“Guess what?” Jim was smiling. “Terry found some tracks in the woods last night.”
I spread strawberry jam on my toast. “What kind of tracks?”
“He thought it was some kind of cat. He said the tracks were this big.” Jim held his hands apart about six inches.
“That’s a pretty big track.” I wiped a blob of strawberry jam from the front of my shirt. “What do you think it is?”
“I’ve heard of bobcats in Michigan,” said Jim. “Maybe it was a bobcat.”
“A bobcat track wouldn’t be that big.”
“You aren’t eating,” said Jim. “Does your head hurt?”
“Not really.” I put the toast down. I wasn’t hungry after all. “We might as well go.”
We picked up our lunches and bottled water and headed back to our cabin. I wished I could tell Jim about the feathers. I needed to talk to someone about this, but I was afraid. He’d probably think I was weird. Maybe I was.
Levi, Terry, and the other guys were waiting for us. Levi passed out more water bottles and little packages of mosquito repellant.
“The goal of this nature hike is to identify the types of wildlife that live in the woods,” said Terry. “If you see tracks, please call out so we can identify them. If you see an animal, call out quietly or raise your hand. Do not touch or frighten the animal.”
We picked up the trail about fifty yards behind the Warrior cabins. The trail was a well-worn path that led through about twenty acres of forest and around the lake to Rock Hill. Sixteen of us walked single file, following Terry. Levi was at the end of the line. We’d gone about a half mile when we came to a small clearing. Terry held up a hand. We gathered around him.
“Does anyone see any tracks right now?” asked Terry.
I peered at the ground. Twigs and leaves covered the side of the path, but I thought I could see part of a track. I squatted down to brush some leaves away. Sure enough, there were several tracks in the dirt.
“Deer tracks.” I pointed at them. When I brushed more leaves away, I saw something very strange. A large track covered most of another deer track. It was the kind of track a cat made—a very large cat. I glanced up at Levi. “There’s another track here.”
Levi squatted next to me and peered at the track.
“Bobcat?” asked Terry.
Levi shook his head. “Too big.”
Jim cleared more leaves and twigs away. Now we could see both the front and hind paw prints. They were at least four feet apart. “I’ve seen bobcat tracks,” said Jim. “These are much bigger. The space between them shows this is a much larger cat.”
I nodded. “Looks like cougar, but I’ve never heard of them coming this far south.”
“They roam,” said Jim. “They follow the herds. There are a lot of deer in these woods.”
For years there had been rumors about panthers in Waterford, a city north of Detroit. The Department of Natural Resources said there were no panthers in Michigan. Then someone found the carcass of a panther that had been hit by a car, so the DNR couldn’t deny it anymore. There were panthers in Michigan.
Panther, puma, mountain lion, or cougar—those were different names for the same animal. No one knew where they came from or how many there were. One thing I knew for sure, though. Cougars were carnivores. They’d eat deer, sheep, cattle, and other farm animals. They would also attack and kill people. Shivers ran down my back. A cougar had prowled around on the campgrounds, less than a mile from our cabins. These tracks were fresh. The cougar could be nearby. It could be watching us right now.
Levi took out his cell phone. He turned away and lowered his voice, but I could still hear what he said. “It’s at least four or five inches across the pad. It’s not a bobcat. Cougar, maybe.” He listened for a few seconds. “Everyone’s out hiking today. Warriors section A is ahead of us on the trail, and Trackers sections A and B are hiking in the woods on the other side of camp. Someone needs to call them in too.” Before he put his phone away, he photographed the tracks. He used one of his sneakers to show the scale of the paw prints.
While Levi was documenting the tracks, I thought about Austin. He was in the Tracker boys’ group. When we were trapped in the bodies of animals at the zoo, I’d been very worried about my brother starving to death because he wasn’t getting enough to eat. Now I had to worry about him getting eaten by a cougar.
“Will someone notify the Tracker groups?” I asked. I had to make sure Austin was okay.
“The camp director is calling all the counselors,” said Levi. “She’ll also call the Park Service and the Department of Natural Resources. They’ll have to send somebody out here to find out what made those tracks.”
“The tracks look fresh,” I said. “The cougar could be pretty close. I thought I could smell him.”
“You must have a pretty good sense of smell,” said Jim.
I nodded. I didn’t tell him I could smell things that were a couple of miles away. It was a trait left over from when I was a Komodo.
We started back toward the camp. Levi waited for me to catch up with him, and we walked side by side. “How come you know so much about animal tracks?” he asked.
“I took a class at the zoo. They showed us a lot of big cat tracks.”
“What other tracks can you recognize?” Levi held up his hand to stop the group.
Squatting down, I carefully removed some leaves and twigs from the path. I pointed to a couple of wavy lines in the dirt. “Here’s a snake track, or part of one.”
Levi grinned. “We should have a class on tracks. You can teach it.”
“No thanks.” I was still staring at the path. Part of a large cat track was visible near the grassy edge of the trail. A cougar had come here, less than a hundred yards from the Warriors cabins. The track was fresh—probably made sometime in the past three or four hours. It was headed south, toward the woods behind the Tracker cabins.
My mouth went dry. I stared into the woods. Where was that cougar now? Was it anywhere near the Trackers?
Cougars liked to hide in trees. They climbed trees so they could spot prey. When the prey walked under the tree, the cougar would pounce down and kill it. I didn’t want a cougar to pounce on my brother—or anyone else. Austin could go grizzly and fight it, but he wouldn’t want to morph in front of other people.
I scanned the trees around me, but I couldn’t see anything. I needed to get up higher so I could get a better look at the rest of the camp. Grabbing the lowest limb of the tree next to me, I swung myself up. Because I’ve always been afraid of heights, I didn’t usually climb trees. Now I found it easy to climb. I reached for a higher limb, and then another. Soon I was near the top of the tree. I stopped climbing and peered out over the woods.
At first, all I could see were other trees. I squinted, bringing nearby trees and branches into focus. I checked each tree, scrutinizing the lower branches. Squirrels hopped from limb to limb, chasing each other. Birds screamed and fluttered, protecting their nests.
Looking up, I concentrated on longer distances. Soon I could see the blue-gray lake. Shifting my gaze to the right, I spotted the road that led into the camp. On one side of the road, in a large clearing, was the baseball diamond. Beyond the baseball diamond was a large forest we called “Tracker Woods” because it was behind the Tracker cabins. I blinked and narrowed my eyes. Something was moving in the woods. Kids. I refocused again to see them close up. It was the Tracker group, hiking along single file. Austin was third in line.
My heart started to pound. The Trackers were heading further into the woods. Their counselor hadn’t heard about the cougar tracks yet. This was dangerous. The cougar could be anywhere in that woods. It could be in a tree right now, waiting to pounce on someone. It might be hunting for prey with two legs, walking upright.
Blinking, I moved my eyes from side to side. I checked every tree in that patch of woods. My eyes caught on movement in a tree. Focusing, I squinted until all I could see was that tree. There it was!
A large, tan-colored animal crept slowly along a thick branch. As I watched, the big cat stopped and looked down. Its tail flicked. It stood very still, the big blond head still bent towards the ground. Austin’s group was about a quarter mile away. They were heading straight for the tree where the cougar was hiding.
I climbed down quickly and jumped to the ground. The counselors and the other guys were all staring at me.
Levi frowned. “You’re in trouble, Luke. Miss Powell said you weren’t to climb trees.”
“The Trackers are hiking in the woods on the other side of the camp, Levi.” My throat was dry and I could hardly get the words out. “They’re about halfway between the road and the baseball diamond. They’re heading west. The cougar is in a tree about a quarter mile in front of them. You have to call and turn them around! Hurry!”
Terry frowned as though he thought I was nuts. “You couldn’t have seen them from here, Luke. The lake is over a mile away. And the baseball diamond is at least a mile from here, too.”
We didn’t have time for this. In minutes those Trackers would be walking under the tree where the cougar was hiding.
“Please, just call them,” I pleaded. “Have them turn around and go back the way they came.” I lowered my voice. “Terry, this is a big cat. Those kids could get hurt. We can’t take any chances.”
Terry let out a long breath, as if he was agreeing with me just to get me off his back.
“Okay. They should get out of the woods anyway.” He pressed some numbers on his cell phone, and then walked away so I couldn’t hear what he said. Levi was still staring at me like I had two heads.
I took a deep breath and looked up at the tree I’d just climbed. It was almost fifty feet tall. That was as tall as a five-story building. Had I really climbed to the top of it? I’d always been afraid of heights, but I’d just climbed a tree that was five stories tall. How could I have seen something that was two miles away? It was impossible for a human.
But I wasn’t totally human. I was ninety percent human and ten percent eagle. My eyes had become as sharp as an eagle’s eyes. Was that ten percent taking over my body? Was it going to turn into twenty percent? Fifty percent? Were my feet going to turn into talons? Was I going to grow feathers all over my body? I couldn’t let that happen. As soon as we got back to camp, I was going to borrow a phone and call Gramps.
My grandfather was smart. He taught astronomy and astrophysics at the college in our town. When Austin and I had turned into zoo animals the previous fall, Gramps found a way to help us become human again. He’d know how to help me now.
Terry’s phone rang. He put it to his ear and listened, then smiled and gave me a “thumbs up” signal. He thanked the caller and put the phone back in his pocket.
“That was the Trackers’ counselor,” he explained. “They’ve turned the kids around and they’re on their way back to camp.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Slowly, I turned around. The boys had gathered in a semicircle around me. Every one of them was staring at me. Jake muttered something to Bill. Bill’s mouth fell open. Bill whispered to the guy next to him. I knew what they were saying. Jake must have told Bill about my feathers, and now Bill was telling everyone else. I heard someone mutter the word “freak.”
I hated that word. It meant I was different. Odd. I didn’t belong in their group. They were right. None of them were my friends. Jim was my friend, though. He would be my friend no matter what I looked like.
Terry blew his whistle. “Listen up, guys. Here’s the new plan. The camp director says no one is allowed in the woods until the sheriff tells us it’s safe. We have two choices: arts and crafts in the mess hall or waterfront activities.”
Everyone began to talk at once. No one seemed happy about going to arts and crafts class. Terry blew his whistle again. “We’re going back to the cabins. Then we’ll change into swimsuits and practice paddling the canoes. No one is to go off on their own, not even to the bathroom.” He started back down the path toward our cabins. The group followed. Jim and I were near the end of the line. Jake and Bill were behind us.
“This is lame,” said Jake. “Just because stupid bird boy thinks he saw a cougar.”
“It was probably just a coyote or something,” said Bill.
Jim turned around to face them. “It wasn’t a coyote. Those tracks were made by some kind of a big cat. A coyote’s tracks are more like a dog’s.”
Jake made bird call sounds. Then he yelled “Bird boy!” He slid close behind me and pinched my arm, hard. I turned fast and knocked his hand aside with my fist. Then I saw the white bandage on Jake’s right hand. Apparently he could pinch just as hard with his left hand.
Levi yelled at him. “Jake! Stop right there. You too, Luke.” He waited until the rest of the group had gone further down the path. Then he pointed at Jake. “I saw you pinch Luke. I’ve told you before about bullying. We don’t tolerate physical abuse of any kind at this camp.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Jake laughed and slapped me on the back. “I was just kidding around. It’s no big deal, right, Luke?” He grinned at me, showing a mouthful of teeth. Some of them were pointed, like a wolf’s fangs. I didn’t say anything.
“Let me see that arm, Luke.” Before I could stop him, Levi pushed my sleeve up almost to my elbow. The feathers were higher up, so he didn’t see them. But he did see the bruises I’d been trying to hide.
“The whole side of your arm is black and blue,” said Levi. “Did Jake do this?”
Jake narrowed his eyes at me. I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t afraid of Jake, but it wouldn’t take long for a doctor to find my feathers.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I fell and hit my arm on a log.” I tried to pull my sleeve down over the bruises.
“Let’s get back to camp,” said Levi. “We’ll talk about this later.” Then he stopped and rested a restraining hand on Jake’s arm. “This isn’t over. I’ll be reporting today’s abuse of a fellow camper to the director. If I ever see you touch Luke—or anybody else—again, you’ll go straight home. We’ll also report it to the police. Got that?”
Jake pulled his arm away. “Keep your hands off me or my lawyer will hear about it.” He poked Levi in the chest. “My father will have you fired.” Then Jake stalked down the path after the other guys.
When we reached our cabin, I asked Levi if I could be excused from paddling the canoes today. “I’m not supposed to get this dressing wet,” I explained.
Levi glanced at the cabin. “I’ll excuse you from the activity, but you have to stay in the mess hall or the nurse’s office. You can’t be alone in your cabin.”
“Can I stay with him?” asked Jim.
“I think that’s a good idea,” said Levi. “You could walk to the mess hall together.”
Jim went inside the cabin and got some money for both of us. When he came back out, we started down the path toward the Trading Post.
“You didn’t really find those feathers near the bathhouse, did you,” asked Jim. His tone told me he already knew the answer.
I stared at him. “How long have you known?”
“I saw the feathers one night when you were asleep,” said Jim. “You had your arm over your head, and your sleeve was up. That’s why I didn’t report Jake for pinching you, even though he’s a jerk. I figured you wouldn’t want to be examined.”
As we walked, I told Jim how I had plucked the feathers from my skin. “It was hard work,” I said. “And it hurt.”
“It would be very painful for you to pluck them,” said Jim. “And it would take a long time. A bald eagle has about seven thousand feathers.”
We had reached the camp store, which was just outside the mess hall. The camp store was built like a little log cabin, with a sign outside that said “Trading Post.” Inside there were shelves of sweatshirts and tee-shirts with the camp logo printed on the front. Purple rain ponchos for the girls and green ones for the boys were displayed on a rack of hangers. Nex
t to the counter was a freezer full of Popsicles, ice cream bars, and orange sherbet cups, as well as shelves of other goodies. But now my stomach felt queasy, and I wasn’t hungry anymore. I sat down on the long bench on the porch of the Trading Post. Jim sat next to me.
“You probably think I’m pretty weird,” I said.
Jim shrugged. “I’m part Native American, remember? Many of our people believe in shapeshifters.”
“Do you think I’m a shapeshifter?”
“I just watched you climb to the top of a fifty-foot tree in under a minute. Then you spotted your brother and that cougar when they were both almost two miles away. You have eyesight like an eagle. You go to high places like an eagle. You have—”
“Feathers like an eagle.” I finished the sentence for him. “If I was a shapeshifter, wouldn’t I turn all the way into an eagle?”
Jim smiled at me. “Maybe you will.”
“I already have. Once, anyway. It’s a long story.”
“We have a lot of time,” said Jim. “I’d like to hear it.”
“I don’t want the other guys to know.”
Jim nodded. “You got it.”
So I told him the whole story, starting with that terrible day when Austin and I were turned into zoo animals. He listened quietly. He didn’t look surprised or shocked. He was as calm as if all of his friends could turn into animals.
“After we became human again, both of us had animal traits for a while. It took another trip to the zoo to straighten us out.” I paused. “Almost. I still have some Komodo traits. I have some eagle traits, too, besides the feathers.”
“You probably saved a couple of lives today with those eagle traits,” said Jim. “Can you still become a Komodo? I’d love to see that.” He grinned at me.
“I hope you never do. The Komodo is dangerous. I’m always afraid I’ll hurt someone when I’m in that form. I haven’t turned into a Komodo since we left the zoo.”
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