Return To The Bear by T.S. Joyce

she could take with her. Carrying her things would definitely look suspicious.
    The old alpha of the Long Claws had ordered her community burned, and her house ha d gone down in a blaze, but she had saved a few things, including a photograph of her family. Tucking that into her pocket, she dug through a plastic hamper of belongings. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she shoved it to the side and looked through a pillow case stuffed full of her things. Whoever moved her stuff didn’t take consideration for her fragile things, and she mourned the broken snow globe she pulled from the damp fabric. At the bottom of the bag, with the jagged pieces of broken glass, was the knife her father had made for her when she was fourteen. Ten years and the knife still looked brand new. She’d never had a reason to use it, but it was so beautifully crafted, it had remained one of her prized possessions. The sheath was made of soft deer hide, and the handle was made of deer antler with the image of a bear carved into the hilt. The blade glinted in the artificial light as she pulled it free, and when she ran it against her arm at an angle, her fine hairs split and fell in a tiny shower. Still sharp. Why wouldn’t it be? It had never been used for anything other than arm shaving.
    With the blade safely back in its sheath, she tucked it into the back of her jeans and pulled the thin fabric of her shirt over it. With a last look at the pillow Mom had embroidered, she stomped down her sadness at leaving her things and escaped the house. She didn’t say goodbye to Anya or the others because she couldn’t trust them not to go straight to Nathan at the first hint of odd behavior.
    The community was abnormally quiet, though the practice rings were full of young men and boys, changed into their bear forms, fighting viciously. The sound of violence made her mouth feel so dry, it was hard to swallow. She picked up a meal from mess hall and behind the building, she mixed the sleeping pills she’d crushed into the blob of mashed potatoes. If she was lucky, Dunn would eat those first.
    The rain softened to a drizzle as she made h er way to the old Kodiak cabins. The pattering drops bounced off the canopy above and landed on the food. She should’ve asked for some sort of cover for it.
    “About time,” Dunn, the ungrateful little sod, called. “I’m starving.”
    “Good,” she muttered with a painted upon smile. Handing him the plate, she sat beside him and dangled her leg over the broken railing of the porch.
    “Can you ask your mate to find me a different job assignment? This sucks,” he said between bites.
    “Nathan’s not my mate, but I can ask him.”
    Dunn ’s dark eyebrows furrowed and a half smile curved his lips as if he thought she were joking. “I don’t get you. You’ve been here for two years and you still don’t want a mate. Why?”
    He wouldn’t understand her sentiments about love, so she shrugged and stared at the dirt path between here and the trees. The clouds moved swiftly across the sky, dark and ominous and she tried to calm her breathing. She was really going to do this. In a few minutes, there would be no turning back.
    “Damn, that was good,” Dunn said, laying back against the warped wood of the porch.
    “Glad you approve. I’m going to feed the human. Be right back.”
    She toted a plate inside and Hannah gave her a wide-eyed look. She shook from head to toe, the ends of her matted hair trembling with the movement. Joanna pulled her finger to her lips and made a calming gesture. She couldn’t stand to waste that adrenaline now. Hannah would need that extra bolt of energy very soon.
    The click of the door closing sounded loud in the quiet. In the daytime , it was easy to see just how ratty the little cabin was. Dingy light filtered through the holes in the walls where the sealant had failed, and rain dripped from a hundred leaks. Hannah was soaking wet, and Joanna wanted to beat the tar out