Sam

After a hearty breakfast, I said goodbye to my new friend and headed south toward Two Forks. Inside, my bear was clawing at me, anxious to be freed, but I had to wait until I was well away from human eyes before I allowed that. In the aftermath of the storm, there weren’t many people out and about, but it only took one with a cell phone to make trouble. The fewer humans who knew about shifters, the better.

I let my bear loose a couple miles from the motel. The closer I got to civilization, the more our anticipation grew. He was so intent on getting to Two Forks that we almost stumbled right out onto the road where a two-man crew was using a cherry picker to work on some downed power lines. No doubt they had seen bears before, but probably not many carrying around a decent-sized rucksack from L.L. Bean.

I adjusted my path and detoured around them, continuing south. When I reached the outskirts of the small town at the base of the mountain, I wrangled my animal back and changed into my human form once again. He was too excited to retreat completely, though. Thankfully, the sun was bright enough to justify the wraparound shades that would hide the unusual shade of gold my eyes turned when my bear was so close to the surface.

Two Forks was tiny, even for a small mountain town. It was easy to see where it got its name. One main road ran through the center of town, branching off at either end. Ancient-looking, gloomy buildings rose up on either side, none of them above two stories. Two Forks, like several other towns in the area, had probably begun as a mining town back in the day and had somehow managed to endure.

The diner Kayden had visited was easy enough to find. It was the only one like it and sat off on the right, standing out with its big windows and retro chrome accents.

Delicious smells wafted through the air, enticing my bear and rousing our insatiable appetite once again.

“Afternoon.” An older man looked up from the book he was reading as I entered, the tinkling of bells above the doorway heralding my arrival. He was on the smaller side, wiry, with graying, reddish hair.

“Afternoon.” I took a seat at the counter and gladly accepted the coffee he poured for me. As much as I wanted to ask about Chloe right away, I knew starting off with a bunch of questions was going to have the guy clamming up pretty fast. Small town folk were friendly enough, but protective of their own. That was something I understood, because me and mine were the same way.

“The special’s a chili burger. Comes with fries and slaw.”

“Sounds good.”

I sensed his curiosity, but he was playing a game, just like I was, biding his time until he could make a sale. In the meantime, I occupied myself by taking stock of my surroundings.

It was a clean, nice place. A couple guys sat in one of the booths, eyeing me. I pegged them for locals and nodded once in polite greeting, then moved on until I found what I was looking for.

There it was, between the windows. The painting of my bear, his golden eyes staring back at me. It looked even better than it had in Kayden’s picture.

“Hell of a storm we had,” the older man commented, sliding a large, white plate in front of me and drawing my attention back to him. The aroma of seasoned ground beef hit my nose. If it tasted half as good as it smelled, I was going to enjoy it.

“Yeah, it was.”

“I guess the roads are open now.”

“Some,” I confirmed vaguely. “Passed some power company crews on the way in.” It was inane banter, a necessary part of the progression.

I bit into the burger, which was even better than it smelled, and told him so. He seemed pleased.

“That’s a nice picture you got there,” I told him.

“Yeah.” He beamed with pride.

“Local artist?”

“Yeah, that’s our Chloe.”

Bingo. “Small world. I had a friend named Chloe once, back when we were kids. She liked drawing bears, too.”

“That so?”

Outwardly, his expression remained friendly, but I sensed a slight change in the air around us. He not only knew the artist, but he was protective of her. My bear rumbled, feeling kind of protective, too. I covered it up by clearing my throat and sipping my coffee.

He narrowed his eyes. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold, but it was gone quickly. I drew in a discreet breath, and that was when I detected it—a subtle hint of fox.

If he was a fox shifter, then no doubt he had already figured out what I was. Foxes were known for being clever and having an excellent sense of smell. As a shifter, he would also have an inkling of what would have brought a bear down out of the mountains to inquire about a specific female.

I nodded and chewed, then wiped my mouth. “Tiny thing, more hair than girl. Big brown eyes. Quiet.”

“Sounds about right.”

“She moved away when we were still young,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, wonder what happened to her. I’d give anything to see her again.”

Greenish-yellow eyes stared back at me. “Hm. Well, son, you might just get your wish. Our Chloe usually stops in at some point. If you’ve got the time to stick around, that is.”

“I do.”

“Then I guess I’ll be getting you a slice of pie to chase that burger.”

Over pie and coffee, we talked about a lot of things. I knew it was a kind of test, an interrogation of sorts, but I didn’t mind. Chloe inspired those kinds of feelings in most people, her piece of shit father excluded. I was glad she had someone looking out for her.

I told the man—O’Malley—about the lodge and, as it turned out, he had heard of it.

I must have passed muster, because eventually, he started talking a little bit about Chloe. The more he shared, the more I was convinced it was my girl.

The dinner rush, which consisted of a dozen or so local townsfolk, came and went. By the time he cleared away the last plate, his eyes were filled with concern and his brow was furrowed. I noticed he kept glancing out the window, looking at a house across the street. I started looking, too. As darkness fell, a light came on, on the first floor, but the second floor remained dark.

I had already figured out that must be where Chloe lived. I had also figured out that something wasn’t right. O’Malley had been wiping the same spot on the counter for nearly five minutes.

“She’s usually here by now,” he muttered, as much to himself as to me. “It’s not like Chloe not to stop in and say hello, though sometimes she does lose track of time when she’s painting.”

Unless she was working with night-vision goggles, that wasn’t likely, and he knew it.

My bear was growing anxious again, wanting to go over and see for ourselves. “Maybe you should give her a call,” I suggested.

He shook his head. “Chloe doesn’t have a phone. But her landlady does.”

O’Malley reached behind him and grabbed the receiver from the old phone mounted on the wall then punched in a few numbers. It took several rings, but I finally heard an old, screechy voice answer on the other end. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Gladys, it’s Tom. Have you seen Chloe today? I got an old friend of hers here ... No? All right. I’m going to lock up and stop by ... Yes, I know it’s late ... All right, Gladys. See you in a few.”

He looked at me, no longer hiding the worry. “Gladys hasn’t seen or heard from Chloe since the storm.”

I stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth as if he planned on arguing, but then nodded. “If I find out you’re lying to me about being her friend, boy, you’re going to feel the steel toe of my boot in your ass. You understand?”

I nodded, though we both knew a fox was no match for a bear.

He packed up a Styrofoam container of something before we walked across the street and knocked. An older woman opened the door almost immediately, covered from head to toe in shawls and blankets. I understood why when we stepped inside. The interior was almost as cold as the exterior.

“That woman’s purse is tighter than a dolphin’s asshole,” O’Malley muttered to me as we ascended the staircase. When we reached the second floor, he knocked. “Chloe, girl, it’s Tom O’Malley. You in there? I got some more stew for you.”

He knocked twice more before my ears picked up a thump and a shuffle.

“Thanks, Mr. O’Malley,” a weak voice said from the other side of the closed door. “You didn’t have to do that. Just leave it there and I’ll get it later.”

“What’s going on, Chloe? You okay?”

A series of racking coughs sounded before she answered, “Just a cold. Don’t worry.”

“Open the door, Chloe.”

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Open the door, Chloe. Ain’t leaving until you do.”

My heart beat wildly at the sound of the deadbolt sliding open. I held my breath as the door slowly opened. After all these years, was I finally going to see my mate again?