Quinn
She slithered forward with as much stealth as she could manage, easing aside another plant bush. The dampness of the earth around her was cold, leeching the heat from her body, but it was necessary. It helped keep her temperature down, and it also confused the scent. All of which would be invaluable when it came to keeping her disguised from predators.
And out here, she was up against the wiliest of them all. Coming through the mountain pass, she knew what lurked up here. Big, agile, powerful, and cunning monsters.
Snow Leopards.
Siberian Tigers.
Frost Dragons.
This was shifter territory, and she was trespassing. Although the treaty between shifters and humans laid out nonlethal punishment for humans that trespassed into Cadia or one of the other enclaves, everyone knew in practice that the shifters didn’t play games. They liked their privacy, without being watched. Ever since they had revealed themselves nearly two hundred years before and won their territory from the fledgling—at least in this part of the world—human governments, they had kept their borders closed to all but a select few humans. If she were found inside, they would do with her as they pleased, and plead ignorance. Humans weren’t supposed to enter, so what was the human government going to do? Say they were sorry and to please give her back? No, she would be on her own, and at their “tender” mercy.
Cadia was the largest of these she knew. By some estimates there were over ten thousand residents in the thousands of square miles that encompassed their territory. It was, without a doubt, the single greatest concentration of shifters on the planet.
And she was going to use that to her advantage.
Nobody is going to belittle me anymore! Not when I have a Natural Wildlife-winning photo to my credit. Then I’ll be able to do whatever I want.
Something stirred up ahead, and Quinn allowed herself to sink lower into the wet ground, trying to become part of it as noiselessly as she could. The sound of a big animal moving through the brush was audible over the pounding of her heart. She knew shifters had augmented hearing, but Quinn had chosen her night well. She was downwind from Cadia, and it was a strong breeze. The rustling of branches and the howl of the wind should serve to conceal the sounds of her breathing, among other things.
Hopefully.
After a moment, there was a low growl and the animal moved on. Quinn wasn’t sure if it had been a snow leopard or one of the fiercer, and rarer Siberian tigers that was going by on patrol, but this close to the border she didn’t want to risk anything. She remained still for another half an hour, just in case the animal was laying a trap.
When there were no more signs, she continued her slow crawl. This was the worst part, where the path narrowed precipitously between two steep cliffs. The mountains closed in, and it was easy for a single creature to patrol the entire area. Once she was past this section, it expanded again, as did the river, according to the few satellite images she could find.
Thunder cracked overhead and Quinn forced herself to stifle a gasp of surprise. She had seen the clouds moving in, but the forecast had not predicted any storms. Minutes later, rain began to filter down through the treetops. Goosebumps rose across her exposed skin, and down her spine, but she knew this was going to work to her advantage.
The water around her swelled even as she slid forward, turning the wet depression into the water runoff that she had expected. It rose until an inch of water was flowing past and around her, dragging her temperature down yet more. She would have to be careful about hypothermia. Only another mile, she hoped, and she would be clear enough to find a place to hunker down and sleep off the night.
Hopefully.
The flow of water increased, and she began to grow nervous as one inch became two. If this kept up, her hideout was going to quickly become flooded. She was already taking enough risks trying to sneak into Cadia without papers—those had been denied to her in routine fashion—and the last thing she needed was something that might make her sick, and need to seek out attention. The plan was supposed to be to get in, get her picture, and get out, all within a day or so. Anything more was playing with fire.
She heard another noise, this time from behind her.
Oh no. The wind is still blowing that way. If they can scent me I’m screwed!
Gritting her teeth against the cold, Quinn allowed herself to slide fully into the water, spreading her limbs out.
Nothing happened.
Come on, come on!
The rain increased in frequency, beginning to hammer down through the leaves. In the sky lightning flashed. She was on her back, feet facing downstream. With her head craned behind her, Quinn got a glimpse of a bone-white form well behind her, with its head facing the other way.
The water under her rose some more.
Please. Please keep rising! Please, take me away.
The large head swung ponderously in her direction, the Siberian tiger surveying the little runoff ditch. Another few inches and it would be staring right at her. Quinn fought back her panic, trying to still her frantically beating heart as all her carefully laid plans appeared to go up in smoke. Along with possibly her life.
Just before intelligent animal eyes reached her, there was another flash of lightning. The tiger jumped, looking in the direction the flash had come from. Quinn clapped a hand quietly across her mouth, trying not to scream.
A surge of water came downstream and the tiger stepped back, shaking its paw to try and rid it of the wetness. It hit Quinn and she immediately felt herself begin to float. The increase in the flow of rain had finally reached the ground and it was swelling the stream rapidly now.
Once more the tiger’s head turned her way. Quinn held her breath, looking indirectly at the animal in hopes that it wouldn’t realize someone else was nearby. It growled and tested the air slightly. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to try and make a run for it if she was spotted.
Shit.
Its head turned back upstream and it padded that way, trying to avoid splashing itself with too much water. She let out a slow sigh of relief.
The tiger stopped moving, head going back and forth as it tested the air. Quinn’s lungs stopped working.
It knows something is out here. It knows I’m somewhere; it just hasn’t found me. Please go back upstream.
The water underneath her had pooled enough around her body, which was acting like a dam, and suddenly Quinn felt herself move several inches downstream.
A deep growl rumbled out from the tiger, its white form easily visible in the dark. Quinn knew that in the wintertime she would never have seen it until it was too late, but in the midsummer, it stood out easily.
Not that it will matter if it spots me. I can’t outrun it.
The tiger turned back downstream at the same moment the water swelled high enough to allow her to clear whatever obstacle had blocked her progress. Now Quinn slid somewhat swiftly along the rising riverbed, until at last she disappeared around a bend, out of sight, and hopefully untraceable by scent either.
That was too close.
She almost said the words out loud, but caught herself in time. Absolute silence, as best a human could manage it, was the name of the game for the remainder of her time here. Not for the first time she gave thanks to the rain for covering her tracks and giving her an escape. As she floated, she ran through some breathing and mental exercises to try and bring herself back to a more normal state. She didn’t want to be too worked up about what had almost happened, otherwise she might make a critical mistake later on…
A cry of surprise rose from her lungs as she suddenly was swept over a waterfall into a mud pile that scattered her nice river ride all across the landscape. Quinn looked around in a panic and shoved her back against the ledge over which she’d tumbled. The water was moving fast enough that it actually created a small space behind it where she could try and hide her presence from anyone that had heard her. The rain was still lashing away at the land, and thunder rumbled almost constantly. She hoped desperately that it might have concealed her outburst, but she couldn’t take any chances.
Huddled there, she screwed her eyes closed and rocked back and forth, not for the first time questioning whether she was being smart, or stupid. The shot she wanted would catapult her to stardom, of that she was sure. But was it worth her life?
Yes. Anything for the shot.
That had been her mantra coming in, and she was determined to stick it through now. After another half an hour of huddling under the waterfall, she took her chance and crept out once more.
She was going to see Cadia, and she was going to get that photograph.
End of story.