The Real Story ~ Black Bear Outsmarts Officials

Black bear outsmarts Wash. wildlife officials

~ news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20110607/ap_on_fe_st/us_odd_bear_chase_1 ~

– Tue Jun 7, 5:00 pm ET

PORT ORCHARD, Wash. – A young black bear has outsmarted wildlife officials trying to trap it in Washington state.

Washington Fish and Wildlife Department agents are tracking the bear Tuesday near Port Orchard. So far, the bear has withstood a tranquilizer dart Monday and resisted a trap baited with doughnuts, marshmallows and maple syrup.

Sgt. Ted Jackson says agents are following the bear to make sure it stays away from schools.

He says if agents get a clear shot, they'll try to dart it again. If the bear remains in the area, they'll try again to trap it and relocate it.
~~~~~~

The story behind the story...

Charleson paced, his nose to the slight breeze. He’d spent days tracking his twin sister, Charis. The school was the last place he’d scented her.

Against the wishes of his parents, he’d trekked from their deep-forest home in a desperate effort to find her. She’d been spirited off by an evil skinwalker. Although his parents had sought out the best magicians, none of them had been able to free Charis from the spell, let alone discover her whereabouts.

Charleson understood the humans’ concern for their young ones. Still, he couldn’t give up. Despite the pain, and the hours of fighting off the numbing affects of the tranquilizer dart, he’d been able to elude the Wildlife Department agents.

Near exhaustion, he plopped his rump on the coolness of the ground. The shade tree he’d retreated to welcomed him, and shadowed his presence. Unable to voice his agony, he raised his head and silently bawled.

With tears leaking from his eyes, he dropped to the ground, his head on his front paws. Where was she?

Charis, he roaring-screamed in his mind.

Low whimpers escaped him, even as memories of their long playful romps in the forest crowded his mind. They should have been exploring their world, eating the ripe mulberries -- looking for honey. They should have been learning how to shift from bear to human, human to bear, so it would become second nature to them.

“I know where she is.”

The whisper, soft as a feather’s tickle, entered one of his ears. Not moving his head, Charleson rolled one eye while hope flared in his heart. The tiny fairy gazed at him from within a shimmering violet bubble. She was clothed in various shades of purple. Even her ankle-long, white hair glowed as if rinsed in lilac blossoms.

Did he dare trust her? More often than not, fairies were mischievous. Yet, some were exceptionally kind-hearted.

Charleson tried to make up his mind, his brain grumbling loudly with the effort.
~~~~~~

Happy Month of June Shapeshifting

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~

Don't Step on Superman's... er, Super Wolf's Cape...

Summer-hot greetings, shapeshifter lovers. Yep, from too chilly on the tame prairie to too darn hot. However, that’s a mild complaint given all the weather catastrophes of late. Hope you are safe and well, and getting ready for some summer fun and reading time.

Okay, then, a sort of rant ahead. Why? Because my hot button got walloped last Saturday night. There’s no other place to vent. And, my frustration level, in general, has probably passed Pluto by now.

Side Note: At least I don’t have to be frustrated over the edits for KANDY APPLE AND HER HELLHOUNDS. I completed those, and am about to do a read-over just to double check everything.

The radio show host shall remain nameless because he should remain nameless. However, last Saturday night he interviewed Gotham Chopra, yes, Deepak Chopra’s son, about how Gotham, to quote: “decoded the 7 essential laws that govern the realm of superheroes both ancient and modern, and explained how to apply these laws to our daily lives.”

Yeah, yeah, the mystical meets modern digital comics. While Gotham did have some valuable and pertinent insights, largely based on the gods and goddesses of his ancient East Indian culture... and, yes, their stories are AMAZING!... still, his version of these stories as translated for these times, seemed rather tame.

And, no, not lame. No, that description is reserved for the ‘nameless one’. I mean how often can you state that you find Superman as a superhero BORING. Oh, let’s see now, it had to be roughly TEN times during the late-night chat. Yep, at every opportunity it was the same tired of old mantra of how the nameless one couldn’t relate to a superhero as perfect as Superman.

Gee, really? How come?

What’s so perfect about Superman? He may be an alien man with super powers, but how does that make him perfect? Granted, I only know Superman from the several different TV series I've watched, including the original version. And, of course, Christopher Reeve as Superman on the silver screen.... wow, did my heart race and my breath catch.

Gosh, I don’t find saving the day, or saving the innocent BORING. It’s not like Superman was some robotic imitation of a human. He wasn’t even Spock-like. He had deep feelings and emotions. Over Lois Lane. Over the state of the world. Over... well life, and living life.

The Superman I saw was deeply conflicted at times, and faced terrible choices. Choices, he had to live with. How is THAT not human? Or, relatable?

So, he was often stoic. So, he was about doing the right thing, and being the good guy. So, he acted responsibly in his daily life, unless the Kryptonite got him, or whatever nastiness the villains managed to get him with. So, he was modeled on the ideal version of a man for THOSE times -- right after WWII.

Superman was also lonely. Very lonely, yet he persevered and made the world a better place by his actions. Heck... I bet that’s not relatable, either.

So, Mr. Nameless, he may not be relatable to YOU. Big effing deal. Like everyone else, you have a right to your opinions and feelings. You have a right to choose your fave superheroes and/or superheroines for whatever reason. And, for no reason at all.

But, get over it. Grow up. Get a freaking clue.

And, no problem... have your opinions and feelings, but don’t ‘force’ them on us as if your *opinion* has suddenly become the new religion. And, we all need to convert.

Yes, this hit home with me for two reasons. One, because of what I’ve already ranted about. And, two, because Mr. Nameless-shameless stepped on my Super Wolf’s cape. Good thing, it was White Fang’s metaphorical cape, and not his very real wolf tail. Because, hell, Nameless would be lucky to have a foot left dangling. Although, then White Fang would probably make certain he received medical assistance.

So, my Super Wolf is one of the good guys at heart. Don’t we need those kind of superheroes in our world today?

However, White Fang ain’t no saint, neither. When Pasha puts the seductress moves on him, he can’t resist, even knowing it’s not the wisest thing he’s ever done, and could cost him his mission.

And, like all of us White Fang makes mistakes. He has bad days. And, he’s damn lonely.

Not to mention his bride-mate, a woman he loved, chose another mate -- one reason he signed up for missions on Earth. Gosh, that’s not relatable, is it?

Ya know, some characters walk on the light side and feel the constant pull of the dark side. At times, they succumb. While some characters walk on the dark side, but reach for the light side. Because they crave redemption.

Redeem the bad boy or knock the good guy off his path? Either way, it’s a personal choice for the author, and the reader.

Ya know it takes all kinds of superheroes and superheroines in this world, or inhabiting all the worlds we writers create. So, why not extend an open hand, an open paw, to all of them, instead of a closed and clawed fist. Unless, of course, you’re the bad-guy, ruthless villain with extraordinary powers bent on ruling the world, the entire galaxy, then the universe. Well, hey, then a closed fist might be your style.
~~~~~~

Don’t Step on Super Wolf’s Cape

Human. Every nose in the old-timey gin joint got bent out of joint sniffing the air, including White Fang’s sniffer. The regulars cast suspicious glances, but being used to surviving in a human world, they acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“What’s that ape doing in here? Isn’t it getting close to his beddy bye time?”

White Fang overhead one of the twenty-something werewolves say to his pack buddy. He, and Nick, shared a look, then took a swallow of their beers. Both of their gazes surreptitiously followed the man’s progress as he strolled toward the bar.

After a long day, he and the Guts and Butts Gazette editor, had stopped in for a cold brewski. There’d also been a few matters they wanted to discuss regarding the investigative stories White Fang had been writing about the Tiger Yakuza.

Given White Fang’s recent discovery that one of Shere Khan’s son had hacked into their computer system, he and Nick had become patrons of O’Malley’s roaring twenties’ bar. O’Malley, the grizzled werewolf owner, didn’t allow any of them newfangled devices in his place.

No one snuck one in, either. O’Malley’s nose never failed, and he tossed the offender out on his butt. With a snarl, he would inform them to stay away for the next two weeks.

Once he reached the bar, the *I just hit midlife* yuppie glanced around, a friendly expression on his face. “Hey, fellas. Quite an interesting little town you have here.”

White Fang had been about to answer when O’Malley straightened from wiping the bar, and directed his gaze at the human. “Yeah, interesting. Noticed you followed my rules. Yer not carrying one of them smartphone thingamajigs. What can I serve ya?”

“Whatever you have on tap. The wife is settling into our motel room.”

“Sure. Coming up.” O’Malley slung the large white cloth over one shoulder, and turned toward the tap.

“What’s up with all the werewolf pictures, references and memorabilia? Did the original wolfman move to Talbot’s Peak, and raise a family?” Mr. Smiley-Face Yuppie encompassed them all with his gaze.

“Something like that.” Eric, the twenty-something growled, then buried his nose in his beer for a long swallow.

“Never did get the whole *shift to beast killer during the full moon* thing,” the human announced as if his thoughts arrived from on high.

“Is that so?” Vincent, Eric’s pack buddy, challenged in his ‘pissing contest’ voice. With a stare, he set his tall glass down, the sound a definite clank on the wooden table.

“Do you know what I really can’t believe?” Mr. Yuppie mentally raised his own leg, and gave stare for stare. “Werewolves are the heroes in smut novels. Come on, what woman in her right mind would want...let’s say...relations with a hairy, ugly, butt-smelling --"

White Fang stood fast, intercepting Eric and Vincent as they leaped toward the human, their fangs bared. With finesse, he made it appear as if he merely brushed past them. Instead, he used his super strength to halt them in their tracks.

“Make that beer to go, would you, O’Malley?” White Fang leaned one elbow on the bar casually, but didn’t spare Mr. Yuppie his own fierce stare. “You’re not making any friends here, mister. Why don’t I walk you to your motel?”

“What are you, some good-guy superhero?”

White Fang raised his brows as he handed the filled plastic container to Mr. Not Smiley-Face Now. “Superhero?” he mildly asked.

“Yeah, I saw that move you put on the two college kids over there.”

Feeling the hostile vibes escalate to a dangerous level, White Fang inquired, “Did you?”

“I know a black-belt martial arts move when I see it.”

“On the house,” O’Malley answered the human’s glance and his reach for his wallet. “Just let the man here give you --"

“I don’t need anyone walking me to my motel, even if it is called Hunter’s Moon. Certainly, I don’t need superhero dude here.” With those parting words, the human pivoted, heading for the door

“Like stepping on Superman’s cape, do you?” Nick called after him.

“Like spitting into the wind, too,” the Yuppie mocked, speaking over his shoulder.

Rising, Nick set his beer down, and gave White Fang a wink that said “I’ll watch out for the fucking idiot.”

White Fang answered with a nod. He kept his grin to himself as he returned to his spot at the bar. Yeah, sport, you only get to step on Super Wolf’s cape once. After that, it’s fangs flashing in the moonlight, and one helluva lesson.
~~~~~~

Happy Month of June Shapeshifting

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~

Fish Out of Water

Torrence liked his job. He liked his boss, he liked his heavily-muscled build, he liked how everybody scurried out of his way whether he was striding down a sidewalk or gliding lazily through the ocean depths. He even liked his name these days. Most of the teasing had died off once he attained his full growth, and when he went to work for Karkarias it stopped completely. It helped to have friends in high places.

Today G.W. had sent him out on a milk run: take the underland tunnel to Montana where Durand was hiding out and snatch the kids. Kill Durand if opportunity presented itself. G.W. wasn’t that concerned with the seahorse as long as he got the guppies. Torrence didn’t ask questions. If Karkarias wanted Durand’s spawn, that was good enough for him.

He swam up the tunnel in tiger shark form, wary of guardians. Word said a Nessie had taken up residence in the underground sea. If he hadn’t been on assignment he’d be tempted to try his teeth against her. Nessies were nasty business, but he was quick and his jaws could crush damn near anything. Including a Nessie’s neck? Might be fun to find out. But not today.

He made it through the tunnel and into the sea without running into the Nessie. Torrence emerged from one of the many land portals, a lake in the middle of a forest. As arranged, clothing, instructions and a map of the area were waiting for him in a cache on the shore. Karkarias had found a business associate among the land-scrabblers. Torrence didn’t waste any thoughts on speculation. It wasn’t part of the job.

He studied the map. The town’s name was Talbot’s Peak. Intel said it was infested with shapeshifters, so nobody’d look twice if he had to shift and dive into a river. Perfect.

Once in town Torrence immediately headed for the fountain, a big ugly thing that looked like a water dish. Durand and his spawn had been spotted frolicking in it. Sure enough, there was the seahorse and his get, seated on the fountain’s rim and happily splashing each other. This would be easier than gutting tuna. Torrence started toward them.

Before he could reach them, however, they left the fountain and headed across the street. He must have just missed their daily swim. The fact all three were fully clothed should have tipped him off. A water attack would have suited him best, but that wasn’t to be. He’d have to make do.

They entered a small coffee shop. Durand ordered himself a coffee and two hot cocoas for the twins. Torrence took a seat nearby and ordered lemon tea. He noticed the waitress had blue hair. Maybe she was a mermaid. Torrence grinned at her and was pleased to see her shudder. He liked mermaids. He loved how they flopped around and screamed and begged for their lives when he took them.

The place was moderately crowded. Torrence had been well-prepped in how to recognize the different species of land shifters. He picked out a twitchy-looking wolf and his mate and formulated a plan. When the she-wolf went to the ladies’ room, Torrence made his move.

He got up and stood by the wolf’s seat. “You see that he over there, with the two cubs?” he murmured to the wolf. “I know him. He’s got his eye on your she. His cubs need a mother and he’s decided your she is the one.”

“He what?” The wolf bolted off his chair, glaring at Durand. Sure enough, wolves were territorial fry, especially when it came to their mates, just as he’d been told. In seconds the wolf had charged Durand’s table and picked a fight with him.

Naturally Durand scooted his guppies out of the line of fire. Torrence circled the tables, waiting for his shot. As voices rose and lookie-loos pressed in, Torrence saw an opening. He darted in and snatched up the twins, one under each arm, right from behind their father’s back. Like taking fish from a baby whale. He clapped his hands over their mouths before they could cry out. The brats squirmed in his grip like beached bass but didn’t stand a chance. He darted for the door.

A hand on his upper arm stopped him cold. “These are not your cubs.”

The hell? Some land-scrabbler thought he could take on a tiger shark? Torrence bared his teeth and turned. The landie was dead. He was chum. He was –

Bigger than Torrence.

Torrence found himself staring upward, a rare occurrence in itself, into blue eyes like flecks of arctic ice. The landie was ice from head to toe, hair, skin and deadly teeth, wrapped in a long black coat. His huge hand closed around Torrence’s neck, over his dormant gills. Torrence was lifted onto his toes. His flat black eyes bugged and he fought for air.

“Put cubs down,” the ice giant ordered.

Torrence dropped the spawn. He had to. He needed his hands to claw at the grip choking the life out of him. “Go behind counter,” the monster said to the twins. “The blue-haired woman will protect you.”

His targets darted to safety. Torrence clawed at the landie’s arms. He might as well have been pounding on concrete. The huge landie dragged him into the men’s room and flung him against a sink. “You are long way from home, little fish,” he growled.

Torrence grinned, showing both rows of his teeth. “You’re out of your depth, you – ”

What was he, exactly? His scent said tiger, but he was far too big and far too white. His eyes, for all their icy blue, were as flat and emotionless as a circling shark’s. He looked possible death in the face with absolutely no fear, or much of anything else.

He was, in short, the landie version of Torrence.

Slice me into chum, Torrence thought, and realized, with a sinking gut, the stranger could probably do it.

“You are on land now,” the land shark said. “Here we cherish our cubs.” He moved forward.

# # #

The confusing attack had lots of shouting and bluster but very few blows. Wolf fights were more about intimidation than blood. It ended when the she-wolf returned from the restroom. She cuffed her mate, apologized to Jess, and dragged her chastened husband out of the coffee shop. Jess shook his head. Landwalkers. So touchy.

“You okay, kids?” he said, and looked around. Panic seized his heart. Garth and Tula were gone.

“Hey. These yours?” Marissa, the blue-haired waitress, appeared with Garth and Tula in tow. They ran to him and hugged his legs. He could see they weren’t hurt, just upset. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Someone tried to grab them. Sergei stopped him.”

“Sergei?”

“Big Russian guy with white hair. He comes in two, three times a week for this awful strong tea. I think he dragged the other guy into the bathroom. I already called the cops.”

Human law enforcement would be less than useless, if Karkarias had sent who Jess suspected. Before he could pry his children loose and go to help, Sergei emerged from the men’s room, straightening his coat. He went to Jess and Marissa and peered down solemnly at the twins. They squeezed Jess’s legs even harder. “The cubs are all right?” he rumbled.

“The, um, cubs are fine,” Jess said. In a lower voice he added, “Are you nuts? That was a tiger shark!”

Sergei sniffed. “Was fish. Cats eat fish. It is, how do you say, not biggie.” He pulled a thick roll of bills from his pocket, peeled one off and handed it to Marissa. “For the mess,” he said.

Marissa gaped at the denomination. Then realization hit. “Mess? Oh crap.” She sprinted for the men’s room.

Sergei recovered his hat from his table and started for the door. “Uh – Sergei?” Jess said. “Thank you.”

Sergei pinned him with emotionless eyes. “Is no need. I had cub once,” he said, and went out.

Moments later Marissa burst out of the men’s room with her hand over her mouth and her breakfast in her throat. As soon as she got her spasming stomach under control, she’d have to go tell Lex they had a body in the bathroom with its head stuffed down one of the toilets. Again.

Vision Dreams

Octavia rose from the natural springs hot tub and dried herself. Bless Tongson for putting up the small shelter blocking the colder winds off the mountains. The chill in the air helped dry her and bring her temperature back into human range.

"Goddess, what am I going to do?" Tavia slipped into her caftan. The smooth silk rubbed across her sensitive nipples. As she'd showered with Tomas that morning even his soft caress left her wanting more. The last time she'd carried life within her womb, she'd wanted to fuck every male she came near. Praise be she'd learned about love and connecting. Now she wanted to lay between Tongson and Tomas, hearing their breaths as they slept.

This young life would grow to adulthood knowing love and a family that wanted them. One that did not care if the baby was a boy or girl. A child guided by loving parents and co-parents. This life would not know death and destruction before its phase was done.

Tavia cradled her expanding stomach. She'd heard the child's heart beating as she slept. Last night the oddest dream repeated itself through out the night. Two heart beats echoed in unison with her own. One the spinner of the gossamer web of life. The other the protector and warrior that healed the riffs deep within hearts.

What would Tongson say? Tomas as well? Mickey and Night Hawk knew they're journey would not be easy. They wished to be safe. Their child's future hung in the mix as hers did. Did it matter who fathered the children?

Tavia sighed and made her way upstairs, hoping her dreams revealed that yet to come.

******************************************************************************************

HAPPY WEEKEND AGAIN! Keep cool and enjoy a good book or two! Remember to allow yourself time to nurture and nourish your mind and body.

Have a great weekend!
SOLARA

Talbot's Peak Strikes Again....and a little shameless plug!

"Damn purse...freaking keys...bloody, life."  Talullah gripped the newly purchased, now torn, purse and fought to pull her apartment keys from the lining they'd fallen into.  More fabric tore until the insides were on the outside and the open roll of quarters fell to the ground, scattering to the four winds.


"Why am I still in this town,"  She grumbled, squatting down to retrieve whatever coins didn't end up in the garbage cans or cracks around the steps of her apartment building.  One by one she plucked the money off the cement and deposited it into her pocket.  Of course, she was fifty cents short of the price of a load.

So much for doing laundry.

Talullah dropped her ass to the ground and stared longingly at the pond across the street.  She would give a pretty penny to be floating on those calm, dark waters.   She'd have to give someone else's money, though, as her tour leader job barely paid a livable wage.  Certainly not enough to buy a simple air mattress to keep her head above water.  The funny thing was she could never quite see her body when she envisioned being on the pond, but there were always a lot of ducks.

Great-Grams Daffy would get a real kick out of that thought, being as she knew almost everything there was to know about ducks.  They had been her passion.  She sure missed the old lady, but that wasn't surprising as she'd only died a few months back.  Longevity and getting preggers at a young age ran in her family.  Every twenty years the youngest woman in her family line ended up engaging in a wild night of revelry with an excessive number of men, ended up pregnant and never knew who the father was, but she was putting a stop to it.  She'd just turned twenty-two and she was proud to say, she was still a virgin.

"I will break this curse..."  Even as she spoke the words she had a bad feeling fate was about to spit in her eye.  When she considered her day so far with the dullness of her tour - no bighorn sheep on the backs of bikes, no one getting lost at The Last Bite and not even a unicorn sighting, then she shouldn't be so surprised to see a moving van and two SUV's pull into the parking lot.  It shouldn't be a shock to see eight leggy men get out of the vehicles, nor should she feel so damn aroused at the thought of all that testosterone moving into her building.  She really shouldn't keep ogling the beefcake hefting furniture and boxes like they were footballs and baseballs, but she couldn't stop.

Talullah watched as all of her hard work swirled down the drain, it appeared that her downfall was going to be eight gorgeous men with pepto-pink hair.  She could imagine every one of them, with her, down at the pond - each standing on one leg while she floated away her frustrations.

"Well, Hell," she mumbled, already prinking in the back of her mind. "Fate and Talbot's Peak, strike again."

~~~

Shameless plug coming up!

I have a release date for my upcoming novella, A Magical Return!  June 20th my baby will be available at Liquid Silver Books and I have to tell you, I'm positively giddy!  :) 

Have a great weekend!

Worlds colide... sort of.

I think my muse needs some prozac or something. I sat down tow write a sequal to last week's post. This is what came out instead. It's quite a bit longer than my usual posts. I hope you like it!

**********

“I know druidry requires a familiarity with nature, Uncle, but I really don’t know. Taking Shainnon and Ayden for a human style camping trip seems less about nature and more about insanity,” grumped Kincaid. “Surely there are other ways to teach that pair of hellions how to fit in to the human culture than a camping trip. The last time Shainnon went amongst them, it took two black lords to get him out of trouble.”

“Pshaw! The pups will be fine! I keep up with them and I’m more than three hundred years old. You can’t tell me a lad of only one thirty-five can’t do it,” Auld Domhnal harrumphed. Auld Domhnal, as everyone called him, was actually Kincaid’s many times great uncle. He’d live on a little island off the coast of Scotland for much longer than a normal human should have been alive, but then, they weren’t human.

They were true druids, a race of human-like creatures created by the Morrigan as mortal servants. They were more closely related to shifters than humans, though they physically looked like humans. Most of their kind lived in Annwn, a realm humans thought was the Celtic Underworld. It was a realm of existence that was used as a place to live where the Unseely would leave the inhabitants alone. The Cu of Annwn were the reason the Unseely left the realm alone.

Kincaid and Domhnal were of the scholar sect. The pups, Shainnon and Ayden, were of the guardian sect, though only Ayden could shift easily into the Cu form their kind were renowned for, giant pure white wolfhounds the size and Irish wolfhounds with blood red skin around the eyes and inner ears. True hounds of Annwn look much the same but were the size of Scottish deerhounds without the gruesome ears and eyes.

“Come now, Caid,” his uncle cajoled, using his childhood nickname. “It was not Shainnon’s fault an hunting party became obsessed with him. The Lon Chaney National Forest a good place for the pups to learn how to act around humans and the humans in that area are somewhat comfortable with our kind so as not to panic at the sight of druid pups acting odd. I’m getting too old to take them into high mountains. That thin, cold air in hard on my old lungs and wings.”

He shook his head in resignation.

“I’ll take them, Uncle, but I won’t promise to enjoy it.”

*********

“Shainnon, I believe you are supposed to blow the fire out before eating charred marshmallows,” Kincaid commented dryly. The scamp grinned up at him, whitish black goo squishing out from between his teeth. Caid just got his eyes closed before Ayden blinded them all with the disposable camera he just had to have taking by taking a picture of the spectacle. Why had he agreed to take these two camping again?

The day had started out well enough. Caid picked the boys up from his uncle’s house in Gairloch that morning. Uncle had moved from that wind scoured island in the bay after taking the duo from hell as apprentices so they could have human children to socialize with. They realm jumped to Great Falls International Airport so they could rent an SUV, then headed toward the mountains. It didn’t start getting complicated till they stopped for lunch and supplies outside Talbot‘s Peak.

Bless the proprietor’s heart, the moment the Ayden mentioned they were going camping, she began talking fondly of her own childhood camping trips. Toasting marshmallows, making s’mores, fishing--everything she talked about, the boys wanted to do, too. Druid Cu pups fishing with poles had not turned out to be a good idea, at least not with these two. The humans had reacted to seeing the boys trying eat the bait better than he‘d expected them to. At least Shainnon hadn’t found worms tasty. Caid wasn’t sure Ayden had been all that disgusted by the wiggly snack, though.

“But Caid!” Ayden cried. “The fish eat the worms. We eat the fish. So we are eating worms anyway!”

“We don’t eat the fish while they are still alive,” Caid drawled.

“We just wanted to see why the fish like them,” Shainnon stated mater-of-factly. “But then again, fish eat other fish while they are still alive. Maybe we should try cooking the worms first.”

“Or maybe try eating the fish still alive!” Ayden had declared. “Caid, didn’t you buy some minnows at the bait shop?”

Caid shook his head at the memory. That was about the time the men started laughing and the women started gagging. The rest of the afternoon had passed with amused old men teaching Caid and the boys the right way to fish for lake trout and filling the boys’ heads with how they’d gotten into mischief as children. The women had all left to go shopping for gods only knew what; he’d heard them mention some shop over called Fur and Feather Finery.

“Caid! Tell us a ghost story! Those men said you are supposed to tell us ghost stories around the camp fire while we roast marshmallows!” Ayden half screamed.

“No,” Caid muttered. “You’re already over stimulated. How about a romp in the woods to burn off some of that sugar?”

“That one old man said that cougars eat little children that wonder away from camp at night,” Shainnon commented.

“I think you will be fine,” Caid reassured. “We are here to teach you hellions about high mountain ecology and there’s quite a bit of the ecology that is nocturnal only.”

“Like cougars,” Shainnon added on, stubbornly. “Can we explore as hounds?”

“How would you ask me any questions or comment on what you see in hound form?” Caid answered in the monotone he’d slowly developed since picking them up that morning.

“Can we shift into hound form if something tries to eat us?” Ayden shrilled. Caid rubbed his forehead with thumb and fore finger, trying to stave off the headache he could feel building.

“Aye, if something tries to eat you, you can shift. Let’s get the fire banked.”

**********

Like fishing, trying to teach Shainnon and Ayden about the nocturnal life of the American Rocky Mountains turned out to easier planned than executed. They’d managed to scare off every fox, mouse, and raccoon for fifty miles. Apparently Ayden couldn’t tell a bat hunting bugs from “something trying to eat him.” It was interesting to know that a Cu pup could jump high enough to almost catch one, though.

**********

Oh, wow, Jen thought as she watched the trio from the ledge high above them. She didn’t have a clue what they were- she’d never heard of dog shifters- but that rambunctious youngling had a jump worthy of an Olympic athlete! Good thing Band was faster!

Jen had been enjoying a solitary meal of freshly caught rabbit when she’d heard them coming from some distance. The adult had been trying in vain to school the younglings in native animals and failing miserably. They were simply too excited to pay attention to learning. Not that she blamed them; there was something deeply invigorating about a nocturnal romp in these mountains.

Her meal forgotten, Jen had been following the odd group for the last hour or so and was becoming rather impressed by the big male’s knowledge of the forest and it’s inhabitants. Once he’d given up on a formal lesson, he began making headway in teaching the young ones about identifying animals using old scent trails and droppings. I wonder how they’ll do with a fresh trail? she thought to herself. She was vaguely uneasy about it, but figured her beast form- a cougar- should be more than up to the task of out smarting a pair of pups.

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Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea! Crap, they’re fast!