There’s a crack in the undergrowth behind me, and I spin around to focus my eyes on the dark, shadowy depths of the trees in the direction it came impulsively. Breath pausing, heart rate increasing, as my adrenaline instantly spikes and I train everything on that one spot, poised like I’m ready to bolt, and my butt hovers over the log I was previously perched on. I catch sight of a small deer running through, parallel to me, as it makes a skipping path to find its little herd and relax again, exhaling heavily with relief and sitting back down. I don’t think the jumpiness will ever subside, and I need to learn to calm down a little when it’s bright daylight.
The forest is never silent, and it’s something I need to get used to. It’s noisy as hell, and when darkness moves in, it turns spooky and thick with atmosphere and feels like a million eyes come alive. There’s always some animal running around, some tree creaking, the babbling of water, or the rustling of the wind. None of those is anything to worry about, but try telling my hyper-senses and scared stupid, young girl’s mind. However, I should give myself a break and lighten up a little. I mean, it’s been eighteen years of being a shadow in a pack who maybe didn’t want us, but they met our needs and kept us relatively safe. Well, minus that one night. Now I’m on my own and responsible for my safety; it’s okay to be on edge. I guess it’s a good thing to be aware of.
I found a cave here for tonight that seems secure enough, with no rear entry, and even though I should still be walking, something in me said it’s time to stop for a while and just ponder stuff for a day or two. I’m shielded here, and there’s a water source a few feet away, in a little tumbling brook that heads out to a more significant river further down the way. I feel like I earned it, and after patrolling this area earlier, I don’t think I’m encroaching on any pack territories.
I choose a spot near my makeshift bedroom for the night, haul out some of the rabbit I caught during my last turn and didn’t feel like eating, out of my backpack. I start a fire to make a proper meal of sorts because I need something warm and decent to give me a sense of comfort, in that I’m winning this and not just scraping by.
Cooking the meat that I wrapped up in leaves to carry with me, instead of eating it raw, will trick my brain into a sense of achievement and less desperation. I foraged for some berries and mushrooms when I found this spot, and I have everything sitting on the flat stone I picked up nearby and stuck in the hottest part of the ash. If I can pretend I’m doing well, able to eat well, with some relaxing cookout time, maybe I might sleep well later when the sun goes down, and maybe my dreams will give me just one night of respite. At the same time, I try not to ponder on this unearthly belly ache of longing.
I miss proper food. Cooked dinners, hot drinks, snacks. I miss milky cocoa, walking around barefoot on the carpet, and having a light switch to illuminate the shadowy corners. I miss having a soft bed and a safe room to close off at night and not worrying about always having one eye open. I miss the noise of the others in other rooms and down hallways. I miss Meadow and the sub pack, and I dare I say it ... I miss him too.
If I’m honest, I miss him more than everything else combined, and then some. Even if I hate him for all of this and will never forgive him for marking Carmen, I can still admit my need hasn’t wavered. I can’t even think about it without bringing back the agony which shadows my every move and pushing it back down in the depths to shut it off.
I watch the fat seep out of the meat as the stone heats up and it sizzles, giving off an aroma that reminds me of the mess hall. Not that rabbit was a typical smell, and I have to swallow back that instant choking regret I get often. I’ve identified it as homesickness, even if the packhouse was never really that for me. I guess it’s just a general longing for the mountain and the ties to my long-forgotten family. The farm still sits empty. Although I always knew it was there, waiting, I never dared to go and see it. I’ve never been good at facing my pain, walking away. Closing it off always served a better purpose. Jasper used to tell me you had to face your problems head-on to be free of them, but then, he never lived to prove that was true.
I miss my brother most of all, even more than my mom at times, even if he used to tease me, call me names, and pull my braids. He was a few years older than me and never let me forget it. My first real male protector in life never let me down - until he left me.
I wrap my arms around my legs and lean forward, self-comforting, trying to enjoy the heat of the flames warming my face to shut off my mind and its straying, unwanted thoughts. Another loud crack in the shadows behind me has me bolt upright, and I spin around to see where it’s coming from. My eyes narrow and wolf vision successfully flicks to adjust and surprises me with the clarity of seeing in the dark. I wonder if the deer is coming back again and peering into the depths, hoping to see it happily trotting back out.
I gasp as a thundering, giant, black bear comes crashing through the nearby tree line suddenly, entirely unexpectedly, downwind from me, so no scent warning, almost soundlessly until that last moment. “Shit!”
It must smell me or what I’m cooking and probably followed either scent to investigate. It doesn’t look inquisitive; it seems mad as hell, with raging eyes and bared teeth, and I can tell how it rears on its back legs and wails at me that it’s probably my scent ticking it off and not here to say hello.
Bears don’t like my kind; it’s a well-known and documented fact. They deem us a threat, and we never wander into bear territory alone. Those monsters are strong, relentless, huge, and weirdly capable of taking one of us on as long as it’s a more petite femme like me, with little to no combat skills.
I get up and start backing away fast, knowing that this is some nasty shit to be in right now, eyes darting around for a weapon, or escape route, as it wades towards me through the underbrush, kicking rocks aside with its massive clumpy paws. I swallow hard, pull my wits about me, and start pulling off my clothes slowly, keeping my eyes trained because I don’t want to lose the very few items I have to wear. I only have two outfits, and they are already worn and ragged from constant use, so I can’t afford to lose a single item by shredding it to scraps by turning when dressed.
I know I can outrun this demon with its head on killing, but I can’t grab all my stuff and food and run if I do. I have no time, and it’s nearer to my possessions than me. I can’t leave it all behind me as this asshole will chew it all to shit. It’s mine, and I need what little belongings I have. It’s all I have, and as it tramples over my backpack, a little gray of Colton’s T-shirt peeking out, something inside me refuses to take this crap from some overgrown, mangy, flea-bitten teddy. It’s all I have left of him, and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving it behind.
It comes crashing at me, pulling my full attention back to its enormous face, eyes raging, yellow teeth, baring in all their massive, pointy, terrifying glory, and I know there’s no way out of this. It’s four times the size of me, effortlessly, three times as wide, as black as the sky on a moonless night, and completely deranged. I yank the pant legs off, discarding them with my other off-casts, leaving me in my underwear as I run out of time. It lurches at me, and I instinctively turn to counteract the attack, shredding the only good lingerie I ever owned in my life. Black lace Meadow gave me, and it pisses me off on another level.
It happens so fast, like something inside me snaps and takes over, and I move in a flash, somehow ending up wrapped around the upper front of that smelly, panting beast, rolling across the basin floor and crashing into fallen logs and rocks. Its claws and paws bashing down on me, except it doesn’t feel of anything much because of my surge of adrenaline, and I latch onto its neck with my teeth, biting hard until I taste salty, metallic blood running into the back of my throat. Digging my claws in where I can get them. My mind is on one thing only: to maim and hold my own until I come out on the other side of this, no matter how long it takes. Strangely focused, entirely in control, and yet fighting back with a fierce I never knew I had in me.
It hollers dislodges me with a well-placed swipe across my head and side with its massive paw, claws digging into my skin and ripping as blood sprays across the landscape, sending me rolling across the debris. The pain is like a distant dream and heals almost instantly, soothing into nothing, like a mild, far away throbbing while blood rushes through my head and my pulse bashes inside my thundering thoughts, pushing me on. I’m quick to my feet, finding energy I’ve lacked for eleven days, running straight back at it, and flying hard into its mid-section, with front paws and claws extended fully, ready to start ripping, almost psychotically, as I collide. Determined to leave my mark on it more permanently than the way it just did to me.
There’s an inner fire in me that knows no bounds, as fear dries up and fades away and this need to fight for my own things, my safety, becomes all-consuming. Nothing else passes through my train of thought, and all I can smell and taste is this sudden need for blood. Like a hunger coming from deep within that tells me I won’t relent until I take it down. It fills me with a complete disregard for anything else. I feel it surge through me like a force I can’t explain. A shot from an energy drink or being zapped with a power outlet that springs you across a room.
The bear counteracts my aggressive maneuver, and even though I gash its front ruthlessly with one paw, ripping flesh once more and almost blinding myself with a face full of splatter, it body slams me with the other, crunching my internal bones, and sends me flying through the air like a limp rag. That winds me and renders me temporarily dazed.
I’m still not anywhere near its size, which is its biggest advantage in this, but I won’t let it beat me. I have speed, strength, and the ability to heal, as long as it doesn’t kill me with an instant puncture to my heart or brain or rip my goddamn head off. As long as I have a few seconds of not imminent death, my body will bounce back quickly. Although each time is throbbing more than the last, I guess my initial adrenaline surge is waning as bones readjust and crackle under my skin to be reformed. It hurts like a bitch, and this time I elicit a howl and yelp as it does so.
My anger grows with this fresh pain, disabled only momentarily as I scramble to right myself, finding my balance and quick reflexes. An inner rage builds up so intensely that I can taste it, becoming almost like a solid mass that I can feel and touch around me.
The bear lunges at me again, and this time I’m swift, see it coming and sidestep, jump out of reach, and pounce from ground to an overhanging rock that levers me up enough to take a jump right onto the bear’s head and side. I jump high and get it at an angle, right at the side of its face, clinging on devilishly by puncturing its shoulder and neck with gripping talons, and sink my teeth into the top of its skull, trying to crush it with sheer willpower. I realize too late my jaw can’t stretch that far, and without a good amount in my teeth, I just rip off a clump of the scalp and dirty, foul-tasting fur, which makes me gag.
The bear, as furious as I am and yowling in agony at removing a sizable chunk of its skin, reaches up, catching my hind leg with its claws digging in brutally, and throws me clean across the forest floor. My body hits a fallen log side-on with the force and velocity of a cannonball. Ribs are cracking under the assault of collision, spiking, stabbing into my lung, crushing, crunching, and holy hell balls. I gasp out with a moment of agony that renders me unable to make an actual sound. Air leaking out and failing me because it hurt worse than turning for the first time, stunned with the brutality, and I’m going to rip that motherfucker’s goddamn throat out.
Somehow, I manage to inhale a breath, so my lungs inflate and push my shattered fractured bones back together enough to heal again, but that internal energy I could feel building suddenly encases me fully with every step it takes towards me. My anger knows no bounds anymore, and I focus on a rage comparable to the fiery depths of hell right at that monstrous asshat. It’s around me, shrouding me, like a veil I can almost see, translucent, yet it’s tingling my skin, urging me to wrap it up and pull it in. Feed on it and use it. I can’t explain it, but it’s like the air becomes a thin fabric of something tangible and touchable, something I want to grab and take in my hands.
The bear moves in at me, growling and wailing high into the sky with a wave of blood-curdling anger that probably translates to ‘die bitch’, and I struggle to get up, still recovering, still dazed, with this milky, not entirely clear, air invading my space. Without understanding the why, not questioning where the idea comes from, but having a second of panic action as he makes a final death lunge at me, I grab it from midair, surprised to get a physical handful, like a hot, hard bowling ball in my palm, and throw it at the bear impulsively.
I don’t know what I thought I would achieve, and honestly, I didn’t have time to ponder either the science or the stupidity, but I throw air at a bear to save my hide. Then groan as logic slaps me in the head for being an idiot.
Like something out of a Hollywood movie, I watch in wide-eyed disbelief as an almost invisible force hits the bear and ripples the air around it, sending the milky veil into a shimmering, flowing movement, like mesmerizing water after a rock is thrown in. It makes its body indent crazily like I just rammed it with a truck at speed, and for a millisecond, time slows down as I take this all in. It’s thrown back over three times in the distance it threw me, flying high in an arc through the clearing, and lands spectacularly with a shuddering thud on the floor below the tree line. I swear the ground quakes with force and reverberates through my healing body, bringing a calm to the forest that was not there before. Complete silence as everything stops, and all of nature pauses to say, ‘What in the hell was that?’.
The air pulsates around it silently, the veil moving over and away like I blew a candle, and the smoke disperses in the waves of breath into nothingness. With an erratic heartbeat, panting, hunched up in my poised pose but dumbstruck and blinking at it. Disappearing like it never was, and I’m as shocked as the damn bear at what I just did, sitting stupefied, watching in complete disbelief.
It seems stunned, rolls, crawls to its trembling legs, blinking my way, and then turns and takes off at a prolonged speed, no longer willing to combat whatever I just did. It’s not recovered, though; it’s clumsy, swaying, and crashing into the undergrowth.
As I watch from my perched semi kneeling position, it doesn't get very far. It staggers sideways, then slows to a bumbling uncoordinated mess of a stop, falls over its own feet, and slumps face down on the ground. It’s like it is drunk, and as it lets out a long noisy, groaning exhale. I pull myself to my feet and watch as it falls completely silent.
I can hear a heartbeat in the air, so suddenly it makes me jump; slow, labored - one … two … three … and stop. I’m shocked that it was so clear while so far away. It couldn’t have been its heartbeat, surely? It had to be mine, but I can’t hear it anymore, and I check my pulse to be sure I’m not dead and already crossed over to the other side. Nope, still beating as I press my clawed paw to my breast and snort out a thankful half growl.
I blow out a lungful of air and give myself a few seconds to fully heal every single tiny injury it inflicted, stretching out my ribs to be sure. I stay in wolf form and slowly edge forward to see if it’s still alive, trying to recover my wits and focus for a second attack. Surprised to see my fire and food were free from our thrashing around and still smoking away gently, untouched. It smells pretty good too, and my mouth waters with how hungry this has suddenly made me. Weird.
My bag is kicked to one side, but nothing looks ripped, and I catch sight of the T-shirt still sticking out, bringing a sense of calm to my internal rage, which had still been simmering away all on its own. I pass it and come up at the bear from the side, veering left cautiously and keeping my distance in case this is a ploy to get me close.
The bear has its eyes wide open, glassy, tongue hanging from an open mouth, framed with teeth, eliciting no breath, and blood streams from both nostrils. It’s vacant, staring at nothing, and I realize whatever I did, it messed the bear up inside, and it’s dead. I can tell without touching it that its life force and aura are entirely gone. My senses are tuning in and finding nothing.
I did that. I killed the bear with whatever I threw that I couldn’t see.
I don’t know whether to feel relieved, proud or devastated because I did that alone. That I pulled some weird power out of my gut and took down a bear with nothing more than air. My heart constricts, my gut twists, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to throw up as human emotions kick in and slight shock takes over. I begin to tremble, heart pounding against my chest wall, mind racing over the fact I just had my second ever, real full-on battle with something capable of killing me, and this time, I didn’t almost die at his hands – um, paws. I didn’t need Colton to save me, either. He’d be proud, not that it matters or that I care about what he thinks.
I push my paws out in front of me, moving to stand on my hind legs and stare at them, unsure how to feel about it. Just gawping at these strange clawed, fur-covered, rather blood-soaked weapons of destruction I never knew I possessed. Of course, I knew I had paws, but these did something weirdly special that I can’t explain. They also look ... whiter?!?! Under the mess, and grime, and red stains, but maybe I never really paid attention to how pale they were before. I was sure they were grayer when I first turned.
I try to muster that sensation again, that physical veil thing that I could touch, and hold, and see, but nothing happens, no matter how many weird grunts and noises and odd faces I pull, and I shake my hands away, feeling stupid for not knowing how to control something I can do. My legs shake, and I can already feel my energy waning and signaling I’ll return to human form soon if I don’t hurry. I don’t know if I could do this as a person, and I’m not ready to forget it.
I forget the bear, forget the battle, the shock, the pride, and walk back to the clearing, extending my hands and trying to grasp at the air again, to no avail. So focused on this that nothing else registers in my brain about what just went down.
Whatever that was, I have to figure out how to do it at will. I have to understand how to conjure it and make it appear like that, so I know how to use it again or perfect it. Like the day I shattered everything in the house. It happened when I got mad and ... I got mad!
The thought hits me like a slap as my brain clicks into place, and I recall how crazy angry with Colton I was right before I did that. Just like I was a mass of seething fire, sweat, and despise, with this idiot grizzly. That has to be the key to what I did at the house, and now this.
I don’t think it was the same as this, though. He proved it was an absorption gift, mainly when he tested himself against it. I definitely did not have Colton’s strength, speed, and power this time, or the bear would have been toast in seconds. I saw what he did to the vampire that night. So I did absorb and deflect his gifts. This isn’t something else unless that bear had weird powers and was some sort of shapeshifter and not a regular black bear at all.
I glance back at its lifeless form, a hint of apprehension and circling questions, and shake my head, removing that doubt completely. Shifters would revert to a person after death, and it’s still a pretty sizeable black fur rug over there. Creating a dark mass against the trees.
I felt anger and rage, and instead of fear, I wanted to exert my dominance. I instinctively protected myself with something I conjured up, and I haven’t come in contact with anything like this that I can ever recall. Not recent enough to absorb anyway, and I know it wouldn’t have stayed with me. Absorption doesn’t last like it hasn’t with Colton’s gifts.
I look down at my hands once more, weighing it up in my mind, and realize that it’s exactly how I did it. Raging with Colton, like I was with the bear, must be the source of harnessing it. I need to learn to use my rage to control my gift. Not that it will be hard to find a reason to be mad, I just need to remember the pain of four days after leaving, and bingo, I could fuel rage for eternity while cursing his ‘skanky, puta ass’ name.
If I leave the self-pity aside and remind myself that on the full moon a few days after that, I felt no new agony ... so no new betrayal, then I know the answer. He must have marked her before the turning ceremony once he was sure I was long gone. Out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t even wait.
I sat up that whole night waiting and watching the moon and felt nothing. Slimy dog.
It ignites rage, but I don’t know what to do with it. I stare at my limp hands, slowly turning back to human, failing to conjure the milky mist and give up. I guess without something to direct the rage or have something threatening me somehow, I have no idea how to conjure it up properly. Maybe if Colton was standing in front of me …
My head falls back as I sigh up at the sky and exhale heavily. Standing in the wood naked, and brain jumps back to reality. I have an opportunity here if I put gifts and rage aside. I just killed a bear, a big one, and his fur shouldn’t go to waste when I’m trying to make rural survival more bearable. I was aching for some home comforts and a soft bed. That fat, chunky ass has a perfectly thick piece of warmth going to waste now. I need to remember what my father told me about off-grid survival that it’s essential to utilize everything you can at any given opportunity.
I turn my attention back to the beast, a sliver of guilt finally cutting into my heart a tad painfully, reminding me I am, in fact, human, as I watch its still, pathetic, pose and try not to fall back into a weak girl with too much empathy. I’ve had to do this a lot these past days when hunting for food, and I need to accept that life can be cruel, and in nature, it’s eat or be eaten. I ignore the growing knot in my heart and chest, push away the thoughts, and find inner grit.
I pull out my pocketknife from my backpack and flip out the knife section, gleaming in the sun, hitting the clearing and shining back at me. I’ve been using this to skin rabbits and such for days, but it's small and not the sharpest, even though I have tried to use flint rocks to keep it so. It will take a month to skin that damn bear.
I extend my hand, stretch it out, and turn it to my wolf paw. Lycanthrope can use their paws like hands or feet, and I extend my claws fully, measuring up mentally the size and sharpness, knowing I have the only tools I need right here. I don’t bother dressing, as I’m filthy after that little battle and about to be more so. Dried blood from my now healed body and the bear's wounds covers my skin in disgusting patterns and smear marks. I probably look as feral as this makes me feel. I’ll need to bathe before dressing, and this is going to get messy.
I cover the ground between us and close the gap with the bear, extending my claws fully, with my mind set on a stomach-churning task. I'm leaning in to salvage what fur I can and maybe a trophy claw as a reminder that I just earned my first warrior stripe. I push down the urge to vomit, suck up the sudden surge of emotion that makes me feel slightly vulnerable, as I stand over my kill and survey what I’m about to do. I don’t even know if bear meat tastes good; it might when cooked, and I guess I’m about to find out.
It’s the first day in the last eleven that the sadness and hopelessness abate, and I feel like I might just learn how to get through this in one piece with a little more resolve than the last two weeks. I might learn how to grow and be strong if I give myself more time and some faith. If I can take on a bear, maybe I can take on something paler, faster, deadlier, with bloodlust, should I happen upon one.
I need to figure out how to unleash my potential, and for the first time, I wonder if Colton saw it before I did. That he could see through what everyone else did and caught a hint of a spark when he got closer to me. Maybe I am special.
Wolves can’t throw air.