Hansel's Bear (Erotic Shifter Fairy Tale)

Hansel’s Bear

Erotic Shifter Fairy
Tales

Yvette Hines

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in
print without written permission by the author.

Hansel’s Bear

Copyright © 2014, Yvette
Hines

Cover Artist: Covers by K
Designs

Editor: Bernadette Schane

This ebook is licensed for your
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this author.

Dedication

To my readers who have screamed,
hollered, harassed and supported the Erotic Shifter Fairy Tale
series. Thank you for loving Den County Were-Bears as I do. One
day, SASSE Readers, we are going to have to take a road trip to the
Redwood Forest.

This year has been a year that has
been crazy, stressful and exhausting on both an emotional and
spiritual level, but I thank all of my friends (Pascha, Inayah,
Darby, Bernadette, Eileen, Charmagne) and family for their support.
To my writer friends (Di, Aliyah, Stephanie, Serenity, Latrivia,
Pepper, Tiana, Sienna, Erosa and Denise) that have supported me and
shared in the multiple pains of loss I went through this year,
thank you and I love you all.

Most importantly, to my daughter who
is waaaay too young to read my work, but she has been my champion.
Keep writing little bear, keep writing.

Chapter One

“
Is everyone
ready?”

Greta heard Cord, the new Mayor of Den
County, call. She hovered on the edge of the lake in a long line of
other Were-bears, young and old. Anxious and excited, her toes
flexed and dug deeper into the moist sand around the river as cool
mud of the early spring day oozed up around her feet. The smell of
fall permeated the air with the rich scent of pine and earth and
the muskiness of the multiple redwoods. The weather was changing
and becoming cooler. She loved it.

“
Remember, the first one
to catch a salmon is the winner.” Cord’s booming voice announced to
the participants, which were most of the Weres in Den County—except
for the pregnant females who stood around observing and judges.
Rena, who had become one of Greta’s good friends during the
hibernation months, was one of those unable to join in on the
riotous fun. Cord and Rena were expecting their first cub any day
now.

Glancing over her shoulder, Greta
spotted Rena rubbing her protruding belly.

Rena caught her gaze and smiled then
nudged Riley, Theo’s mate, who was just as round and plump with her
second offspring—their fourth child. Rena and Riley both held up
their hands and presented crossed fingers to her, showing her they
were wishing her luck that she would win.

Unable to stop the smile stretching
her mouth, Greta nodded her friends a thank you.

Turning her head, she glanced down the
line of the other waiting contestants. Her cousin and business
partner Dainton was next to her whispering words of encouragement
to Ebony, who everyone hoped would eventually become her cousin’s
bond mate. Dainton seemed at peace with Ebony not being ready yet
to receive his third bite, even though it had been several months
since she’d come to Den County. Greta knew the woman and could
sense she was holding back from the final decision for a
reason.

Having her own issues and secrets,
Greta respected the woman’s privacy and let the couple work it out
on their own.

To the right and left of her stood
adults and children alike dressed in swimming apparel wanting to
win the competition. However, Greta was more determined this year
to gain the first salmon as they leaped and jumped through the
rough water. This stream was closer to the edge of the county and
eventually weaved its way through town toward the Den County Lake
and was a part of the Upper Sacramento River that flowed down from
Mount Shasta. At this time of year, the Chinook Salmon were making
their way back to Shasta River to spawn. And the Weres of Den also
collected a portion of them for winter stock and the First Moon
Festival coming up.

“
Remember, everyone, no
shifting.”

Greta knew Cord repeated that more for
cubs would weren’t in control of their bears yet and would shift
during emotionally high moments—anger, extreme sadness and
excitement. The smaller children, not having the strength to fight
through the current yet, were only allowed to go but so far into
the water.

He informed the more mature bears of
the rule because the contest would be over way too soon if claws
were allowed. Bare-handed was more of a challenge when catching
salmon because the fish were not only quick, but slippery. Claws
always made that challenge easier.

“
Get those
salmon!”

That was exactly what Greta was
waiting to hear. Running and splashing through the rushing water
she kept her focus. There was a large flat rock in the center she
had to get to once she had her salmon. She’d been practicing the
swim and dive through the violent waters all summer. Weres were
excellent swimmers, so she knew she had to be the best and fastest.
Especially since she had a slight hindrance compared to other
Weres. Her ankle had started out stiff, but loosened up quickly,
more evidence of her training for this moment.

Every year a male Were was declared
the winner, but she refused to let that happen this time. She was
winning it for all the females of Den. She never allowed herself to
dig deep enough to discover why it was so important to her this
year, but it was.

Once the water was rising up beyond
her thighs, she dove in. The crisp cool water surrounded her and
brushed along her body like icy fingers. Her scalp tingled from the
cold, it didn’t deter her but felt exhilarating.

Beneath the water salmon were
everywhere. Instead of attempting to grab hold of them as she
witnessed others doing, she kept swimming toward the victory rock.
Breaking through the surface, she could hear the laughter and peels
of screams as people splashed, chased and goaded each other. She
kept to herself. A few strokes away from the rock she started her
chase.

One salmon after another eluded her
grasp. The change in temperature was causing the icy water to numb
her fingertips. After more than fifteen minutes, she growled in
frustration. She knew that someone may have already caught one and
could be swimming toward the rock to rise up and declare their
triumph.

Taking a few breaths, she forced
herself to calm down and recall how she had caught the trout that
were always in abundance in the lake during her early morning
practice time. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught site of
Dainton and Rorke pounding through the water several yards away.
They each had a fish in their grip.

Until they reached the rock she still
had time. Filling her lungs with air, she plunged beneath the water
and floated on her back. Pushing against the water she sank deeper.
The salmon on the surface were few, but the ones closer to the
bottom, those avoiding easy capture, were more
plentiful.

She was bumped and brushed by one
determined fish after another but she waited with her hands relaxed
over her chest until just the right one came along.

Then it happened. One swam directly up
the center of her body and just as it started past her face, she
seized it. Closing both hands around it tightly, she held onto the
slimy, wiggling and bucking aquatic craniate. Turning over, belly
down, she began to kick hard with all her might. Unable to use her
hands for fear of losing her catch, she swiveled her hips and
worked her legs through the current. Finally she broke through the
choppy foam caps beside the rock.

The two men were close and more people
were moving in with their prizes as well. Greta knew she had mere
seconds to act. Shoving the salmon to her mouth, she sank her teeth
into the top directly about the short fin. She swung both her arms
up and aimed for the hard edge. She could barely feel the rough
surface through her numb fingers. But, she held on and located the
dip in the back of the rock that she had discovered a few weeks
ago. Rorke was already starting his climb when she planted her foot
onto a short ledge beneath the surface and launched
upwards.

It gave her the advantage and she
found herself on the flat top first. She scrambled to stand as
Rorke had one knee up on the rock and was about to rise.

Wheezing and trembling, she quickly
snatched the fish from her mouth and held the plump, male salmon
high in the air.

“
We have a winner! Greta
Armel!”

“
Well, I’ll be damned.”
Rorke was holding a large fish in his hand as he stood up beside
her on the rock.

Greta began jumping up down. Before
she knew it, she was swept off her feet in a tight hug by her
cousin Dainton.

“
Congrats, Greta!” Dainton
cheered.

Hugging him back she laughed and took
in all the smiling faces of the Weres still in the river praising
her.

“
I did it! I did it!” She
was overwhelmed by the pride and joy that swelled up inside her.
Even with all her training, a big part of her never believed it was
possible for her to win.

Setting her back on her feet, he
kissed her on the cheek.

A loud, fierce roar split the air. A
sound so piercing Greta’s heart stopped as she leaped, almost
slipping off the rock.

No one had to be told it was a bear
even though the animal could not be seen through the dense
forest.

Tension mounted as every Den County
Were present turned toward the opposite side of the river. The
property didn’t belong to Den. Adults went on full
alert.

Some raced toward the children as
others moved rapidly in the direction of the obviously angry bear.
Were or full bear they didn’t know.

By the time the band reached the
river’s edge, some had shifted into bear form while others raced on
foot. All of them sniffed around the air searching for a foreign
scent to track.

Fanning out, they all moved cautiously
into the depth of the forest. Finally someone spotted
something.

“
Over here.” Tim Bjorn,
the Mayor’s cousin called out.

The Den residents there hustled to him
and witnessed the deep gouges through the bark of the tree. Claw
marks.

People were murmuring and growling at
the evidence.

Greta watched Cord break through the
throng.