Chapter 8 – BEAU
BEAU
The forest calls to me when I’m feeling like this.
Whether it’s the pull of nature or my bear trying to get his own way, something encourages me to return to my animal form and embrace my primitive self. It’s tempting me to run away from my problems, or to at least forget them for a while.
Desperate for some peace and quiet in my head, I let it lead me into the mountains.
Eagerness for solitude has me abandoning the truck at the end of a logging road about six miles north of town. It’s as remote as I can find without straying back into Lennox clan territory. There, I won’t have the alone time I desperately crave.
Careful to make sure the area really is deserted, I strip and shove my clothes under a tarp in the bed of my truck before tipping my head back and letting the blissful silence wash over me.
Fresh air in my lungs and a clear sky overhead encourages me to give in to the shift, letting the bear that’s always just below the surface of my skin take control.
The change comes fast when I'm this wound up, my bear forcing his way through in seconds, bones cracking and reforming, muscles thickening, and skin splitting to make way for the dense brown fur that covers me, snout to tail.
The relief is instantaneous. In this form, the relentless noise in my head goes away.
My tortured brain stops replaying the look on Lisa’s face when I told her to leave me alone at the precinct, or the scent of her desire when we met at Mrs. Holloway’s.
I no longer hear her voice shake when she tried to apologise, or the way she begged me for more as I drove into her, over and over, hands pinned above her head with her lithe body stretched out beneath me.
My bear doesn't care about subtleties or regrets. His wants and desires are much simpler. The outdoors. Food. Space to run. To be left alone.
Except today, there’s a heaviness to his thoughts. He likes her a lot. More than a lot, it’s enough that I’m scared to consider what she might really be to us. There’s no point. She’s not going to change her mind.
But they say bears are stubborn for a reason. He’s simultaneously holding a grudge and determined to get her back at the same time, and it’s making my brain hurt.
So, I’m out here, giving him the next best thing by dropping to all fours and charging through the undergrowth.
I crash through leafy ferns and saplings, my massive body tearing a path through dense vegetation, enjoying the snag of thorns on my long brown coat and the sting as they scrape my thick skin.
The ground is soft from last week's rain, and my claws sink deep with every stride, pads spreading, grounding me further with each thunderous step and hurling clods of earth behind me as I pick up speed.
A fallen, rotting pine blocks my path, and I don't slow down, just barrel through it, the trunk crumbling with a satisfying crunch that echoes off the hillside.
It feels good, almost too good.
I find another impressive tree, raking my claws down the bark until it shreds, and the exposed wood underneath gleams pale and wet.
Then another. The destruction is mindless yet satisfying, and every impact is a release valve for the pressure that's been building since Red walked into that hotel bar, and my bear whispered that she’s ours.
Spurred on by adrenaline, I attack another trunk, peeling the bark off in long strips that curl at my feet, before barrelling onward, breath puffing out in front of me in clouds of white steam.
I cover miles without thinking about direction, letting instinct guide me deeper into the mountains where the trees grow closer together while the ground becomes rockier.
A creek appears, and I crash through it, the icy water shocking against my belly, but I keep going, lungs burning and muscles singing, until my frustration starts to ebb away and something calmer, more reasonable, takes its place.
Acceptance. Much as my bear might want to believe otherwise, Lisa’s not her. My fated mate would never cast me aside so callously.
It sucks, but it’s better to know now and move on.
By the time I circle back toward the truck, the light has almost completely faded and the shadows between the trees are cast by moonlight rather than the sun. I shift back, faster than the first, pull on my jeans and boots, and reach into the cab for my phone.
Eleven missed calls. All from Marcus.
The even temperament I clawed back on my run evaporates as I hit redial, already reaching for my keys. Marcus is a man of few words. There’s no way he’s just calling to chat.
"Where the hell have you been?" Marcus doesn't bother with a greeting. This is Marcus, the sheriff talking, not my brother, and he has no time for greetings. "I've been trying to reach you for two fucking hours."
Something’s definitely wrong.
"What's going on?"
I brace myself for bad news, expecting it to be a wayward brother caught up in mischief, or another of Dad’s devious schemes or dodgy dealings coming to light to cause us more grief. But it’s worse than that.
"Missing child. A seven-year-old girl somewhere near Miller’s cabins."
There’s a brief pause, and while Marcus speaks to someone beside him, I listen to the radio chatter in the background relaying coordinates. Marcus’s tone is grim when he gets back on the phone.
"It's been over six hours now, Beau. Black River has requested back up, so I’m on my way from Grey Ridge with some K9 support, but soon it’s going to get too dark out there for them to keep going…"
The alpha bear inside me pushes forward, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive, as an immediate urge to track and care for her takes over.
A child that age, unfamiliar with the wilderness and in dropping temperatures with nightfall approaching, every minute counts. As does every pair of hands.
"Where are they set up?"
I pull a map out of my glovebox and locate the rough area Miller’s rental cabins are located.
"North trailhead. John Taylor from Black River PD is running the search, but they've got nothing so far." He exhales, frustrated. "The place is crawling with volunteers and every cop within fifty miles. The scent trail is buried under a hundred pairs of boots."
That means Lisa will be out there.
The humans are doing their best, but the more people stomping through those woods, the less chance Marcus and his team of shifters, willing to humiliate themselves by pretending to be K9s, will be able to follow the trail.
Running a finger along the map between my location and theirs, and excluding the area I’ve already covered during my run, it makes the most sense to cover the area furthest out, close to where I am.
Any scent trail should be clean, and at the very least, I can rule out the child making it this far before Marcus and the wolves get here.
“On it. I’ll send you my location. Come in from the east ridge, and I’ll work down to meet you somewhere out there.”
I can cover ground in ways no search volunteer in an orange vest ever could, and my nose is stronger than anything the human search and rescue unit can offer, on four legs or two.
With a gruff goodbye to my brother, worry making both of us dispense with unnecessary pleasantries, I return to the bed of the truck and pull out some supplies. Not for me. My bear is perfectly equipped for nights out in the cold mountains. But in case I find her.
Shoving what I need into a backpack, I take off at a jog, ducking under branches and skirting massive trees. I reach deep inside, calling on all the ancient power that thrums inside me, and beg it to help me, to seek out that little girl and tell me where to go.
Because these woods are no place for a human at night, let alone a scared and helpless child.
“I’m coming,” I tell her, steely determination settling inside me. She’s out here. We just have to get to her in time.