9th Life

Ch. 6 The Field and The Fire

We all know interspecies romance is weird. –Tim Burton

 It would seem that I've always taken dry clothes for granted. I ran a comb through my hair before grabbing two hoodies and heading to the kitchen where I tossed one to Bastian, suddenly wondering if he'd grasp what it said: I used up all my sick days, so I called in dead.

Together we raided the refrigerator for whatever could be eaten as is, tossing it all into a cooler before filling a bag with water bottles and a couple of towels.

This time I led the way, but rather than the woods, I took us through the perimeter fence to trek around the black bear habitat. The bear house was the same shape and color as the cinder blocks that made it. I climbed the attached ladder to the flat roof and reached down for the cooler.

It was drier than I'd expected, but I laid out towels anyway. From here, we could see out over the entire enclosure. Both bears lounged near the water's edge in the middle, far enough away I couldn't tell if they slept.

Dropping beside me, Bastian hung his feet off the roof, opened the cooler, and passed me a bottle of water. I did at least thank him before hesitantly inquiring, "So, what did you see, if I may ask?"

He twisted the top off and rolled it between his fingers. "I was fighting the urge to follow you. It was harder to follow my thinking. I seemed to be... upset."

"I didn't want you to follow me?"

"I don't know. Visions tend to lack all the details of real life. It's as if there's one dominant thought or emotion. I know the feeling was one of upheaval and the thought: Don't follow her."

Upheaval? "You sure it was me?"

He took a quick swallow, looking at the bears but not seeing them. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Are they always true?" I hated to think I'd ask him to stay away from me, that perhaps he'd seen our breakup before we were broke in.

"In my experience, yes, though I don't have them that often, and they're easy to misinterpret."

"Hmm. I caught a glimpse of you when I first saw you. You were a lynx, but in my mind I saw you." I didn't bother mentioning his bloody palms. "Were you trying to show me?"

He mulled it over before saying, "It can certainly be a helpful gift. At the time, I felt sure you'd caught my true nature." He shook his head, switching tracks. "This is putting invention before intention. I was thinking I'd start at the beginning, so to speak. It might prevent confusion."

"I'm all ears," I stated, trying not to look as eager as I felt. Needing something to do with my hands, I picked up a slice of turkey and began rolling it into a tube.

He tossed a grape up, catching it in his mouth, and thought for a moment. "I don't actually know how long skinwalkers, weres, whatever humans name us, have been around. I can't really speak to a lot of the history other than the obvious growth of some superstitions and beliefs around us."

"Like vampires?" I said, recalling my dream with some embarrassment.

"Exactly. With vampires, I'd imagine it's the teeth and the intimate stance used to steal the breath. It's an easy—"

Holy shit. "You can steal someone's breath?"

He didn't look at me. "Yeah."

I should've said something, but I'd only repeat the question, as if a second yes would come with a side of calm acceptance.

He glanced over, unsure of whether he wanted to see my reaction. "It's... an easy way to render someone unconscious without injury. I'm sure some thought it an easy way to get by. A human can hit you over the head. If we wanted you unconscious, it'd be gentler. More frightening perhaps, but gentler."