The ptarmigan in his mouth still felt warm. He looked forward to munching down on the flavorful flesh. A tangle of boughs weighed down by the latest snowfall thrust out into the trail. A single leap propelled him up and over the obstacle.
Ahead of him the cabin at the edge of the lake came into view. His lynx wanted to stay outside and devour the bird. The man inside wanted to get into the cabin and put the thing in a pot with carrots, potatoes, and a couple shots of wine.
The trees gave way to a clearing and the lynx’s entrance to his cabin would soon be in sight. A sound caused the tasseled ears to twitch forward. Snowmachine? What the hell? Who could that be?
Daylight would soon flood the land. Whoever it was, they must live close or had been on the trail since… Alicia. It had to be her. Did he give her a key to the cabin? Yes. Worse yet, he invited her and forgot.
The lynx refused to give up the tasty morsel it had spent over an hour stalking before knocking it out of its perch in the willow thicket. But he couldn’t let her see him in feline form. He had to do something and fast before…
The machine got louder as it got closer. Now the lynx wanted to turn its bobbed tail and go back into the forest. It had a hiding place in mind, but the man inside understood if she didn’t find him at home, she might come looking.
It was a test of wills—the man against the animal he now inhabited. At the last possible moment, just before the machine came to a stop in front of the porch, he forced the animal’s instincts to cooperate. He dove in through the dog door and initiated a quick morph from cat to human.
He wanted to scream with the pain it caused but kept it down to several groans. With hands forming from the huge paws, he tossed the bird into the sink, His hindquarters were changing even as he ran up the stairs and to the far back of his loft bedroom. A hurried wipe with a dirty T-shirt would do for now. He pulled on sweatpants and a heavy sweatshirt as the door of the cabin opened.
“Hey, Kenny. You up?”
“Almost. Give me a minute. What are you doing up and about this early?” He faked a huge yawn.
With hair mussed from the attempt to dry it, he might pass for someone who just got out of bed. As he tried to look casual, he leaned both forearms on the railing constructed of spruce poles which kept people from falling to the main floor below.
“What time is it, anyway?”
“Time you were up. Something got into the storeroom at the lodge. The place got tore to hell and gone. I need your help to fix the mess.”
She pulled the fur hat from her head with one hand. Alicia ran the other through her dark hair and Ken swallowed hard. The mix of Athabaskan and white had produced a beautiful woman. Each time he saw her, the pull got worse.
The lynx retreated deeper into his soul but not before taking a long sniff of her scent. In a few days she would be ovulating. Damn! The feline inside let out a long low sound someone might think sounded like a contented purr. It wanted to mate with Alicia and he wanted the same thing. That didn’t mean it should happen.
He hoped like hell they could get everything done before she reached the peak of the cycle. If he didn’t get away before it happened, things would get heated.
Alicia turned away to hang up her parka. Her boots got toed off into the tray by the door and the hat and heavy gloves landed on the drying rack above the big wood stove.
“The stove needs a filling. Why don’t you do that while I make coffee?”
Wearing a thermal shirt under a flannel one, she walked over to the sink. As he put a foot on the top step, Alicia picked up the bird. “You haven’t gutted this yet? Not smart, Kenny. It might go bad and poison your ass.”
He had to think of something quick. “That’s why I’m up and I’ve got something on. It wandered in through the damn dog door and I killed it a few minutes ago. I heard the machine and threw something on. Otherwise you might have caught me in the altogether.”
“Gee. Too bad I wasn’t a shade earlier. I’d loved to have seen that.” She tossed the ptarmigan to the counter and pulled a knife out of the holder. “If I clean it and get it into the Dutch oven, can we take it over to the lodge for lunch?”
“I don’t see why not? You do that and I’ll make coffee and get the stove going. But if we have work to get done at the lodge, what kind of time will that take? I need to get home before the place freezes solid. I’ve got too much canned goods in here for that to happen.”
The woman didn’t respond. She took the cutting board off the peg on the wall and cut open the bird. Ken put the percolator on the small propane stove and lit the burner. Then he worked to fill the wood stove. With both drafts wide open it should catch in a short while.
“I’m going back up to get something else on since it seems there’s a snowmachine ride in my future. Cleaning up after some critter is not what I had planned for today.”
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