Aspen flinched at the brief, horrendous squeal. Sudden, loud noises were never his favorite. A disadvantage from having supernaturally good hearing, especially when in cat form.
As silence fell once more and the sounds of the underbrush shifted back from the dead silence of a forest gone quiet in fear tothat of the comfortable rustlings of life beneath the leaves, Aspen licked his lips in contentment.
This was what he loved. This freedom to be himself in either form, human or cat.
In a very non-cat maneuver, the shifter delicately clawed a line down the rabbit’s belly, emptying the bits he wasn’t fond of out onto the forest floor. He would leave the offal for any other predators and scavengers, and bring his catch back to the inn for a proper cooking.
While he was hungry enough to eat it raw, and often did when he was out in the forest working all day, today he was patient enough to want it basted with spices. And vegetables. He had some lovely heirloom carrots & tomatoes purchased from a neighbor who ran a local farmstead.
Rabbit ragout. Mmmmm,yes.
A very non-snow-leopard dish, perhaps, but the thought of it made his cat’s mouth drool regardless.
Snatching his freshly gutted kill up in his teeth, he made his way back to the woodpile, tempted to shove his clothes into the cat-sized rucksack he’d made for himself, so that he could get home quicker.
Hell, why not? His wood cart was only half full. He’d have to come back out to fill it up tomorrow anyway, so leaving it here tonight made more sense anyway. And it wasn’t so cold out that he’d regret the momentary change back to mostly-human form so he could work the zippers on the rucksack.
A brief minute of cold and shrunken cat-balls later and he was strapped into the bag, his clothes and boots secured around him. He shifted fully back to cat form, shook himself to settle the adjustable elastic straps, snatched up the rabbit once more, and took off at a lazy, loping run through the trees.
Some minutes later and the soft, warm lights of the All Curled Up Bed & Breakfast welcomed Aspen home from the forest. He’d left a handful of lights on in the rear kitchen. They shone momentarily off of his luminous leopard’s gaze in the darkness.
A purr rumbled low in his throat. He set his rabbit down a moment, just at the tree-line, readjusting his bite around its neck. He’d been tasting the damn thing for the last twenty minutes and he wassoready to get it into a pot and get himself into a shower.
Hehungered.
He was definitely going to have to have a snack before he got cleaned up. He probably should have gotten two rabbits. One to eat in the woods & one to cook for alter.
As he approached the back porch, new lights swept across his peripherals and he halted, a mild growl of annoyance leaving his throat as he realized what it was:headlights.
A car door thunked shut, then another, and he heard a vaguely male voice coming from around the side of the building. The bell rang on the front door and he heard someone holler, “Halloooo??? I have a reservation!”
Acustomer?!Now?!
Aspen sighed and slunk into the kitchen through the dog-sized cat door he’d installed for himself. He grumbled in true cat fashion, shifting back to human and dropping the rabbit into the enormous farmer’s sink to await cooking.
Slipping out of his pack, he yanked up his pants, carefully pulling his tail back out the hole in the ass-end, but wasn’t ready to face another person just yet. He was feeling a bit tetchy at having his evening meal plans interrupted.
Maybe he would go ahead and put the rabbit in the oven. That wouldn’t take long.
Normally Aspen was a bundle of sunshine and joy when it came to customers, but with the winter storm warning, he’d been looking forward to a quiet weekend of puttering. He’dthoughthis few reservations had gotten his message about cancelling due to the weather, but apparentlysomeonehadn’t gotten the memo.
He quietly pulled down his dutch oven & swiftly finished skinning & cleaning the rabbit carcass. It was a nicely sized pelt in full winter white and it was in mostly in one piece, despite his earlier toothy grip on the neck. He could get at least one large-sized, cozy mitten out of that.
Setting the pelt aside & the freshly cleaned carcass into the stew pot, he swiftly tossed in carrots, onions, potatoes, garlic, fresh thyme & rosemary, a generous slug of wine, and half water, half beef stock to cover. A bay leaf. Marjoram. Salt & pepper.
That would do.
He put the covered dish in the oven, washed & put away the knife he’d used on the vegetables, grabbed a protein bar (which was a pitiful excuse for a snack when he’d been experiencingrabbitfor the last hour), and went to see what had happened to the wandering customer.
He felt a little guilty for leaving them alone for so long.
Pausing at the kitchen doorway, Aspen realized belatedly that he was shoeless, shirtless, and probably smelled like a hard day’s work. He turned back to dig the rest of his clothes out of his pack. His t-shirt smelled far worse than he did, so he skipped it and just tugged on his open flannel as he stepped out into the foyer.
Whoever was out there could deal with his shoeless, shirtless form. Hewasbilling the place as shifter-friendly, after all.
As the door into the foyer opened silently on its well-oiled hinges, Aspen’s sensitive ears twitched forward and he caught the tail end of the other person’s conversation. The snow cat paused behind the half-open door, unsure of how to proceed. An agitated male’s voice reaching him sharply,
“A BREAK?!YOU’RE BREAKING UP WITH ME BECAUSE YOU WANT TO GO TO IBIZA?!”
