Nature Calls

“They’re here,” Jeanine whispered into her recorder. Crouched beside her in the blind, Tom kept his eyes on the images transmitted from the motion-sensitive cameras they’d planted along the game trail. After three weeks of tantalizing glimpses, one camera had drawn a crowd.

“There’s Mutt and Jeff,” Tom murmured. Jeanine trembled with excitement. The big gray wolf and the scrawny gray-yellow coyote had been caught on camera early on. She’d thought they were mates at first, but both appeared to be male. She’d since observed them hunting and playing and chasing down females together. In her five years filming Nature’s denizens, she’d never seen, read of, or heard about any such pairing as this.

She’d already spent the check from NatGeo in her mind. And it was a hefty one.

“Six wolves,” Tom said, “and one coyote. Looks like they’re all male. Bachelor pack? And what's a coyote doing with wolves?"

“I don’t know,” Jeanine said distractedly. She wondered how well the Emmy for Best Documentary would fit in her hands.

“Look. They’ve found the camera.”

The wolves sidled up to the camera. Their nostrils worked. The lens acquired a wet smear from an inquisitive nose. The pack stepped back, but continued to stare at the camera.

“This is weird,” Tom said. “I know I hid the camera and camouflaged my scent. They shouldn’t even know it’s there.”

“They warned us Talbot’s Peak is strange. The animals don’t behave normally.”

Something was happening out there. Jeanine edged closer to the screen.

Then they saw it. Tom swore. Jeanine gasped. “I don’t believe this.”

# # #

Three weeks ago

“Dog!” Sal came running up, all hyper as usual, jolting Harry out of yet another perfectly good nap. “Dog, you gotta come see this.”

Harry got up, yawned, shook the pine needles out of his fur and shifted to human form. “Dude. Pants.”

“Screw pants. There’s two monkeys sticking cameras on trees down by the deer yard. I think they’re doing a nature show.”

“In the deer yard?” That got Harry’s attention. “That’s Hancock turf. How’d humans get past the patrols?”

“The Hancocks are your family. You tell me. The point is, we’ve just been handed the opportunity of a lifetime. What do we do about it?”

Harry scratched behind his ear. Only a coyote would see a human invasion of shifter territory as an opportunity. “Better show me first,” he said.

In wolf and coyote form they trailed the pair and marked the locations of the cameras. They followed them back to their base camp, a pair of tents and several nervous horses holed up beside a stream at the edge of Brandon Wayne’s ranch. They retreated a safe distance and shifted for speech. “Think Wayne let ‘em in?” Harry asked.

“Doubt it. Your alpha either. Well, we probably shouldn’t kill them. That could lead to a total mess.”

“It’s already a total mess. I’ll have to tell the pack where the cameras are. Scat, we’ll have to tell everybody. If they catch somebody shifting on film, this’ll turn into Monkey Central. The FBI we can deal with, but zoologists?” Harry shook his head. “We have to do something. Any ideas?”

Sal grinned and pointed his thumbs at his chest. “Dog. Coyote.”

# # #

“Does that coyote,” Tom said in a shaky voice, “have a camera?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t, but he did. Using his teeth and paws, he was taking video of the pack. The wolves struck poses in front of both his and the hidden camera. Two wolves held up a cardboard sign in their teeth. It read Hi, Mom!

Then, at some body-language signal, the pack approached Jeanine’s camera. As one, they lifted their legs and took aim.

# # #

Jeanine and Tom hurried back to their camp to find the canvas tents in shreds, the horses gone, their notebooks clawed to confetti and soaked in urine, and their hard drives wiped. While they were rooting despondently through the wreckage several men on horseback rode up. “Brandon Wayne,” the horseman in the lead introduced himself. “You’re on private property.”

Jeanine gathered up her bravado. It was all she had left. “We were told these are state lands.”

“No, these are Wayne lands. That mountain you’ve been tromping around on belongs to the Hancock Corporation. Neither of us appreciate trespassers. There’s some beautiful public game lands ten miles southwest of here. We’ll see that you make it safely to the road.”

The cowboys herded the humans and their skimpy bits of salvage out of camp. Hidden up a nearby tree, Sal caught it all on video.

# # #

From “Naturalists: Exploiting Nature” broadcast on Talbot’s Peak Cable Access Channel 11

“Sometimes the good guys win one, folks. Sometimes we make it through the infestation with nothing more than some bad film to show the humans were here. We dodged a bullet this time, but we need to keep our eyes open and our wits on red alert, because as long as they stay nosy and have cameras, this is bound to happen again.”

Video shows two humans, one male and one female, trudging up Highway 15 past a sign reading Rocky Top State Park, next left.

“Millions of years ago, so their stories go, the monkeys came down out of the trees and started walking around on two legs. News flash, apes. You left, but we didn’t, and we don’t take kindly to you flea-pickers coming back to play Candid Camera with us. Let this be a lesson to you. Stay the hell out of our trees.”

Video fades to black.

This broadcast was made possible through contributions from the Hancock Corporation, the Wayne Ranch, and from viewers like you.

A Howlish Full Moon

Night Hawk leaned back against the side of the hot tub.  Tongson sat across from him, as did Tavia and Tomas.  Mickey sat on the bench close to Tomas.  Steam rose off the water bubbling up from the hot springs below.  Chilling breezes blew down off the still snow-covered peaks surrounding their secluded valley.  The children slept in their room not far from the patio where the quintet relaxed.

“You’re report says little of the antics Sherre Khan continues to support.”  Tongonson slid closer to Tavia.  She laid her head on his shoulder while continuing to hold hands with Tomas.  Mickey’s cheesy grin told Night Hawk her afternoon nap and cuddle with Tomas was worth the private welcome home she’d saved for him.

Tomas sighed and tipped his head back.  A howlish moon filled the sky.  Down in the lower forty-eight, somewhere near the high country in South Dakota, a wolf kept watch and waited.  Dante knew the war would eventually come.  They’d agreed most of Talbot’s Peak would fight against Khan.  Problem remained who would and who wouldn’t.  

“I learned from Serge, Khan wants power.  He craves it like the addict for the drug.  The dissensions within his household appear to go unnoticed by him.  Or better stated by Serge and Dante both as judiciously ignored.”  Tomas snorted as he cuddled Mickey to him.   “I prefer the peace of our quiet domain than adding more who seek to cause discord and resentment.”

Tavia cleared her throat drawing everyone’s attention.  “The powers-that-be want Khan found and gone.  Not as in out of the Peak.  His pelt carries a price.  A bounty that magicks or humans will seek.  I pity the ones who go up against his guard without studying him and his power along with his allies first.”

Night Hawk nodded.  Tavia bit her tongue to keep her words to herself.  The young mage grew by leaps and bounds, as Tongson tutored him in the older magical practices only elite shifters knew.  Serge was amongst the group.  She wondered if he would keep his oath when the time came.  She didn’t want to lose Tongson nor did she want him to be the death of his life long friend.  

Mickey groaned, rubbing her belly, she reached out to Night Hawk.  “Our son moves restlessly.  But a few more of these moons and he will make his way into the world.  I fear you will not be here for him.”

Night Hawk rose and made his way to where Mickey sat.  He dropped to one knee.  “My precious love, I cannot promise what tomorrow holds as it is still being conceptualized, awaiting its own birth as does our son.  My intent is to be here always for you and our family.  If my path takes me elsewhere, may it bring me home to you safe and sound.”

Mickey’s sorrowful smile cut at Tomas.  He wished he could reassure all of them that the balance of power would continue.  That none would perish or turn against family, friend and ally.   He wished a thousand more years of peace would reign. But one exceedingly power addicted shape shifter didn’t understand give and take.  He took what he wanted and the consequences be damned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Weekend Gang!

My extreme apology for this very late post.  My day job announced mandatory over time starting in a few weeks.  My spice family celebrated two anniversaries so far this month with another to come before the month is out.  Spending time together celebrating and discussing logistics while I work 9-10 hour days has taken center stage.  

I hope you enjoy this snippet of the continuing discussions happening once Tomas arrived home.  I understand that the Ice Witch Hadley's ignore back in the Peak is getting ready for round two.  Louie's search for his daughter maybe closer to home than he realizes.  The muse is puttering with who is next up in the serials running from our shape shifter friends.

Solara

Holy Fire ~ Extinction Explained...

“Why has she not come to me!” The man before her morphed back and forth between human and dragon in split second intervals, his anger loosening control of his shifter side.

Karma worried for both her physical well-being and the difficult to obtain treasures in her Egyptian Antiquities shop.  Each item was a personal treasure picked up over the course of a very long life.  She wouldn’t talk age because a woman never divulged her true age.  Sufficed to say, this wasn’t the first birthday she’d turned twenty-nine.  In fact, looking at the darling little broach in the case beneath her fingers reminded her of another twenty-ninth birthday spent getting jiggy with Seti II in 1200 BC.

“Answer me!”

“Holy fire…” She threw herself behind the counter dodging the stream of fire erupting from Erol’s human nostrils.  “You might want to pull it back some, dragon-boy.  Snorting fire will get you a quick trip to a human scientist’s lab for a little slice and dice.”

“They would have to catch me first.”

Karma eased up slowly from the safety of the metal and glass cabinet and shot him a look he should have no trouble interpreting.  “Overzealousness must run in your family, right?”  She pat her hair, making sure no stray fleck of fire took out her new do.  “If you kill me, Erol, I can’t help you win over your lady love…”

“I do not need help with my woman.  She just needs to come to me!”

“Okay, listen up…lesson one.”  Karma grabbed a pad of paper, just knowing she would need to make this Neanderthal some notes.  “She is not your woman, nor is she your dog.  She does not come, sit, fetch or play dead.  Her name is Greely and using her name shows her you respect her independence.”

“She will not be independent…she will be with me!” 

Once again she found herself on the floor, dodging a nasal combustion bigger than Old Faithful’s timely blow.  Were all dragons so volatile or was it just the blacksmith?

“Okay, I see we need to start a bit before names and respect.  Lesson point five.  Welcome to the 21st century.”  The look on his face was beyond comical—pursed lips, squinty eyes and a flared nose that said he wouldn’t take kindly to instructions.  “Women have the right to vote, have burned their bras and are allowed, even encouraged to be independent.  We do not need a man to be happy, but the right one or two at our side is a definite benefit.”

“You can vote?”  True surprise glowed from behind his eyes.

“Yeesh.”  She knew this would be a tough sell, but really…where had this dragon been living for the last hundred or so years?  Under a rock?  “Erol, are there a lot of your kind in town?  Dragon’s that is?”

“A few, but more will be arriving soon…why?”

Great…  “Oh, no reason…I’m just wondering if I need to stock up on athame’s for the soon to be pissed off women around town.”

“We are dragon…we protect our women from danger!”

“Ha!  But who’s gonna protect you from them?”  Karma laughed at the utterly confused look on this dragons puss…  “Note to self…maybe a class for all incoming dragon.  Political Correctness for Wooing Your Mate.  What do you think?”

“What is this political correctness thing…”

Heaven help them.  “Erol, have you heard the term extinction?”

~~~

May ya'll have a little Karma on your side!

Have a great weekend.  :D

Serena

The plot thickens

Before I get to posting this week's protion of "Fat Aussie Bastard," I have a couple anouncements. We--or rather I--am running an impromptu contest over on the Shapeshifter Seductions FB page. I posted a rather unusual picture and the person to come up with the best explination for it wins a $5 gift certificate to Amazon.com.

Second bit of news is that as soon as I can come up with a better title for this story, I'll be submitting it to Smashwords for publication. It'sll be the full version, including the naughty bits, but I'll keep posting the clean bits here as a count down to it being on Smashwords.

Without further ado, here's this week's snippet!

**********

“I thought you’d met Dugger,” Bambi replied off-handedly. Tom looked up from the pool table, shook his head at the mule deer buck, then looked back at the table, trying to find a shot. He’d dropped by his favorite pub after his meeting with Jenna at the city park. He couldn’t tell anyone his real reason for having met her, but Bambi could always be counted on to have picked up something interesting and useful in his own line of work. Bambi was one of the three full time game wardens in this county and in a place so very full of shifters, a game warden was every bit as in-the-loop as any cop.


“I’ve heard a lot about that bounty hunter Dante brought in a while back, but I had no reason, or inclination, to seek him out. Why?”

“Because he’s a dingo,” Bambi said with a chuckle as Tom sunk the que ball in the right far pocket. “An you are shooting pool like a noob. I take it this female dingo’s on more than your mind right now?”

“Go eat a salad, herbie,” Tom shot back snidely.

Most folks might have expected a German Shepard and a mule deer to spit and argue with each other, even over a friendly game of pool. What most of them would not be aware of, was that they were step brothers and actually quite good friends. Tom had not one single idea why his mom had taken up with Bambi’s dad twenty years ago. The scandal that mating had caused had rocked Talbot’s Peak spectacularly. It had also laid the groundwork for the kind of town the Peak and grown into—a town where herbies and carnies could play a friendly game of pool over a pint of beer at Flanigan’s Pub. Bambi—whose name was not really Bambi but rather something much more emasculating—and Tom always snipped and sniped and each other. That’s what brothers do, even when there was no blood tie between them. Gods help the fool who tried to step between them, though.

“So what’d Dante bring in a dingo bounty hunter for?” Tom asked as he put away his que.

“I don’t know that he did bring in Dugger to hunt for him, exactly. There is something very wrong going on in town and I’m not entirely sure what it is. Could be Dugger came here on his own following the trail of someone or could be he just happened to be passing through when he found something. But why would you want to talk to a dingo bounty hunter? Because they are the best of the best. Period. They won’t work for just anyone and they won’t stop if they take on a job, even if you don’t pay them.” Tom stopped and stared blankly at his step brother.

“No on works for free,” he said with disbelief.

“They don’t work for free, exactly,” Bambi said with a shrug. “But they are born and bred to be protectors. They are the bloody white knights of the animal kingdom, Tom. If they see a wrong, they are hell-bound determined to right it. So long as they get enough money coming in to keep themselves and their family fed, they really don’t care how much they get paid. It’s not about the money for them.”

“But why bounty hunters?” Tom asked. Bambi chuckled.

“I said they feel the need to right every wrong, not the need to uphold every law. I guess I should have compared them to a whole species of Robin Hoods.”

“Except they aren’t in it for the money,” Tom added sarcastically.

“According to the Disney channel, Robin Hood wasn’t in it for the money, either. He was in it to stick it ol’ King Jon the Usurper. “

Tom shook his head, bewildered. A lot of little pieces had clicked into place about his Washington State PI. But the whole picture was even more confusing than the disjointed pieces had been. The most confusing piece, of course, was why finding out she wasn’t above playing vigilante to stop the bad guys made him even hotter for her…

The Heavenly Chocolate & Ice Creamery

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Wherever you are, I hope you are staying cool enough in this blistering summer heat. Given rain is very much needed in my area and across the Midwest... well, my heroine in this flash scene decides to summon the local rain god.
~~~~~~

The Heavenly Chocolate & Ice Creamery

It wasn't impressive, and certainly not 31 flavors, but the Heavenly Chocolate & Ice Creamery -- tucked between two larger brick buildings on a corner in Talbot's Peak, Montana -- was all hers. Kalindi dipped out generous scoops of the vanilla ice cream she'd handmade for tomorrow's opening of her very own ice cream parlor.

Her spirits high, she spun around adding the thick dark chocolate syrup made from the best organic ingredients she could get her little half angel hands on. Oh, yes, Seraphim Watchers -- Kalindi rolled her eyes heavenward for a moment, then added huge spoonfuls of the scrumptious malted milk powder -- yes, she'd followed the celestial rules, relying only on good earthly suppliers instead of her ethereal powers.

Thanks to Dante... well, the handsome werewolf did owe her a favor or two when it came to being with his beloved Kitty... still, thanks to Dante and his cadre of friends at the Pleasure Club, Kalindi had been put in contact with those already in business or wanting a way earn a living.

It certainly didn't matter to her if bovine shapeshifters provided their milk and cream, given while in cow form. Especially since the divine taste caused Kalindi to smile ecstatically.

Even now, her invisible wings flapped happily as she poured in the fresh whole milk, then placed the stainless steel container on the mixer. One trick to a perfect chocolate malt was how well it was blended, yet not over blended.

Okay, so she'd added a few ephemeral vibes to her ice cream, meant to enhance the flavors and improve health. The Watchers didn't need to know she cared about helping the kidlets and shifter-supernatural population beyond simply keeping an angelic eye on them, and instantly reporting whenever they needed a 'miracle' intervention.

Kalindi enjoyed every last moment as she slowly poured the thick chocolate malt into a soda fountain glass. Not in the mood for whipped cream with a cherry on top, this time, Kalindi plucked up one of the heavy duty straws, and tore the paper off.

She plunged the straw in the chocolatey, creamy mixture, then moved around the pristine marble counter. Once she'd ensconced herself on one of the high chrome stools, Kalindi wiggled her butt making herself more comfortable atop the thick cushiony seat.

Before indulging in her first sip, Kalindi glanced around her place, admiring the simple lavender and white decor. She'd included an open booth area for families and a more intimate area toward the back for teenagers and lovers.

After a long draw on her straw, she savored rolling the cold, thick chocolate malt around her tongue. She so hoped many in Talbot's Peak would come to love her dream-come-true ice cream parlor as much as she already loved it. If her glimpse into the future held true, there would be devoted customers.

Kalindi blamed her ice cream obsession on her other half. Her mother was a minor Norse goddess, and also a direct descendent of Kamadhenu, a Hindu bovine goddess. Very much in love, her parents lived high in the Alps, where her mother kept a large herd of dairy cows, breeds from all over the world, and ancient breeds thought to have vanished.

"You summoned, my ice queen?"

Kalindi spun around on her stool, nearly knocking off the malt glass. She grabbed hold of it as her gaze locked onto the imposing, hunk o'rama stature of Zhuvius. He hadn't bothered wearing anything but a white linen sarong slung low on his lean, definitely kissable hips.

"Notice I did not say ice cream queen." His eyes, reflecting the current color of the sky, glittered wickedly.

"Yeah, greetings, oh great rain god." Years of practice had given Kalindi the ability to answer in a slightly sarcastic, could-care-less tone.

Quickly recovering her poise, she watched him saunter ever closer. His careless grace tempted her tongue to hit the newly polished floor in sheer appreciation. But why let His High Arrogance know that?

"My little ice angel, is that any way to plead for a day-long soaking rain?"

Zhuvius powerfully glided to the stool beside her. Instead of deigning to seat himself, he tossed his dark bronze hair, then indolently leaned one elbow on the counter facing her.

Ignoring the terrible itch to run her fingers through his shiny waving locks... ignoring everything carnally delicious about his muscle-bound arms and chest... and trying not to inhale his erotic, new-rain potent scent that made most women insatiable, Kalindi gave him a disinterested glare.

"I was planning to bribe you with your favorite flavor of ice cream."

"Why not simply appeal to my compassionate nature when it comes to the creatures of Mother Earth?"

He arched a dark brow, and Kalindi purposefully avoided his mesmerizing and compelling gaze -- the one she managed to escape so far.

"If compassion ruled your heart, rain showers would have drenched Talbot's Peak and the surrounding lands by now."

"You know better than most there is an established sacred order. Not to be violated unless there is a prayerful demand by the people, thus allowing for another outcome."

Zhuvius dipped one long finger into her glass, swirled his fingertip, then languidly withdrew it. With obvious sensual enjoyment, he tasted the remnants of her chocolate malt.

"Good excuse, blue god boy." Kalindi let her gaze caress the blue-tinted, caramel-colored skin covering his perfectly sculpted biceps. "I'll make you a malt if you agree to do your god thing. Make it rain. You know, a steady pitter-patter, that wonderful ozone smell... merrily singing frogs. Blissfully growing crops and vegetation."

"Ice cream made by your angelic hand is a temptation I have great difficulty refusing, my Kalindi. The intoxication is always extreme ecstasy."

"Coffee ice cream," she sang in a lilt. "I made it with you in mind."

When he didn't respond immediately, she stiffened her spine, then her jaw against what she knew was coming. 'Coming' not being the best choice of words.

"Melting my ice queen beneath me, with the strength of my passion.." He paused and her heart hammered against her breastbone. "It is only your surrender that will cause rain showers here before they are due, and thereby altering the tapestry of life."

Kalindi swallowed hard and stared at her reflection in the large chrome mixer. She knew when the rainstorms would let the thirsty land drink again. Not for two more weeks.

If she appealed to the Seraphim Council for an intervention that would be as useless as watching her nails dry whenever she polished them. Zhuvius, being the local rain god, owned the final say. As well he knew, the blue god bastard with... well, how blue were his balls? She'd wondered that for a long time now.

"Sapphire blue," he whispered, having leaned close to her ear.

"Stop reading my mind. I didn't give you permission. That little trick should cost you, rain god."

"Kalindi." His voice was dark, steamy as the coffee he favored. "There will be rain tonight, a brief shower as my penance."

Wings over clouds! What good was it being part angel? She only owned one choice. That is, if she wanted to stop the developing drought conditions.

"What is your unholy bargain, Zhuvius?"

"For every day you desire rain, my ice queen beauty, you will be at the mercy of my desires each night."

Kalindi decided she needed a typhoon to cure the sudden dryness of her throat. "Yes," she finally croaked out like a frog who needed water.
~~~~~~

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side...

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

~~~~~~

A Stinky Situation

“Mr. Harding,” the middle-school secretary said, “your two o’clock is here.”

Alan glanced at the clock on his desk and grimaced. Right on time. Naturally. Their kind was known for deadly, pinpoint accuracy. He got up from his chair and hastily scraped his unruly hair out of his face. He didn’t care for these parent-principal conferences, or the incidents that necessitated them, at the best of times. Most shifter breeds he could deal with. But this case, and this parent … Alan caught himself sniffing the air. Was that a hint of “fragrance” wafting in from the hall?

Stop it. You’re imagining things. They don’t do that in public any more. At least the adults don’t. At least they’re not supposed to. Just take shallow breaths through your mouth. And try not to think of her as “their kind.” It’s supposed to be all’s fair in here.

“Send her in,” he told the secretary, and took as deep a breath as he could hold.

Surprise made the captive air whoosh out of his lungs. She didn’t look, or smell, at all like the stereotypes had led him to expect. The right makeup and different clothes and she could probably pass for a high schooler, college age at the outside. Not that he had any complaints about her attire. That dress clung to her curves like a tick to a coon hound, and brother, did she have her share of curves.

And that hair. “Striking” fit the bill quite nicely. It fell past her shoulders in a billowy cloud, and of the same cottony color, except for the jet-black streak down the middle. Alan slammed his jaw shut before his tongue could roll out.

Bite it all, she smelled fantastic. Something light and flowery. Had to be perfume. No way that could be her natural scent.

He waved at the chairs in front of his desk. “Won’t you have a seat, Mrs. Odor?”

“O’Dell.”

Oh scat. Stuck his foot in it right off the bat. She didn’t seem to hold it against him. She even smiled a little as she strolled up to his desk and parked those intoxicating curves on one of the chairs. Alan dropped onto his own chair so hard it squealed. Yeah. Flying start.

“I take it this has something to do with Ronald’s behavior,” she said.

“Um, yes. There was another incident, this time in the gym.”

She sighed. It did incredible things to that dress-hugged bosom. “How many were there?”

“Seven. Three got it right in the face. They’ll be all right, but it’ll be days before we get the smell out of the bleachers. There goes basketball practice.”

“I hope you don’t intend to punish Ronald for defending himself.”

“Not at all, Mrs. O’Dell. We—”

“It’s Ms. O’Dell. There is no Mr. O’Dell. Why don’t you just call me Aurora?”

Aurora. Bite it. He wanted to call her a dozen dirty things and follow up with hot panting action. Male dogs didn’t come into heat, did they? Alan cleared his throat. “We’re very serious about our anti-bullying programs. The pack who cornered Spritzer has been punished. That’s in addition to the, well—”

She nodded, understanding.

“The school understands Spritzer’s actions. We encourage the students to stand up for themselves, especially against wolves. It’s pretty much all a wolf responds to. It’s how he defended himself that’s the problem. As I mentioned, the gym is pretty much unusable for a week at least. If Spritzer can’t control his natural impulses in a social situation—excuse me.” Alan stumbled over the words in a kind of low-grade horror. “I mean Ronald.”

Aurora smiled. “It’s all right, Mr. Harding. Ronald doesn’t much care for his given name. Even I call him Spritzer.” Her smile vanished. “My concern is what you expect me, and him, to do if the bullying continues. He was surrounded by seven young wolves. How else was he supposed to react?”

“I don’t think we need to worry about any further incidents. Nobody’s going to mess with him after this. He’s kind of a hero, in fact. That’s another possible problem. I don’t want your son to become a bully in turn.”

“I’ll take care of that,” she said firmly. “What else?”

“Well, we’ve got him scrubbing the bleachers. He’s experimenting with different cleaners. We’ve turned it into a science project. We’d like to stress that he follow school protocol in dealing with these incidents. Run, make noise, tell a teacher. Actions less … smelly.”

“That won’t be easy, at his age. He has a talent and he likes to show off.”

“His … talent … is part of the reason he gets bullied in the first place. I’m sorry, but there’s no delicate way to phrase this. Your people have a reputation.”

“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Harding.”

“Alan. Look, Aroma, we’re concerned—”

“Aurora.”

Scat. Scat scat scat with a cherry on top. What shade must his face be by now? Beet or tomato?

“You’re not going to sue the school, are you?” he blurted.

Thank the Good Shepherd, she laughed. “Of course not. When you trap young predators with their prey in a building for seven hours a day, it’s a wonder these things don’t happen more often. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“That’s the whole idea behind our education system. Socialize carnivores and herbivores early to minimize, um, adult accidents. Nobody said it was easy. I don’t suppose … ”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not homeschooling Ronald, Mr. Harding. I can’t afford to. The other students will just have to deal with him.”

“That’s not what I was going to suggest. Every year we hold a Diversity Day for the freshman classes. Parents talk to the kids about what it means to be a shifter of their species. It’s supposed to promote empathy and understanding. Mostly it ends up being a warning to the predators about picking on ‘weaker’ species. If you’ve ever seen a wolf kicked in the package by a jackrabbit, you know what I mean.” Alan shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a skunk”—there, he’d said it—“at one of the talks. Would you be interested?”

“If it will help Ronald, absolutely.” She had the cutest dimples when she smiled. “Will the teachers be in attendance? That might help too. I’ve noticed even adults can become uncomfortable around … ” The dimples deepened. “Our kind.”

“Reputations are powerful things, whether deserved or not.”

“That’s too true, sad to say. When do you want me?”

How about right now? Let me clear off my desk. Alan swallowed hard. Skunks must have two types of smells, because her current one was driving him crazy, in all sorts of wonderful ways. “How’s next Thursday suit you?”