Berne
IN WHICH BERNE BRODERSON, A BEAR ONCE CONTENT TO BE ALONE, PONDERS HIS FUTURE AND IS TEMPTED BY A SWEET MORSEL
Bernestretchedlong,wigglinghis large, furry bum as he kneaded his paws in front of him. He’d been walking for hours now, easier as a bear, to be sure, but even his bear bones were tired from a twelve-hour patrol. The long day had paid off, he’d reached the end of his patrol area and was finally able to head for home.
Each time he returned, it seemed his nieces would have some new skill or trick to show him. At three, the twins changed faster than he’d have ever thought possible and he worried he was missing important parts of their lives. He still enjoyed the freedom granted by his long-ranging job, but he was beginning to think it was time to be home more. He’d been avoiding the issue, he knew, because spending more time at home also meant more evenings at home, alone.
He was a bear, so he loved being alone. Hevaluedhis solitude, but each night he slept in his bed, the one he’d bought with a mate in mind, was longer than the last. As he lay awake, he’d stare at the ceiling, at the unfinished loft he’d added to become bedrooms for cubs, and worry about where he’d gone wrong.
Several years ago, when he’d built his cabin, it’d all seemed so far in the future, his theoretical mate and children. Now, the years weighed heavily in his bones, and he could feel his options dwindling. He wondered why he couldn’t seem to find them—or, for that matter, if he ever would; perhaps his role as pseudo-father to his sister’s children was the closest he would get. So, maybe it was better if he kept to the long route. He never worried about being alone when he was curled up in a cave.
He wanted to be home.
He dreaded being home.
A push and pull he couldn’t seem to escape.
Berne worried about Catrin and the girls when he was away. Worried about potential problems or catastrophes, yet he dreaded nights alone in that bed, in that empty house. He needed to make a choice, but the issue of a mate complicated everything.
Sanctuary was small, there were only so many people his age and no one seemed to fit. If he wanted a mate, he’d likely have to search abroad, as was sometimes the case. If he left, it needed to be soon. As the girls aged and came into their strength, Cat would need him around more. Problem was, he now seemed to knowexactlywhat he wanted, he’d watched perfection run out of a tavern as if she’d been running for her life. The busy tavern meant he hadn’t even been able to pick her scent from the rest, and he’d been detained so long by the innkeeper that by the time he left, no one in the area had seen anyone matching her description. All he had to find her was a memory of wide brown eyes and a moment’s impression.
His time of waffling was slipping away; Berne needed to make some choices, and soon. He was a patient and practical bear, though. Heknewhe needed to at least go home before trying to find her. People would need to know he’d be gone, he couldn’t just disappear. After he went home, he’d go after her. He didn’t have any real idea as to how he wouldfindher, but he also believed that the Lady wouldn’t give him such a strong pull towards someone and then drop the matter entirely. The situation would resolve itself, he’d find her, sooner or later, he just needed to wait until it became clear.
Until then,he thought,it’s time for a tasty meal and an even better snooze.
Berne sniffed the air for something to eat and let his nose lead him to a rabbit. He had a store of rations in his closest cave, but his stomach growled at the thought of a fresh meal. It was the dog days of summer, and while it was chilly, there wasn’t a layer of snow cover like there was closer to the pole. The air was fresh, and flowers littered the forest floor where the sun peeked through the trees. Soon, perhaps in the morning, he would turn back toward home. The smell of the rabbit beckoned him, and he followed it through the forest toward his Lady’s River.
The wind shifted, forcing him to sift through other scents to find the rabbit on the breeze. Berne dismissed the signatures of a vixen and her kit, of a snow leopard, and the myriad of flowers nearby. In short order, Berne found the rabbit, but he also found—was that, leather?He isolated the smell and realized it wasn’t just leather, it was leather wrapped in mint and lemon, and beneath was the warm, alluring scent of a woman.
Berne huffed the scent out of his nose, confused. The closest human civilization was at least a week away, and it had beenyearssince he’d encountered anyone other than his fellow rangers in these woods. He lowered his massive form to the ground, trying to be as small as possible. “Polar bear” wasn’t anyone’s top choice of form for sneaking, but considering his choices were polar bear or naked human, he didn’t bother shifting.1If there was danger, he’d need his teeth and claws. If there was not, there was no point in scaring the poor lass. He was heavy and large, and this far south, he didn’t even have snow to camouflage him. In his estimation, years of practice at sneaking had left him passable at best.
And sure, the question is, what is she doing out here alone?It’s not safe this far north.2Perhaps she was lost and had been wandering the wilderness alone for weeks. Maybe she’d been separated from her group and thought herself doomed to die alone in the cold, unforgiving taiga.
What if I saved her?The thought flashed through his mind like lightning. He could shift back and help her get her bearings, send her along in the correct direction even. Poor lass was probably distraught, starving, and cold. It would be nice to save someone instead of killing them, for once.Berne quickened his pace, moving with ease, buoyed by the possibility.
He’d killed interlopers before, but it had always been born of necessity and inevitably left him with a poor appetite for weeks. All of his previous kills had been overtly hostile toward him or his people, and every one of them had worn the uniform of a scout in the Pathian army.
The Pathians were known to be relentless colonizers, the natural enemies of the Lady and, by extension, his people. They’d been prowling through his woods, searching for a land bridge to the eastern continent a few years back. Berne and his fellow rangers had dispatched at least fifteen violent Pathian scouts, four by his own hand. The people of the Compact of Nations, which made up the eastern continent, would never know they’d been in danger. As it should be. He hadn’t thought twice about ripping out the throats of the aggressors and had slept well afterward. After several years of persistently sending scout pair after scout pair to their deaths, the Pathians had seemed to give up, leaving Berne and his compatriots to peace.
While he’d never quibbled about defending his home and his people’s sacred charge, he’d savored the last few years of quiet. Even knowing he’d done the right thing in targeting the Pathian scouts, Berne still wondered, at times, if those scouts had families who missed them and if he’d had any other choice.
She’s gonna be so happy to see me. For once I won’t feel helpless, for once I’ll have choices!3
He puffed out his chest and hurried toward her, ignoring the sticks and dirt he could feel grinding into his fur. He’d do a good deed before heading home, content in the knowledge that no one had needed to die on his watch. This would be the perfect end to his patrol; he’d have the memory of his act of kindness to keep him warm during his lonely nights.
Her smell led him through the trees, and he started when he heard a gasp followed by a squeal. It was worse than he had thought, she wasn’t only lost, she was in danger.
Don’t fret, lass, I’m coming!
Berne increased his pace when he heard her squawk. She was afraid! Hehadto arrive in time to help her. He huffed hurried breaths as he thundered toward the sound of her distress. As he neared, Berne ducked behind a large rock and peeked gingerly around it to assess the situation. He’d help no one blundering in, he wanted to be sure he could get the drop on anything that might be ready to attack her. Pulling a deep breath through his nose, his heart racing in preparation, he scanned the small clearing. He couldn’t smell any threats; had they moved downwind? He whipped his head to glance behind him, but there was nothing there either. He turned back toward the smell of the woman expecting to see her looking frantically around, afraid and lost.
Instead, he saw a fluffy mound on the ground. It was the woman, so bundled up and bent over as she squatted, she looked more like a little round ball of fur and leather than a person. Berne furrowed his brow.
What is she doing? Did she lose something?
She was facing away from him, so all he could see was her back. She didn’t seem to be crying—he couldn’t hear any sniffles—but he couldn’t be certain.
As quietly as he could, he circled around to the side to get a look at her face. Abruptly, he realized that her being a woman didn’t necessarily mean shewasn’ta Pathian scout. His people had female rangers, and just because they hadn’t used women in the past, didn’t mean they hadn’t started.
