Really?
When we are safe, I’m going to need a long hard look at exactly what is wrong with me lately and a private moment with my hand apparently.
I force the awareness aside and drive. Finally we make it to the barrier where we’ll have to leave the truck. It’ll be quicker if I shift and carry Vera. Less dangerous too. Four feet are always better than two in these conditions. “I’m going to shift again. First I’ll unpack the gear. You strap it to my back and climb on.”
She nods. We don’t need to exchange many words. Instead we work together to get it done.
I have to leave the larger supplies in the truck, but I’m able to carry blankets, food, water and two warm sleeping bags as well as Vera on my back.
The snow is growing deeper every moment, but I forge through. In this form I can clamber over the collapsed earth and onto the trail on the other side, and we make it down to the hot springs and the nearby cave which has been turned into an emergency shelter.
The cave itself is an old lava tube that was hollowed out with machinery in the seventies before sustainability and preserving the natural landscape was a thing. There’s a reinforced timberstructure at the entrance, and further in there’s a door which we keep locked now so park visitors won’t come stumbling in and get lost in one of the tunnels.
Vera slides from my back as I stop, and I nose at my trousers until she gets the idea and finds my keys. I shift into my beast form, though it means I have to hunch over under the overhang. At least my fur partly protects my modesty.
I’m clumsy with the keys because my paws are so much bigger than my human hands, but eventually I get the door unlocked and we hurry in out of the cold.
The main cavern has a low ceiling, and the walls are blackened from smoke. Inside there’s a battery powered lamp and some firewood stashed under a tarpaulin. There are food supplies and a first aid kit, which we hopefully won’t need. It’s already warmer, since the cave naturally stays at a stable temperature most of the year, but not warm by any means. To my surprise, Vera strips off her beanie and jacket. “Is there an emergency radio?”
We’re as safe as we can be now, but she’s pacing back and forth across the open space of the cavern as if she’s restless to run back out into the snow.
I shift back, keeping watch on her as I hurriedly dress. “You feeling OK? Give me your hands.”
“I’m fine.” When I go to her, she stops pacing and places her hands in mine. They’re cold, but when I check, she has sensation in each fingertip and good dexterity and strength of grip. No frostbite. She’s not showing the classic signs of hypothermia except shedding clothing when it’s really not that warm.
She’s definitely edgy. Perhaps she’s just feeling the forced proximity of our situation like I am now that we’re enclosed together in a small dark space.
I get a fire started and encourage her to drink some water, which she takes eagerly.
“I have a radio in my pack. Once the storm settles, we can go out and check if we have a signal, but for now we should stay put.”
Vera runs a hand through her hair, making it stick out wildly from her head. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Bas?”
I frown. “Vera, I’ve known you most of your life, and I can tell you’re not fine.”
“Yes, I am. I’m just claustrophobic is all. The small space is making me nervous.”
I snort. “Oh sure, so that’s why when we were kids you hid from me and Riley in the toy box in my room until your parents were ready to call a search party out to find you.”
She opens her mouth and shuts it again, and a nervous tic starts up in my jaw.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
Frustrated, I stride forward and grab her arm, turning her to face me only to notice her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated. Then the scent of her hits me like a motherfucking avalanche off Mt. Everest—sweet, succulent citrus and caramel. She’s dripping with it, clothed in it. It’s so strong any trace of the horrid perfume she wore is swallowed up, and my mouth waters.
Her eyes widen, and I feel her tremble in my grip. “I think—I think I’m going into heat.”
NINE
Vera
Bas drops my arm, staring at me in horror. “Heat? But Vera you—you’re not—” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Are you sure?”
“How can I be sure? It’s never happened to me before! All I know is that Mom warned me at Christmas, and I didn’t listen. I didn’t believe her.”
“Slow down, slow down. Why did your mom think you were going into heat then?”
