Wild Refuge: Chapter One

Chapter One

To begin with, the dead body was not my fault.

I'd been daydreaming, the sun beaming through the rustling tree branches onto my hat, when I smelled it. The air around me blossomed with the subtle rotting smell of meat left on the counter too long, or a squirrel decaying under the porch. I inhaled deeply, letting the smell fill my nostrils.

With a gasping wheeze, I sneezed. This was not a squirrel.

I paused, cocking my head, and tried to trace the origins of the scent. While patrolling the backcountry trail as a Yellowstone Park Ranger, I had a handful of jobs. I needed to make sure the trail was navigable, which it was. And I needed the trail to be safe, which it probably wasn't, not if animal remains rotted nearby. Bear-kills shut down trails in the park; it was never a good idea to go near a carcass guarded by a 600-pound predator.

I took a few more steps along the trail before I froze. A low growl rolled forward from the bushes to my left and I watched the bushes part as a massive black bear stepped into view. Its snout gleamed red and behind the bear's large body, I saw a bloody mass, bones glistening wetly, lying on the forest floor.

Staring into the watchful eyes of the black bear, I debated my odds. If it was a wild bear, I needed to get out of its vicinity immediately without triggering its chase instincts.

If it wasn't a wild bear, I was in trouble. I was on national park property, neutral ground, but I was the only person around to enforce that rule. Pack shifters stayed in their territory, which was anywhere outside of the park, and I stayed in mine. Only lately, I'd been catching more and more of them where they weren't supposed to be. So far, I'd avoided a confrontation, but maybe that was the problem.

If the bear in front of me was a shifter, they were trespassing and I could chase them off, if I wanted to take on a bear. I knew I could do it easily if I assumed my secret shape, my Beast, but that would lead to a lot of questions that I didn't want to answer.

Unfortunately, I didn't know that much about shifters, despite the fact that I was one, sort of. This bear appeared to be fully animal, with dark sable fur, a narrow snout, and rounded, furry ears. It stood on all fours in the middle of the hiking trail, taking up the space aggressively. It snorted, blood gleaming on its teeth, and I caught another strong whiff of decay.

Calling my own wild nature to the surface, I sucked in a deep breath, sampling the scents of the forest around me. My puma's sensitive nose filtered out the pine and spruce trees, the sap, the decomposition, and focused on the musky, heavy scent of the bear.

I'd been in Yellowstone now for four months and I'd encountered a lot of bears. The wild ones smelled natural, like sweet nuts and thick fur. The one bear shifter that I knew pretty well, Darcy, in her bear form smelled like the same fur and nuttiness, plus her basic human scent.

This bear on the path smelled spicy, like it had rolled in yarrow. That smell told me nothing helpful.

Eyeing it, I made a decision. My heart beating fast, I pulled the can of bear spray from my belt and advanced. Banking on the fact that a shifter would know exactly what the contents of the can could do, I pointed it at the bear on the path.

It didn't move. Okay, I decided, that's a real bear. I stopped my forward movement as it lowered its head and pawed at the ground. It didn't like that I was closer now. Me either, buddy, I whispered to myself.

Now that I was closer though, I could see more clearly the carcass it guarded. Beyond the bear's ruffling fur I saw a sneaker and a ripped flannel shirt, dark green, beside the gory remains. My stomach sank and goosebumps popped up all over my skin.