White Fang Kent ~ Truth, Justice, and the Shapeshifter Way
White Fang Kent would have recognized that pungent feline scent beneath a pile of nuclear waste. When had Leona Lane come to town? And, why hadn’t he known it before now? Had the ‘queen of expose’ been hiding out until she could pounce on her latest victim and bag her next sensational headline like a hapless cat.
Lykouz knew, Leona Lane had exposed those who deserved to hang on the end of her very sharp pen. White Fang made no bones about the fact that she possessed the instincts of a bloodthirsty huntress when it came to tracking down a certain class of slimy criminal.
Her hard-nosed reporting was one matter. White Fang felt great respect for an intrepid reporter who got his or her story to ink or bytes, and damn the consequences. However, tossing the truth around like a bullwhip’s lash, and not caring who was struck, like Leona did too often -- that was a whole other matter to his way of thinking.
He’d kept his distance from Leona for that reason. That, and she walked over other reporters, unconcerned that she kept her metaphorical stilettos on.
Yeah, sure, White Fang had rescued her from several sticky situations. But, he’d made certain she never found out. He’d do it again, if necessary. As a man-wolf, he stayed true to himself.
Truth, Justice and the Shapeshifter Way. And, the protection of the innocent. That was White Fang’s creed.
Not that life always cooperated. No, life on Earth was often guts and butts’ messy. And, the blurring of the lines between good and evil never sat well with him. White Fang walked that line constantly in dealing with his sources.
From his peripheral vision, White Fang observed the hyper ambitious, razor-clawed brunette. The Leona Lane he knew, tangled verbally with Maggie. No one in the courtroom needed super hearing to get an earful as those two alpha females sparred for bitch supremacy.
Still, White Fang honed in as they lowered the volume. With the knife-flashing expertise of a Ginsu chef, Leona and Maggie continued fang-trashing each other. To his mind, tickets should have been sold, with the proceeds given to improve the cub play area in the park.
Not surprisingly, Maggie’s boa snitch had his scales scraped the wrong way. Rising to the occasion Lamar hissed a warning. Also, not surprisingly, Leona hissed her own brand of venom.
White Fang nearly let a chuckle escape at the comic-book scene. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched. So, Leona had done a stint in the local pound. No doubt she’d uncovered enough scat on some of the town’s movers and tail-shakers to ‘convince’ their cooperation whenever she needed it.
He hadn’t been aware of her presence because the shifter hoosegow wasn’t his beat. Nick, the Guts and Butts editor, had been adamant about that. He wanted breaking crime stories straight from the streets and the forest byways.
Once Leona strode like the panther she was, and shoved out the courtroom doors, White Fang grinned down at little Kitty Kewtie, as he thought of her. Her smile might as well have bathed him in bright white light. She owned a gentle and tame spirit, even though the blood of snow leopard shifters ran in her veins.
He’d discovered Kitty, or Katrina Collins, inside a nearby cave by tracking her scent from her home. When he arrived, she’d been pacing and hugging herself, a common enough blanket draped around her. And, that’s where the mystery began for him.
When he’d arrived at the entrance, nothing clued him in on who or how she’d been placed inside the cave. Although he’d scoured the immediate area before they left, he’d found no sign of tracks, even with his x-ray vision.
The trouble, Kitty had been just as confounded by her situation. She hadn’t known who had rescued her. She’d simply awakened inside a sleeping bag, in the buff and sans her buff-colored fur, with no idea of her location except that she recognized the forest smells.
White Fang had detected no tell-tail odors, or physical evidence, that identified her savior. There’d been no knockout drug residue clinging to her, not by his nose. ‘Whoever’ had left a small supply of food and water, and a short scribbled note: Stay. Or become prey. I will return within a day.
White Fang had sniffed that note until every odor molecule had been drawn inside his nostrils. Nothing. His investigative hackles had raised, but he’d quelled his reporter’s frustration, more concerned with Kitty.
She hadn't been able to identify the scratchy nail-writing, either. She’d also looked mystified when he’d asked her if she knew someone special who wrote or read rhyming poetry.
White Fang suspected, however, that Kitty Kewtie did have a suspicion of who saved her from becoming roadkill. Even so, she’d clung to his arm with not one desire to remain inside the cave until her savior appeared.
When he’d questioned her about escorting her to safety, White Fang discovered Kitty possessed an admirable stubborn streak. With her claws popping out, she’d declared no one chased her away from town.
Once they’d returned to her home and shifted back to human form, he’d promised to keep a protective eye on her. Altruism had been his motivation. However, the reporter in him instinctively knew Katrina Collins was the key that would lead him to the answers he wanted. To the real story behind the story of this werewolf pack town.
White Fang also sensed, as her blue eyes beseeched him, that Kitty pined for a man she’d fallen in love with, but couldn’t have.
He had his own suspicion -- laser-eye squared right on Devon Hancock. Call it a gut-roiling hunch. But, his hunches usually proved out. And now that he knew Devon had the carnal hots for humping cat tail... plus, he’d swear it was Devon who showed at the cave, even though ‘whoever’ had been quick enough to elude his direct observation.
Either that, or it was Devon’s younger sibling, Dante. The bad boy biker had recently returned, and remained on the outs with his father.
~ HAPPY SUN IN SCORPIO SHAPESHIFTING ~
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~