Forsaken An American Sasquatch Tale - By Christine Conder Page 0,7
offer,” he continued.
She nodded, but he was foolish if he didn’t think his sister took pleasure in her messenger duties.
“Besides,” he whispered, “I said no.” He pulled away a few inches to look into her eyes. “Didn’t I?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but you and I both know this won’t be the end of it.” She looked down the corridor toward the vestibule and sighed. “I have to go.” She gave him a peck on his cheek. “We can talk more later. Okay?”
He squeezed her shoulder and went back to their guests. Katie’s whispers started echoing like Liberty knew they would. She turned and walked away. Though she hadn’t been back for over a decade, Proem found its way to her time and time again. If she had the choice, she’d cut ties completely, forever. Sadly, they were invisible and it made it impossible. She sighed. It was only a couple of days a year. She just needed to suck it up.
A sliver of light peeking out from the guest chamber made her stop. Liberty pulled back the curtain. Adrian, propped up on his elbow, lay on the cot.
His appearance hadn’t changed much in the year since she’d seen him last—his small frame still looked like he could use a few pounds—but his demeanor certainly had. Used to be hard to keep focused on him, he flitted about a room like an energy tempest, told cooking stories to everybody and anybody. This new Adrian was unrecognizable. She squinted. If she could see his aura now, she bet it would be dark and swirling.
While Sasquatch, Liberty cold see all auras, human and Sasquatch. But while human, she could only see other human auras, and only when tuned in to them—just like all Sasquatch. Still, she thought she had his pegged.
The photo book lay on the blanket at his side. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair draped around him. She couldn’t see his eyes, but he seemed captivated. “Adrian?”
He looked up, swept the strands behind an ear. “Yeah?”
She pointed to the book on the blanket. “Would you mind putting that back where you found it when you’re through?” Old Adrian had a habit of misplacing things, and the pictures were all she had left of Sage. She wasn’t willing to take the chance on the new Adrian.
He blinked, but didn’t say a word. She couldn’t tell if he intended to answer her, or maybe he’d gotten the hidden meaning of her question and decided not to. She didn’t wait around, gave him a curt nod and turned away, pretended she hadn’t seen the tears welled up in his eyes. She left for the surface without another word.
* * *
Liberty cracked open the wooden hatch a few inches and peered out. Fashioned of thick, pine slabs, draped in thick moss and covered with dead pine needles; the door’s movement went undetected beneath the copse of fir trees. The view from inside the hatch showed her destination, an empty clearing in the distance.
Second nature forced her to wait, listen, and absorb the scent of the woodland. She remained still for a few moments longer. Detecting nothing amiss, she flipped the hatch fully open and vaulted her body up and out of the shaft.
The transformations hadn’t affected her since her mother’s death. She knew of worse matters to fear, though bugs still gave her the creeps.
She closed the hatch, crawled out from under the brush, stood, and looked toward the open space. Right before the clearing, near the edge of the woods, lay another concealed door. That one, covered in loam and field grass, led into a bypass running a few hundred yards in length. Halfway through the tunnel was a ladder the led up to the kennel, but if you went past the kennel entrance, all the way to the end, it led into Mitch and Ellie’s basement. There wasn’t a ladder to enter the house, but rather a door beneath the cellar’s staircase. Mitch put the bypass in himself, right after Liberty and Nathaniel came to live in Montgomery Woods.
Her life, a series of little jaunts, depended on finding good cover. A few hundred yards, then down. A few hundred more, then up again. It exhausted her at times, the whole up, down, and dodge dance. But what were their alternatives? The hunters never grew weary.
According to Mitch, the majority of the seekers were happy with a visual, perhaps a snapshot to show to the world, but the rest wanted a kill, a furry hide to