(it must be mostly fur, the way birds are mostly feathers)
then checked for the wolf one more time, and headed back to her nonbulance.
* * *
He had her, he had the cub’s scent, he had to
(make her safe)
do his job, he had to
(keep her safe)
and that was fine, he could and he would but then
YOW!
the big noisysmellything bit him and sent him tumbling and here came the Stable so he crouched down down down
(don’t see me)
in the dark hollow by the ditch and here she came
(don’t smell me)
and she was looking and he was he was downwind of her which was good which was perfect and
(oh)
the Stable smelled like berries and blankets, sweet and safe, and it was wonderful, and he didn’t realize he’d followed her out of the ditch until he caught the scent of two more cubs and if they saw if they all saw
(if She saw)
they would be scared and scatter and that would not would not do so he slipped back into the dark and watched and watched and watched and drank in as much of her scent and watched some more.
And followed.
Chapter 2
“Yes. For the third time, I found a wounded bear cub about a quarter of a mile from my house. Well, someone else’s house.”
“What?”
“I’m just renting. And it’s a bargain, or so they keep insisting.”
“A bear cub.” This in a tone that suggested the dispatcher was questioning Lila’s sanity. Which was smart, frankly.
“Fourth time,” Lila pointed out helpfully. “Yes. And don’t forget about the wolf.”
“The wolf.”
“I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve got a criminally short attention span.”
“Can you still see the animal?”
“Which?”
“Do you have eyes on the cub?” the dispatcher asked.
Lila looked down at the animated ball of fuzz taking up her lap (and then some!) while licking honey off her fingers. For a wild creature (was it? maybe it escaped from a zoo? or was someone’s pet?), it was gratifyingly vermin-free, as far as she could tell. It had interesting coloring, too… Most of its fur was a deep black, with a whirl of reddish-orange fur that curled down from its shoulders, forming a rough V-shape down the chest. Its face was broad, with a short snout, tiny ears, and it had cream-colored claws. It—wait.
Lila discreetly checked, then noted she was a little muddy, and her right foreleg was clearly causing her pain, but that seemed to be the worst of it. She didn’t even smell bad, more like…old cotton? Dusty curtains?
“Ma’am? Do you have eyes on the cub?”
“Yeah, I can—ow!—see her. So anyway, my address is…”
“I’m afraid we don’t deal in cubs. You need to call the IPA.”
“Sorry, what?”
“The IPA. Do you need the number?”
“I need to know what an IPA is. The phone number is secondary.”
“I’ll connect you.”
“God damn it! At least tell me what the acronym stands for. Important People Arriving? International Parasailing Accountants? Ow!” To the cub: “If you keep eating my hand, you won’t be hungry for lunch. Get it? Of course not, you’re a bear cub. Great movie, take my word for it.” Meanwhile, the deeply unhelpful person at animal control had made good on her threat to transfer; she could hear phone ringing. “Whatever IPA is, I hope they make house c—now what?”
Lila viewed the front door, on which someone had just knocked, with deep suspicion. She was new in town, and she hadn’t ordered pizza. The kids, maybe? Did they follow her back? The mama bear? No, an aggravated bear wouldn’t have knocked. Was it an election year? She’d honestly rather deal with a frantic mama bear than someone shilling for city council.
The cub, meanwhile, was mewling and butting her with its hard little black head, displeased at the lack of honey on Lila’s fingers. “Sorry, I’m cutting you off. You’ll thank me in the morning.” And, louder: “I’m coming!” She cast about for somewhere to put the cub, who had abruptly stopped being adorable and was now wriggling and scratching and bawling like a calf going through udder withdrawal. Lila could barely hold onto the ball of flailing, furry limbs. “Ow, shit! Okay, just…okay, I’m putting you down now—ow, Jesus, there, so you…uh…”
The cub rolled over and over, shaking its head and bawling and then
and then
and then
she wasn’t a cub anymore. If Lila had turned her head, she would have missed it. Where the cub had been now crouched a little girl with the cub’s coloring—long, wild black hair halfway down her back, and dark eyes with an upward tilt, with fair skin and golden undertones—who looked about ten. She was naked, so Lila could see how scratched up the
(girl?????)
artist formerly known as Cub was, and then something she could actually understand happened for the first time in the last twenty minutes: the child burst into tears.
“Never mind!” Lila shouted at whoever was still knocking. “If you’re IPA, it was a false alarm. If you’ve got pizza, I don’t want any.” This was a rather large lie. A deep-dish pie loaded with sausage and mushrooms would go down just fine with a beer or five. “If you’re stumping for a politician, leave the brochure in my mailbox. If you’re the two random kids from earlier, go home, it’s a school night. If you’re a bear, there’s no cub in here.”
There. That ought to cover everything.
To the little girl sobbing in the corner: “Hi, I’m Lila. Don’t worry, the noise and the situation definitely aren’t getting on my nerves or anything.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm. Calm-calm-calm. Project so much calm. Be fucking calm, dammit! “What happened? Should I call someone? Do you know your parents’ numbers? Are you friends with a great big wolf? Am I hallucinating? It’s okay if I am. You can tell me. I won’t be mad.”
The little girl sniffled and wouldn’t look at her.
“You’re shivering.” Because of course she was. The rental house was agreeably old, with lots of dark wooden floors and very little carpet, and the heater struggled, especially since it was only about fifty-five degrees outside. “Let’s get a blanket on you, and a sweatshirt, maybe? Are you hungry? I could get you something more substantial than honey.” That was another lie, she realized. The fridge held a twelve-pack of LaCroix coconut water, a box of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls (they were better chilled), a half-gallon of skim, and the ingredients for Flanders’s cocoa. The honey she used for her tea and random bear cubs was nearly empty. She’d planned to get groceries in the morning.