I’m irritated but resigned...until I remember that I left my bag in his truck.
“Son of a dick!” I curse, thoroughly and completely pissed off.
I have even less than I did five minutes ago, and that was bare scrapings. Now, I have nothing but what’s currently on my body or in my hands.
I stand on the sidewalk in front of the gas station, seething and looking around at the place I just got stranded in. I guess this is where I stop. I can’t waste money on more bus tickets, and maybe the universe is telling me none too subtly that I’m supposed to be abandoned here. I guess this place is as good as any. I can’t run forever. I need to settle in a place where I can rest my head.
“You need a ride, sweet thing?”
My head turns to look at the new trucker in all his faded blue jeans and trucker hat glory.
“Do I fucking look sweet to you?”
He blinks in surprise, not expecting that response at all. His eyes take me in, like he’s only now really seeing me, rather than only noticing tits and an ass. “No, I guess not,” he says, wheezing out a laugh. “Guess that makes you a bad girl. You want a ride? That’s my rig over there,” he tells me, nodding toward his truck.
“I’ve hit my limit with truckers for the time being, but thanks for the offer.”
He looks only partly disappointed. “Suit yourself.” He walks off, leaving me to hesitate as to what to do next. Looks like this place is my new home base for the time being, so I need to get my bearings.
I straighten up, brush off the fact that I lost my only other set of clothes, forget about the pervert truck driver, and get ready to deal with my next hurdle. Staying here. Wherever here is.
In some ways, being a drifter was easier. Now I have to stay put and figure shit out, and that’s even more daunting. But, just like when I’m on stage, I know how to fake it until I make it.
So I pick up one foot after another, and I walk. I’ll learn the town. Get a way to make money. Find a place to stay. I’ll figure everything out as I go.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I sleep in the cold ass woods for three nights.
It’s mountainous here, so the elevation makes the nights plummet in temperature. Thank shifter shits that I at least had my jacket on me and didn’t leave it in my bag with the rest of my stuff. That would’ve sucked. Honestly, I should’ve known better than to leave anything behind, but I was just too distracted.
Every day, I meander around the town—which is apparently named Edgeland—and get accustomed to it.
It’s a decently sized place, with a mix of rural and metropolitan areas. I stick to the downtown area right off the one and only highway, and get a hold on all of the buildings as I sniff out what kinds of people live here.
Luckily, I haven’t smelled any Cane breeds at all, which is better luck than I could’ve hoped for. I can hide out here, and no one will be the wiser.
I hit up a dollar store two days ago and managed to snag plenty of cheap food. I gorged myself because I was sick of being so damn hungry, but the last of Cliff’s money is nearly gone now.
So I head into town on the fourth morning, ready to beg for any damn job I can get. I know I need to look at least semi-decent, so I head to the park to use the public restroom to clean myself up as best I can.
I got some toiletries from the dollar store too, so I dump them out of my plastic bag and get to work on making it look like I have my shit together.
Eyeliner goes on like warrior paint. Hair gets pulled back in a ponytail like I’m about to perform in a show. My clothes are spot cleaned, and my boots are rinsed off until they’re mud free. I lather my pits in deodorant until I no longer smell like I’m wearing: Slept In The Forest In The Same Clothes For Four Days Eau De Parfum.
I stare at my reflection for a beat and a half, but all I see is Cliff pleading with me to leave and the determination set in his jaw right before he kissed me.
My lips warm up with the memory of that brief kiss. I should’ve grabbed his neck and demanded more. I should’ve made sure we snuck off more often to be with each other. I should’ve told him I loved him.
All I had was never-ending time with Kaazu, but now, all that time is suddenly gone. It’s gone, and Cliff’s gone, and I’m alone. The only person I can trust and rely on now is myself. I sure as fuck can’t let me down.
I hit the streets. I walk down the highway, going into every damn store, cafe, and business that I come across. Some of them side-eye me as I hastily fill out applications, but I come to realize almost immediately that I’m pretty much fucked.
For all intents and purposes, I don’t exist in the human world. I was dumped in an orphanage when I was a baby and then snatched up by Kaazu and his scouts.
I have no social security number that I know of. No driver’s license. He never told me my birthday. Hell, I don’t even have a last name since Kaazu never bothered to give me one.
Sweating it, flipping through page after page of applications, I just start filling in random shit. I don’t even have a damn phone for them to contact me. There’s no way I’m going to get hired.
I have to come to terms with the fact that my grand plans of getting a job and earning money just went right out the fucking window.
With my mouth pressed into a thin line, I’m about to say fuck it and go full feral, live out in the wilderness as my animal instead, but I spot a bar on the corner.
I head for it, because why the hell not? Maybe I can bartend for some tips. There’s gotta be at least one business owner who hates Uncle Sam and would be willing to pay me under the table.
But just as I’m about to reach the door, I smell it. Shifters.
My nose twitches, and the hair on the back of my neck lifts up. I quickly turn around and walk away, sidestepping people as I go.
If I can scent them, they could scent me. I need to get the hell out of here, and fast. Shifter packs are fucking brutal. And even though I’m a damn good fighter, shifters don’t often play fair. The last thing I need right now in my ragged state is to have to face a challenge of some pricks with an ego problem.
The scent I picked up could be a single lone rogue shifter like me...or I could’ve just stumbled into pack territory. I won’t know until it’s too late.
My skin prickles with awareness at the very obvious collar around my neck, and I suddenly curse myself for it. I need to get this fucking thing off.
Any shifter who sees me will immediately know what it means. They could turn me into shifter authorities, who in turn could bring me back to Kaazu, since he is my legal owner.
It was my thought that, since the conjurer broke the tracker magic on it, I should be able to get it off without a conjurer now. I hope. But I’m kicking myself right now for wasting three days in the woods. I was trying to be careful and avoid this very thing from happening by taking in all the scents and sights I could before I ventured out, but I guess I wasn’t careful enough. I should’ve just bitten the bullet on my first day and figured out how to get my collar off.
I should’ve been trying all along to get rid of this thing sooner, but getting far away from Kaazu has been my only focus. I’m kicking myself for that now, because this collar is like a damn bullseye on my neck.
Crossing my arms in front of me, I walk as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself. That last bit is a feat in itself, because I don’t exactly blend. Still, I keep my body small and my steps light as I hurry down the sidewalk. But instead of the shifter scent growing fainter, it’s growing stronger. Which means either I’m downwind from the original source or...there are more.