Authors: Amelia Bishop
When they caught their breath enough to speak, Cal propped his head on his hand and looked down at Dagger. “You’re back.”
“What do you mean?”
“You aren’t afraid anymore.”
Dagger smiled. Yes, he was back. Knowing what had happened to Alston and Lucy, knowing it was really over, had chased the remains of his fear away. Now there was just Calderon, and endless days of happiness ahead. “Because of you. You got me through it, made me feel safe here every night. Thank you.”
“You know you don’t need to thank me, I’ll do anything for you, Dagger. Forever.”
When Cal said
forever
, Dagger heard the love behind it and knew what he meant- that he’d stay forever, be his forever. His breath caught. Cal had spoken once about his conviction that Dagger was meant to be his ‘mate’, but had never brought it up again. Now he realized that Cal still held that belief, and Dagger found he shared it as well. He smiled down at Calderon and held his gaze. “Yes.
Forever
.”
###
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1.
The sound of voices made Harlan go still. Laughter, talking…
humans
. Why were they so close? He ran silently to the edge of his territory and hid, waiting. They came into view- a middle aged man and woman, and a teenage girl. A family in hiking boots, dad carrying a backpack, mom with a trail map. No one had used this trail in years, what the hell were they doing out here? Harlan watched and listened, quickly realizing they were no threat. They were lost, and laughing about
‘what happens when we let mom take point’
. The daughter dug in her pocket for a cell phone, pinched her brows together as she studied it, tapped a few times on the small screen, then turned and said “follow me” in mock exasperation. Her parents followed her, smiling, and they all walked towards the edge of Harlan’s land. He followed them until they found the trail again, then left them alone and coursed through the entire trail system himself. There was no one else in sight, but he did notice a brand new Plexiglas covered trail map that had been mounted at the start of the old path, and fresh gravel in the parking lot, where a dark red Subaru sat awaiting the hapless family’s return.
So, sometime in the past few days the old trail which abutted his property had been refurbished. Maybe when he’d been in town last? He had spent hours at the library, borrowing some new books, and using the computers there to check his e-mail. Then he’d visited some old friends from school and stopped for supplies before heading back to his cabin. Plenty of time for these minor improvements. But the fact that a family was out hiking here meant that the trail had been listed somewhere. Which implied both that there had been more than a few visitors here recently, and that people would continue to come. He hadn’t smelled anything, but it had rained for two days following his trip into town, that would have dulled the scent and covered the tracks. Well, there was nothing to be done. He’d have to keep a better watch on this edge of his territory, that was all there was to it.
Harlan waited for the family to leave, then spent an hour walking the edge of his property and marking every ten feet with his scent. It was a tedious and messy business, and Harlan found it slightly distasteful, but it would be a signal to any other shifters that this land was occupied. They would respect that. It was the humans Harlan was most worried about. Kids would find places to go to drink, to smoke pot, to have sex, to camp out and scare the shit out of each other. Harlan liked peace and quiet, it was why he lived out here alone. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone intruding on that. And if they wandered too far and found his cabin…he didn’t want to think what he’d do. Breathing deeply, Harlan decided to refresh the markings on his entire perimeter, just in case.
It was nearly full dark before he reached the North border of his lands, even though he held only a fairly small area. He’d had to stop twice, once to return to his cabin for water and once when a fat rabbit bounded too close and he couldn’t resist snatching it. He bled and gutted it, and brought it back to his cabin to eat later. So he was tired and cranky when he finally finished the job, and sat down on a boulder in the northwest corner of his four hundred acre property.
He listened to the quiet, to the small rustlings around him. Maybe this was good, this marking tonight. It had been months since he’d been to this corner of his territory. He preferred to hunt in the southeast corner, there was a stream there and it was easier. And, if he were honest he had grown lazy lately, buying more food in town and doing less foraging. Truthfully, the small size of his lands irritated him, and he hated to be reminded of how little he had. Once, generations ago, his family had owned thousands of acres here, and had occupied a large home in the nearby town, as well. Now he had only the cabin and this half mile parcel.
Shifters in general were weakening, and although there were still many prosperous families, they no longer held the power they once had as a species. His was a fox clan, one of only half a dozen fox families left, and one that had gradually lost its wealth over the years. And he would be the end of his line. When he died, these lands would lie unoccupied and there would no longer be a fox shifter in this part of the country. He thought that fact should sadden him more than it did, but he was only a bit wistful as he considered it.
He remembered the stories his father had told him, of days long gone, when shifters could actually shift. He had wanted to cry, hearing that as a child. He had hoped, beyond logic, that
he
might somehow be able to truly shift when he came of age. But all he’d ever managed was a sprinkling of cinnamon fur across his back, a slight increase in muscle, and a shift of eye color from his usual hazel to bright green. His senses were acute, though, and his speed was certainly something to be proud of. He was strong and sure-footed, a fine hunter and a canny tracker. His parents had been proud of him.
The only time they’d ever shown disappointment was when Harlan had refused to take a mate. They had forced him to go to the annual conference every summer of his life, and had been hoping he might find a match among the fox-clan daughters there. While he had certainly enjoyed bed-play with many of them, it was the clan sons he was most interested in. A few of them were willing to play, as well, and Harlan had enjoyed many nights with one boy in particular. But when the boy came of age, his parents had insisted he marry, and he had ditched Harlan to accept the mate his parents had chosen for him.
Harlan was lucky, he guessed. Since his family had very little wealth, his parents had no clout to arrange a mate for him. He would have had to have made a love-match. When he’d told them he would not pursue any female, they’d been saddened, but there was little they could do. And they were good parents, loving and kind, and had eventually accepted his decision and stopped asking him to reconsider.
The clan’s ruling council had been less pleased, and had forced Harlan to spend one summer conference bedding the older, unmated females of their choosing, in the hopes he might impregnate at least a few of them thereby strengthening the fading fox gene pool. He had complied, but had no idea if he had been successful at fathering any kits. They would be raised with their mother’s clans in any event. That had been the last conference Harlan had attended. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done, the females were consenting- barely. But he had no desire to continue to participate in a world where forced-mating was acceptable.
Now, with his parents dead, Harlan had no ties to the shifter world at all. There was one friend, a bear clan girl, that Harlan occasionally contacted through face book, but he hadn’t seen her in years. After his parents had died, Harlan had slowly moved his belongings into his clan’s old hunting cabin, and renovated it to have most modern conveniences. He had a generator and a store of gasoline, but he rarely used it for power. He’d put solar panels on the roof, and they did the job of running any small appliances he used, heating his water and running the well pump. He had a small modern kitchen, but he was happy with the old woodstove for most things. He had enough supplies to last him years, if necessary, but he still went into town at least once a week for books and fresh food. And he felt the need to maintain some contact with his old high school friends, so he visited them every few weeks as well.
Otherwise, Harlan stayed in his cabin, reading, painting, hunting, and keeping to himself. He didn’t have a job, mainly because he knew he’d have no heirs, and saw no reason to work for his own future. He had property, and a small trust fund. If he was careful, he’d have plenty of money to live out his life comfortably. The only problem with unemployment was it left him with a lot of down-time. So maybe this hiking trail would give him something to do, at least. Some reason to keep up what his father would have called ‘proper fox behavior’. He should have been more regular about checking the perimeters, anyway.
He promised himself he would go into town tomorrow and find out exactly what was going on with this trail, and check on his own land’s security as well. He owned his land outright, but it also had multiple safeguards built in to it. Some badger clan friends of his grandfather had made sure it could never be built upon, never used for
anything
. They’d buried it in legal protections- stating it was a habitat for an endangered species of owl, that it was the site of an Indian burial ground,
and
that it was a native wetland. Still, it never hurt to be careful.
Shane ran like a wild thing, like a wolf. He gloried in the scents, the rush of cold air over his face and through his hair, the burn in his muscles. His thin soled vibram running shoes let him feel the small rocks and twigs under his feet, and he imagined this was what running had felt like for his ancestors, sprinting on their thick callused paws. He sped through the forest, dodging boulders, leaping over small streams, ducking beneath low hanging boughs.
Free
. He chased a deer into the small nature-preserve which abutted his family’s lands, but slowed abruptly when he realized he was now running a human hiking trail. He followed that for a while, enjoying the wider, smoother path it presented. His lungs were heaving now, and his legs were growing heavier.
He slowed to a jog and looked around more carefully. It was beautiful here, so different from the dusty mesas of his family lands in Arizona. This was cold, and moist, the rich woods of New England. He felt at home here, as if he belonged in this place. This was the region of his mother’s people, but she had moved west when she’d married his father, and raised him and his two siblings in the wide southeastern desert. Now, this land would be his. He’d come out here to look over the property which would be his inheritance, in what his parents thought would be a two day trip. Tonight he would tell them he planned to live here full time now, and he hoped they would take it well. He sighed as he watched the sun grow red in the distance.
Please let them understand
.
Before turning for home, he smelled it.
Shifter
. He followed the scent to a marking, and then found another marking nearby. A shifter lived here? Not a wolf, and not a female. Beyond that he could not tell. He followed the markings until he was sure he had a fair idea of the border they indicated. He laid his own scent near one of them, and then paused, thinking. Quickly he jogged to the next marking and left his mark near it, as well.
I’m staying, best to let him know
. Then he turned and sprinted for home, and the unknown reactions of his parents.
“Son, be reasonable. I’m not saying you have to fall in love, just get married! You can still live your own life, just do it with a wife and children by your side. If you find the right female, you’ll hardly have to do a thing! Or will you let your selfishness ruin our line?”
“Dad, please. You have Selena and Sirus to procreate for you. They are both happily mated, and you already have grandchildren. Nothing I do or don’t do will effect ‘our line’, and you know it. Why can’t you understand?”
“I understand what you’re
feeling
, boy. What I don’t understand is the gall you have to
act
on those feelings!”