Chapter 2 Ragout for Two
RAGOUT FOR TWO
There was a rabbit hiding in the brush. Aspen could smell it. He hadn’t hunted properly in a while. He’d been too busy with renovations at the inn. It had consumed him entirely for months now.
Not that he minded. The inn was his and that’s what mattered. He’d worked hard for it and would continue to do so for as long as it took. Though he wouldn’t mind a day off now and then.
His stomach rumbled at the scent of the prey creature part of the beauty of the property he’d chosen.
He sat on the tree trunk to unlace his boots, anticipation sharpening his fingernails as he did so, making the unlacing a bit of a delicate process.
Kicking them off, he twitched his ears around, checking one last time for onlookers before shimmying out of his pants.
Their loose slide-thwump down onto his boots was mildly stalled as he pulled his tail free from the custom-fitted hole in the rear.
The cool air shivered over his skin, heavily-muscled legs tensing and bunching with excitement, the sudden cold perking up his nipples & making his cock shrink rapidly. His tail tip twitched.
“Yeesh! Definitely going to snow later,” he muttered, rubbing up and down his arms as he danced around for a moment, waiting for his fur to sprout.
Shifting was second nature, but sometimes his body had to be reminded which nature he wanted in the moment.
The teeth came first, sharp points pushing through sensitive gums and he shook his head, winceing.
A hiss escaped him as his body hair sprouted with increasing rapidity, grey, white, and black fur replacing the much-less-obvious human hair in a thick layer.
His bones shrank and he let out a little yowling cat’s growl as he fell to all fours, claws digging in to the frozen earth as his spine arched and his knees popped loudly and suddenly in the opposite direction.
Aspen was thankful for what was perhaps the billionth time that his shift wasn’t painful….just really unpleasantly visceral.
The number one question from non-shifters on forums was always the same: What does it feel like to shift?
Aspen always kept his answer simple: WEIRD AS FUCK. It was hard to describe what it felt like to have your organs and bones rearranging themselves inside your body, while you were conscious.
Now, fully shifted into his snow leopard form, he shook himself vigorously, long tail becoming extra floofy as he resettled back into his bones. One adorably rounded ear twitched, listening for his prey and a paw lifted as he shifted, ready to take off in any direction at a moment’s notice.
The tip of his tail moved mildly as he waited, almost frozen in place, if you didn’t count his overly active senses taking in the environment around him.
The spicy scent of pine and fir hit him in a pleasant wave, undertones of musty leaf litter and the sweet smell of maple leaves following.
He opened his mouth, huffing in the crisp, cold air, seeking that one smell above all others: dinner.
A tiny noise caught his attention & he padded silently in that direction. He circled, keeping downwind. He moved slowly, patiently, his black and white fur blending in surprisingly well with the dusky shadows of the forest greenery around him.
Another tiny noise, a snuffling that would have been inaudible to non-shifter ears.
He froze mid-step, luminous blue eyes fixated on a spot in the underbrush mere feet away from him. One more slow step, then freeze. Another step… He gathered his feet beneath himself, head low, ears forward as his muscles bunched to spring.
The rabbit in question sat up suddenly, munching on a fallen leaf, its long, velvety ears flopping lazily this way & that as it listened for predators. It froze mid-chew, and Aspen thought it was about to spring away, but it merely dropped back down to snuffle out another tasty-looking leaf.
The snow leopard pounced, jaws closing swiftly on its prey, quickly cutting off that horrible cry rabbits made when they died.
Aspen flinched at the brief, horrendous squeal. Sudden, loud noises were never his favorite. A disadvantage from having supernaturally good hearing, especially when in cat form.
As silence fell once more and the sounds of the underbrush shifted back from the dead silence of a forest gone quiet in fear to that of the comfortable rustlings of life beneath the leaves, Aspen licked his lips in contentment.
This was what he loved. This freedom to be himself in either form, human or cat.
In a very non-cat maneuver, the shifter delicately clawed a line down the rabbit’s belly, emptying the bits he wasn’t fond of out onto the forest floor. He would leave the offal for any other predators and scavengers, and bring his catch back to the inn for a proper cooking.
While he was hungry enough to eat it raw, and often did when he was out in the forest working all day, today he was patient enough to want it basted with spices. And vegetables. He had some lovely heirloom carrots & tomatoes purchased from a neighbor who ran a local farmstead.
Rabbit ragout. Mmmmm, yes.
A very non-snow-leopard dish, perhaps, but the thought of it made his cat’s mouth drool regardless.
Snatching his freshly gutted kill up in his teeth, he made his way back to the woodpile, tempted to shove his clothes into the cat-sized rucksack he’d made for himself, so that he could get home quicker.
Hell, why not? His wood cart was only half full. He’d have to come back out to fill it up tomorrow anyway, so leaving it here tonight made more sense anyway. And it wasn’t so cold out that he’d regret the momentary change back to mostly-human form so he could work the zippers on the rucksack.
A brief minute of cold and shrunken cat-balls later and he was strapped into the bag, his clothes and boots secured around him.
He shifted fully back to cat form, shook himself to settle the adjustable elastic straps, snatched up the rabbit once more, and took off at a lazy, loping run through the trees.
Some minutes later and the soft, warm lights of the All Curled Up Bed & Breakfast welcomed Aspen home from the forest. He’d left a handful of lights on in the rear kitchen. They shone momentarily off of his luminous leopard’s gaze in the darkness.
A purr rumbled low in his throat. He set his rabbit down a moment, just at the tree-line, readjusting his bite around its neck. He’d been tasting the damn thing for the last twenty minutes and he was so ready to get it into a pot and get himself into a shower.
He hungered.
He was definitely going to have to have a snack before he got cleaned up. He probably should have gotten two rabbits. One to eat in the woods & one to cook for alter.
As he approached the back porch, new lights swept across his peripherals and he halted, a mild growl of annoyance leaving his throat as he realized what it was: headlights.
A car door thunked shut, then another, and he heard a vaguely male voice coming from around the side of the building. The bell rang on the front door and he heard someone holler, “Halloooo??? I have a reservation!”
A customer?! Now?!
Aspen sighed and slunk into the kitchen through the dog-sized cat door he’d installed for himself. He grumbled in true cat fashion, shifting back to human and dropping the rabbit into the enormous farmer’s sink to await cooking.
Slipping out of his pack, he yanked up his pants, carefully pulling his tail back out the hole in the ass-end, but wasn’t ready to face another person just yet. He was feeling a bit tetchy at having his evening meal plans interrupted.
Maybe he would go ahead and put the rabbit in the oven. That wouldn’t take long.
Normally Aspen was a bundle of sunshine and joy when it came to customers, but with the winter storm warning, he’d been looking forward to a quiet weekend of puttering.
He’d thought his few reservations had gotten his message about cancelling due to the weather, but apparently someone hadn’t gotten the memo.
He quietly pulled down his dutch oven & swiftly finished skinning & cleaning the rabbit carcass. It was a nicely sized pelt in full winter white and it was in mostly in one piece, despite his earlier toothy grip on the neck. He could get at least one large-sized, cozy mitten out of that.
Setting the pelt aside & the freshly cleaned carcass into the stew pot, he swiftly tossed in carrots, onions, potatoes, garlic, fresh thyme & rosemary, a generous slug of wine, and half water, half beef stock to cover. A bay leaf. Marjoram. Salt & pepper.
That would do.
He put the covered dish in the oven, washed & put away the knife he’d used on the vegetables, grabbed a protein bar (which was a pitiful excuse for a snack when he’d been experiencing rabbit for the last hour), and went to see what had happened to the wandering customer.
He felt a little guilty for leaving them alone for so long.
Pausing at the kitchen doorway, Aspen realized belatedly that he was shoeless, shirtless, and probably smelled like a hard day’s work.
He turned back to dig the rest of his clothes out of his pack.
His t-shirt smelled far worse than he did, so he skipped it and just tugged on his open flannel as he stepped out into the foyer.
Whoever was out there could deal with his shoeless, shirtless form. He was billing the place as shifter-friendly, after all.