He doesn’t move, eyeing me warily. It’s heartbreaking. That he’s this lost to his instincts and clearly starving, yet still so cautious around people that he refuses to take any offered food, like he thinks it’s a trap.
“I’ll leave you to it then. If you change your mind and want to warm up or let me look at that wing, I’ll leave the back door propped open a bit so you can get in, okay?”
He doesn’t move, and I mentally weep at the thought of the heating bill next month, but if that’s my biggest problem? I’m in a way better position than this poor guy. I’ll figure it out somehow.
I have to.
He’s still in the same position I left him come the end of the day. But the sandwich is gone at least, so I’m counting today as a win.
“Feeling any better?” I crouch down, staying out of swiping distance. Claws like those? He’d tear me to ribbons with barely any effort, even if he didn’t mean to. “Sorry I don’t have any more food, but if you let me close enough to help, I can get you back into hunting shape in no time.”
I tentatively inch forward, and he reacts like I expected, with an inhuman snarl tearing from his throat and a swipe of his paw. He doesn’t lunge for me, though, he shrinks back. I suck in a deep breath through my nose, exhaling slowly, but it does nothing to curb my fury. Someonedid this to him. If it was an animal, he wouldn’t be reacting this severely to me. A man, maybe, but there’s no wayI’dregister as a threat when he could knock me over with a sneeze.
“Right, we’re not there yet. That’s okay.” I set down the bowl of warm water I brought and use a piece of cardboard to slide it within his reach. “Figured you might want to drink something other than dumpster snow. I’d hurry up though, it’ll be a block of ice in no time, and the last thing you want is to get your tongue stuck.”
I glance up at the dark clouds rolling in with the fierce wind and my palms start sweating despite the cold. “Looks like a nasty storm’s going to hit tonight. You sure I can’t convince you to come inside? You can sleep in one of the exam rooms for the night. Warm up and dry off. Nobody will bother you until I come back in the morning to open up.”
Amber eyes narrow on my face, watching me like he’s expecting me to pull a knife on him at any second. But he slowly lowers his head to the rim of the bowl, lifting it between his teeth and tipping it back, drinking it in record time. As soon as he drops the bowl, he leans his weight against the wooden fence, shifting his bad wing with a grimace. But the message is clear; he’s not going anywhere.
Heart racing, I anxiously glance at the sky again and dart inside to grab a few supplies. Taking a deep breath, I dry my hands on my thighs to hide the slight tremor in them and pray I’m not about to break my neck, then get to work.
Tossing a stack of flattened cardboard boxes on the ground, I hold the roll of duct tape between my teeth and haul myself up the side of the dumpster. The plastic lids are flipped open already, propped against the fence to make a sort of lean-to shelter that keeps the worst of the weather at bay, but there’s no way it’ll stand up to the fierce wind of a storm. Stretching out on my tiptoes and balancing precariously on the edge of the dumpster, I lose track of how long it takes to tape down the lid well enough that I’m fairly certain it’ll stay in place. Even though it takes longer and I’m worried about falling in, I inch my way back to the side I climbed up before I jump down so I’m in his line of sight. I may be reckless, but not ‘jump-scare a feral shifter,’ stupid.
Next, I grab the stack of cardboard boxes, holding them up to show him. “I’m going to go to the other side and make a wall behind you, okay? That way nothing can sneak up on you, and it’ll keep some of the cold out. Don’t maul my face off, please; I don’t have much else going for me these days.”
Obviously he doesn’t answer, craning his neck to keep an eye on me while I’m behind him, but either he begrudgingly acknowledges that he isn’t up for constructing a better shelter for himself, or he doesn’t have the energy to chase me off. A low rumble starts up in his chest when I rip off another strip of duct tape, but he calms down after the cardboard divides us with me on the outside. When it’s all said and done, I grab a tarp and secure it over the cardboard wall, doing my best to make it as waterproof as possible, but really, there’s only so much I can do without better supplies. After putting another tarp over thefront, I leave a stack of old towels at the entrance to the world’s worst cave, using a stick to push them inside.
“I know it’s not much, but figured you could use them like blankets.”Shit, no thumbs. “Um, want me to help you cover up?”
I take a small step in, and his hackles go up, so I immediately retreat. “Got it, you’d rather freeze than ask for help. Gotta love male egos. Suit yourself. I really wish you’d let me get you set up inside where it’s safe, though.” My hands are turning red from the cold, so I pull up my hood and stuff them firmly in my pockets. “See you in the morning, I guess. I’ll try to find some food to bring with me, but don’t hold me to that.”
I look back no less than ten times before his trash cave is out of sight, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach with every step I take.
Chapter 6
Kiara
“Fuck it.”
The howling wind and creaking house has kept me tossing and turning for hours, and I finally accept defeat. Ever since the night I lost my parents, I’ve struggled to sleep during storms, knowing firsthand how they can turn deadly in an instant.
A flash flood came out of nowhere when I was six, tearing through the cave system our village compound was hidden in and ripping my family from our beds. We all nearly drowned before one of our dads used the last of his strength to shove me and my brother up onto a small, rocky ledge. I had to watch him be swept away in the current, and then it was just Killian and me huddled together to stay warm for nearly three days before anyone found us.
He shouldn’t be sleeping outside in this. Do mountains get flash floods? Even if not, hypothermia is nothing to sneeze at.
Determined, I put on two extra pairs of socks before stuffing my feet into my boots, bundle up my comforter in a trash bag to keep it dry and clutch it to my chest, take a deep breath, and open my front door.
It’s not just cold, it’s‘get inside, you moron,’cold. The type of weather nobody with any sense would be caught dead walking around in. Not to mention that it’s nearly one in the morning. If it wasn’t for the street lights, it’d be a complete blackout with the freezing rain assaulting me like it has a personal vendetta. It takes me nearly three times as long as usual to make it to the clinic.
I knock a heavy fist on the side of the dumpster and shout over the storm, “It’s only me, don’t freak out.” When no answering snarl comes, I risk shoving the front tarp out of the way and peek my head into the makeshift cave behind it, pleased to see that my work has held up fairly well. But that relief instantly disappears when I find the sphinx curled up on the wet asphalt with his broken wing draped over him like a morbid blanket. He isn’t shivering despite the cold, and doesn’t stir as I announce my presence louder.
“Shit,” I breathe, heart plummeting. Hunched over, I crouch and make my way inside to check for a pulse. “Pleeeeeease don’t startle awake and claw my face off.” But honestly, I’d take a few scars over him being dead.
I grew up in a pocket of magic hidden from the world, desperate to see what I was missing, only to discover how depressing the real world really is. Mysts hiding who they are in fear of humans, supernatural creatures hunted to extinction. Something as magical as a sphinx? He can’t die. Not like this. Not if I have anything to say about it.
When a faint thump hits the pads of my fingers, I sag in relief. “Alright, we tried it your way, and look where that got you? So you’re just going to have to suck it up and accept some help whether you like it or not.” The towels I left are soaked through and frozen solid, so I ignore them. Shaking out the trashbag and spreading it on the ground next to his side, I kneel down, doing my best to keep the thick comforter from touchingthe ground. As I carefully cover him up without jostling his bad wing, I take off my coat so the wet side is facing outward and nestle into his side so we’re both cocooned. “We’ll stay warmer if we share body heat. Survival is more important than your hang-ups on personal space.”
After an agonizing hour spent in anxious silence with me counting every single one of his breaths, they finally become steadier; rhythmic and deep. I’m actually warm enough that my fingers aren’t about to fall off anymore, either. Even the percussive, aggressive sound of the freezing rain against the metal dumpster eventually becomes white noise as I wait for morning to come, my eyelids gradually growing heavier as the night drags on.
