“You do realize you are literally talking about finding a mouse. To show us a secret passage. Fuck me.” He rubbed his face. “What was I thinking? This is nuts.”
“But fun,” she stated as she finally drew level with him. “Maybe we won’t find a thing. Does it really matter when getting there is the best part?”
“You’re different than other people in how you see things.”
“I am.” No point in denying it.
“You had us jump off a moving train to hike in the desert.”
“I did.”
“You do realize that kind of crazy shit really should be done only if high on acid.”
“I’m sure we could find something we could smoke.” The effects weren’t long-lived for a shifter, but it could be done.
“Probably not the best idea given we have limited munchies. I’d rather find somewhere warm to hunker for the night.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out his coat then cursed. “My fucking gloves are on the train.”
“You shouldn’t have strewn your stuff everywhere.”
“You should have told me I wouldn’t have time to check for loose ends.” He glared right back.
She grinned. “If they get cold, let me know. I have somewhere warm you can stick them.”
His expression…oh it was sultry deliciousness. She couldn’t help but kiss him. Quickly, because they really shouldn’t spend too much time in this place forbidden to the Pride. Something about a treaty. Could cause a diplomatic shifter issue. Blah blah.
“If it gets any colder, we could be in trouble,” he noted.
“We could always dig a burrow and snuggle for heat.”
“I am not earth-worming it for the night.”
“Then we walk.”
He sighed. “You couldn’t have had some dirt bikes tossed off by your hired goon?”
“Want me to play you a violin?”
Rather than reply, he bundled as best he could, and then he removed a layer and made her wear it despite her protests, apparently not liking the thickness of her garments. She didn’t need it but had to admit his worry for her was cute.
They moved off, the night wind brisk and whipping small grains of sand. Even she could admit it wasn’t pleasant walking. But she kept that to herself.
A few dunes later, she couldn’t help but notice his frosting breath, his hands tucked into his sleeves. She’d not accounted for the fact he didn’t stay as warm as her.
The rocky outcrop partially buried by sand proved a perfect spot to say, “Why don’t we shelter here for a bit and warm up.”
“I like that plan,” he huffed, dumping his pack in the sheltered vee of the stones. He pulled out a can and lit it. By the light of it, she could read the label. Camping Fire in a Can. To the point and practical in a place with no wood. Also, very nerdy.
“You remembered to bring gel to burn but not a spare set of gloves?” she said.
“I had gloves. I was a little distracted.”
Yeah. Distracted by her. The headiness went to the spot between her legs.
The tingle she’d felt on and off since he’d made her come returned. She wished they could have had a few more minutes on that train. That they had the time now. Alas, duty called.
“I’m going to look around. Back in a few minutes.”
Still crouching, he reached to grab her ankle. “Stay here. We shouldn’t split up. You might not find me again in the dark.”
“I’d find you. I’ll follow my nose.”
“Great to know I stink that bad,” he drawled.
“How about I just follow the light back so don’t snuff it.”
“Maybe you should take it with you?” he offered.
“No thanks. Because then you’d see what I was really doing because that was me trying to delicately say I need to tinkle.” Not entirely a lie.
“Oh. I kind of do too. Maybe I should go out there.”
“Stop being so dramatic. You pee on the other side of the rock, and I’ll just go over there by that hump for a squat.”
“Bring the fire with you.”
“No. Can you stop with the caveman routine? Just because I don’t swing a dick doesn’t mean I’m scared of the dark.”
“Just trying to be fucking nice,” he grouched.
“Nice would be resuming what we started,” she quipped.
Dead silence.
Good silence or the bad kind? She kind of wanted to know, only she didn’t have time because she’d caught a scent. Something different that didn’t belong. Rank, and a bit of rot. It had been downwind until the slight breeze shifted.
She walked quietly, her senses tuned. She would have preferred switching to her lion. However, with Peter nearby, she had to be careful.
The sandy ground molded to each step she took and made it hard to focus her gaze on any one spot given the undulations, the ripples, and peaks.
It hid until she was almost upon it. The monster rose suddenly, a fake heap come to life, and hissed.
What the fuck was it?
The thing, with its rat-like body, had a long tail, barbed at the end, and tan-colored fur blotching parts of its body. Other sections were pasty wrinkly skin.
It stood on two legs, its front paws tipped with knife-long—and she’d bet sharp—claws. The fetid stench coming off it was enough to make her want to gag and this from someone who’d tracked dead bodies in the past.
The only thing that wasn’t scary about it?
Its size. It didn’t even reach her knee. Nora dove close and grabbed it by the scruff. It let out a god-awful squeal that drew Peter with a cry.
“Nora! Are you okay?”
She carried her prize back with a triumphant, “I think I found the mouse.”
“What?” Holding the gel can, Peter got close enough to see what she caught. “What the fuck is that?” He visibly recoiled while her captive monster hissed, its stubby whiskers twitching.
“This is our next clue,” she stated, stopping a few feet from Peter, holding the thrashing creature firmly. It really wasn’t cooperating, and it squealed something fierce.
“Listen Ms. Mutant Rodent Wrangler, I think you should put that thing down before you catch something.”
“I will let go when you’re ready to follow it.”
“I am not following that creature.” His nose wrinkled.
“We have to. It’s the mouse.”
“It’s a freak of nature.”
“Ah, don’t say that about the baby.”
“That baby is two feet tall instead of a few inches.”
“Makes you wonder how big the adults get,” she replied as the monster calmed and hung in her grip.
“Wait,” he said slowly, and she could see the gears in his head working. “If that’s a baby then—”
The sand erupted in a geyser as Mommy—with her numerous hanging teats—erupted from the ground. Like its progeny, it had ragged fur with patches of slime oozing from sores. One jagged horn curled from beside a rounded ear, a tusk on one side of its massive, gaping maw. And one pissed-off attitude that roared at them while its many whiskers writhed in the air as if alive.
The smaller version in her grip twisted, and she let it go. Maybe mommy mutant rat wouldn’t hurt them if she got her ugly rat-ling back.