When he says that, I burst out into loud, explosive, liberating laughter. I press my hands to my sides and bend forward a little, trying to catch my breath. When I look up at him, I realize he’s not laughing. He’s not angry, either. He’s just waiting for me to finish, so he can continue.
“Oh, wait,” I cough a little. “That thing about the bear shifters wasn’t a joke?”
“No,” he gives a few shakes with his head, then sits down on the blanket, patting the empty place by his side. I immediately sit beside him.
“Come on, it’s a joke, right?” I smile, somewhat awkwardly now. I’ve heard of shifters. We all have. But I always thought it was just a legend, like Big Foot or something. And now, this guy is telling me he’s one of them. Not just that. They’re all a clan of bear shifters. I honestly don’t know whether to laugh again or cry, because he’s obviously crazy.
“I never joke about such things,” he replies gravely.
“I find that rather hard to believe,” I decide to go with honesty here.
“People usually do,” he doesn’t sound offended or annoyed. In fact, a smile still lingers on his lips. I realize how different he looks when he’s smiling. Usually he’s lost in thought, brooding, with that furrowed brow. But, when he’s smiling, that’s a whole different story. “Wanna see?”
His question echoes all around us. The trees absorb the sound into their tree trunks, into their roots, and birds conceal any remnants of it, singing over the words. A moment later, it’s like he never asked it at all. But, he did.
“You mean, you can transform into a bear right now?” I clear my throat a little. It sounds like I’m reading some fantasy novel and the heroine is stuck in the woods, about to meet some woodland creature she never thought was real. That’s exactly how I’m feeling right now. Coyly, I glance at Zarael’s ears, just to make sure they aren’t pointy, like an elves.
“Of course,” he nods. “I figured Dex would have shown it to you by now, but I’m guessing he’s busy trying to figure out a course of action with Leo.”
Under any other circumstances, I would change the topic of conversation to the one about Leo. I want to know what’s going to happen. Is that man still a danger to us or not? But I couldn’t care less about any of that right now. I want to see a bear. I want to hear it growl softly right in my ear and feel it’s warm breath on my cheek. I want it to scare me. I want it to free me.
“I want you to show me,” I tell him, biting my lower lip. A strange, tingling sensation washes over me, as his hand rests on my knee. So innocent, but at the same time, filled with hidden meaning.
“Just, don’t get scared, OK?” he warns me and all I can do is nod, feeling as if the cat’s got my tongue again.
Zarael stands up and takes a few steps backward. First, he takes off all his clothes and I try not to look. I turn away, but I still take a peek. He is built like Michelangelo’s David, perfection of sculpted muscles. He stretches out his arms, high up into the air. His neck cracks as he turns it to the left, then to the right. Suddenly, he falls down to all fours, his back flinging up and head down, all the way to his chest. His whole body tightens, starts twitching. His back lowers, as his breath becomes shorter, faster, louder. He is making strange, unidentified noises and I almost regret asking him to do it. His fingers lengthen, his nails turn into claws. The soft hairs on his arms turn darker, as if someone turned off the lights. In a flash, his skin is covered with animal fur, brown and bushy. I hear a soft growl, but his face is still hidden from view. His back explodes upward and I could swear I heard bones cracking. It all lasts only a few seconds, but he sounds like the pain he is subject to during transformation makes it last much longer than that. Finally, his whole body trembles on the ground, not a single inch on his body belongs to a human now. There is no skin. Only fur. The humping of the shoulders protrudes heavily. There is no mistaking it. When he lifts his head, the nose has already transformed into a long muzzle. His eyes, though, are the same. That is the only way I recognize it’s really him.
When he takes a step towards me, I inhale deeply, sharply. My mind needs a moment or two, to recognize this dangerous animal before me as a friend. Zarael stops. He is resting on his hind legs, not moving. I take a few deep breaths, then start moving towards him slowly. I try not to make any sudden movements or sounds, as I crawl on all fours towards him. It only takes me a few steps and now, we are face to face. His warm breath tickles my nose. It smells a little like salmon.
I lift my trembling hand. My fingers slowly
glide through the air and rest on his wet nose. He doesn’t flinch. His eyes stare right into mine, neither of us averting our gaze. He’s three times my size. He could smite me with one quick motion of his paw. But I know that will never happen. Now, I know what I’ve believed all this time, but never really knew why I felt this way. These men are my protectors.
He changes back more easily, putting his clothes on immediately. But this is not a game. It’s not a matter of just showing off what he can do or how scary he can look. He doesn't need to tell me that the cracking of the bones and the sudden hair growth doesn’t have any effect on him physically. Silently, I curl up into a fetal position and rest my head on his thigh. He uses his fingers to rake gently through my hair, as we both look up at the sky above us.
“Why are you taking such good care of me?” I ask, softly, my voice down to a whisper.
They could have just saved me then shipped me off home, or had someone pick me up. I know this place needs secrecy to function, but there are ways of getting rid of someone. Did they feel a sense of obligation towards me or is there more?
“Do you know what the Chinese believe?” he replies to my question with another question.
“What?”
It’s a little strange talking to someone but not looking at them. It’s more liberating. You can say things you may not have said otherwise and that is what I’m counting on. Total honesty.
“They believe that, if you save a life, you are responsible for it.”
I think I heard it somewhere before, or read it maybe. And, I liked it. I never thought it would somehow end up referring to me.
“We are responsible for you,” he tells me. “All of us. Well, I guess the three of us. You know why, right?”
I think I do, but how does a girl start the topic of emotions with a guy she’s in love with? I feel my cheeks burning red, but luckily, we’re still staring at the sky, watching the clouds go by. I see a dragon with a tiny tail and a little teddy bear. I wonder what he sees.
“We all have feelings for you,” I hear him say and my heart starts pounding wildly, as if it’s responding to what he’s saying. I want to stay calm, but it’s easier said than done. “It’s weird, because it’s never happened before.”
“No?” I ask more out of a need to say something than actually not believing it. The three of them are so different it’s hard to believe that they’d fall for the same girl. And yet, here we are.
“No,” he repeats. “It’s… it’s a strange situation.”