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7
Ellie felt the sting of a blister forming as her wet boots rubbed on her heel with each painful step. She loved hiking but hated wet footwear, and this was becoming torture. She had led them away from the dried-up stream bed when it weaved off too far from the river below them. Now they fought their way through vines and underbrush that seemed to enjoy slapping her in the face every chance that they got. And if one more viny bramble tugged at her legs or scratched her bare arms, she might scream.
After she powered through, a thorny bush bit at her flesh. She shouted to no one in particular, “I need a break!” With a huff, she sat on the spongy remains of a rotting stump. She almost hoped that the hawk would come back so she could take out her anger on it. She was one pissed-off pussy. Ellie wanted nothing more than to sink her claws into something to relieve the energy that was bubbling up inside her.
Brett plopped down next to her in the blanket of red pine needles and dead leaves that coated the forest floor. His chest swelled and deflated as he tried to catch his breath.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, trying to ignore the pain that bit into her heel as she pried her left boot off.
Brett moved his arm and glanced at the waterproof watch, peeking out from beneath his sleeve, on his wrist. “It’s coming up to dinner time. Maybe we should try to make camp somewhere. It’s been a day.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, as if Ellie would insist on continuing.
Yes, they were now on an impossibly long hike by foot, and their grade was on the line, but they couldn’t keep going without proper rest. Even Ellie realized that.
She glanced down the way they came. They had been heading up-slope for a while. No wonder they were exhausted.
She tied the shoelaces of her boots together and tossed them around her neck. “I can’t put these back on,” Ellie explained to Brett after watching him arc a curious eyebrow at her. “I’d rather take my chances walking barefoot than put wet footwear back on. My boots are a form of torture at this point.” Her toes curled into the soft soil, thankful to be free. Only one of her blisters had ripped open, but both heels burned.
Brett nodded, then pointed toward a possible clearing in the trees. “It looks like there is an opening over there.”
The sunlight filtered through the clearing, and as welcoming and warm as it appeared, Ellie felt hesitation gnaw at her. She feared the hawk would be waiting for her, ready to swoop down the second she entered the clearing. As if sensing her apprehension, Brett said with a smile, “I’ll check it out first if you want to wait here. If the coast is clear, I’ll call for you. You can join me in the sun, hang up your clothes, and shift into your cat.”
Ellie nodded with more energy than she thought she had left. She leaned back on an elbow and watched Brett hustle up the slope, weaving through trees.
Brett scanned the skies to ensure Ellie’s safety. After seeing nothing but normal-sized birds and seagulls, he called back down to her.
“Go ahead and shift,” he told her once she joined him. “I’ll keep my back turned so you can hang up your clothes.”
She didn’t object, which he was glad for. It pained him to see Ellie so miserable. She had to trek through the forest in uncomfortably wet clothes after the frightening event of being kidnapped and flown away by a birdandlater tossed from their raft into the river. It was a major credit to her that she had been able to hold it together for that long.
While Ellie presumably shifted, Brett pulled out everything they needed to set up camp. He struggled with the tent poles, finding them not as easy to unfold and put together as he imagined, and he suddenly wished he’d thought to practice a bit before they were out there.
Then, Ellie purred, rubbing her cat body on his ankles. He looked down, seeing the silky creature, and peered back where she’d hung her clothes. They flapped in a gentle breeze on the branch of the tree overhead, basking in the light of the sun. It dropped lower in the sky as night moved in closer.
All at once, one of the tent poles sprang open in his hand, extending and catching on the nylon of the tent. As he attempted to right himself, he somehow managed to trip over Ellie.
“Sorry!” he said, wondering how much her cat instincts were a factor in if she enjoyed rubbing against him. He hoped it meant that she liked him a little bit, but couldn’t be sure. His heart fluttered at the thought, but he couldn’t picture a woman like her wanting anything to do with a man like him. He recalled the look she gave him in class when there were assigned to each other for this trip. The thought brewed an ache in his chest over how much his feelings were hurt.
Brett pushed the sensation away as he struggled to put the tent together. He wanted to prove to Ellie that he was an asset. That hecouldbe the kind of man who could deserve someone like her.
Despite nearly being stepped on, Ellie remained close to him, bunting her head against his knee as if trying to comfort him. He sighed, bending down to scratch behind her ears. She leaned into it, purring. He hoped that she was feeling better. She had been through so much. And though getting wet had seemed to be her biggest concern before they’d set out on the adventure, it now appeared to be the least of her worries.
Brett’s eyes scanned the skies once more for any creature that could snatch up the small black cat. Only regular-sized birds dotted the sky. It gave him all the more reason to get their tent set up: protection for Ellie.
After struggling to thread the tent rods through their canals, Brett—to his surprise—popped the tent up off the ground in its correct form. He smiled broadly, pleased with himself. He glanced at Ellie, curled up on the ground in a strip of sunshine. The golden sun glittered in her short black fur, and he was surprised to see that, as a cat, the usual shadows that wafted off of her when she moved were no longer there.
Brett checked her clothes hanging in the tree. He wanted something to go right for Ellie today. He flipped the garments to try to dry the other side before the sun dipped below the horizon. The day had been hot, but a low sun wasn’t best for drying things. He kicked himself for not hanging his own clothing up to dry. Under his arms and the middle of his back were still damp. His pants were a different story. They didn’t seem to want to dry at all.
“I’m going to get changed in the tent and try to dry my clothes for tomorrow,” he said to the tiny cat. She looked at him with wide blue eyes, her pupils barely more than slits as she basked in the sunbeams. In response, she flicked the tip of her tail, and Brett assumed that meant “okay.”
Brett quickly changed into his night clothes—a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt—and exited the tent with his damp clothes balled up in his hand. He rolled up his boxers into the middle of the pile, embarrassed to have Ellie see his underwear.
He looked to the strip of sun on the ground but didn’t see the black cat. Only the patted-down earth where she had previously lain remained. “Ellie?” He glanced around the opening in the forest where they had pitched their tent. His heart raced in his chest, hammering out an anxious tune. He had forgotten to check the sky before heading into the tent. What if the hawk was up there and had gotten Ellie?
Just then, a pine cone landed on his head. He looked up to see wide blue eyes peering out of a furry black face. It was Ellie. Her claws were sunk into the bark of the soaring pine tree next to the tent. Sap clung to her long whiskers, clumping some of them together.
“Do you need help?” he asked her, unsure why she had climbed the tree to begin with.
She flicked her chin up to the sky as if searching for something that had frightened her into hiding. Brett followed suit, scanning the darkening skies above. Fluffy navy blue clouds were ushered in by a wind that was gathering its strength. Brett wondered if the thunderstorms the weather person predicted were on their way in. The possibility of rain didn’t seem a strong enough reason for Ellie to be scared up into a tree, though.
That was when he saw it.
A large hawk circled into view after making a pass over the towering trees to his right. Its enormous size was enough evidence for Brett to know that this had to be a shifter. While not all shifters were larger versions of their animal form—Ellie was the size of a small housecat—the ones that dwarfed their true animal counterparts were clearly shifters.
Without warning, the foul fowl swooped down, scratching its sharp talons across Brett’s forearm as he brought it up just in time to shield his face. This bird of prey was out for blood! Brett frantically searched the ground for anything he could use as a weapon. His pocketknife was zipped up in his bag inside the tent. He wouldn’t go for it, though, because he didn’t want to leave Ellie outside of his field of vision again.
He spotted a long and thick gnarled branch on the ground. Just as the bird screeched and swooped down for another attack, Brett picked it up and used it like a baseball bat on the creature. A crack filled the air as the bough snapped after making contact with the beast. With a shrill cry and a flutter of red-brown feathers, the animal took to the skies, disappearing once more over the sweeping green of the outstretched arms of the forest.
