Page 4 of Mating Season
I stood beside him, staring out at the wolves pacing in a frantic fury around the pool. A group of them were coming down from the makeshift fighting cage. John offered me the beer. I took a swig of the warm brew before handing it back.
“Looks like Chad finally woke up.”
3
Aspen
Those assholes.
I pulled the chain looped through the door handles of my nest-crate, cursing the humans who put it there. There wasn’t even a lock. If it’d been looser, I could have pushed open the doors and seen it hanging there.
Once the doors were open, I took a step back to assess the situation. My crate was in the middle of the woods with nothing around which we’d already established. The ground wasn’t disturbed in the immediate area besides a broken branch from the nearest tree. A single tire tread from a dirt bike circled out front. The track was fresh. It must have been made within the past few hours.
I looked around again, trying to recreate how this happened.
The opening in the trees above was enough for a cargo plane to lower down the crate. It would’ve been sitting here for at least a few days based on the leaves and soil buildup that settled around the bottom. Then a single dirt bike rider could have dropped me off while I was unconscious.
I glanced down at the chain in my hand, imagining Molly’s face as she’d given the order to secure the doors.
This was personal.
I turned and flipped off the trail cameras mounted to the trees that sat recording me like this was some wildlife documentary.
Molly is dead once I get my teeth into her.
Agreed.
But the cameras meant the show was still filming and the strategic way my nest was placed made me realize this couldn’t be just about me. I’d put money on the rest of the females being out here with their nests and hoped they didn’t get chained in like I did.
I knew I should probably go find them, but first things first, I needed to take care of myself.
It was too hot out here even with dirty snow patches in the shade of the trees and I was sweating. There was a weird pang in my chest. I rubbed it absentmindedly as I looked around my damaged nest.
The cheap bedframe and shelves were broken, but the candle survived the drop. My gram’s quilt had a rip in it from where the bedframe caught and popped the stitches. Thank the Goddess it would be an easy fix because I couldn’t handle if it was ruined. I grabbed my flannel shirt and tied it around my waist, grateful Jesse insisted on me wearing my tennis shoes to the match.
Speaking of the cat…
I picked up the page and smoothed out his letter, rereading the words again.
I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.
Please don’t let Ranger kill me.
-Jesse
Ranger is definitely going to kill him,my wolf thought smugly. Unlike her, I wasn’t blaming Jesse for this mess. He’d known in advance and hadn’t told me, but our ‘situationship’ was weird anyway. At least he hadn’t completely abandoned me.
I opened the plastic bin and dug through the contents. Three water bottles, a five-pound bag of jerky, and some energy bars sat on top. I shifted the food to the side, finding a few lighters, some safety pins, 550 cord, and a spool of 1/8” braided stainless steel wire.
No way.My wolf’s eyes widened along with my own.
Jesse didn’t strike me as the type of cat who knew how to trap, but maybe he’d asked around. For this alone, I’d make sure Ranger didn’t kill him.
I uncapped a bottle of water–checking the seal again which was second nature at this point–and guzzled down some of the liquid. Things were looking up. With the wire and cord, I could set some decent defenses and feed myself for a few days longer than the packaged food would last.
My shelter was a little rough, but there was a roof over my head to keep the elements out. I’d camped in worse places with my papa growing up.He’d taught me to set snares with less supplies. We’d survived then and I’d survive now.
I just needed to find a water source. There was no reason to purify it because my wolf’s gut could handle the parasites, but I’d feel better once I got my basics down.