3. Chapter Three
“Jesus! Shit, shit, shit!”
The bear flies through the air, a whimper sounding over the rain pelting my rental car.
Without thinking, I throw open the door and jump out of the car to check on him.
But the massive beast growls, low and threatening, and I realize with a start that it’s a freakin’ bear I’m trying to run toward.
Bad idea.
I drop back into my seat, slam the door, and pluck uselessly at my soaked blouse. I should’ve been driving slower. Paying more attention. He’s probably mad as all hell and I’m going out there to offer myself up on a dinner platter.
With a wary gaze, I watch as he struggles to stand. He seems to be testing out his limbs, occasionally stopping to showcase a flash of massive, sharp teeth in my direction.
Thank God, he’s still alive.
I clutch at my necklace with a clammy, shaking hand and reach for my phone with the other. Brain racing, I dial 911 to report the accident and see if they’ll be able to send someone to look after the bear who’s swaying on his feet and staring at me curiously through the window.
But when our gazes connect, I feel a shiver roll through me.
Those reflective eyes bore into mine and an odd sensation ricochets inside me. I have the weirdest feeling that he’s assessing me.
He’s seeing me.
But that’s weird.
Click.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hello. I’ve hit a bear with my car,” I say in a rush, pressing a hand to my throat and peering at the beast, watching as he snaps his great jaws and studies me through the window. The shock tripping through my veins slows as I gawk at him, awed. He’s majestic. “I’m okay, but I’m worried about the animal’s wellbeing. Are you able to send someone to my location? Maybe a vet?”
“Ma’am, is the bear still alive?”
“Yes.”
The bear unleashes an angry roar in my direction before turning and limping toward the tree line.
“He’s moving. Looks like he’s going into the forest. I guess he’s okay? But he was limping a bit.”
I bite my lower lip, wondering if I’ve doomed some poor animal to a lifetime of pain and suffering.
“If he’s moved off, that’s a good sign. They’re resilient creatures, but we’ll still send someone out to look for any signs of greater injury.”
A shiver dances on my spine as I remember how awareness flickered through me when we’d eyed each other, but I push aside the thought.
I’m obviously hopped up on adrenaline from having smacked into a freakin’ bear. I’m shaken up from seeing my first ever real-life bear in person. Usually, I only visualize them in my dreams or on the page when I write my epic shifter fantasy romances.
I jolt.
Shit, I’m not in Soltero Beach anymore. I’ve already passed through the magical barrier that separates the outside world from this one; I felt a ripple through the air and gooseflesh pop on my skin as I crossed the boundaries.
“What if it’s not an ordinary bear?” I blurt. “I’m not from this area, but I know the residents here can be special. What if I hit a person in their bear form? Would they be okay? Would they still bounce back?”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. If you’ve done any real damage and someone was injured, they wouldn’t likely leave the scene, and they’d surely seek medical attention. I’ll be sure to alert the area hospitals too, just in case.”
My panic eases some, and I remind myself I’m in a forested area. Real bears and bear shifters must surely roam the area intermingled. Maybe.
“Aside from the bear, are you alright? Is your vehicle operational?”
“I’m fine. A bit rattled, is all.” I fiddle with my necklace, rolling the gemstones between my fingers and staring at the space where the bear had been. “As for the car…”
I wince and climb out. Surveying the damage, I say a little prayer of thanks that I sprung for the insurance. I won’t be able to drive this through the winding path in the forest.
“Yeah, it might be best if you send someone. I can call the insurance company in the morning.”
“Great. I’ll send someone out to you and they’ll get you where you’re going if you’ll just wait in the safety of your vehicle. Make sure to turn on your blinkers, if you haven’t already, to alert any other drivers of your position.”
I jump back into the car, flip the switch to turn on my emergency lights, and rummage around for something to wipe the raindrops from my glasses but I freeze. Where am I headed?
On one hand, this has been an inauspicious start to a writing retreat. Maybe it’s an omen. A message from the universe that I’m meant to turn back, crawl back home, and give up.
But as the rainfall starts to slow, a fine mist rolls over the forest ground and spills onto the road. I lift my gaze and take in the breathtaking view of the dominating trees lining the streets, their branches thickening across the base of the mountain. Before me, a single road winds forward.
To my right, there’s a road sign and my answer.
Welcome to Fable Forest.
A gust of wind rattles my car, and I get the sense that it would be a huge mistake to turn back now. No. I’m too close to the end, and I want to move forward. Into the deep, into the dark.
Into the mysterious unknown magic that awaits.
“I booked a weeklong stay at Wilderwood Lodges and Campgrounds.” To connect with the wild and find inspiration. To escape the daily pressures of everyone breathing down my neck and asking where’s the last book and when is it coming out. To refill my bone-dry creativity well.
Because I have to.
Something inside me is drawing me here, luring me ever closer and calling me to press on.
Toward whatever waits for me.
Two nights into my stay at Wilderwood Camp, and I know three things.
First, this place is exactly as I’d pictured it. It’s easy to see how Bruno would’ve carved out a space for himself in these woods and feel so at ease under the heavy-laden boughs and the star-filled sky. It’s even affected me, giving me a calm, soothing vibe and a clear head.
Secondly, there’s something magical about being disconnected. Without the distraction of internet access and cell service, I feel more in touch with myself. Already, I’ve been able to immerse myself in the business of putting word after word down on the page, which feels good after suffering through several false starts.
Thirdly, I clearly have some kind of curse following me around. I thought it was bad enough that I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for months now. Then I thought it was bad luck that I’d gone and ran into a bear on my way here. But then, the first two cabins I’d been placed in turned out to be problematic—one, tailor-made for giant-sized folks, and another with coffin beds and ceiling-mounted poles for their vampire guests. I would have made do with the unusual bedding, but it was like sleeping on a slab of rock.
So now that I’m hauling my belongings into the third cabin in as many days, I can only assume there’s something up with my aura.
Janelle would tell me I need a cleanse. Sage my space, bathe in salt, burn some incense, and subsist on green juice for a week.
But I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.
Resettlement into a new cabin.
This cabin is so different from the others. The expansive window brings the outdoors in with an impressive view of the forest. Beyond, I can spot the edge of the mountain as it climbs high above the valley. The interior style, while somewhat sparse and utilitarian, is pristine and welcoming. Calm, soothing white linens, exposed wooden beams, and a fuzzy (presumably faux) fur rug spread out in front of an iron fireplace just begging for my toes to slide through it.
It’s the first place I’ve ever been that feels just right.
Like home.
I unload everything I’d dragged over from my last cabin and spend the next several hours doing what I always do when I’m under deadline and pushing myself to get into Get ‘Er Done mode. I roll up my sleeves, head to the kitchen to prep, cook, and bake.
While I go through the motions, I continue to think about my story and how I’m going to finish it while I’m here. Halfway through the manuscript, I got stuck. I’d painted myself into a hell of a corner, and now everyone and their mama is waiting on me to tell them how it ends. But I don’t know.
Yet.
The answer will come to me, though. I just need to make sure I’m fueled, rested, and ready for it. So, in a matter of hours, I’ve filled up the freezer with meals I can shove into the oven, loaded up the fridge with cut-up fruits and veggies ready to snack on, prepped a week’s worth of lunches, and baked my little heart out.
Now, I have no excuses left.
I’ve got food, an inspiring setting, and absolutely no distractions.
All that’s left is the work.
Snatching up a still-warm honey nut oatmeal muffin, I drag one of the rustic, handmade chairs surrounding the dining table over to the writing desk. In the dwindling twilight, I plug in my laptop and pull up my work in progress.
Bruno shifts as he runs. He’s out of time! His last chance to save his mate is fading fast.
I squirm in the seat, already feeling an ache in my neck. This first chair’s too high.
The second chair’s too low.
The third one is just right.
Until it collapses under me and I wind up sprawled out on the floor, a little shocked but otherwise okay.
“Oh, dammit. Why? Why does this keep happening?” I blow my bangs out of my eyes and resist the urge to cry. “No. This book will not defeat me. Okay, so it’s gotten off to a rough start, but that doesn’t mean I ought to throw in the towel.”
I grab another muffin and chuck the ruined chair into a corner. I’ll deal with it later. But tonight, maybe it’s better if I rest and tackle this in the morning.
After all, everything’s better after a good night’s sleep.
Not long later, I get ready and crawl into the simple wooden bed. The mattress is pillowy perfect, the blankets puffy and cool as I burrow down into it. There’s a scent here that’s vaguely familiar to me, something sweet like berries, and I can’t get enough.
Planting my face into it, I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and drift off.
I dream of a hulking bear with deeply soulful brown eyes running toward me. He jumps as I scream and crouch down, arms protecting my head, but when he knocks into me, we tumble together. Breathlessly, I wrestle back, holding my own as the massive creature affectionately nudges me with his huge head. Light bursts within me, a giddy feeling bubbling up when he snuggles against me. His coarse fur brushes against my skin, leaving goose flesh in its wake as my arms twine around its neck and he changes form.
But before his face can come into view, something pokes me awake.
I pry open my tired eyes and jump when I find an enormous, extremely handsome man towering over me. His face is scrunched up, his brows knitted together. A flash of sharp, white teeth appears from within his dark, thick beard, and I swear to God I can hear the man growl.
I may still be dreaming… but then, he bellows at me, loud and clear.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”