The Calling

THIRTEEN

“WE DIDN’T GET MUCH out of him,” Daniel said when we were away from Moreno.

“It fit with what I read in the cabin, though. It’s starting to come together but—”

Barking erupted in the forest. A very deep, very familiar, very loud bark.

“Kenjii!” Daniel said.

I broke into a run. Daniel kept pace behind me. As I ran, I mentally cursed the others for not quieting my dog. That bark would carry for miles.

When I was close enough for Kenjii to hear me, I gave a soft whistle. She came crashing through the bushes.

“No!” Hayley yelled. “Kenjii!”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s me.”

Kenjii barreled into me. I managed to avoid being bowled over, but when I tried to get past her, she bumped my legs, prodding me back the way I’d come.

“Maya?” Hayley called, loud enough to make me wince. “Daniel?”

I pushed Kenjii aside. She growled and leaped into my path, then bumped me with her head. Telling me to stay back. Don’t come this way. When Daniel tried to pass her, she blocked him, too.

I shoved her aside with a firm “no.” I saw Hayley and Sam, standing near the abandoned ATV and dead deer. I tried to brush past Daniel. His arm shot out to stop me. And then I saw why. Corey was crouched beside the ATV, as if he’d been working on it. On the other side of the dead deer was a snarling, spitting cougar.

“She came for the deer,” I whispered. Seeing the cougar from another angle, I noticed her hanging teats. “She’s lactating, which means she has cubs close by. The ATVs have probably been scaring away the game. She’s getting desperate.”

“I appreciate the Nature Channel commentary,” Corey said. “But it’s really not helping, Maya.”

“Sorry.”

“Think you could use some of that animal whisperer mojo? Tell her the deer looks tasty, but she can have it. In fact, I insist.”

“You’ve forgotten everything my dad taught us all about dealing with big cats, haven’t you?”

“Oddly, it’s slipped my mind. Something to do with seeing six-inch fangs a foot from my throat.”

“They’re two inches, tops, and she’s a meter away.”

“Maya…”

“Step one, maintain eye contact. Step two, stand up. Never crouch around a cat—it makes you look like prey.”

He shot to his feet so fast the cougar started, then snarled.

“Um, move slowly,” I said.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry. She wants the deer, not you. Dead prey is easier to catch. Let her know you’re surrendering it by backing away, slowly, while keeping eye contact.”

He did that. The cat stood her ground, crouched, but her ears were forward, head raised, rear legs still. In other words, considering attack, but not yet sure it was necessary.

Once Corey had retreated a few meters, the cougar slunk forward, going for the deer. She grabbed it by the neck. Then, hauling it with her, she swung around, her back to the ATV as she looked over at us, checking out the remaining competition.

I tightened my grip on Kenjii’s collar, but she was staying calm.

“Don’t move,” I murmured to the others. “Keep eye contact, but don’t move.”

As I spoke, the cat met my gaze. Her eyes widened and her rounded pupils dilated. She lifted her head and sampled the air. Then she growled.

I tried to step back. I knew I should, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I stood my ground and I held her gaze, and when I did, everything else seemed to disappear. I felt the rush of wind. Heard my feet pounding against the earth. Smelled grass and pine needles and blood. Smelled the blood of the deer and felt the birthmark on my hip begin to throb. The throbbing pulsed outward, an ache that ran down my legs and up into my arms and—

A wrench on my arm yanked me back to reality as I saw the cougar leap. Saw her fangs flash in a snarl, gaze still locked on mine. Saw Kenjii running at her.

I screamed and lurched forward. Beside me, I dimly heard Daniel yell. Felt his fingers brush my arm. Heard my father’s voice. If Kenjii ever goes after a bear or a cat, you can’t interfere, Maya. No matter how hard it is to stand there and let her protect you, you cannot interfere.

He was right. I knew he was right. And it didn’t matter. I looked into that cat’s eyes, and saw her change target, hitting my dog instead, and rage filled me, an indescribable primal rage, like when a cougar had attacked Daniel. There was no way in hell I was letting her hurt Kenjii.

The cat took my dog down and they rolled, snarling and hissing. I kicked the cat. Kicked her with everything I had, and she fell to the side. I kicked her again, aiming for her wide skull. My foot made contact. The cougar went down hard. Kenjii leaped on her and pinned her by the throat.

“No,” I said before Kenjii could bite down. “No.”

The word sounded strange, harsh and guttural, but it stopped Kenjii and she settled for pinning the cat.

Daniel caught my arm. I shook him off and walked over until I was right in front of the cat. Then I bent by her head and looked into her panic-filled, rolling eyes.

Go. Take the deer and go. I don’t want to hurt you.

I meant to say the words aloud. I didn’t hear them, though. Not outside my head. I looked the cat in the eyes and I thought them again, and she went still, gaze fixed on mine as her eyes stopped rolling.

Go on. Take the deer. Feed your cubs. Leave us alone.

She snorted as if she understood. I caught Kenjii by the collar and gently pulled her back. When Daniel moved up behind me, I reached back and took his hand. He hesitated for a second, then squeezed it, and stood beside me as the cougar picked up the deer by the throat again and dragged it off into the woods.

“Situation averted,” I said. My voice still sounded strange.

Daniel squeezed my hand again, reassuring me. But the others said nothing. I looked back to tell them it was okay, she was gone, and we were safe, only they weren’t staring after the cougar. They were staring at me.

I released Kenjii and started to speak, then coughed to clear away whatever was making my voice sound so odd. I reached up to rub my throat. When my fingers brushed my skin, they felt strange, rough.

I looked down at my hand. It was … wrong. Misshapen. My fingers were thick, my nails almost like claws. There was hair on the back of my hand. Thick tawny hairs. As I stared at it, my hip started to throb again.

I looked over at my other hand, the one Daniel was holding. It was the same way. He squeezed it again and leaned toward me, whispering, “It’s okay.”

I wrenched away and ran.