Bear Meets Bride (R) - Amy Star Page 0,2
over his own family line.
Wood smoke cleared away his rambling thoughts. He jogged across the low bridge that hedged the cabin to another smaller creek, this one always dark with bled off tree tannins that filtered out of the cedars, turning the water a darkish color. Like steeped tea. He could see the cabin up on a clearing, above the creek, its rafters bleached by tidal rain and sunlight. The roof was in need of repair. It was definitely rustic but it was just one of the many things that Dylan had gotten used to, something he didn’t even notice, like his own heartbeat, or breathing.
Dark plumes of smoke issued from the rusty chimney and he thought he could smell beef. Always, right after his transformation back into human-form, his senses seemed heightened, as if they’d carried over from the bear. He knew that in time they would balance out but for now he indulged, and his mouth watered. The one thing he could count on with every transformation was that he’d end up back at the cabin, absolutely famished. It took a lot of energy.
Inside, Chris DeWalt was bent over the woodstove. He had on a dark red sleeveless shirt that emphasized his massive arms. Ever since Dylan could remember, he’d been huge. Even as a child, Chris towered above the others. A thin, neatly cropped dome of dark brown hair spiked out from his head in disorientation, as if it couldn’t decide on a unified direction. He had a pudgy nose, flat cheeks that dimpled when he smiled and a strong chin. His big, bulbous lips pressed tightly together when he was thinking or being serious, but spread in a kind of manic grin when he laughed.
He was five years older than Dylan and fully bear. He also happened to be one of Dylan’s best and oldest friends. Because he’d already gone through his initiation, Dylan had chosen Chris himself to be his patron, which was a kind of cross between a tutor, mediator and guardian, while he finished his training on the island.
Chris looked up from his stew and winked. “Almost ready,” he said, “take a seat.”
“Smells delicious, as always. You know, you might’ve missed your calling… you could have been a great chef. Or a housewife,” Dylan teased, and then regretted it.
In actuality, Chris was one of the more prominent political figures back at the mansion. But while politics may have been his vocation, like Dylan, he enjoyed the opportunity to escape the rigorous obligations of the household and return to a simpler existence, one which though isolated, seemed somehow to rejuvenate the older man.
“If Suzy could hear you, she might’ve agreed with you,” Chris said fondly, his eyes lost in a reservoir of memory that was both comforting and painful.
Suzy had been Chris’ mate, a tall warrior-like woman with red hair with a temper to match. Together, they’d made a perfect couple; she was the type to inspire Chris when he was lazy, or indecisive, and he was the gentle, compassionate, wistful type that more often than not, was the voice of careful reason in their relationship. It didn’t mean their relationship hadn’t had its sharp edges. Certainly, I don’t think I could ever have handled a single argument with Suzy, Dylan mused. But Chris was a rock and Suzy was the wind; it had been a perfect arrangement. And they had loved each other, dearly. Right up until the rainy winter night when the phone call had come in, and Chris had learned that she had died in a freak car wreck.
Why did you bring up something like that, Dylan cursed himself. Chris may have been a giant, a warrior without measure in the household, but he was still capable of feeling pain. The mention of Suzy was like his Achilles heel.
“You know, the salmon are really up this season,” Dylan said quickly, trying to change the subject, “You should come down tomorrow and join me. Get your fill… seriously, I’ve never seen it so packed. Must’ve been a good year for them.”
The ploy worked and Chris brightened. There was a childlike naïveté to Chris. It was the one thing that set the two men apart. While Dylan was studious, insightful, cunning and probably more than a little suspicious on occasion, Chris saw the world through an innocent lens. Yes, he was quick to anger but he was also quick to forget.
“Sounds great! I’ve been spending too much time in here, I think.”
“Well, I