“Can I ask you a question?” Jenny said.
Cleo braced herself. Usually that question was a precursor for something either cruel or embarrassing. Her mother’s words floated through her memory, ‘Can I ask you a question? Do you like being fat?’
“Sure,” Cleo said anyway.
“Who comforts you?” Jenny asked.
Cleo was hot, tired, overwhelmed. She was on a mysterious march through the woods in distinctly hostile territory. She wasn’t sure how Jenny felt about her, but ‘poorly’ was probably a fair guess.
To Cleo’s everlasting horror, tears began to well in her eyes. She stood up instead too fast and braced herself against the pine tree. She closed her eyes and focused on the tree instead of her spinning head and sudden shame.
The tree was quiet strength, a long clear vision of growth. Cleo loved pines. It whispered to her of dry roots, of thirst Cleo didn’t have much strength to quench, but she mustered some from somewhere and gave it to the pine. Her fingers tingled against the rough bark. She couldn’t give much, not without depleting herself. She needed to be able to get to where Jenny was leading them, and then get back to her car. Cleo tried not to think about that, and focused again on the tree’s near-silent thanks as its roots wriggled slightly deeper, seeking water.
Cleo came to with Jenny frantically shaking her shoulder. Cleo was seated again, her back against the pine.
“-eo? Cleo, come on, come on,” Jenny said frantically. Cleo swatted Jenny’s hand away weakly.
Her head spun again, and Cleo took another sip of water.
Over the heartbeat in her head, Cleo heard something crashing through the woods. She tried to draw herself up, but Jenny kept her down with a firm hand.
“Shit,” Jenny whispered to herself, “he’s gonna kill me.”
Across the clearing from the copse where Cleo was currently taking her not-fun break, a huge black bear stopped its run. Ian. He huffed deep in its throat, low and threatening. It sounded like rolling thunder, if thunder was 300 pounds and furious. Cleo and Jenny both froze. Jenny’s reaction freaked out Cleo even more. Why would she be wary of Ian? They were pack. Sleuth. Whatever.
Ian’s bulk’s moved unbelievably fast. In a loping run, Ian covered the ground to Cleo and Jenny. He stood before Cleo on all fours, tall and terrible. Jenny backed up, nearly tripping on her own feet.
Ian plunged back down to all fours. His back arched, and he began the process to become human again. The snapping and cracking of bones was high-pitched and horrible. Cleo grimaced on Ian’s behalf. That had to hurt.
Ian was then crouching in front of her, unconcerned about his nakedness. “What’s wrong,” he demanded. “Where are you hurt?” His voice was loud and deeper than it should’ve been. She wasn’t sure he’d quite finished shifting before he started yelling at her. Terrific.
Then Ian’s words registered and Cleo looked down at herself. Was she bleeding? She didn’t get it. She was overheated, sure, but fine. Did he see something she didn’t?
He turned angry eyes towards Jenny. “What did you do to her?” he growled. His voice went even deeper, and the tiny hairs on the back of Cleo’s neck stood straight up.
“Whoa big guy,” Cleo said, and unthinkingly put a hand on his shoulder. Once her hand hit hot skin, she paused. Maybe grabbing an enraged former-bear wasn’t the best idea. The muscle flexed against her hand. His head snapped back towards her, and his glare shifted from Jenny to Cleo.
“The only problem is that I’m embarrassingly out-of-shape compared to you guys,” she admitted.
“Jen, you shouldn’t have pushed her so hard,” Ian snapped, his eyes shifting back to Jenny.
Cleo shook him gently to get his attention. He was breathing deep. The man needed to calm down.
“Want some water?” she asked. Cleo found herself slightly massaging his shoulder. She really, really shouldn’t think this was so hot.
“No, I don’t want any water,” Ian said. “You need it. Drink some.” When she hesitated, his brows drew low. “Now.”
Cleo wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be very afraid. Why was it so important that she be okay? She better not be a part of some ursine revenge about her grandmother, or she was going to be sorely put out.
Cleo shrugged and took a sip of water. Ian’s eyes bounced from her mouth, to her throat, to her eyes. Cleo blushed, remembering the last time his eyes had roved over her skin. A bead of water escaped from the side of her mouth, and Ian watched her brush it away from her lip.
Ah. Maybe this was a sex thing. Maybe he just wanted to have a convenient next-door booty call available. She set the water down, suddenly depressed.
“I think I’m ready to keep going,” she announced.
“The hell you are,” said Ian. His face was set.
She stood up on shaky legs. Ian clutched at her waist, his hands stronger than they needed to be. His face was close to hers and she said softly, “I’m really okay.”
“You don’t look okay. You didn’t look okay sitting on the ground,” he argued.
“If I may interrupt?” Jenny asked, suppressed laughter in her voice. “We don’t have much longer to go. Ian, you could just carry her.”
“Hell no,” Cleo started, and then was suddenly moving through the air, her feet leading the way up.
Ian tucked her against his chest. He didn’t look any happier than when she was on the ground. She gave an experimental wriggle and couldn’t budge the steel bands of his arms. She wriggled harder, and still Ian didn’t move.
He flicked a glance downwards, “Stop that,” he said mildly. So calm, like this is just a normal thing to do. Like he scooped up women all the time through long treks in the woods.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” she said through clenched teeth.
“But we’ll go faster this way,” he said
