Jaguar's Joy

by Zoe Chant

  Ty leapt up on one of the rocks and paused, his tongue exposed as he panted for breath. Misty jumped delicately up to join him, snow crunching under her hooves. It didn’t feel cold to her—Misty was a mule deer, hardy and suited to the Rocky Mountain weather—but she wondered if they should head back down for Ty’s sake. Jaguars were tropical animals, weren’t they?

  But he didn’t look uncomfortable. He’d sat down on his haunches and was surveying the landscape they’d just run through. Then he shivered, blurred, and shifted back to human.

  Misty followed suit, wondering what he wanted to say.

  “That,” Ty said on a long exhale, “was amazing.”

  Misty couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread over her face. “It was?”

  Ty nodded, still catching his breath. “I haven’t run like that in—oh, I don’t know how long.”

  “You’re fast,” Misty observed.

  “In short bursts,” Ty said, waving a hand. “Big cats are sprinters, not marathon runners. But that kind of all-out run—I love it. I forgot how much I love it.”

  He had that broad, bright grin on his face again. Like the moment was too wonderful for his expression to contain.

  “I try to get out and run every day, if I can,” Misty said softly. “Even if it was a long, hard day at work. It always refreshes me. And looking at all of this—” She turned to survey the slope down to town.

  They weren’t very far elevated yet, but it was still enough to see the lights of the town twinkling below them, the inky black of the mountains on the horizon, and of course the endless stars overhead.

  “You can’t see a sky like this in the city,” Ty said, sounding wistful. “There’s way too much light. You’re lucky if you see a few stars here and there.”

  Misty couldn’t imagine going without a night sky like this for her entire life. “I feel the clearest when I’m out here at night,” she said. “Like I really know what my purpose is. To protect all of this, keep it clean and safe and beautiful.”

  Ty breathed, in and out. “That’s everything a person should want. To know their purpose.”

  Misty nodded. “I’m lucky.”

  He turned his gaze on her. “You are.”

  Their eyes met and held for a long minute. Misty was struck by the memory of the moment back in the clearing, when they’d been so close their noses almost touched.

  Then Ty shivered, and Misty blinked. “Are you cold? You left your jacket back by the car.”

  Ty laughed. “This southern California boy isn’t used to the weather up here. Back home, we call it winter when it rains for a day or two and the temperature gets below seventy.”

  Misty shook her head, unwilling to disbelieve him, but having a hard time picturing it. “Up here, we call it summer when it stops getting down into the thirties at night.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I’ll just have to toughen up, I guess.”

  Misty said, “I like—” and then bit her lip.

  “What?” Ty asked, his gaze turning soft.

  “It’s just a—a personal thing to say. I’m sorry.”

  “Tell me,” he said, taking a step forward.

  “I like how you can laugh at yourself,” she said quietly. “I’ve never...I haven’t known many men who could do that so easily.”

  Her father hadn’t been a humorous man. And he’d taught her that strong men—strong people—took themselves seriously.

  But Ty was a Marine veteran, a seasoned social worker, and a bona fide hero who’d saved her life today. He sure as hell wasn’t weak.

  “Laughter’s what keeps me going,” Ty said, paradoxically serious. “You see that with kids—if they can learn to laugh when they fall down, instead of crying, they get up that much faster. It’s the same with everyone.”

  “Well,” Misty said. “Maybe you can teach me sometime.”

  “I think you’re doing just fine,” he said quietly.

  ***

  Ty

  Misty looked almost sad, staring down at the twinkling lights of the town. She was still in her sheriff’s uniform, must have come to dinner straight from work.

  “What do you do in your spare time?” he asked impulsively.

  Startled, she looked over at him, animation coming back into her face. “What?”

  “When you’re not working,” he said. “What do you do? Other than run out here in the mountains. Do you have hobbies?” Friends? A boyfriend?

  They hadn’t yet clarified whether this was a date or not. Ty had suppressed the impulse to ask in so many words, because he wasn’t yet sure it would be fair. Not when he was only here for a couple weeks.

  But it meant that he didn’t actually even know whether Misty was single. And suddenly, it was very, very important for him to know.

  Misty, meanwhile, was shaking her head. “I don’t do much besides work. Shifting and running is my hobby, I guess.” She eyed him. “Do you have hobbies?”

  He had to laugh. “My hobby used to be hanging out with my sister’s kids,” he confessed, “and that took up most of my spare time. But the youngest is off to college now, so I’ve mostly just been working more. God knows there’s always more work to do.”

  “Amen to that,” Misty said on a sigh. “I wish...” She trailed off.

  “Yes?” Ty asked, as invitingly as he could.

  “I wish that I—knew how to have a real social life.” Misty’s voice was almost a whisper. She laughed a little, then looked up at him. “I haven’t said this to anyone before.”

  “No one else here,” Ty said, just as softly. “Just me and the mountains.”

  She looked up at the tall, dark peaks above them. “I feel like them sometimes. Standing above the town, looking down on everyone, too far away to share anything.”

  A long pause, and then she snorted. “That sounds melodramatic and ridiculous, doesn’t it.”

  “No,” Ty said immediately, his heart aching at the self-deprecation in her voice. “You want to know a fact?”

  “What?” she asked.

  Unable to stop himself any longer, Ty reached for her hand. Misty blinked, looking startled, and then hesitantly reached back.

  Taking her hand in his felt like coming home. Like walking into his sister’s house, full of children and laughter and happiness, and knowing everything was all right.

  “Loneliness negatively affects people’s health,” Ty said to her, gripping her hand tightly. “It’s been studied. Not having a close community—it’s not only bad for people’s happiness, but it decreases their lifespan, makes them more susceptible to illness.”

  Misty blinked. “Really?”

  Ty nodded. “Scientifically.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she said. “I—my father, he always spoke against tight pack bonds. Said that it promoted tribalism, where people were more likely to be loyal to a pack member, even if they were a violent criminal, than they were to do the right thing.”

  “Healthy communities work against that sort of thing,” Ty said quietly. “I’m not saying that that doesn’t happen in shifter packs. I know that it does. But the answer isn’t to be alone.”

  Misty bit her lip, and her fingers clenched hard on Ty’s. “But then how do I fix it?” she asked. “You’re telling me this is a problem—all right, it’s a problem. But a community, a pack, it doesn’t just arise out of nowhere. There aren’t any other deer shifters around anymore, and even if there were, I hate it when shifters only think their type is—is worthy. And I’ve never had a community around here. I grew up here, and I still never quite managed to make friends.”

  Ty’s heart wasn’t just aching now, it felt like it was about to crack. “I’ll help you,” he said. “I know how.”

  Misty looked up at him. For a second, she seemed totally trusting, with a vulnerable excitement in her eyes.

  Then her forehead wrinkled. “Hold on a second,” she said. “You just got here today. How are you going to help forming a community in a place you don’t know at
all?”

  Ty felt a helplessly fond smile spread over his face. Both the vulnerability and the suspicion were integral parts of Misty, he could already tell. “I’ll tell you after we get back,” he said. “First let’s run again.”

  Misty held the frown a moment longer, searching his face as though there might be a clue hidden in there somewhere. Then she laughed a little. “All right, fine. Keep me in suspense.”

  “I’ll tell you if you catch me,” he said with a grin.

  Her mouth opened in surprise, but before she could say anything, Ty had shifted. He waited just a second, until he saw her form start to blur, and then he took off down the mountain, racing as fast as he could.

  The cold air burned in his jaguar’s lungs, but it was an exhilarating burn, a sign of him pushing his body to a limit it hadn’t known in a long, long time.

  Yes, his jaguar exulted. Run as fast as we can. As far as we can. Faster than anything.

  Ty had to agree, at least here in the moment. Trees whipped past, and he depended wholly on his instincts to avoid them, to keep his paws landing unerringly on clear ground.

  He could hear Misty’s hooves behind him. He was faster than she was in a sprint, but he knew that the longer they ran, the greater her chance of catching up. He was depending on his stamina lasting long enough for victory.

  Although defeat wouldn’t be a bad thing, either.

  Yes, his jaguar thought. Let her catch us.

  Make up your mind, Ty shot back, laughing to himself as he started to slow just a fraction.

  That was it, he decided. He was going to make sure that Misty knew that he wanted this to be a date. Sure, he might not be sticking around here forever, but he couldn’t ignore the connection that had arisen between them. He needed to know this woman better, to truly understand her sharp, pure combination of a sheriff’s toughness and a deer’s fragility. Even if it was temporary.

  That thought send a pain through his chest.

  Or maybe he was just running too hard.

  ***

  Misty

  Misty’s hooves were pounding on the earth, her legs pumping, her heart pounding in her chest. And the feeling underneath at all was something almost foreign.

  She got plenty of hard exercise, both in human form and while shifted. She went on long runs as a deer several times a week, sometimes every day. She was intimately familiar with the burn of chilly air in her lungs, the way the trees flashed by, the satisfying pound of her legs hitting the ground and propelling her forward in leap after leap.

  But she wasn’t used to this—this joy.

  They were essentially playing tag like little children. She was chasing Ty’s big, graceful form, following the flash of his tail and the sharp, predatory scent of him through the woods, and it was somehow ten times as exhilarating as running by herself ever was. It was strange, because she wasn’t a predator; she shouldn’t have this kind of instinctive glory in chasing another shifter.

  Maybe it wasn’t a deer instinct, though. Maybe it was a human one.

  They were nearing the edge of the woods, and Misty was gearing up for a final surge of speed, determining to pull ahead of Ty as his jaguar speed started to flag—when there was a loud crack off to the east, deeper into the forest.

  Misty skidded to a halt, instantly turning towards the source of the noise. That hadn’t been anything natural.

  Ty turned in place, no hesitation, and circled around to stand by her. He looked at her with an obvious question: investigate?

  Misty moved forward purposefully. Maybe it was nothing, but she was sheriff of this town, and she wasn’t going to let something potentially dangerous go just because she’d been having the most fun she could remember having in recent memory.

  Or...possibly ever.

  She shook that thought off and trotted forward.

  Ty padded along behind her, once again absolutely silent, just giving off whatever...aura it was, that let Misty sense his presence. She was going to have to ask him how he did that.

  It wasn’t long before she saw movement through the trees. Then a sudden, bright flare of light, and another loud crack.

  Misty sighed and shifted back to human. Ty followed suit, and she looked back to tell him, “Firecrackers. It’ll be kids. I have to go break it up.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Ty said.

  “You don’t have to. It’s not going to be any fun, I can guarantee that.” Yelling down rebellious teenagers never was.

  But Ty didn’t look hesitant at all. “I want to. You can deputize me.”

  “I hope we’re not going to have to go that far for a couple of kids with firecrackers,” Misty grumbled, and started forward. As they closed in, she could see it was two boys, and she had a hunch as to which two.

  She kept her footsteps quiet until they were almost on top of them, and then paused just outside the clearing they were in, took a breath, and barked, “What the hell do you kids think you’re doing?”

  They froze for a second, long enough for her to step out with Ty behind her.

  She could see the moment when they decided to run. Zeke looked at Ryder, then at the forest behind him, and he started to shiver, ready to blur and change. Misty took a step forward, knowing that it would be too late—she couldn’t compel them to stay, not in human form or in deer form, and then it would just be another round of calling their moms and getting yelled at for accusing their precious babies—

  A growl sounded behind her.

  Zeke stilled.

  Ty paced out around her legs, prowling around the edge of the clearing, a fully-grown, fluidly dangerous jaguar. And an unknown quantity to the boys; they would have no idea who he even was.

  Zeke let out his breath, remaining human. Then he summoned up the sneer that Misty, unfortunately, was coming to know very well. “Who’s the kitty?” he asked, chin up. He was a gangly kid, with a sharp face and a naturally sullen set to his mouth. Or at least, Misty assumed it was natural; he could’ve just always been projecting dissatisfaction. He was certainly never happy to see her.

  “A friend of mine,” Misty said mildly. “You know you two are risking starting a forest fire. This close to the town, you’re putting everyone’s lives in danger.”

  Zeke rolled his eyes. “So what?”

  “So what?” Misty could feel anger rising in her chest. Her doe was already infuriated at the idea of flames engulfing her beloved forest. “You grew up here. You know what it’s like when there’s a fire.”

  “It’s November,” Ryder put in. He was more heavyset than Zeke, with flat blue eyes and a habit of hunching his shoulders as though he was digging in for the long haul. “It’s been raining for a month. You must be pretty dumb if you think there’s gonna be a forest fire ‘cause of a couple of firecrackers.”

  “Listen, you little—” Ty appeared at her side, and Misty took a deep breath. Swearing at them wasn’t going to help anything. “You want to take a ride to the station?” she asked, slightly more calmly.

  “So you can arrest us like you arrested our dads?” Zeke growled. “This is police harassment.”

  “You don’t even know what that means—”

  There was a shiver next to her, and Ty blurred back into his human form. Both Zeke and Ryder took an abrupt step back. Misty was aware, suddenly, of how Ty towered over her, large and muscular and much more intimidating than either of the teenagers.

  “You guys don’t have anything better to do than hang out in the woods pretending to blow stuff up?” Ty asked, his voice calm and conversational.

  “Who the hell are you?” Zeke asked. He was scared, Misty could tell, but was covering it with an extra layer of bravado.

  Ty stepped forward—they both flinched back—and held out his hand. “Tyrone Neal, formerly a sergeant in the Marine Corps. Friend of the sheriff’s. And you? What’s your name?”

  “Uh—Zeke. Sir.”

  Misty watched the transformation happening in front of her with disbelief. Zeke was morphi
ng from a mutinous brat into a respectful young man before her eyes.

  “Ryder,” Ryder mumbled when Ty looked at him.

  “Well, Zeke and Ryder, how about you hand over your explosives?”

  Misty had no idea how he was doing it. Ty seemed simultaneously friendly, like he was really on the kids’ side, and forbidding—like that might change at any minute.

  And it was working. Zeke scuffed his foot, but dropped his eyes, and after a second, handed over the remaining firecrackers. Misty noted with unamused eyes that they were heavy-duty, the kind that could do serious injury if they weren’t taking care, and the kind that was illegal to have without a permit.

  Misty debated the pros and cons of reading them a lecture on safety—they wouldn’t listen—or taking them into the station—she doubted it would have an effect, particularly since she’d dropped them both off at their parents’ place just this morning with an admonishment to stay out of trouble.

  Ty seemed to be having some luck with the friendly approach. Misty couldn’t quite bring herself to sound friendly to these two idiots, but she let go of as much of her anger as she could and said, “All right, now get.”

  They blinked at her, momentarily disbelieving. Misty guessed it was a surprise—these two had been in her Jeep ten or fifteen times in the last month.

  “You heard me,” she repeated. “Get gone.”

  One final moment of pause, and then Zeke’s form flickered again, blurring into a rawboned young wolf. Ryder followed, and a second later, the two of them were bounding away into the woods.

  Misty looked at the minor explosives in Ty’s hands, then at him. “That went better than I was expecting. How’d you do it?”

  “Element of surprise,” Ty said. “I’m an unknown quantity. And a big scary one, at that. Plus, teenaged boys like that usually respond better to male authority figures than female. I’m willing to bet that they’ve got strict dads.”

  “They did,” said Misty. “I arrested them both a month ago. Zeke and Ryder have been nothing but trouble ever since.”

  Ty took that in. “Well,” he said. “That does make a certain amount of sense.”

  “I know it makes sense. What I don’t know is what to do about it. I don’t want to stick the kids in jail six months after the fathers. They’re both still seventeen, but once they’re adults, if they’re still doing as much stupid, dangerous stuff as they are now...” Misty shook her head. “It seems inevitable. Nothing I say is making any difference, and their moms sure aren’t on my side, not after I arrested their husbands.”