Never meeting your fated mate meant no lifelong partner, no joy of children, only an eternity of loneliness… It was the cruellest fate for a beaver shifter. Just thinking about it made me shiver with dread.
It will happen, I told myself, a common mantra these days. I had to keep optimistic. There was no point in wasting all my time worrying when there were things to be done.
Case in point, replacing that stupid stick with something better. Maybe… bigger?
That gave me a new idea. I peered across the opposite shore, scanning the trees.
"Aha!"
There it was. The perfect birch tree with its leaves swaying pleasantly in the breeze. It would make a lovely finishing touch to my dam.
I had to have it.
Without wasting a moment, I swam across the water and scrambled onto land. The birch was a fairly young tree with a thin circumference, so it wouldn't take me long to fell it.
I rubbed my paws together, eager to get to work, then sank my powerful front incisors into the sweet wood. The following ritual was instinctive. I gnawed through the solid wood like it was paper (well, I guess technically it was), shearing off scraps that fell in a pile around me. I grew excited. I could already imagine how beautiful this birch would look inside the dam! I hoped my future mate would find it as lovely as I did.
My imagination ran wild as my teeth worked. What kind of shifter would my fated mate be? A beaver like me perhaps? I knew there were plenty of different species of shifter living in the wildlife preserve, so the possibilities seemed endless. Maybe I would be fated to a different kind of shifter, and our kids would be a mix of us both.
My heart warmed at the thought of children. Like most beaver omegas, I yearned for kids of my own. Not having them was a hole in my heart—right next to the hole my lack of fated mate left.
Now I was just being dramatic. I chuckled to myself and got back to work.
I fell into a trance, chewing away at the wood as fantasies of my future mate danced in my head. I thought of all the things we would do together. Swimming, taking walks along the shore, doing little repairs around the lodge, laughing together, taking care of children… Just thinking about it made my chest feel warm. I wanted it so badly.
I heard the familiar thunderous groan of wood just before I felt an empty click between my teeth. I stepped back and watched as the tree swayed, arching forward with a loud crack. Pride beamed inside me. It was so satisfying to watch the tree you'd worked so hard on finally be felled.
As I watched it fall, I realized the tree was much taller than I originally assumed. I suspected it would crash into the water, but now I saw that the tips of the branches were going to hit land on the opposite shoreline.
Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, seeing as most animals and other shifters were smart enough to notice a falling tree when they saw and heard one.
Unfortunately, the figure walking there apparently didn't.
Their appearance was obscured by distance and the branches of the falling tree. All I discerned was a blur of crimson red.
"Watch out!" I called loudly, hoping it was enough to get the stranger's attention.
A cold flash of fear made my pelt prickle. What if they were deaf and couldn't hear me? There was no way I could swim over and reach them in time.
The person gasped, then shrieked. Through the chaos of the falling branches, I watched them wave their arms frantically and fall backwards to their rear end.
"Ow,” they said in a loud whine.
Relieved, I released a sigh. I felt bad that they fell down, but I was grateful the tree didn't hit them.
"Are you okay?" I called across the water.
The distance made it hard to see them clearly, but they picked through branches blocking their path in a disgruntled fashion. They shouted, "Watch where you're cutting down trees next time, jerk!"
I paused, my skin tingling in a strange way. The voice was decidedly masculine, but it sounded whimsical and fluid like a flowing waterfall. It was beautiful.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you," I called back.
All he uttered was a frustrated huff that was loud enough to hear across the water, then he didn't say anything else. He detoured into the trees, presumably to get further away from me and my falling trees. That flash of red was the last glimpse I had of him.
I stood there staring at nothing for a long time. It wasn't like me to lose my focus during a physical task. But there was a wisp of something in the air, a scent so wonderful that I found myself glued to the spot. I raised my head and inhaled a deep breath, trying to catch the last scraps of it, but it was like a ghost, here and gone.
I glanced down at the stump of the birch tree. Tiny wood dust particles floated in the air in the wake of all the rushing motion. That must've been what the good smell was, right?
