SCOTT
The rain didn’tlast long, but heavy clouds told Scott that it would be back. He was sore, hungry, and scared, worried that the rescue beacon might go unnoticed.Did Justin get our message? Can he locate us from the beacon? I don’t know if the tracker survived the wreck. There’s a lot of territory up here if they have to search everywhere.
His stomach rumbled. His coyote sniffed the air and didn’t register any people nearby, so they ventured from the cave.
Still like the idea of sleeping out here in our fur?Scott asked his coyote side.
It wasn’t too bad, although the bed is better,his coyote allowed.
Hungry,Scott thought.
That, we can handle. Watch this,his coyote replied. Every sense seemed sharper, letting him hear faint rustling in the brush and catch the scent of small creatures. Before the human side of his mind could react, his coyote was in motion, running at full speed and taking down a rabbit.
Lunch,his coyote said with pride, standing over his bloody prize.
Thanks.Scott did his best to retreat into his mind and shut down his human senses as his coyote swallowed the raw meat.We need energy to stay warm, he reminded himself. And if we have to walk out of the woods, we’ll need more than one rabbit.
Fresh rain puddles supplied water. They glanced up at the sky and figured it must be a little past midday, more than an hour since their crash.
If Justin got our text, he’d let the sheriff know. He’ll join the search party. Maybe they’ll see the smoke if the rain didn’t put out the fire completely. I hope we make it out of here so we can move to Fox Hollow and settle down with Justin.
Stop,his coyote side interrupted. We’re going to make it back and claim our mate. We’re ready for our happily ever after.
Scott did his best to focus on the growing connection with Justin and sent a silent, psychic call for help. He hoped it had grown strong enough to carry across the distance.
Our mate will know something is wrong,his coyote assured him.It’s part of being fated mates. We’ve been together enough our bond should have started. But we need to finish it.
Now that some of the shock of the crash had worn off, Scott assessed his injuries. His whole body felt bruised, his left leg ached, and his head throbbed where he had hit the inside of the plane. Several cuts oozed blood. Scott realized that being in the back had saved his life, since the nose of the plane had absorbed the worst of the impact.
Is it better to wait for a rescue party, and maybe have the bad guys come back, or try to make it out on our own and not be able to go the distance?Scott wondered.
His coyote lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. A new scent reached him, just before he heard the rustle of footsteps trying to be stealthy.
Cheap aftershave, sweat, hair oil. Definitely not the business suit guys who shot us down.
We have to hide!He slipped deeper into the brush and waited. His human side wanted to run far away from this new threat, but his coyote knew that he needed to know what he was up against and staying still was better.
Two rough-looking men outfitted in camo jackets, flannel shirts, and canvas pants came from the south. They carried rifles, and one of the men had a crossbow.
It’s not hunting season,Scott reasoned.Are these poachers?
“I don’t see anyone. I think the bosses are just paranoid.” The speaker was shorter and huskier than the other man and didn’t look as enthusiastic about being there.
“They wanted us to clear out anyone who got too nosy.” The second man looked several years older and carried himself like he was used to being in charge. “For what they’re paying us, I don’t care if we have to boot my grandma.” He paused. “And if they really are mobsters, I’m not going to tell them ‘No.’”
“You’ve been watching too many movies,” the first man argued.
“They sure act like mobsters.”
“Those guys knew about shifters,” his companion said. “At least if we shoot one of those, maybe we can keep the fur.”
“The pelts should be worth enough to pay for beer money,” the leader replied. “And if there’s one ‘kai-ote’ around, there’s probably a whole pack.”
Pelts. Bad enough they’d kill us, they want to skin us and steal our fur,his coyote repeated, and Scott’s stomach turned at the thought.
“Then let’s get hunting,” the second man said. “The sooner we get what we came for, the quicker we can go home and get warm.”
Two other equally rough-looking men joined the poachers.
