Chapter Four
Locus
The blanket of darkness was thick and clinging and fought my every attempt to struggle through it into the light. If there was any light. I thought I could see a slight glimmer, but it winked out then came back even weaker and less reachable. Had I died? If so, the afterlife was disappointing, worse than the hell I’d wandered since my family was taken. What a rip!
A sharp pain shot up my leg, and I was momentarily tantalized with the realization I’d survived because no deity could be cruel enough to carry pain into the next dimension. Could they? What a horrifying thought.
The distant light came closer, suddenly bright, and I squeezed my eyes closed and shoved away from it, from anything else that might hurt me. “There you are, little guy.” A hand ruffled the fur at my neck, the soft, deep voice pushing back the fear. “I was starting to think you’d never wake up.”
I opened my eyes again, blinking hard, wanting to see who belonged to the first kind words I’d heard directed at me in a very long time.
“All right. Now, I want to take you out of the kennel and get a look at your leg. I know you can’t shift...but if you need more pain meds, give me a yip, okay? If you can hang on without, that would be better. You’re skin and bones, and it’s hitting you pretty hard.”
I understood but didn’t know how to respond, so remained quiet. All I had to offer was a yip, and this man, who wore a blue smock sort of shirt with a badge pinned over the pocket, had already told me a yip meant I needed medicine. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a scruff of a beard and dark hair, a friendly smile. And I understood him better than I did most humans since my long-term shift began.
“Atta boy.” He reached for me with steady hands, not a trace of trepidation at grabbing a wounded animal. He knew, didn’t he? He recognized me for more than my furry side, even though I’d snapped at one of the men trying to help me earlier. I didn’t remember which one, the pain had been so bad.
The man, a doctor, he must be, lifted me from the cage I occupied. A vet, then. Shifters usually went to regular doctors who specialized in our problems, but I’d been a fox so long, it probably didn’t matter.
As he carried me, tucked against his chest, we passed cages holding yapping dogs, a hissing cat, even a terrarium holding a big lizard of some kind. Outside a window, I spotted a big yard with grass and trees under which several dogs lounged. Deep inside I felt like I didn’t deserve a people doctor anyway. I hadn’t even tried or wanted to shift in a long time. Months, years...I wasn’t sure.
But as I let my head rest against the kind man, something changed in my world. He chatted away, talking about nothing that would seem important to anyone—except me. He was talking to me. Mentioned the warm weather outside, that the recent AC repair was a godsend. That he hoped I wouldn’t mind sharing his sandwich for lunch because he didn’t have any fox chow on hand. Fox chow?
Setting me down on a steel table, he removed a bandage from my leg and carefully examined the sutures. “Looks good, Rogue.” As he rebandaged, he went on talking. “I hope you don’t mind my calling you that, at least until you can tell us your real name.” Scooping me up, he left the exam room behind and entered an office area. It wasn’t fancy at all, furnished with a battered wood desk that was at least a half century old and a blue-flannel-covered couch. “I’ll set you down here, okay?” He dug into a bar-sized refrigerator and pulled out a brown-paper lunch bag. “Do you like ham and Swiss? I bring my lunch from home to save time; some days it’s way too busy to go out and eat.” He grinned, showing white teeth and a dimple in one cheek. “I do have a weakness for burgers from the dive down the street when I can get away.”
This handsome alpha was totally talking to me like a person. Like I was a person. The sandwich, a simple affair on two pieces of whole grain bread, made my mouth water. The half he tore into pieces and set on a napkin next to me was the first “people” food I’d had in so long. It smelled amazing.
“Go ahead,” the doc said, sitting next to me. “Dig in.”
I bent my head and took a bite. Bread, mayo...processed ham. I chewed and swallowed. Utter ambrosia. In seconds I’d gobbled the rest of the half plus the other half that somehow ended up in front of me as well.
The doc ate chips and an apple, leaning casually back on the sofa while I ate like an...well, like an animal. And after we finished, we sat companionably for a while, his hand resting on the thick orange fur on my back. Now that my brain had quieted, and I was calm for the first time since I could remember, I had to give credit to the cause for that. Something about this man made me feel like that. My fox, of course still in ascendance, liked him, and recognized him as one of our own. And more than that. He wanted him.
But he couldn’t have him. Even if our foxes were mates, I was not suitable to be anyone’s mate. After a while, the ache in my leg got worse, and I turned to nip at it.
“No, no, Rogue,” chastised my physician. “Don’t make me get the cone of shame…”
I froze, snout half an inch from my bandaged leg. If I’d been in human form, I’d have blushed, but foxes don’t blush. Only people do.
Was I even a person at all?
But the doc’s face colored enough for us both. His cheeks flamed, and he buried his caressing hand in my fur. “I’m sorry. I was teasing, but I should have been more sensitive.” Blowing out a breath, he considered me. “I do, however, think you need to try shifting. I know it’s been a while, but you have to give it a shot. It will be very helpful to your healing and”—he shrugged —“I must admit to a certain curiosity. Nobody stays in the forest for months or years on end if they have a choice. Usually it’s a trauma. Sometimes escaping danger.” His strokes were long and smooth, and my eyes closed with the pleasure of his touch. “You’d never have known such gorgeous soft fur lay under all the matting and filth. That may be what worries me more than anything. You were not only in the wild, but you were a mess. Not the fox way, my friend.”
He ruffled my nape and pushed to his feet. “I’ve got a busy schedule this afternoon. I don’t want to put you in the kennel. You think you’ll be okay here?” He sighed. “I’m thinking yes. I’ll be back in a few hours. Yip if you need anything. I’ll have my assistant bring in some cold water and a potty pad in case you need it. When I get back, we’ll go to my house and see if we can’t figure out how to get you back to your human side.”
Outside the door, he paused. “Or maybe we need to stop by my friend Malinda’s. I’ve done what I can, setting your leg and getting you cleaned up, but I think her special skill set might help with what we’re facing now.” He stepped back inside and scratched my head, almost as if he didn’t want to leave. Could he feel what my fox did? What I was trying not to? “Whatever happened, we’ll fix it. Chill for a bit and build your strength.” That grin came back again, and my fox heart thumped. “I’m Felix, by the way. Maybe soon you’ll be able to give me your real name, too.”
And he was gone, off to care for the other animals who came into his practice. They were lucky to have such a caring doctor. But unlike the others in the cages, he wasn’t putting me back in one. Doctor Felix was taking me home to his house.
That sounded awesome. I just hoped his friend could help me shift so I could talk, too. After so long, I hoped I had something to say.