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1
Beau
Every morning, a half hour before sunrise, when the sky is still dim and dawn is an orange strip on the horizon, is the time when I rouse my ass from my bed. Let my animal do the things it was designed to, without fear of scaring the hell out of the human race.
I bound out of bed, having slept deeply as always. The peaceful sleep of the untroubled mind, as I like to say. I yank open the door of my motorhome and inhale. The sweet morning breeze fills my lungs, wafting in a feeling of hopefulness with it. Not that I need to hope for anything. I’ve got everything I need right here, in my little mobile lair.
The abandoned supermarket parking lot where I’ve been holed up for the past couple of weeks is still shrouded in darkness, and there’s not another soul around. Just the way I like it.
I flick on my coffee machine, so my home will be full of the rich scent of java when I return, and I charge out into the breaking day.
No need for clothes as I stride to the river that runs alongside the lot. The grassy bank is soft and dewy beneath my bare feet. There’s a good spot where I can plunge right in without cracking my head open, and I take advantage, hurling myself into a dive. I slice clean through the water, slick as a fish, and the river receives me like one of its own.
I like to wash up first. I scrub myself all over, chasing away the shadows of the night. Beautiful freshwater rushes around me in this unassuming piece of paradise.
I’m a free spirit, living, travelling as the mood takes me. Looking for paradise wherever I find it.
Does it get lonely sometimes?people ask me.
Hell, yeah, it does. But I’ve seen its evil twin. I’ve stared into the abyss of hostile fate, nursed the bitter seed of a broken heart, and it’s been enough for one lifetime. I’m a lone wolf. It wasn’t the destiny I was raised for; I had blood of the alpha line running in my veins. But I had to leave my pack, before my beast destroyed everyone I cared about.
Fifteen years alone, and I’m happy like this.
When I’m done getting clean, I take on my animal form. My wolf springs out of me, fast and eager. It’s more accustomed to running, of course. And at dusk, I’ll ride my motorcycle to a forest a few miles away, run for an hour. But while I’m staying by the river, I take advantage of this delicious, cool water, and I let my beast explore its amphibious side.
With long, fast strokes, I swim upstream, scattering shoals of silvery fish. From time to time, I snap one up in my jaws. Not my favorite cuisine, but they make a convenient breakfast. Perhaps I was a bear shifter in a previous life.
If I keep going, I’ll pass a bunch of bridges. I set myself a challenge; I’ll aim for the fifth one along, before I’ll turn and let the current carry me back home.
But when I pass the first one, something catches my eye.
A bunch of rags stuffed into the hollow between the underside of the bridge and the narrow river bank. Strange. That wasn’t there yesterday. I swim closer. No, not rags—a person. I can’t see a face though—it’s hidden by a hoodie and their folded arms.
I edge closer still, and my wolf’s nose twitches: female, young.
My ears tune in. I hear the regular breathing of deep sleep. She doesn’t seem to be hurt. Homeless? A runaway? Poor thing. I’ll leave her be, check on her on the home stretch, I tell myself. She seems comfortable where she is. No point disturbing her.
I turn to go—or at least, I try to, because my wolf is refusing to budge. Ears pricked up, gaze fixated. Every nerve focused on this snoozing bundle.
Then the bundle stirs.
A patch of dewy cheek emerges from the folds of fabric and a little whimper comes with it. A terrible expression of distress and loneliness. It slices right through me.
And I know there’s no way I’m going anywhere.
In a flash, I shift. My wolf fights me hard as I fold it back inside my human form. Its prickly fur pushes right up beneath my skin, paws scrabbling, panting in anticipation. Why the hell is it so riled up?
My feet find purchase on the slippery stones, and I start to wade toward her—
And then I remember that I’m buck naked. Humans freak out at shit like that. I’ll probably scare the heck out of her. Clothing definitely not optional.
I sprint flat out to my vehicle, and I’m back in less than minute, T-shirt and shorts clinging to my wet form like a second skin. Not a whole lot different from being naked, but at least I’m not about to get arrested for indecent exposure.
It’s hard to approach the girl, since there’s a ton of mud all around her, so I jump back in the river, wade up close again.
“Ma’am?” I call, making my voice human-gentle. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
The pile of fabric shifts around. More pale skin emerges.
