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I peered around. It was nearly dark now, but my night vision was excellent. I took a moment to adjust to the other changes--four legs, whiskers, a tail. It all makes movement a little odd at first, even the whiskers, pinging as they brushed the long grass.
Sliding through that grass was a lot easier when I didn't need to crawl. And safer when I blended with the golden stalks. When I neared the neighboring cabin, I poked my head through the grass and let out a soft growl.
Corey peeked out first. He saw me and jumped back. Then Daniel appeared, hand on Corey's shoulder, murmuring, "It's Maya."
"I knew that," Corey whispered, looking abashed. "But why is she . . . ?"
"I'm guessing she didn't have a choice."
Daniel crawled over to me. As he did, I instinctively retreated. He'd never seen me in cat form--I'd only shifted twice so far. While I'd been around humans both times and hadn't felt any monstrous desire to devour them, I still scrambled away when Daniel approached.
But his scent filled my nostrils and I didn't smell a threat or--worse--dinner. I smelled Daniel, a scent I still didn't quite comprehend when I was in human form, but now it felt like a warm wave washing over me, relaxing me, telling me everything was all right, Daniel was here.
Even when I backed away, he kept crawling forward, as if I wasn't a hundred-and-twenty-pound big cat with two-inch claws and fangs.
"You okay?" he whispered.
I tried to say yes. It came out as a soft chrr-up, like my bobcat, Fitz, makes when he sees me.
Daniel smiled. "That sounds like yes, so I'm guessing you can understand me."
Another chirp.
"You've got some good camouflage there," he said. "A good nose. Good ears. And a good escape vehicle if you're spotted."
I realized what he was thinking. That I could scout the cabin before we sent Corey over. I chirped and tried motioning with my head that I'd circle the studio. I was sure there was no way he'd understand me, but he nodded.
"So you're okay with that? You'll take a look around before Corey goes in?"
I bobbed my head. He reached over to pat me, then stopped himself with a chagrined smile.
"Sorry, I probably shouldn't do that. But it's the only chance I'll get to pet a cougar."
I leaned against his hand and he buried his fingers in my fur, then he took a long look at me.
"It's pretty damned amazing," he murmured.
It was. Whatever else the St. Clouds had done to us, this was amazing. We sat there for a minute. Just sat together, me leaning against him, feeling the warmth of his hand, listening to his breathing, slowly calming me down until I was relaxed enough to pull back and jerk my muzzle toward the cabin, telling Daniel I was ready. He gave me one last pat and returned to Corey.
FOUR
I SET OUT THROUGH the long grass. The wind was coming from the north, which was behind me. I couldn't pick up any traces of human scent on the breeze. That meant there wasn't anyone outdoors for at least a kilometer. No one directly upwind, that is. To the northeast or northwest? Possibly. So I covered a swath from the road to the water. A very faint scent came when I approached the beach--the smell of people mixed with that of burning wood. Someone with a bonfire up the beach. No one lurked nearby watching the studio--at least not in that direction.
I wanted to cross the road to check over there, but it was paved, meaning my tawny fur would shine like a beacon against the black. I paced along the edge, in the grass, thinking. Then I heard a car. I'd been too preoccupied to notice it until it zoomed around a curve, less than a hundred meters away. I dived deeper into the long brown grass.
The car slowed. I plastered myself against the ground, ears flat against my head, tail curled behind me. I could see the driver. Just a gray-haired guy scanning the roadside.
What if he'd spotted me? Were there cougars on Galiano? Even if there were, seeing one would be a big deal. Vancouver Island had more cougars than anyplace else in Canada, yet people lived their entire lives there and never spotted one of the elusive cats.
If this guy saw me and told someone, it could get back to the St. Clouds or the Nasts. They'd know I'd come to see my grandmother and even if I left now, they'd presume I'd made contact and they'd question her. At the very least, they'd question her. At worst? I started to shake.
It took a moment for me to realize the car had moved on. It had never even come to a full stop, just a mildly curious driver who'd noticed a movement by the roadside. I chuffed in relief, my flanks vibrating with the sound as I lowered my muzzle to my paws.
I had to be more careful. Damn it, I had to be a lot more careful.
When I'd composed myself, I decided I wasn't crossing that road. Instead, I would circle behind the studio to check the other side. The least exposed route was right along the top of the beach embankment, a narrow strip of long grass.
Again, I screwed up. I'd completely forgotten that there was a path with steps leading from the patio to the beach. Every cottage had one. Luckily, this open strip was barely a meter wide, and I'd only be exposed for a few seconds as I crossed.
