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I’m halfway through chapter two when Spot and I both look up at the same time. Something’s wrong. There’s something – or someone – outside of the cabin. A glance at the clock tells me it’s after eight, which is strange. Nobody comes up to my cabin during the daylight hours. I’ve never had a single visitor up here ever. Why would someone be here at night?
I don’t bother doing anything silly like flipping off the lights. If someone is here to cause trouble, then they already know I’m here. Pretending that I’m not is a pointless waste of energy. Stealthily, I move to the window. Carefully, I lift the curtain aside and peer out into the darkness.
Nothing.
Hmm.
I sniff, and I believe I catch the faint scent of a shifter. No, scratch that. There are two of them. They’re bears, too, if I’m not mistaken. Why didn’t I notice this before? How could there be someone in the forest that I didn’t notice?
It doesn’t seem possible, but it is because there it is again.
Spot makes a low whining sound and I gesture for him to be quiet. Not that I expect him to listen to me. He’s a good boy, but he’s also got his own personality. He’s not the kind of dog who’s going to obey me blindly. Nah. Spot will do whatever it takes to protect me, and that’s not always a good thing.
With a sigh, I sit down on one of my dining chairs and just sit. I know
I heard something. It sounds like a knock at the door, but it’s very, very quiet.
Am I losing my touch?
I can’t be, right?
For just a second, I wonder if I’m going crazy, or if there really is something out there.
But then the sound comes again.
This time, I throw open the front door to the cabin.
“What the hell do you want?” I yell out into the night, but to my surprise, there’s once again no one there.
But then I look down.
Two little brown bear cubs are shaking on my porch. They’re holding each other, as if for support, and they’re terrified.
Crap.
I scared them.
“Hey, little guys,” I squat down. “What are you doing here?”
Nothing.
They just stay right where they are and look at me with horror in their eyes.
Perfect.
“Where’s your mother?” I ask, looking around. I didn’t smell a third shifter. I didn’t hear one, either. What kind of mother lets her little cubs go wandering off? And these are definitely shifter children, which makes it even worse.
The cubs don’t say anything, and I suddenly start to wonder if there’s some sort of serious problem.
Do these kids even have a mother?
Where is she?
And why is she letting them wander away?
One thing is for certain: it’s cold outside, and I’m not letting these two kids freeze to death.
“Come on inside,” I tell them. I gesture into the cabin. Then I get up and step aside so they have room to come in without feeling crowded or scared. For a minute, I think they’re going to resist, but apparently, they really are feeling cold because they rush right on inside.
