Chapter Four
You don’t need any more strawberries. His raccoon seemed very adamant about it, but the problem was, Marty thought that he did. Strawberries were seasonal – it was unheard of getting them in the middle of winter – so to Marty, they were a treat that should be enjoyed while he could.
“I’ll get some vegetables that I can roast as well.” The fire had been out when Marty had woken up, and he’d spent the better part of an hour getting it going again. “Hot veggies followed by delicious fresh strawberries. It will be a meal fit for a king, or at least for me. I promise we’ll get the vegetables first.”
Stripping off his hoodie, Marty shivered with the sudden chill on his skin as he dropped his pants and kicked off his sneakers. His raccoon was quick to come through, thank goodness, stopping to sniff and rub himself against the bottom of the nearest tree.
Food. We need food, Marty urged his furry half. Those strawberries were a full day behind him, and while he knew from experience it was possible to live on one tiny meal a day, keeping a positive mood was easier with a full belly. He could get water – the house he was camping behind had a pool, complete with an outside tap, which was handy - but food was a constant need, and Marty couldn’t remember the last time he had felt full.
The raccoon hurried to the tree line and then hesitated. Is someone there? Marty got a sinking sensation, seeing his strawberries fading out of reach. But no, it seemed the cameras from the night before had made the raccoon wary. Within a minute, his furry half hurried to the nearest vegetable garden, using his claws to climb up the wooden slabs containing the garden.
Marty had always been proud of his animal spirit. The slightly larger than average animal worked hard when he had a focus. Three trips were made between the vegetable garden and their small camp – it’s not like the raccoon had a shopping cart, although Marty amused himself imagining a small cart with red wheels that the raccoon could push between the garden and their camp.
On the third trip back to the camp, the raccoon sat down by the fire cauldron.
No, no, no, no, Marty pleaded. Can we at least go back and make sure none of the other strawberries are dying? We’ll just look. Just a little peek.
The raccoon held his front paws up to the cauldron.
You can’t be cold. You have all that fur. Look at how rich and lustrous your coat is.
The raccoon turned his head, looking over one shoulder and then the other. It was true. He had a lovely coat.
Come on. Marty knew he sounded desperate. Just take me to the hot house. If I do take anymore strawberries, I won’t be doing it as a raccoon. I’ll need my hands. But you’re such a super sneaky shifter, you can get me there without us being seen. See how amazing you are.
Okay, the raccoon not only had a lovely coat, and yes, he was super sneaky, which was his secret superpower, but he was also susceptible to flattery, which his human half knew only too well. If we get caught...
We’ll be really quick. Lightning fast. You got us such a wonderful haul of lovely, healthy vegetables, we have to have something for dessert.
Dropping his paws back down to the ground, the raccoon turned around. He was hungry, too. He could hunt for insects or even grab the odd mouse or two if he was lucky, but his human half got really squeamish about that sort of thing. Strawberries would be a delicious treat.
Running back along the familiar trail, the raccoon hesitated by the tree line again. There was something different in the air, and he couldn’t work out what it was. But he didn’t scent any threat in the immediate area.
Keeping his body low to the ground, the raccoon ran toward the nearest garden bed frame. From there, he sprinted to the next one, stopping to ensure he was hidden from the house and those scary cameras before sprinting again.
The longest run was from the edge of the raised garden and the hothouse itself. His fur rose around his neck, and the raccoon stopped, sure he was being watched. But as he stood up on his hind legs, peering and scenting the air, he couldn’t pick up anything unfamiliar.
Those strawberries could be rotting. Hurry. Sprinting as fast as he could, the raccoon ran for the side of the hothouse where the door was. Standing up again, he could see a whole heap of new strawberries arranged as if they were left just for him.
This doesn’t feel right. But Marty was already pushing through, and the raccoon huddled inside of his human half, terrified they were going to be caught.
“This place has to be magic. Look at all those strawberries.”
Don’t take them all, the raccoon warned. We only need a few.
“I’m always careful, just like you are,” Marty said happily as he quickly picked over the fruit. He deliberately left the bigger ones, taking the smaller and sweeter fruit that wouldn’t be missed as readily as the bigger ones. Then, with his little haul in his hand, Marty hurried out of the hothouse, making sure to close the door behind him. Oh, my goodness, it’s chilly tonight, he thought as he sprinted for the tree line.