Page 3 of Midlife Animal Rescuer Bear

With a sigh, Cal sank back on his haunches, his boots crunching a few dead leaves and twigs. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the dying doe, peering around Paradise Woods. There wasn’t very much to see—just an expanse of tall trees stretching to the edge of his vision. The woods usually teemed with wildlife, critters scampering about every few minutes or so, but today, everything was quiet, as if the entire forest was mourning the loss of another of its own.

He cursed again, silently this time. He’d known Sylva to be a somewhat peaceful town, the woods just as tranquil. But these days, something wasn’t quite right, especially in these woods. And these dead animals were proof of it.

With his jaw slightly clenched, he examined the dying doe before him. The bleeding wound was significant. It looked like she’d been bitten by some larger creature. A troubling thought struck him then: What if it wasn’t just some other animal? What if she had been attacked by a shifter?

As soon as the idea occurred to him, he pushed it aside. It couldn’t possibly be a shifter. Shifters were the bridge between humans and animals. They, of all people, would know better than to attack wildlife like this.

His inner bear stirred uncomfortably. Whatever the case, there was something new in these woods, something that shouldn’t be here, something terribly dangerous.

The doe twitched again, blood spurting from her neck. And then she lay completely still, her eyes glassy. Cal felt for a heartbeat, but found nothing.

“Fucking hell,” he said. “This can’t keep happening.”

He stared at the bloody carcass for a moment longer, then rose to his feet, gazing around. The ground sloped downward, the treetops swayed gently in a sudden breeze. Paradise Woods was a mountainous area, overlooking the rest of Sylva. From where he stood, he could make out most of the small town. If he traveled higher up the mountain, he’d be able to see the two other towns in Downing: Everland and Minos.

More times than he could remember, he’d ventured into these woods, either to rescue an injured animal or simply to spend some time surrounded by nature. It was one of his favorite things to do these days. But the woods weren’t what they used to be, not anymore. Now, a quiet tension hung in the air.

This dead doe hadn’t been the first. She wouldn’t be the last.

But he couldn’t leave her here like this. The least he could do was bury her.

Biting back a curse, he scanned his surroundings until he found a stick suitable enough, and began digging a hole in the earth next to the doe. Once it was deep enough, he shoved the carcass into it and covered the body. He stood back, staring at the fresh mound of earth before him, then turned and began trudging downhill.

***

It took him less than ten minutes to reach the edge of the woods. Just beyond, separated from the greenery only by a small, gated fence, was the sanctuary.

At first glance, the sanctuary looked no more than a ranch. That was what it was—or at least, what it used to be. A large, glassy plain stretched almost beyond the edge of his vision, its structures seemed to jut out from the earth. Several barns stood to the right, one of which, to his knowledge, had long ago been converted into a clinic. From the others, he could hear the braying and bleating of animals.

He trudged forward, heading for the big white house in the center of the property. Two stories high, the home was impossible to miss. Vans were parked out in front, next to a sign with bold green lettering:

GREEN SANCTUARY WILDLIFE RESCUE

A Safe Place for Every Wild Heart

A man was standing on the front porch, watching him approach. As Cal neared the porch steps, the man uncrossed his arms and leaned against the railing, his dark eyes narrowed as they took him in.

“I take it there was another dead animal?” he asked.

Cal followed his gaze, staring down at his own hands. They were covered in blood and grime. He nodded, grinding his teeth together.

“I couldn’t save her, Henry. She’d lost too much blood.” He shook his head. “How soon do you think we can get a new vet? Ever since Cecil quit, we’ve had more dead animals on our hands. I’m sure we could’ve saved at least a few.”

Henry nodded, running his fingers through his dark hair for a second. “I already informed the boss about this, remember? He’s put out a vacancy notice. It won't be long before we get another vet.”

“Hopefully.”

“We’ll get through this, Cal.” Henry straightened. “This isn’t the first problem we’ve dealt with, is it? We always come out on top. Problems like this are part of being an animal rescuer.”

Cal nodded. He’d been friends with Henry for more than half a decade. They’d dealt with a lot together, showed up for each other as needed, both as co-workers and friends.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Of course I am. Now come on in. But make sure you wash your hands first. Bryon’s made lunch.”

He turned and entered the house. Cal stared at his hands again, suppressing the shudder that threatened to race up his spine, and headed toward one of the barns to get cleaned up.

Henry’s words repeated themselves in his mind. Problems like this are part of being an animal rescuer. The man was right. This wasn't the first time Cal had found a dead or wounded animal in the woods, nor would it be the last.