Amir (BBW Bear Shifter Moonshiner Romance) (120 Proof Honey Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  A shaft of dim pre-dawn light shone down from a hole in the ceiling of the cave. In the center was of the room was a natural rock formation that rose up from the floor and was hollow in the center. It was filled with water, murky and stagnant. It smelled of mildew and decaying leaves.

  “Ahh, it answers the call,” a soft voice said.

  I spun around, but there was no one else here. I looked up through the hole, but didn’t see anyone up there. I couldn’t explain it, but the voice came from the water. “Hello?”

  “It is polite enough to greet. Yes, polite enough to greet. We shall be polite as well, yes?” the voice said. It was a small voice, and it defied gender. But it did sound very old.

  “Umm, hello?” I said, walking around the formation and peering into the water.

  “It repeats itself. Has it lost it’s mind? The poor thing is mad!” it said, it’s voice rising in excitement.

  “I’m not crazy,” I said. I’m just talking to a puddle, I thought.

  “That’s exactly what the mad say! They insist they are not mad! This is most troubling,” the voice said. “Oh stop your noodling around my fountain!” the voice said. Instantly, the smell of black pepper filled my nostrils and a small creature appeared sitting on the rock fountain.

  I leapt backwards in surprise, my head smacking hard against the stone wall. Stars swam in front of my eyes, and I had to lean back against the hard stone to let them clear.

  It was human in shape, but as small as a toddler. It had huge yellow eyes, pale skin and a long wart covered nose. It wore a green smock and matching pantaloons, with wooden clogs. Atop it’s head was a bright red cap flopped off to the side. It’s huge smile split it’s face, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Touch not my fountain! It is for me and I and myself alone!” It pointed an oddly long finger at me in warning.

  “I won’t touch your water!” I said. “What’s happening?” I must still be asleep. I’m back in bed, and Sven’s snoring has inspired some kind of horrible nightmare.

  “What’s happening? Why, the leaves are falling, the old fish are dying and the air grows cold at night. A chill. A frost. You feel it. Hahaha!” it laughed maniacally. “And you think it’s because ye don’t have enough wood in the fire! Hahaha!”

  “What’s your name?” I said. Might as well get to know my strange dream companion.

  It’s laughing ended immediately. “What does it say? What does it say! It wants to know a name? Our name?” it said, standing on the edge of the fountain and stomping its feet in anger. “Why does it want the name?”

  “Fine, don’t tell me your name. I don’t care!” I said. “What is this place?”

  He relaxed, crossing his arms. “It has too many questions. It is tired. That must be why it is so ugly,” it said.

  “Hey, Listen you little…goblin thing,” I said.

  “Goblin? It dares call us a goblin! If it wants to be mean and ugly, we won’t tell it why it stirs at night!” it said, turning around to face the fountain.

  “Wait…I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a goblin,” I said. “You’re obviously not a goblin. You’re far too…”

  The creature lowered its trousers and a thin tinkling stream hit the fountain.

  “Polite…to be a goblin,” I said, trying to hide my disgust.

  It finished pissing and hoisted it’s pants back up. It turned around to face me again. “Now it is saying the first true words of the day. It should not make new friends when its mouth is full of lies and insults.”

  I didn’t know how much longer I could suffer this absurd creature, dream or not. The knot on the back of my head pulsed in real pain. “You’re right, friend. I apologize.”

  “Fuh…friend?” it said, a pair of ears erecting from under the cap. “It is…our friend? Hurray!” it said, and began to dance on the edge of the fountain. “It has been so long since we had a friend, even an ugly one!”

  “You said I couldn’t sleep. Why is that?” I said.

  “It doesn’t know. It doesn’t know!” the creature said, holding it’s hands up to it’s mouth in gleeful consternation. “The void is filled, the heart split twain! The acorn grows, but the oak tree it becomes will split them all asunder!” it said. It’s voice growing higher and it’s eyes going wider. It pointed it’s long finger at me again, “You carry doom with you!” It cackled to the ceiling, jumping up and down on its tiny legs.

  “I’ve heard enough!” I said. “I don’t know who you are or what you are, but I’ve heard enough. You’re a repugnant little toad, and I hope you wallow in your piss for all time!” My heart was racing and I stuck my chin out in defiance of this vile little creature.

  “Oh we could teach it manners. Yes, we could,” it said, holding both hands out in front of it. An axe appeared in them. “It would not have a tongue to hurt us with. It would not have hands to touch our fountain. It would not have feet to run. It would be our friend forever!” It said, leaping down from the fountain.

  I screamed, turning around to flee. The crevice I’d squeezed through was gone, just a flat wall of hard stone. I spun back around to see the small evil creature slowly walking towards me. A veiny purple tongue snaked along it’s razor sharp teeth.

  “Oh yes, we-“ it said, then froze. It cocked it’s head, as if hearing something off in the distance. “How? How? How!” it said, stomping it’s feet in rage. Then it leapt high up into the air and dove backwards into the fountain. As it dove in, the cave all around me followed it, like a canvas being torn off a wall.

  I stumbled backwards, falling on my back on the trail. I stared upwards at the sky, now a lighter hue of blue. Slowly, I sat back up and looked straight ahead. The rock overhang was gone. The cave was gone. It was just shrubbery and trees going up the side of the hill.

  I rubbed the small of my back where a root had dug in. Then I heard it. Something off in the distance. Something larger than a squirrel or rabbit. Was it the same something that frightened that horrible creature? I stood, my legs still wobbly. I needed to make some distance but it was too hard upright.

  I willed the Shift to happen. I felt myself condensing and elongating. It was still a strange feeling, but I was proud of myself that I could do it at will now. The most painful part were my fingernails and toenails. They curled lengthwise and felt like they would pop out of the nail bed, but they didn’t.

  My Shifting complete, I engaged my senses on a whole new level. I raised my pointed muzzle and sniffed the air. Nothing. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction. That also meant it was carrying my scent towards this unknown being. I could hear the thing, whatever it was. It moved along the ground, slowly. Like it was hunting.

  I bolted off into the undergrowth, leaving a pile of clothes and shoes behind. Long rotten logs lay where they fell decades ago. I hopped over them or ran around them. Thick bushes were no match for my sleek powerful body as I bolted through them. My paws felt no discomfort from the roots, sharp wood, hard stones or anything else underfoot. My tail swayed behind me, unconsciously keeping me balanced no matter what I ran over or through.

  She Shifted. I guess she caught wind of me. I must be getting sloppy these days. Sven is always telling me that, after all.

  It was very cute that she thought she could sneak out of the house without us knowing. It took all my willpower not to laugh when she stepped on Sven’s belt buckle. The noises she made going down the stairs could’ve woken the dead.

  I know she hasn’t been sleeping well. Sometimes I’ll watch her sleep, just relishing her beauty and my own luck for having her. She looks peaceful enough in her sleep, but in the morning she looks worn out and something is off. I’d catch a glimpse of her across a room and she’d just be gazing off into nothingness.

  I took another step, delicately putting my foot between two rocks. Following her trail had been easy enough. Her feet were the first to kick the leaves along the trail since the last rainfall. One day I’ll teach her about hiding her tracks. But now that she’s Sh
ifted, things were going to get more interesting.

  I went to take another step and my foot brushed up against a rock, lifting it and dropping it back down with a loud clunk. Then she bolted. I heard her run off trail and down the hill. Shit!

  There was only one way to catch her now. I Shifted, my clothes left behind in a discarded pile. I launched down the side of the hill, her scent filling my snout. I could sense her fear, her alarm. She was running frantically, smashing through bushes and other impediments. I felt bad that I’d scared her so, but now I needed to catch her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

  I picked up my pace, my paws barely touching the earth before pivoting and pushing me off further through the forest. I could taste the lather forming in my mouth, the panting of my chest reminding me that it had been far too long since I had a good long run in wolf form. Sitting was the curse of the human form: it felt so good. You could just lay around all day. I’d done my fair share of that recently.

  Sitting in board rooms. Sitting and listening to experts and friends advise me about the Pack’s resources and what we should do with them. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, and underneath them all I couldn’t help but sniff out an ulterior motive. Or maybe all the sitting just made me cynical.

  But here, now, I was free. My mind felt smaller, but it was sharper. More focused. None of those greater concerns weighed down on me. I was just chasing my Grace, my lover. If only our lives could be like this forever. But I knew they couldn’t.

  I leapt over a downed log covered in fungus and narrowly dodged a split stump on the other side. Clarissa’s scent was everywhere now. She was close. I slowed down to look around the area.

  A black shape burst through a thick hedge to my left. I saw Clarissa’s eyes go wide with surprise, and her snarling teeth clamped shut right before they bit into my side. With no way to stop mid-air she slammed into me, launching me across the small clearing we’d stopped at. I hit a thick tree trunk and she skidded to stop inches from me.

  I leapt up onto all fours, my head down and my tail wagging high over my head. I let out a playful growl, my yearning for this simpler life getting the better of me. As Pack Alpha, I had to be composed at all times. I couldn’t cut loose. I hadn’t played with Pack Mates in years, and a small but insistent part of me missed that. Now, with just the two of us, I could experience that joy again.

  Clarissa was having none of it. She slowly padded over to me and licked my face. She was still shaken, still uneasy. I Shifted back into human form and she followed suit.

  I lay with my back against the tree, and she came to lay in my arms.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” I said.

  She sat up long enough to jab a finger into my chest. “You’re an asshole for scaring me like that!” Then she lay her head back against my shoulder.

  “I couldn’t let such a clumsy bandit escape without punishment,” I said, goosing her.

  “Clumsy? I was like a professional. Neither of you stirred. I could’ve robbed you blind. I might consider a life as a cat burglar. Maybe I’ll steal the Crown Jewels,” she said, her fingertips lightly scratching tiny circles against my bicep.

  “Somehow I don’t think that would work out,” I said. “And I don’t think I would be sneaky enough to break you out. And Sven…”

  “Oh, Sven definitely couldn’t. His farts would give him away,” Clarissa said.

  I ran my hand along the back of her head and found a swelling knot. “Did you hit your head on something?”

  “I did. I…” she said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I saw something, Helmut. At least, I think I saw something. It was very strange,” she said, holding me tighter. “I was running and I found a cave.”

  “I didn’t know we had caves this close to the village,” I said. I was almost certain we didn’t, but it had been a while since I went exploring out here.

  “It was back there,” she said. “Where I left my clothes.”

  “I didn’t see a cave back there,” I said.

  “I went back inside it. Inside I saw something. I don’t know what it was. Some kind of creature,” She mumbled the last part. “It’s crazy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “It might not be as crazy as you think.” I knew these woods were ancient, and ancient woods kept ancient memories. Legends and myths that were once real, some of which still held on despite a world that has moved on.

  “It was small, like a child. It had a wicked face, long teeth and I think it was insane,” she said. “It kept babbling about it’s fountain, which it peed into. Then it pulled out an axe and wanted to chop me up. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like it really happened. I can still see it’s yellow eyes, peeking out from below it’s red hat.”

  I forced my breath to remain steady. A Redcap! How? Why? It had been hundreds of years since one had been seen, and most people had written them off as a story used to scare children. Something to keep them from wandering around at night. Stay in your beds or the Redcap will come for your feet! I remembered the fear those words instilled in me when I was young. “And then what happened?”

  “It heard something. I think it got scared. Maybe it was scared of you? Whatever it was,” she said, “it disappeared and I was back on the trail. The cave was gone too.”

  “Did it say anything else?” I said calmly.

  After a moment’s hesitation, “No. Not really,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t know what you saw, My Grace, but I suspect hitting your head played a part in it. Could this have been a dream from last night that this bump made you confused about?” I said. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to alarm her. The last thing she needed to worry about was some forest spirit with an axe wanting to chop her up.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” she said. “I’m getting cold.”

  Under other circumstances I might have suggested a way we could warm up out here. But she was still shaken up and I had to admit feeling a level of unease. “Let’s go get our clothes and head back home,” I said.

  I opened the front door of the cabin and the smell of cooking made my stomach rumble. Did one of our Pack Mates come over to make us breakfast? I walked into the kitchen and was struck by the second strangest sight of the day: Sven cooking.

  I took in the sight in all its glory. He towered over the stove, his back to me. He had tied on an apron, but was otherwise naked. His tribal tattoos wrapped up and down his arms, and his back was like a roadmap of scars. Reminders of the victories he’d won for the Pack. His glorious ass was round and full, just begging to be groped. On the island behind him, he’d laid out a spread of poorly cooked food.

  A pile of burnt toast was stacked nearly a foot high, threatening to teeter over like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Next to it, a cauldron of soupy oatmeal sat, probably needing another twenty minutes on the stove. But the most befuddling was a plate of translucent floppy bacon, so raw that I could still hear it oink.

  “Dritt!” Sven said, attending to a pan on the stove. He whipped a spatula to and fro, trying to delicately flip eggs that were cemented to the pan.

  “Breakfast? You shouldn’t have,” Helmut said from behind me.

  “Good morning!” Sven said. “Did you two have a nice run?”

  “I needed a change of pace, and boy did I get it,” I said. “Took a spill and bumped my head, though.”

  “Poor thing. Helmut, you should take better care of our Grace. We want to get a lot of mileage out of her,” he said, grinning. His grin disappeared when a stubborn egg refused to give up it’s grasp on the pan. “Lille jaevelen!”