through my leg and I stumbled back.
“Maya!”
Darkness enveloped me. I inhaled the scent of pine needles. My leg throbbed. My heart raced so fast, I panted for breath.
“Pop goes the weasel!” a boy yelled.
Another guy laughed. Footsteps pounded the dry earth so loud they sounded like an oncoming locomotive. A single thought filled my head. Escape. I pulled myself along, dragging my injured leg over a carpet of dead needles—
“Maya!” A warm hand grabbed my chin. “Come on, Maya.”
I gasped and blinked. I was sitting on the floor. In Daniel’s lap. I bolted to my feet so fast, I elbowed him in the stomach.
“Thanks,” he wheezed. “Next time I’ll let you hit the floor.”
“What happened?”
“You fainted.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “I believe swooned is the correct term. It’s not nearly as romantic as it sounds, you know. More like a deadweight collapse. With drool.”
I wiped my mouth and looked around, still getting my bearings.
Daniel’s voice softened as he stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. He asked what happened, but I couldn’t tell him, because I wasn’t really sure myself. I just stared at the marten, watching me now, head tilted. When I wrenched my gaze away and went to get her dinner, I realized my hands were shaking. Daniel took the meat from me, donned the gloves, and fed the marten.
With his back to me, he said, “So I spilled my guts already. Your turn. If you won’t tell me what happened just now, at least tell me what happened at the tattoo place.”
I did. I was tempted to joke that his dad was right—apparently I was evil—but he wouldn’t appreciate that.
When I was done, he stood there, his broad face screwed up in disbelief. “So this old lady, who’s never met you before, sees your birthmark and says you’re a witch?”
“Sounds like something from a TV movie, doesn’t it?” I hummed a few bars of suitably sinister music. “Should have been a fortune-teller, though. The teenage girl goes to the fortune-teller, whose gypsy grandmother says she’s cursed.”
“Maybe that was it. Like one of those reality TV shows. You got pranked.”
“In Nanaimo? Must be a low-budget Canadian production.”
“Is there any other kind?”
I laughed and took out a little more meat for the marten, who spun in her cage, chirping. At least someone didn’t think I was evil incarnate. Not if I had food anyway. I dropped it in.
Daniel said, “If the woman has Alzheimer’s or whatever, her niece should keep her out of the studio before she scares off more customers.”
“I know.”
I closed the marten’s cage. She narrowed her eyes and chattered, scolding me for not giving her more.
I shook my head. “We can’t have you getting too fat to run when we let you go.”
“We’re done talking about it, then?” Daniel said as I shut the food locker.
I shrugged. “Nothing more to talk about. It wasn’t exactly high on the scale of enjoyable life experiences, but I can deal with it.”
“You just fainted, Maya.”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“No? Good. Then you won’t mind me telling your parents, so they can get you to the clinic tonight and check you over.”
“I’m fine,” I said as I double-checked my charges. I couldn’t hang out and play with them after they were fed—minimal human contact was the goal, however tough that was sometimes.
“I fainted because I missed dinner and I’m starving. And, yes, maybe I’m kind of stressed. But my parents are already worried about what that woman said about my birth mother. You know how they get about that. They’ll decide it’s opened up a Pandora’s box of conflict over my adoption and my racial identity and blah, blah, blah. I really don’t want to spend the next week on Dr. Fodor’s couch, thank you very much.”
“All right, then. I’ll forget it for now, but if you pass out again …”
“I’ll tell someone.”
“And you’ll make sure you aren’t in here by yourself. Get your mom or dad to help you. Say you’re worried about the fledglings imprinting on you or whatever.”
“Yes, sir.”
We headed out the door. I’d turned to lock up when Daniel’s hand clamped my shoulder.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
I followed his gaze to a light-brown form crouched on a rock, barely visible in the thick twilit woods.
“It’s just—” I was about to say “Fitz” when I saw the long tail swishing.
“Dad!” I shouted. Then even louder, “Dad!”
I backed up and slammed into Daniel. “Move toward the house.”
“The shed—”
“Is probably what he wants, so he won’t follow us to the house. Damn it. This is exactly what I was worried about. He’s too used to people.” I nudged Daniel backward. “Nothing here for you, Marv! Get going!” Then, “Dad!”
The cougar rose, readying itself for the leap. Its head appeared through the cover of shadow and I saw its face … and its two perfectly good ears.
It wasn’t Marv.
The cat leaped. Daniel grabbed my arm and whipped me behind him so hard I flew off my feet. I hit the ground as the house door slammed and Dad shouted. I saw Daniel stumble back. Saw the huge tom in flight, on target to hit him. I screamed and jumped up. Daniel twisted to run. The cat caught him in the back and knocked him off his feet. Huge canines flashed, heading for the back of Daniel’s neck, the killing blow.
As I covered the last few feet, I heard the rifle fire. Heard my dad shout, “Maya!” Heard my mother’s shriek. Felt the bullet whiz past me. I kicked at the cougar’s head. My foot connected, knocking it sideways, teeth snapping together harmlessly.
T
he cat turned to me, lips pulled back, teeth flashing, eyes slitted as he snarled. I kicked him again. My parents shouted for me to move aside so Dad could take the shot. Only, if he did, he stood a chance of hitting Daniel, and I wasn’t letting that happen.
“Go!” I shouted. “Get off him!”
The cat had Daniel pinned face-first to the ground. Daniel lay still, playing dead as I kept shouting at the cougar and my parents shouted at me. The cat snarled again, and I braced myself, ready to run if those powerful hind legs bunched for flight. But he made no move to come after me, just snarled and spat and stayed over Daniel.
Rage boiled up in me. Maybe it was shock, but it felt like pure fury. I screamed at the cat, looking him square in the eye, and when I did it was like everything else disappeared. The world seemed to dip and darken, and I smelled wet earth and thick musk and fresh blood. The wind whipped past, like I was running. Running so fast the ground whizzed beneath me, the wind cut across my skin. Exhilaration filled me. My muscles sang, and it was the sweetest—
The sudden scream of a cougar jolted me back to reality. The big cat was still staring at me. Just staring. Another scream. I turned to see a second cougar charging toward us. A cougar with a ragged ear.
The younger cat jumped off Daniel and spun to meet Marv. They hit so hard the ground vibrated. I grabbed for Daniel, but he was already on his feet, reaching for me. He pushed me ahead of him as we ran for the porch, the cats snarling and growling and yelping behind us.
My dad pulled us onto the porch, then lifted the rifle.
“Rick, no,” Mom said, passing him the one with tranquilizer darts instead.
When he hesitated, she said, “The kids are fine.”
He still hesitated, like he didn’t care, just as long as he made sure it never happened again.
“Dad, please,” I said.
He looked at me, then took the tranquilizer gun, aimed, and fired. The dart hit the younger cougar in the flank. He let out a yowl and attacked Marv with fresh fervor, then in midtwist, toppled over. Marv grabbed the unconscious cat by the neck and shook him. When the other tom didn’t react, Marv chuffed and looked at us, like he expected applause. Instead, he saw the barrel of a rifle. With one chirp of indignation, he galloped toward the woods. Dad fired, but Marv veered at the last second and disappeared before Dad could shoot again.
Daniel was okay. He had some puncture wounds where the cougar had dug in his claws, and he’d definitely be bruised and battered tomorrow, but he’d avoided a bite, which was the main thing.
He argued that he didn’t need medical attention, but Mom drove us into Salmon Creek, calling ahead to make sure one of the doctors would be at the clinic. Dr. Inglis met us there, which surprised Mom. Dr. Inglis is the head of the research lab, and doesn’t usually work at the clinic, but she said she’d been out with Dr. Lam, and when he’d gotten the page, she decided to come along.
While Dr. Lam looked after Daniel, Dr. Inglis chatted with me. She’d heard this was my second cougar encounter today, and wanted to know all about it. She made it sound like personal curiosity, but I knew it wasn’t. She was making sure I was doing okay, that I didn’t need the services of Dr. Fodor to deal with the trauma.
One drawback to living in a medical research town is that they’re paranoid about health, both physical and mental. The adults get off easy. Not the kids. Sneeze twice in a row and the teacher calls the school nurse. Drop out of a sport or let your grades fall and you’re whisked off to Dr. Fodor’s couch. They especially monitor the teens, as if hormonal surges could make us spontaneously combust at any moment.
The worst is when Dr. Davidoff comes to town. I hate Dr. Davidoff. We all do. He’s creepy, with cold hands and awkward, lame jokes. But he’s the St. Clouds’ top doctor, so every year, he brings a team to visit the lab. And, since they have world-class doctors on hand, it’s time for every kid to get a complete physical. Oh joy.
My parents are big on eating natural food, getting lots of exercise, and staying healthy, but even they find the town’s obsession a bit much. Still, they don’t knock it, not if it means I get the best care possible. I suppose that’s the point. The town keeps its employees happy by keeping their kids healthy. Since they have the resources right there, it’s an easy benefit to provide.
Dr. Lam cleaned Daniel’s wounds and gave him painkillers for tomorrow. Then Dr. Inglis listened to his version of events and made sure he wasn’t traumatized before she called Chief Carling to report it. Out here, wildlife attacks are like gunshot wounds in the city—every one needs to be recorded.
Dad took the tranquilized cougar to Dr. Hajek’s. The tom had been tagged, so we needed to find out where he was from and whether he could be returned. She had the facilities to hold him; we didn’t.
The cat had come for the shed. I was sure of that. No matter how clean I keep it, it carries the scent of the rabbits and fawns I’ve housed there; and new predators to the area often check it out, hoping for a well-stocked food larder. Once they realize they can’t get in, they usually leave it alone.
As for why the new tom was in our park at all, he was clearly checking out territorial prospects. The island isn’t overpopulated with cougars, so Marv doesn’t see a lot of challengers. As he gets older, though, they’re bound to increase. This only proved how quickly a younger and more dangerous big cat would move in if we relocated Marv.
I felt bad for the old guy. He’d come to our rescue and how would he be repaid? Hunted and tranquilized to teach him a lesson about getting too friendly with humans. Yet as romantic as it is to think Marv had been protecting us, it was far more likely that he was simply protecting his territory. Still, I’d feel guilty when Dad did it, and, to be honest, I’d miss my encounters with the old cat.
SEVEN
I HAD A ROUGH night. Between being verbally attacked by a total stranger and physically attacked by a cougar, I’d need a skin of granite not to let it affect me.
I dreamed about the old woman and the cougar, and those were definitely nightmares. But I also dreamed of what I’d felt when that cat looked me in the eye. What I’d smelled and felt and seen.
I dreamed of what had happened in the shed with the marten. My blackout. No, not a blackout. A vision of what had happened to the animal.
I’d talk to Mom about it later. I always went to her with things like that, because she wouldn’t go all Native mystical on me and talk about vision quests and whatever. Not that Dad or Daniel would do that—they’d been around us long enough to know better. But still, well, I’d just be more comfortable talking to Mom about it.
It’s like my love of nature. Some people say it’s because I’m Native, and I know they’re not trying to stereotype me, though sometimes I really wish I was into model airplanes instead. I love animals and yes, I’m Native, but as my teachers would say, correlation doesn’t imply causation. I have a park ranger for a father and an environmental architect for a mother. They met at a rain forest conservation rally and have raised me out in the woods. It’d be bizarre if I didn’t turn out the way I did.
But what had really happened tonight? With the cougar, it was obviously adrenaline with a chaser of shock, and maybe a little post-traumatic stress thrown in for good measure. One best friend had died in front of me last year. Another almost did tonight.
I could rationalize it while I was awake, but once I fell asleep, I was running again, ground and wind whooshing past. I smelled the musk of animals, the tang of the earth, and blood. I smelled blood and it made me run all the faster, heart speeding up not with fear but something else, something that gripped my belly like … like hunger.
I bolted upright. Sweat poured down my face, and I gasped for breath as my heart pounded. My legs ached like I really had been running.
I pushed off the covers, got out of bed, and went to the window. I stood there in the moonlight, hands pressed against the cool glass as I scanned the forest, looking for … I don’t know what I was looking for, only that I was looking and I was
aching and I wanted something. Wanted it so bad.
The window was open a crack, and I could smell the rich, loamy night, just like in my dream. I bent to open it farther, then crouched there, my heart galloping. I let the cool air and the scents wash over me and, gradually, my heartbeat slowed and the sweat dried and I was left standing there, confused and shivering, until I went back to bed, pulled up the covers, and fell asleep.
“You could have stayed with my mom today,” I said as Daniel navigated the potholes and ruts. “You’ve got to be hurting.”
“Nope. Don’t feel a thing.”
“Tough guy,” I said.
“No, well-medicated guy. You really think I’d let you go to school without me? I’d show up tomorrow and hear that I got pinned running from a cougar, only to be saved by you rushing in and staring him down.”
“Um, yeah, that’s pretty much how I remember it.”
“Exactly why I’m going. To get my version out first.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. But I will include the part about you throwing me to safety. The girls will love that. Especially Nicole.”
Daniel gripped the steering wheel, his gaze straight ahead.
“So it’s still a no, then?” I said. “Look, if you aren’t interested, I’ll stop teasing you, but you did say she’s cute …”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s been over a year.” Not just a year since Serena’s death, but a year since he’d gone on a date. That was starting to worry me. “All I’m saying—again—is ask her if she’s going to my party. Yes, obviously she is, and obviously, as the host, you’re not asking her for a date, but it would just … open the possibility, you know. Let her know you might be interested, and see how things go. No pressure.”
“We’ll see.”
We pulled in the parking lot to see Corey talking to a girl who looked, from the back, like Sam. As we drove closer, though, I could see her dark hair was sleek, not spiked, and her clothes had colors, which meant they’d never be found in Sam’s wardrobe. Then I caught a glimpse of her face and realized it was our elusive tree-climbing hiker.
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