Raene and the Three Bears (The Alder Tales Book 2)

by RS McCoy

  Her weeks of worry and guilt and grief came out in one massive wave of sobs.

  Parson only stroked her back and thrust his hand into the hair at the back of her head. When Raene’s tears wouldn’t slow, he gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Just stop. Come on. You can’t honestly think you made Blossom run.”

  Raene stared at him with red-rimmed eyes that burned from so much crying. Had she been capable of anything more than a pathetic squeak, she would have told him he was wrong.

  But Parson continued without interruption. “You could have tied her to a horse and she still wouldn’t have left if she didn’t want to. You didn’t know her very well if you think she’d listen to anyone, even you. Do you know how hard it was to get her to do anything?” To Raene’s eternal shock, Parson looked at her with an amused smile.

  Then he sobered, his smile stolen by darker thoughts. “She wouldn’t have given up transformation. It was the only thing she ever really wanted. Something else happened to her. She might be in danger or worse, but there was nothing you could have done to make her run. Maybe your uncle—”

  Raene shook her head. Kaide couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Blossom’s safety.

  “Then it was something else.” As if the matter was settled, Parson pulled her against his chest again, clutching across her back to hold her tight. Raene melted against him, finally unburdened of her secrets. Her arms encircled his waist, and for a long while, they remained kneeling in the soil. Neither moved. When at last Raene found her voice again, she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you’d be angry—”

  “Oh I am. I’m so furious I can’t see straight.” His hands balled into fists at the small of her back. After a calming breath, he explained, “But it’s not your fault, and if what you say about your uncle is true, then something else is going on. I hate that I can’t do anything for her. I’ll always hate it, but I don’t hate you.”

  Raene could scarcely believe this was the same man she’d first met in Da’s tent. Since when was Parson Frane reasonable?

  When he pulled away, his eyes were dark, but Raene only glimpsed them before he leaned in to kiss her.

  Raene reeled from the insanity of it. He was supposed to be so angry he never wanted to see her again. But instead, he was holding her, kissing her, forgiving her. It was so unfathomable, it bordered on the fantastic.

  Raene held tight to his waist, her eyes slammed closed, as Parson’s kiss blocked out everything else—her tear-stained face and aching chest, the morning sunlight streaming through the flower-filled branches, the fallen lock of chestnut hair that draped across his eye, the scrape of his beard on her cheek.

  When Parson pulled away and let out a long breath, Raene felt robbed. She was far from ready to face the day. Fear and relief and disbelief swirled in chaos inside her.

  Parson somehow knew. “Come on. I think we could both use a good hunt.” He kissed her forehead before he helped her up and tugged her toward the trees.

  “But the cart—” she protested.

  “I’m not going to watch you struggle with it all day. It’s too hot already. Just be quick. We’re already late.” No sooner had he released her than he transitioned. It was impossibly quick. He fell to the ground as a bear in less than a second, faster than she’d ever seen.

  Raene watched him go. She’d never seen him in totem before, not with her human eyes. His chestnut fur was a dead match to his stubbled cheeks and the hair so often tied up off his neck. He was huge, with a stocky build and square head and jaw. And, considering his bulk, he was astonishingly fast.

  Parson’s bear form was out of sight in seconds. Raene gave in to her own transition and followed him, catching up a minute later.

  Her tiger’s hunger was less intense today, but there was still that edge that needed softening. Between the two of them, the elk buck they found was laughably out-maneuvered. They each ate their fill, tearing off the largest chunks of meat and leaving the rest for the scavengers.

  And then, together, they raced back to the cart. Tiger-Raene was by far the quickest, but bear-Parson arrived only a minute later. Raene had already transitioned back to her human form and mounted her horse. Parson regained his human form, shaking off the flurry of chestnut fur, before climbing onto the cart bench.

  They were off and moving without a word, though the tension between them was gone. Raene felt the weights of her old life letting go, like she’d been tied and finally the ropes were cut. It felt strange to be so unburdened after holding it in so long. Parson looked refreshed and at ease, like he was years younger.

  Raene trotted her horse beside the cart, far more comfortable in the saddle since Parson increased their pace dramatically. She couldn’t help but wonder if her breakdown would make them too late for today’s trade.

  “You’re getting better,” Parson offered after a while, nearly shouting over the roar of horse hooves. His wicked smile suggested he was entirely pleased.

  “It was easier today,” she admitted. She hadn’t given over to the tiger as much; she hadn’t felt as lost to its power. Her transition had been intentional, rather than the result of anger or frustration. And after, she felt calm.

  “Imagine what it would be like if you went every day.”

  Raene listed her head to the side and rolled her eyes at him. “You know that can’t happen. No matter what, Da will never allow it.”

  “Who says Da has to know?”

  “Not everyone is as skilled a liar as you.” Raene flipped her braid over her shoulder as she landed her barb.

  But Parson only laughed. “No, you’re far better than most. And besides, I don’t lie. I just don’t tell them. There’s a difference. I’m really a terrible liar.” They only went another hour before the forest began to thin, the trees becoming narrower and more spread out. Smaller trees and shrubs took up the available space between alder trunks. Raene knew they weren’t far from the edge of the Alderwood.

  Just as they reached the last and smallest of the trees where the expansive meadow began, Parson stopped.

  “What are we doing?” Raene asked, her voice hushed. She felt so exposed here without the trees ahead; it was the first time she’d seen such a sight since she entered the Alderwood over two weeks ago.

  So much had changed for her since then.

  “We’re meeting a Pyro trader. They should be here already.” Parson’s eyes searched the horizon, looking even brighter green with the sunlight reflecting off the meadow.

  In the distance, the high rises of Seraphine City towered over the wall that protected the capital. “Do you ever go into the city?”

  “Not usually. Once a year, maybe. Why? Do you need something?”

  Raene nodded with a mischievous smile. “A tattoo.”

  “We’ll make another trip,” Parson said without hesitation, “when we’re not on a trade for the clan. What are you going to get? Where are you going to put it? Doesn’t it hurt?” Parson’s spew of excited questions only made her laugh. She hadn’t thought about specific tattoos with any sort of seriousness—she thought she’d have her whole life in Pyrona to figure it out—but she was determined to maintain her Pyro roots. Permanent ink in her skin would be a good start.

  Her tiger ears perked to the low rumble of horse hooves. In unison, Raene and Parson looked to where a cart appeared from the east. Raene held some small hope it might be someone she knew, but of course it wasn’t. No elites or wealthy politicians would meet in the Alderwood to trade. Instead, just a pair, a man and a woman, both in Pyro garb that matched her own.

  The sight of them brought her back to Pyrona, to the manor, to the shadows of the volcanoes. She thought of Norsa’s endless cooking and her father’s empty eyes. She thought of Kaide, and how he’d done this to her—sent her across the realm to live in the Alderwood—and yet she found she didn’t hate it as much as she once did. There was a life for her here, in one way or another.

  Still saddled high on her horse, Raene was
pulled from her daydreams when Parson said, “Stay alert. Something’s not right.” Then, like nothing was wrong, he climbed down from the cart and rounded toward the back. Raene occupied herself with her braid, intentionally looking bored despite how her tiger eyes never left Parson. She marveled as he single-handedly lifted a length of alder wood and carried it to the Pyro cart.

  The Pyros observed in silence, both standing to the side as he collected beam after beam of rough-cut wood, each as long as three grown men, and set them into their cart. Parson’s brow gleamed with sweat, but otherwise, he didn’t seem to notice the impossible weight he carried.

  When he collected the last beam, Raene tied off her messy braid and slipped to the ground. She pulled a canteen of water out from under the cart seat, holding it for when he returned. Instead, he lingered at the Pyro cart, discussing whatever business they had. The man and woman each handed him a black bag, one large and one small, before he made his way back to her.

  Parson set the bags on the seat of the now-empty cart and accepted the canteen with a grateful smile. Raene watched him drink, watched his throat bob with each gulping swallow. When he was finished, he dragged a hand across his face and said, “Thank you.”

  Raene glanced toward the Pyro couple as they finished securing their load and started their horses to the east. She wouldn’t believe Parson could have moved it all by himself if she hadn’t watched him do it. “Was something wrong?” Raene was hardly an expert in Terra trades, but nothing had seemed out of place to her.

  Parson kept his eyes on the Pyros as they left. “That’s not who I was expecting. They said there was some sort of issue in the clan. They were well-enough informed that we completed the trade, but I’d rather not have surprises like that.”

  Raene saw shades of Kaide’s protective nature in him. Parson was responsible for the trade, a role in which he was clearly comfortable and experienced. It seemed so contrary to his usual mood swings, but at the same time, it suited him perfectly.

  Thanks to Parson—and despite Raene—they’d done what they’d set out to do. “Now we head back?” she asked.

  He shot her a smirk. “You sound disappointed.”

  Parson rushed her a second later. His mouth stole her breath, and his hands roved across her back, holding her firmly against him.

  Not that she needed it. Her hunger matched his, and here, so far from Pyrona or the Bear Clan or anything else, it was easy to give in. His unparalleled strength allowed him to grip her hard, and while it scared her, it also excited her.

  Parson released her mouth and groaned, as if in pain. His mouth fell to her neck and nipped at her skin. Raene’s hand found the bottom hem of his tunic and disappeared inside, stroking his strong stomach muscles with her fingertips, though it was hard to concentrate with his mouth sucking on her neck.

  He was so different than his brother. Parson had so much energy when he held her this way. His touch ignited her, but Raene couldn’t decide if that was good or not. He made her heart struggle to beat and her lungs ache for air. She felt like she was dying in all the best ways.

  Parson’s fingers slid into her hair, stroking the back of her head as he often did. Between his one hand resting low on her back, his lips on her neck, and his stomach heaving under her touch, Raene was little more than clay in his capable hands.

  She only backed away when she was truly out of breath. Parson’s eyes blazed a bright emerald green, and a sly smile erupted across his features. “Come on, we have a few hours left before dusk.” She waited for him to pull away and climb into the cart, but he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped both arms tightly around her and lifted her from the ground, breathing in her scent in a loud inhale in her ear. She was certain he could feel the incessant pounding in her chest, the haggard breaths she couldn’t calm.

  And then, all at once, he set her down and released her. Raene watched him climb up and take his seat in the cart, at a complete loss. “That’s it?” Once she caught her breath, she would have stayed there with him all day if he’d asked.

  He raked a hand through those chestnut locks and smiled. “Yeah, why?”

  Raene shook her head and laughed as she climbed back into her saddle. He never made any sense. He was talkative then quiet. He would run his hands all over her before pulling away entirely. He was never the same two days in a row, or even two minutes in a row.

  Raene couldn’t decide if she liked that or not. Hale was as constant as a river while Parson was a variable as the wind, and she had no idea which was better than the other. How was she supposed to choose? She had thirteen days left to decide.

  She tried not to think about it too hard as she rode. Nothing good could come from dwelling on the impossible decision. Instead, she concentrated on the trees growing larger, the thick canopy blocking out the afternoon sun, the way the day’s warmth faded into evening cool.

  As he had before, after they had come to a stop, Parson tended to the horses before setting up the narrow tent they’d shared the night before. This time, as he unrolled the bundle of canvas, Raene was there to stake the tent to the ground. Their makeshift camp was ready in half the time.

  They both knew they wouldn’t see it again for hours. Raene hummed with anticipation. She didn’t need to hunt—she’d already hunted once today already—but Raene wanted to hunt.

  Without a word, Parson strapped his bow and quiver across his shoulders, though she’d never seen him loose a single arrow, and approached her. Only the hand at the small of her back urged her into the depths of the forest, but Raene didn’t need much prodding. She transitioned to her tiger form, and behind her, the bear companion that never left her side. There was an ease to it now, a comfort, that hadn’t been there before. When she followed a trail and pulled away, she found herself circling back, making sure she didn’t lose him. They were better, stronger together.

  They were sharks of the forest, seeking out every innocent, killing without hesitation or mercy, before moving on to the next. Tiger-Raene had killed her fair share of rabbits when she caught the scent of something else, something she’d smelled at least once before.

  Then she saw the eyes, little more than yellow orbs hovering in the shadow. She knew those eyes.

  A coyote.

  Last time had not gone so well. The coyote had injured her, and the bear had robbed her of the kill. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Tiger-Raene growled low and loud, warning her bear of this new predator. Then, she launched. She had speed and size, and this time, she put them to good use before the coyote had a chance to even touch her.

  But no sooner had her feet left the ground than a second pair of coyotes flew from the shadow, knocking tiger-Raene to her side on the ground. She was on her feet and running an instant later, but her back ignited in pain. The coyote weighed on her, its teeth pulling her down as it clamped onto her flesh.

  The bear arrived only seconds after the initial attack, and he quickly removed the coyote from her back, biting it hard across its ribs and snuffing the life right out of it.

  Ten more appeared where the one had been killed. At least five or six coyotes surrounded the bear, jumping onto his back and latching on with their canine teeth. The bear’s groans and growls were lost on the wind as tiger-Raene fought her own attackers in front, behind, and on either side of her. More and more yellow-grey coats materialized from the shadow. She realized her mistake too late: she’d picked a fight with an entire pack of coyotes.

  Raene’s tiger claws killed one and mortally wounded another before the next managed to leap and grasp her neck between its jaws. She rolled and twisted to shake it, but that left her underside exposed. Pain radiated from her side, her back, her paw. They were everywhere, too many to fight off.

  But she couldn’t give in. For every bite that pierced her thick fur, tiger-Raene slashed her claws across the throat or belly of a coyote. She was drenched in blood—theirs and her own—and at last, she managed to get to her feet. There were less coyotes around her now, and they picked t
heir footing over the bodies of their fallen packmates.

  Raking the ground for purchase, tiger-Raene lunged. She flew through the air toward her target, but she was intercepted. A pair of coyotes each caught her mid-air, one from either side, so that she spun as she landed. She struck the ground far too hard. The entire right side of her tiger form lit with pain. Her front paw hit the ground at the wrong angle and made a horrid cracking sound.

  It took her longer than she would have liked, but tiger-Raene managed to get to her feet, circling defensively against the remaining coyotes.

  But her front paw was damaged more than she realized. She couldn’t put weight on it, and she couldn’t use it to strike at the remaining attackers. Somewhere behind her, the bear continued its own struggle. Between the whimpering and growling and barking, she didn’t know how he was faring, and when she spared a second to look, she was rewarded with coyote teeth clamped around her neck.

  Tiger-Raene was little more than a collection of bites and tears and pain. There was no part of her that didn’t scream in agony. There was nothing left but the instinctive urge to fight and survive. Coyote howls and bear growls sounded around her, but Raene couldn’t move. She could only lay motionless as the world around her went black.

  The Fold

  TO BEAR-PARSON, a coyote was a menace. Three was a pain. Ten was a challenge. More than twenty? Impossible.

  Had he a few seconds to spare, he could have transitioned, positioned his bow and struck them down one by one, each arrow flying true into the heart of a coyote.

  But bear-Parson had no such time. He was surrounded.

  Trained agents of the Alderai, they were more capable than animals twice their size. In a pack setting, there was no way he could win.

  He was relieved to see the tiger had killed at least half already, but the way she lay motionless, streaked with crimson, the blood pooling into the soil around her, made him desperate. He had to end this. Now.

  He would kill every last one of them for what they had done to her.