more isolated existence. These elves had evidently been the latter. By the time I’d come along, only a handful remained living here, and soon they too left.
No one was required to give notice to leave the town—or to move in for that matter. All supernaturals were welcome as long as they followed some basic rules and respected the other beings that made this place their home. This was meant to be a sanctuary—and for some, that sanctuary was only needed on a temporary basis. Grandmother had told us the elves had gone back to their fae home, and although that was absolutely fine, I’d always been sad about it. Why had they left? Didn’t they feel welcome here? Didn’t they know that life in Accident was better than life anywhere else?
Maybe they’d just gotten tired of a two-hour-per-day commute, and needed to move closer to where they worked.
I put the truck in four-wheel drive, then slowly made my way up the road to where Clinton was building his compound. Although several vehicles had been up here before, it was still rough going. There were brambles and bushes that reached out to scratch along the side of my truck. Saplings had sprouted mid-road, and although the bigger ones had been hacked down, smaller ones were still there to bend as I drove over them. I carefully edged around washed out sections and boulders only to come to a stop in front of a giant downed tree.
“Guess we’ll have to go on foot,” I told the others. I was assuming the tree had recently fallen, otherwise one of Clinton’s pack would have moved it. Although it was a bit large for one werewolf to manage on his own. Perhaps someone had noticed it and gone back for help?
Either way, I had clients to see this afternoon and didn’t have time to wait around for werewolves to come back and move a tree. Getting out of my truck, I grabbed one of the cages in the back, slung my bag over my shoulder, and eyed the thick oak trunk that lay across the road.
The squirrels and Drake had no problem getting over to the other side, but the tree was thick enough that trying to climb up and over it wouldn’t be an easy task. I walked around to the right, but the tree had fallen into a mess of brambles that looked a whole lot less fun than crawling over a thick trunk.
Walking around to the left, I saw the massive, dirt-encrusted root ball from where the tree had come up from the ground. Thankfully that area was relatively clear, and I made my way past some sticker bushes and vines to round the fallen tree.
I didn’t have the same affinity toward trees as I did animals, but I’d spent enough time in the woods growing up that I wondered why this tree had toppled. Had some infection taken out the root system? A blight of some sort? It was a shame that a tree would grow so huge and strong only to be taken down by mold or fungus.
On the other side I saw that a huge crack split the tree nearly straight up the middle. Inside, the core was black and rotted, a sickening sweet smell oozing out from the center. I put my arm over my nose and mouth, but before I could turn away I saw something glinting along the edge of the split.
Moving closer, I knelt down and picked it up, holding my breath to keep from gagging at the smell.
It was a bone. Probably the remnant of some animal’s dinner that they’d been keeping in this split in the tree, although what carnivore would find the smell pleasant enough to store their food there was beyond me.
I shoved the bone in my pocket and hurried back down the road toward Clinton’s compound. It would be interesting to identify what sort of animal had met their end here and give the bone a proper burial. Later.
Once I was done evicting some hornets and a badger, later.
It was only a mile hike into the rudimentary compound, but it took longer than usual due to the incline and my lack of physical fitness. Heck, I’d only moved away a month ago and I was already huffing and puffing going up a mountain road? I needed less time in front of the television with popcorn and more time jogging or lifting at the gym. Just when I was wishing I’d