by Bianca D’Arc
Still, many people went around in jeans and a sweatshirt. She’d washed her single outfit a couple of times in the cold mountain stream near her shelter and hung it to dry inside the cave while she slept in her fur. It was reasonably clean, but her stolen footwear was ill-fitting and not suited to hiking at all.
Flip-flops. Cheap ones, at that. Pink with a big plastic flowers on top of each foot. Not something Matilda would have chosen for herself, but when stealing clothing from some unsuspecting human, beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d left a small gold nugget she’d found in the old mine near the human’s back door in payment. Hopefully, these mountain people were reclusive enough to take the payment and say no more about where it had come from or what it was for…if they even made the connection, in the first place.
Old Frank, though a man of few words, had chosen not to say anything about her single outfit, or her story. She’d noticed his eyebrows rise a few times when he looked at her feet, but otherwise, he gave no reaction. Of course, he had his own reasons for living way out here in the heart of the forest, having little contact with other humans.
He wasn’t exactly a people person. Not talkative or demonstrative in any way. Right now, that suited Matilda. She wasn’t feeling very talkative herself.
She’d come to his cabin three times over the past few weeks, each time spending a little longer there. Frank had invited her to share a meal with him after the first tentative encounter. Canned beans and rice had tasted like ambrosia after eating her own hunting in cat form for so long. She’d elicited a little information about the area from old Frank, as subtly as she could.
She knew, now, that she had crossed over into Washington State at some point in her travels. She was in the Cascade mountain range, a little south and east of the famous Mount Saint Helens volcano. The nearest landmark that Frank had assumed she’d been hiking to see was something called Panther Creek Falls.
Matilda had prowled near there at night, just so she could get some information about the place to converse intelligently on it, should Frank or anybody else ask, but there were too many humans nearby. Too many sightseers, hikers and a few campers. She even found traces of somebody prospecting for gold in one of the waterways. But they were all asleep in their tents, campers or homes in the darkest hours when the lioness went to work.
She could see why people flocked to the place. The waterfall was very picturesque. She’d done a little fishing before heading back to her more secluded location to spend the day in her hidden cave. After prowling the perimeter for more than a week, she’d allowed herself to build a small fire.
That second visit with Frank had netted her a couple of wooden matches from a big waterproof box he had near the fire pit in his backyard, and she’d used one to light a little campfire later that week, on a rainy day when it was unlikely anybody would be walking the woods to notice the scent of her fire or the smoke that wafted into the mine and must have gone out through an old ventilation shaft somewhere farther back on the mountain.
She used the second match for a fire the next time there was heavy rain during the day. She fished the night before in her fur and brought the catch back to the cave, having already gathered what she’d need to cook her fish over the small fire. Her food that day was delicious, even if it had no seasoning. She was able to stay in her human form for longer periods, and she believed that helped her recovery. Her fur kept her warm and alive, but her skin kept her human and rational.
For a long time, she’d hovered on the precipice, not sure if she’d be able to recapture her humanity entirely. She was still more wild beast than civilized woman, but that suited her circumstances at the moment, and overall, she was pleased with her progress toward regaining her life. It was slow, but it was still progress.
The third visit with Frank had gone even better than the second. He’d claimed to have some extra supplies she might want and had given her a stick of butter and a small bottle of salt. At that point, she knew Frank realized she was living rough, but neither of them had spoken of it. She’d just thanked him for his thoughtfulness and tried her best to hide the tears that gathered in her eyes.
He’d put the items in a small plastic bag and given them to her before she left after sharing another meal with him, and when she’d opened the bag back in her cave, she’d found a box of matches, a sharp metal folding knife, some plastic forks and spoons, and a pair of clean socks. She had cried over the bounty of small items that would make her existence in this cave just a little easier.
That night, she had hunted and brought down a deer. She’d butchered the animal and used the metal knife to cut some prime portions for Frank. She’d put them in the plastic bag and left them on his doorstep. She waited in the woods until he came out and found the bag, so no other woodland creatures would get it. When she saw the pleased look on his lined old face when he saw what was in the bag, she felt a warmth in her heart.
Her hunting had fed them both that day, and both of them would have meat for later, as well. Reusing the plastic bag he’d given her the day before was a subtle way of telling him that she paid her debts and that his gesture had been appreciated.
She approached cautiously, this time. It was her fourth visit to talk with Frank, and the first time she’d spoken to him since leaving the fresh venison for him. She wasn’t sure if he would bring up her circumstances. She hoped he wouldn’t. She suspected he was living in the mountains for reasons of his own and likely wouldn’t pry into her motivations, as long as they continued to respect each other’s boundaries. She could live with that. She might look human, but the wildcat was still inside, watching everything. The cat would protect her, as it had when she’d been captured and tortured.
Matilda had prowled the perimeter of Frank’s land before ever approaching the house. This time, as she came out of the woods to hail the man who was standing by his back porch, drinking steaming coffee out of a mug, she was wary of his response.
“Morning,” she called when she was still a ways out. She walked slowly, watching carefully.
Frank turned to see her, and his face lit with a genuine smile. “Morning, Matilda. How’ve you been keeping?”
“Well enough,” she replied. “How are things, Frank?”
“Can’t complain,” he told her. “Just put together a stew for lunch. It’ll be ready in an hour or two. How long can you stay?”
The man sounded downright eager for company. Should she trust it? He’d been more reticent in their previous encounters, but she didn’t smell anything wrong with this picture. He seemed on the level. Maybe learning that she was a huntress and paid her debts had won him over. She honestly couldn’t see Frank, of all people, being nice to her in order to hurt her in some way. Maybe he just liked venison and seldom caught any for himself. Deciding that must be the reason he was so welcoming, she kept moving toward his cabin.
“I’ve got nothing on my busy agenda today. If you don’t mind the company, I’d enjoy sticking around for a bit of stew. Thanks for the invite.”
Chapter Two
Georgio had been gone from his new home in Grizzly Cove for more than a week. In that time, he’d covered a lot of ground. He’d gone up into the Cascades and taken a good look around. He was looking for any sign of the lioness, but he had discovered, somewhere along the way, that he was enjoying himself, too.
He was actually sightseeing a bit. He’d left town, using back roads through the nearby Indian reservation, with their permission, to avoid any sort of pursuit. Things had been happening in and around the borders of Grizzly Cove lately that had brought all too much magical attention to the town. Enemies were on the border, and the town—and his beautiful new den—had started to feel confining. Like a prison.
Georgio couldn’t stand that feeling. He’d had a talk with Big John, the mayor and leader of their people, and John had understood. He hadn’t liked Georgio’s plan to go out on his own, but John had offered logistical support in getting away from the town without attracting an
y attention, and any other kind of support Georgio might need once he got his fill of freedom and wanted to come home.
Home. That’s what John had called Grizzly Cove. For the first time in his life, Georgio had been starting to think of a place as home. Then, the enemy had boxed them in and put the town under siege, rocking his feelings of security. He’d bugged out of town and left his den behind, but he knew he could always return, and the guys from his old unit would make sure nobody messed with his house or his stuff, though he was pretty sure some of them would be swimming in his pool while he was away. He didn’t mind that so much, and he’d given the new mer ladies who were mated to some of his friends permission to use the pool anytime they wanted.
He couldn’t keep a fish out of water any more than he could allow himself to be caged, again. Besides, he knew everyone in town would have respect for his property and leave it as they had found it, clean and everything in its place. Georgio hadn’t always been such a fanatic for orderliness, but when all control had been taken from him by his captors, something inside of him had changed. He now craved order and shunned chaos. It was something he was working on, but all in all, there were worse handicaps than being a bit of a neatnik.
He’d left town in his old full-size SUV. It was black, with blacked-out windows. It’s paint had seen better days and was no longer shiny or reflective. He’d chosen that on purpose. It was easier to blend into the darkness with a vehicle that didn’t gleam.
The engine had been as old and tired as the body when he’d bought the thing, but he’d spent hours and hours repairing and replacing things under the hood until the engine now purred like a sleek mountain cat. The suspension had been replaced with something even more rugged, and as silent as he could make it. He’d turned an old beater of an SUV into something that could really move over almost any terrain.
By day, he would drive farther from Grizzly Cove on a meandering path through the mountains until he’d find a likely place to stop and have a look around. He would leave his vehicle at a trail head or campground while he hiked off into the wilderness. He’d go bear when he felt the need and use his superior tracking skills to look for any sign of the lioness’s passage. Sometimes, he’d stay a few days in one place, checking things in all directions. Other times, he’d move on quickly if there were too many humans around.
The lioness wouldn’t go too close to humans, he reasoned. Not yet. Not so soon after escaping—if she was anything like him. His beast hadn’t wanted to be around people for months after his captivity. Even now, it was difficult at times when people got too close. Even other shifters. Even friends.
Georgio thought he understood the way the lioness would be thinking, if she still lived. His mission was to find her, if she was alive, or to recover her remains, if her spirit was no longer in this realm. Either way, her kin would know what happened to her. He took his military vow seriously. He would leave no one behind. Ever.
Today, he’d found a picturesque spot called Panther Creek Falls. The name had appealed to Georgio when he’d seen it on a road sign. It was as good a place as any to continue his search.
The falls themselves were easily accessible, and he passed more than one group of humans on the short trail from the parking area to the scenic overlook. Most had cameras out and were talking loudly, as if nothing more than bunnies and frogs roamed these woods. Georgio knew differently. He could scent cougar, bear, and other large and toothy mammals without even trying.
The one scent he was looking for eluded him…until…
He went off the path where the humans couldn’t see. He made sure nobody witnessed his departure from the marked walkway and scanned the area carefully to be certain he was the only two-legged being in the vicinity. He used all his senses—dulled as they were in human form—to check each tree, each boulder. And, then… He found it.
A scant whiff of a scent, coming to him from behind a tree. She had been here. A lioness.
Odds were good that it was her. The lioness he was seeking. But the scent was old. Several days old, which was both good and bad.
Good because it wasn’t weeks or months old. Bad because, even in those few days that had passed, she could have moved on. And lions—like bears—could cover a lot of ground when they wanted to. But this was the first scent he’d had of her since the early days of the search, when they’d known where to look for her last known position.
She had fled that area, of course, and had done so in a way that nobody could pick up her trail. Georgio had to admire that. She didn’t want to be found, and she hadn’t been found. Inconvenient for him, of course, but it was a testament to her skill that she had evaded not only the bad guys, but also every one of the trackers sent by her Clan to try to find her.
She probably didn’t know her Clan was looking for her. Or, if she did, she might have her own reasons to evade them. Georgio knew, better than most, that captivity and torture could do things to your mind. Things that made it hard to go back to normal life. Whatever that was.
As far as he was concerned, nothing would ever be normal, again, for him. Part of the reason he felt so strongly about finding this woman was that he thought he understood her predicament better than almost anybody. He wouldn’t rush her or make her go back if she didn’t want to. He just wanted to be there for her. Like his unit had been there for him—only a little less smothering.
Georgio almost chuckled at that thought. The guys had meant well, but with so many of them checking on him all the time, sometimes, he got a little frustrated. He didn’t want to take out his bad moods on his friends, so he’d retreated to his own space, and after a while, they’d begun to understand and let him be. He was still part of Grizzly Cove, but he chose when and how to participate in the town and be around others. It wasn’t ideal—and he knew he wasn’t all the way back from his experiences, yet—but it worked. For now.
He got the idea from watching the Kinkaid Clan’s response to finding out they’d lost a lioness that this lady’s family would be even more cloying than his band of bear shifter brothers. Georgio thought maybe that’s part of the reason why she hadn’t come back on her own, yet. Now that he knew she was alive, he began to suspect that she was staying out here in the wilderness by choice.
The only way he’d know for certain if his surmise was correct was to find her. To that end, he was tracking. Using all the skills and tools in his arsenal, he set off on foot, following her scent.
A couple of hours later, Georgio had to admit the lioness was a master at stealth. But he was better. He’d lost her trail and picked it up, again, a few times over the past hours, but he’d tracked her to a secluded cabin where he got her first glimpse of her, eating beef stew with an old human mountain man.
Georgio was careful to stay upwind of the cabin and leave as little trace of his presence as possible. Now that he’d found her, he didn’t want to scare her off.
She was seated on the back porch of the small cabin, and he could see her profile. Her Clan had supplied identification photos, and he had become familiar with her scent back when she’d first been lost. He was almost certain his search had come to an end, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure until he spoke to her.
He’d have to approach cautiously. She was in self-imposed exile, at this point. The mountain man was old and obviously not keeping her here by any visible means. In fact, her scent was faint in the area, which told Georgio that she had not been here long, or often. She was just visiting the old man.
Deduction told him she was holed up somewhere else. Somewhere she’d been able to hide for weeks without detection. Georgio had to find a way to get to her before she disappeared, again, though he knew he was taking a big chance. Still, it seemed the only way to ensure he didn’t lose this opportunity.
He couldn’t confront her near the cabin, though. The old man and his cabin were Georgio’s one definite link. He would follow her when she left and pick a more neutral spot, far from the cabin, as if he’d just happened upon her trail
out in the woods. That way, if he somehow lost her, he could stake out the cabin, in hopes she’d return once more to see the old man who seemed to be her friend.
It was a risky proposition however he did it, but he felt confident that his plan was the best one he could devise on short notice. That in mind, he settled in to wait. Once she finished her visit, he’d follow where she led and pick his moment to confront her.
Matlida left Frank’s place with a new bag of loot, which included a pair of old boots he’d gotten from somewhere in a size close enough to fit her. She wouldn’t have to wear the flip-flops anymore, on her forays outside the cave in human form. He’d also packed an old T-shirt and a blanket into the large plastic bag, along with a tin of beans and some other food items, plus the biggest prize of all—a garden trowel. Both a very useful tool, and a potential weapon.
It might not sound like much, but having the small metal implement would make digging so much easier. She could dig with her claws, but that got dirt under them which had to be washed out, creating more work for her. She’d needed to dig a bit to create a latrine, of sorts, so she could stay in her human form more. The cat could easily just go in the woods, but the woman was a bit more fastidious.
Matilda vowed to hunt and fish and refill the bag Frank had given her with meat for his table and freezer. It was only fair. Frank wasn’t getting any younger, and the lioness in her soul was happiest when it was providing sustenance for those it had taken into its heart. Frank had earned her lioness’s respect and care by being so kind. Matilda wasn’t sure how long she would stay in this area, but for now, at least, she would look after Frank as best she could, to repay his kindness.
When Matilda made it back to her cave entrance, she circled around cautiously, as was her habit, and did her best to enter the cave unseen. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d heard a new sound in the forest as she walked back. Nothing that had alarmed her inner lion, but she had noticed it. As if some new animal had moved into the area, but whatever it was, it had been wise enough to stay upwind of her, so she couldn’t scent it.
