Chapter 58: Inseparable

Daphne

There were no signs marking the trail head, only a gravel pull off that was big enough to fit two cars, maybe three max. This early in the season, no hikers were venturing into the deep woods, and the pull off was muddy and rutted. I parked my car in what looked like the firmest area, and prayed I wouldn’t need someone to tow me out when I got back.

I pocketed my keys and stared into the woods. The night was overcast, so there wasn’t even moonlight to illuminate the trail, but as my eyes adjusted, I was able to make out the outlines of the trunks of trees and low-hanging branches. I kept my ears fully tuned to every sound as I started down the path.

The forest which looked silent and still was really full of life. Spring peepers singing to their mates in the swamp to my left, an owl gliding through the branches to my right. There was a small herd of deer bedded down in a clearing nearby, and a fat, fluffy skunk digging through a rotted log looking for an insect snack. There was no human smell, no werewolf scent, and notably, no bear scent, but I was neither surprised nor disappointed.

If there was a werebear in these woods, they wouldn’t frequent the trails, at least not in their bear form. If he was seen, if his presence was reported, even if he was mistaken for a natural bear, it would draw all kinds of unwanted attention. Tourists, hoping to catch a live bear on camera, or hunters hoping for a trophy head to mount on their wall.

The hiking trail zig-zagged up the small mountain, through the state forest, and eventual led to a scenic overlook, where you could look down at the valley below, see the university spread through the valley, and look across at adjacent peaks. It was a nice, easy day hike. But what most people didn’t know was that if you left the trail, and went the long way around the swamps, there was a rocky, weathered area on the side of the mountain where there were several shallow caves. They barely cut into the mountain more than a few feet, but the recessed areas made a nice shelter from the wind and rain.

I stopped before I left the trail, and peeled off my clothes. I was about to break one of my brothers’ cardinal rules about attending university and living on campus. But if I was going to meet a homicidal bear in the woods, I needed the speed and agility of my wolf. I tucked my clothes into the crotch of a convenient tree, and quickly, quietly dropped onto all fours. Before my fingertips touched the cold, damp earth, they had become pads and paws, with sharp, curling claws.

I took a moment to sniff around, and orient myself to the environment, and then I took off for the swamps. Soon my nostrils were filled with the dank, earthy smell, and the sound of frogs and night insects grew loud in my ears. The water was high from the spring run-off, and I realized that it was good that I hadn’t tried to make the hike in my human form. I would have been sinking deep into the mud if I’d attempted to walk along the edges in bipedal form.

As I was crossing the marshy area, I noticed something else had sunk into the mud. Something considerably larger than a wolf. The prints were deep, and had filled in with murky water, but they seemed like they were the right size, the right shape, the right spacing for a large bear. I sniffed around and picked up the scent… very faint, almost imperceptable. It might have been days old.

I paused, ears c.ocked forward, and held my breath, straining to detect any sign of danger in the area. However, nothing was moving. There was no squelching sound of a large animal moving through the sucking mud. I lifted my nose to the wind, tested the air, and then moved on, staying near the edges of the swamp, where I could hop from tussuck to tusccuk of dead grass, doing my best to leave no evidence of my passage.

The ground underfoot changed, subtly. The mud gave way to broken shale, long bare patches of slate where the soil had completely washed away. Trees grew sparsly, those that managed to sink their roots into the bedrock were thin and gaunt looking. And then the mountain side rose up beside me, broken and jagged.

The air was crisp and clean. No acrid smoke from a campfire, no man's scent. No bear scent either. Ahead, the caves, black on black in the night, like the mountain side was smiling and missing a few teeth. Again, I paused, being extra cautious, practically quivering as a strained with all my senses to detect any life in the mountainside.

Finding nothing, I eased forward, sniffing my way through the first indentation, to the second, and then the third, the deepest one, and there, I found something. A brown candy wrapper, for the little chocolate candies that melt in your mouth but not in your hands. It could have been left by anyone, but it hadn’t been there long, because the chocolate scent was still strong on the plastic. And there, toward the back, a full gallon of water, and a sealed plastic bag with more candy, beef jerky, and a lighter.

And a scent, so delicate, but it was there, of bear.

I sat back on my haunches and contemplated the meaning. It seemed that someone, a very human someone, had stashed some supplies in the cave. A wild bear wouldn’t have any use for bottled water and lighters. But there was no human scent, only the very, very faint earthy scent of bear.

It was entirely possible that some one, perhaps a even a kid, had left the water and snacks in the cave some days ago, and then a bear, a real wild bear, had wandered through, smelled the chocolate, and come to explore the cave, just as I had. Would a wild black bear have walked away and left the rest of the snacks untouched? Surely a bear could scent the beef jerky through the plastic- I knew I could.

Or… could it be that the human with the sweet-tooth and the bear were one and the same?

I stood, and turned, and looked out of the wide, open mouth of the cave, which was really nothing more than a shallow scoop of stone carved out by shifting glaciers eons ago. But it offered an open view of the swamps, and an animal taking refuge in the space could easily see anything coming and going, with the safety of the mountain at his back.

I sighed and trotted back into the night. I had proven nothing, except that there was a bear in the forest, that one had passed this way in the last few days. I did my best to keep my paws clean and dry as I hopped from tiny island to tiny island of firm ground between the stagnant water and deep mud. And when I was clear of the swamp, I gave in to the temptation of the night, the quiet forest, and let my wolf spirit take over my senses. I retreated in her consciousness as she ran threw the trees, stretching her legs for the sheer joy of it. We made a wide arch through the forest before we circled back around to the spot on the trail where I had left the clothes.

And suddenly, I stopped, tense and alert.

There was movement on the trail. Human footfalls, although they were soft and almost silent, they couldn’t entirely eliminate the sound of their boots on the path. And the scent, so strange for a human, but unmistakable, spicey, nutmeg and cinnamon and maybe a hint of cloves carried on the cool crisp night air.

Nathan Straight was in the woods.

I pulled in a breath and moved closer, careful to keep myself concealed in the shadows of the trees, until I coud see him moving up the path in the dark.

How could he see?

And then, as if he had heard my silent inquiry, he switched on a powerful flashlight, and let the beam cut between the trees, up the hiking trial, and then turning to shine it behind him, back toward the parking area, where he had no doubt seen my car. I crouched low and kept silent. The beam swung around one side, and then to the other, until it fell on something in the path. My t-shirt had fallen from the pile I had left in the crotch of the tree. The rest of my clothes were still there, only a foot above his head.

He walked closer, picked up my t-shirt from the path, shook it out, and held it out in front of him. He sucked in a breath and let the light swing around again, narrowly missing my hiding place. “What the hell are you doing out here, Daphne?” He asked softly. I realized he was talking to himself, he didn’t know I was there, he didn’t expect an answer.

But in my head. I was asking a similar question.

What the hell are you doing out here, Nathan Straight?