by Roh Morgon
“Sunny,” Nicolas says quietly and gently takes my elbow. I allow him to guide me up the path, finally tearing my eyes away from them.
I take a breath and say, “Those are on my list. Now I know what scent to hunt for.”
Nicolas sighs, and irritation flickers through me. What did he expect?
We continue up the path and encounter a pen containing a large pond. A massive hippo lumbers across the concrete and flops down next to a second, even bigger one. He yawns, and those bone-crushing jaws and huge teeth send a shudder through me. Definitely a fight I would avoid, no matter how much blood they have.
It’s not like I haven’t seen zoo animals before. I remember taking my daughter a few times when she was young. We loved to watch the animals go about their business. But I haven’t been to the zoo in this life and my perspective is quite a bit different now. Now it’s all about their suitability as prey, their strengths and weaknesses, and their delicious scents. And the scent of their blood.
I glance at Nicolas as we continue up the hill and wonder if he assesses these creatures the same way I do, or if he merely finds them entertaining.
We enter a cinder-block building with a wall of glass along its length overlooking a large, densely vegetated habitat. The hillside is covered with grass and trees and dotted with clusters of boulders. On the other side of the window, a baby gorilla is playing with a stick, and about twenty feet past him, a large silverback male is eating a piece of fruit.
The silverback suddenly tenses, staring in our direction. He lunges to his feet with a roar and charges toward us as the baby screams and runs up the hill. A female appears from behind a rock and the baby leaps into her arms.
Other gorillas rush from all corners of the pen to the mother and baby. The male stops about ten feet from the glass, appearing confused as he tries to catch our scent. He can see us, though. He thumps his chest, resulting in a series of hollow pops punctuated by deep grunts.
My initial response is defensiveness, but nothing else. I don’t see them as prey, and I don’t understand their behavior. I look at Nicolas.
“Do they normally react like this?”
The group begins to move up the hill to the far end of the enclosure while the male continues to posture and growl.
“As far as I can tell, they only behave this way when I enter the exhibit.”
“But they don’t seem to be able to smell us through the glass.”
“I believe they sense our energy. There may be enough physiological similarities between gorillas and the humans that I normally . . .” He pauses. “Obviously they feel threatened.”
He reaches out to take my hand and we leave the building. We follow the path back past the hippos and down the hill. The ribbon of concrete winds through a food service area and then curves up and around a playground. Several mothers are here with small children, and I feel a strange tingle in my blood as the hunter peers at them with abnormal interest.
Nicolas slips his arm around me and softly nuzzles my ear, and I inhale sharply as my blood heats up in reaction to his caress. I close my eyes a moment, enjoying his sudden affection.
When I open them, we’re turning onto a path that leads up a hill. And in a flash of irritation, I realize what he had just done.
“You did that to distract me!” I try to pull away, but he just laughs and holds me tighter.
“I did that because I love you.” He smiles, or smirks—I’m not sure which—then says, “And yes, I did that to distract you. Your body may react more strongly than usual to food sources for a little while longer, and I did not wish this to upset you.”
Food sources? People aren’t a food source to me.
I frown as it seems my body may feel differently. But that’s only temporary, and this new appetite will be a thing of the past once I get back on my mountain.
I hope.
The path up the hill takes us into the Rocky Mountain habitat area. As we pass a large pond, a young moose walks to its edge. My feet stop dead in their tracks while I memorize the scent of another Colorado species I’ve been anxious to try. The moose notices my intense focus, but seems to care less as it bends to nibble algae and grasses from the rocks in the water.
“The bulls can be anywhere from eight hundred and fifty to fifteen hundred pounds. Animal blood is typically five percent of body weight, which would calculate out to be about five to nine gallons.” I grin, then laugh at the image forming in my head. “That could feed the whole Council.”
Nicolas doesn’t respond and I glance over at him. His expression is speculative, and I wonder if he realizes that I’m joking—at least about the Council part.
We continue up the hill and a canine scent I noticed earlier gets stronger. At the top is a forested pen, and as with the gorillas, glass separates the occupants from the spectators.
But there is a section off to the side barricaded with chain-link fence, and it’s in this area that several wolves suddenly appear. They raise their muzzles, scenting the air, and then start pacing and snarling, hackles raised.
My body tenses and a low rumble erupts unexpectedly from my chest.
I quickly shut it off and glance at Nicolas in embarrassment. But he has also tensed, his eyes dark, and then red sparks through them. I look back at the wolves, and they continue to pace by the fence, bristling and growling.
My tension grows and I fight myself to relax.
“Nicolas, what’s going on here?”
“There are ancient rivalries between our kinds, as between most predators. I believe you may have experienced that with the bear, yes?” He breaks his gaze away from the wolves to look at me.
“You mean he wasn’t just after my deer?” I think back on the bear’s ferocity.
“I suspect there may have been a territory issue. This is the time of year they come out of their dens, which may be why you hadn’t encountered him before.
“Come.” He reaches out his hand and I take it, and we continue on around the trail, the growls fading in the distance.
It’s a good thing there haven’t been any other visitors near these last couple of exhibits. Of course, since most people are pretty oblivious, I doubt they would have noticed anything unusual anyway.
The next exhibit contains animals I am familiar with, or at least their scents. Fortunately that is the extent of my contact with them, although in a fight with one, I think I would fare much better than I did with the bear.
The two mountain lions resting on a sunny rock ledge snap to attention as we walk up. They lie there a moment, tails lashing, and one opens his mouth in a silent hiss. Two more appear from the back of the pen, mouths wrinkling as they taste our scent and hiss. I am instantly captivated by them, and yet feel none of the aggressive response I did with the wolves.
I glance at Nicolas and he seems to share my admiration. The cougars continue to watch us intently, occasionally showing us their fangs. I realize this gives me an opportunity to ask a question I’ve been dying to have answered. I double-check to be sure no humans have come into the area while I was distracted by the cats.
“Nicolas, can I ask a . . . personal question?” I continue to watch the cats as several begin to pace along the ledge.
“Yes?”
“Why is it that you have fangs, and I don’t?” This has bothered me since I first felt their touch on my throat.
He waits a moment before speaking.
“That is a question I have had since I saw you take down the elk. But I believe we answered that once we began to solve the mystery of your Change.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers against my lips.
“You mean because I’m still part human?” This makes sense to me.
“Yes, that is the conclusion I have come to.” He looks at me curiously and smiles.
Good. I was afraid he was going to say it was a male-female thing, and then I’d feel awkward, as though I’d asked about his more personal parts.
“So, how do they work? I mean, most of the t
ime they aren’t visible. I was quite shocked the first time I felt—” I stop in complete embarrassment.
He smiles at my discomfort.
“They reside in special grooves in the upper gum, just before the eyeteeth. Would you like to see?” His eyes grow dark and his smile takes on a wicked glint.
And my blood suddenly heats up. There is certainly something I find very attractive about his fangs.
“Uh, maybe not right now. I’ll . . . I’ll take your word for it,” I say with a catch in my voice.
Nicolas laughs and gives me a knowing smile.
Damn him. He knows what he does to me. He asked that on purpose.
“They descend as part of a biochemical reaction that occurs whenever we anticipate a need for them.” His mouth quirks.
Right. For anything that involves taking in blood, and apparently not limited only to feeding.
I look back at the mountain lions, and again several open their mouths and hiss. I decide we should move on, as thinking about fangs right now has become a bit distracting.
But no such luck, as the next exhibit is the lynx, which has a similar reaction to us. However, we seem to make him more nervous, and after hissing at us, he gets up from his resting spot and disappears behind the rocks.
Just beyond the lynx, we pass an enclosure with a pair of otters playing at the edge of a pond. They are too cute to consider as prey. We watch for a few moments, then move on down the hill.
As we round a curve in the trail, we come to a tall structure with a sign naming it the Fire Tower, and another proclaiming it the grizzly bear exhibit.
I look at Nicolas, and he’s wearing that calculating smile I see anytime he’s surprised me.
“This is one of the reasons I brought you here today. We need to discuss your strategy if and when you hunt the bear that attacked you. I thought it might be useful to observe their anatomy and movements.”
Nicolas. Every time I question his motives, he flips my suspicions upside-down and shows me that he really does care.
I nod, and we climb the tower stairs, exiting onto a wooden boardwalk that weaves through the tops of the trees above the exhibit. The beast in me roars to life, fueled by the pungent bear scent. Grunts and growls accompany the sounds of scuffling somewhere below us and off to one side. My body immediately tenses, and I can feel that Nicolas’s reaction matches mine.
As we walk out farther, two young bears come into view about forty feet below. They’re mock-fighting and the sight brings me to a halt. This was what Nicolas meant. I watch as the bears circle around one another, then stand on their hind legs and grapple each other like two wrestlers. But unlike wrestlers, they constantly seek a hold on each other’s throats with their teeth. I’m struck by the similarity to my own engagement with the bear.
“Well, I certainly attacked him as another bear would have,” I quietly observe. I’m feeling a bit unnerved at the scenario below me. “I’m imagining myself as one of those bears—but a lot smaller.”
“Yes, they seem to prefer to fight on their hind legs. I suspect it was your speed that allowed you to get inside his defenses so quickly. He was probably not prepared for that.”
Nicolas’s voice carries a note of strain. This must be difficult for him as well.
“Your only good avenue of attack would be from above. You would have just a few seconds to tear out his throat with your hands.” He lifts my arm and examines my sharp nails.
“This would not be the same as taking an elk or deer. His hide and fur are much thicker, and his reactions will be much different.” Nicolas stares down at the brawling animals.
Yeah, I already figured that out.
He takes a deep breath, and we walk out a little farther along the boardwalk. The grizzlies break off their sparring and look up at us. All playfulness evaporates as one scents the air, growling, while the other bellows and drops to all fours. Snarls rip from our own throats, one much deeper than the other. I drop into the hunter’s stance and watch through a red haze as they thunder across the ground toward us.
Five to six hundred pounds each of angry muscle, teeth, and claws should be intimidating. But all I can think of is how much I want to leap down there and which one to take first.
Nicolas lays a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to rational thought.
“I wouldn’t have jumped,” I say hoarsely.
“Of course not,” he replies. “But we have company, so I suggest we leave now.”
I glance over just as two young women push strollers out of the elevator and onto the platform connected with the boardwalk.
Calming myself, I nod to Nicolas, and we head back to the tower platform. The bears rush along the ground below, roaring, their gazes locked on us.
The mothers each let out a shriek of terror, spin the strollers around, and head straight for the elevator. We pause to allow time for the elevator doors to close behind them while the bears continue their rampage at the edge of the fence. The shouts of zoo workers add to the snarls as they rush to the pen, and we quickly take the stairs down to the bottom.
As we walk away from the tower, several employees run past us and up the stairs. I look at Nicolas and burst out laughing. He smiles and we start to walk down the hill.
“Are your visits always so exciting for the zoo?”
“I do limit them so as not to attract attention.” He smiles again, his eyes flickering with amusement.
I laugh, stand on my toes, and plant a kiss on his cheek. He’s so damned adorable.
He looks down at me warmly, puts his arm around my waist, and pulls me to his side. We walk a few more feet, and then he stops.
“But on a more serious note, I want you to consider something for me.” His eyes are now somber.
“Okay.”
“We need to remove the bear from your territory to eliminate any future problems, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I would ask that we, you, handle this in a different manner.” He takes a breath. “Have you ever shot a rifle?”
Handguns—yes. There’s one hidden in my car.
“Uh, no.”
“Then I will take you to the shooting range and you will learn. I can see no other safe way to rid yourself of this bear.” His tone brooks no argument, but I try anyway.
“Nicolas—”
“Ah. Do not argue. This is the way it must be.” His eyes grow dark along with his tone as he continues. “I watched how you reacted to these bears. You give me no reason to think it will be any different with your bear.”
Damn right it’s my bear.
“Nicolas, please hear me out. First of all, the bear that attacked me was a black bear and weighed several hundred pounds less. And he was not nearly so tall when he stood. I would guess he was about five and a half feet.”
“Sun—” Nicolas tries to interrupt.
“No, let me finish. Second, I was extremely hungry, to the point that my strength was compromised. I had just brought down the deer and started to feed when the bear charged.” I take a breath.
“And third, I was very upset—no, I was furious—with you, for, well . . . what happened at the Council meeting. I was overemotional, overhungry, and not paying attention to my surroundings. Otherwise, I would have sensed the bear’s presence before ever taking down the deer. For all I know, he was hunting the herd too, and I took his kill, or the one he was planning to make.”
Nicolas’s expression is tight, and I instantly regret bringing up the meeting. He had already admitted that he felt responsible for my flight from the estate that night and my subsequent brush with death.
“I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to say that,” I whisper.
“No, you are right.” He pauses, flexing his jaw. “But none of what you said makes any difference. Our natural prey is humans, and we’ve evolved with the abilities and skills for hunting them. That means, in addition to being attractive to them, we surpass them in the areas of strength, speed, and the senses. We are not desi
gned to fight bears.
“But I have one other point you seem to consistently forget. You are still part human and your Chosen physical abilities and senses are not fully developed. And they will not be until you complete the Change.” His voice is grim as he continues.
“So unless you are ready to do that, you need to be aware of your limitations. Shoot the damn bear and get over this vengeful combat you seem to lust for.” Now he is angry, the red flashing through his eyes.
I don’t know what to say. As usual, he makes perfect sense.
“All right.” I sigh.
“All right, what?”
“All right, I’ll learn to shoot a rifle. And I’ll hunt the bear . . . with a rifle,” I say in defeat.
“No, we will hunt the bear with a rifle. You are not doing this alone.” His tone is adamant.
Yes . . . sir. And the beast in me growls in defiance.
We walk in silence down to the next exhibit area. Nicolas stops and turns to me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“You must understand how much I care for you. If you could feel what I do when I think of any harm coming to you . . .” He closes his eyes and draws me close, and I cannot help but respond to his embrace with one of my own.
“But now,” he says, “I want to show you my favorite exhibit. It is the main reason I visit here, and the other reason we came today.”
We turn and walk a little farther. A sign announces we are entering the Asian Highlands, and as we pass it, a large tiger strolls down the vegetated slope in his pen. He stops and looks at us, flattening his ears and baring his teeth in a snarl. The tiger hops down onto a rocky shelf, separated from the front of the cage by a pool of water, and stands, sniffing the air.
I can’t believe how big he is—about nine feet from his nose to the tip of his tail and around six hundred to seven hundred pounds. The sign says he is an Amur, or Siberian tiger, the largest cat in the world.
He snarls again, and I marvel at the size of his fangs, at least two to three inches long. I glance at Nicolas and he’s smiling.
“Beautiful, is he not? Brings the term ‘fang envy’ to mind.” He chuckles and I look at him surprise.