LARKIN
The trucker who picked me up outside of Chester's let me off at the edge of what could barely be called a town.
Gravel Ridge had the air of a place that had given up judging by the weathered storefronts.
The single main street stretched from one end of town to the other and the cars and trucks on either side were manufactured over fifteen years ago.
I shouldered my pack, groaning at its weight. Though I had shifter strength, getting kicked out of yet another town was taking a toll on my emotions. I’d bitten my nails down to the quick and had scratched the skin off my forearm.
This town might be different . My wolf was gazing at the surrounding woods, thinking of the prey he’d catch.
Maybe . I doubted it though.
Gravel Ridge was unlike the highway stops I'd grown used to, with their constant stream of travelers who minded their own business.
This was a place where newcomers stood out as if they had a siren attached to them or a neon sign blinked on their head.
I was familiar with these places and everyone knew their neighbor's business as well as their shoe size and what lube they used.
I got off the road because of the huge potholes and walked along the cracked sidewalk. The local council mustn’t have had much money and I wondered where their funds went. Not on the upkeep of the public areas.
As I ambled along, I drew glances from people sitting on a bench outside the general store.
I nodded and added a smile but they didn’t reciprocate.
They paused their conversation as I passed and I sensed their eyes on me.
They were wondering who I was and what I was doing in Gravel Ridge because few strangers ever came here and the few that did were on the run or up to no good.
For sure they were eyeing my worn boots and backpack and thinking I was trouble. There were rarely jobs in towns this size so I might have to hitch another ride. But how many cars passed through that weren’t local? I might end up sleeping in the woods and raiding garbage bins for food.
The air smelled clean apart from the dust kicked up by the one passing car whose driver slowed down to gawk at me through his open window.
But there were no shifter scents marking territory or warning of pack boundaries.
Just humans and car exhaust, along with the dust but with a hint of sweetness.
I guessed there was little in this town that produced that sweet aroma so it must have been crops growing beyond the town limits.
That’s good and bad . My beast put my feelings into words.
Yes . There’d be no Alphas demanding I leave but being the only shifter for miles, emphasised how alone I was.
I passed a small diner and stared through the window. I awarded the staff points because the glass was spotless and having worked in similar places, I was aware how difficult that was. I could mosey in and ask for a job but I’d bet the staff consisted of the owner, a waiter and a cook.
The guy behind the counter peered back at me and if I went in, he’d ask a million questions and know my life history in five minutes or less. Except I’d have to bob and weave, add a fib or two and an outright lie because I never knew when my past might catch up with me.
The Alpha vowed I’d never step on pack land again and while I was nowhere near there, I was always looking over my shoulder, searching for his scent because pushing me out of the place I grew up would never tamp down his opinion that I was “other.”
Chester had never pushed for information, maybe because he had something in his past he didn’t share but most folks in small towns did their utmost to drag the details out of strangers. So, I kept on walking as diner customers ignored their coffee and studied me.
Next to the diner stood a barbershop, its blue, red, and white pole spinning and I half expected it to take off.
It probably wanted to escape this life. There was a small post office, a grocery store and a gas station.
As I suspected, the town had few employment opportunities.
I doubted the diner needed a dishwasher and the grocery store was probably manned by one, maybe two people.
And if there was something available, they’d want social security numbers, bank accounts and home addresses.
My wolf stirred, saying if he took his fur, I could stop thinking about my life while he hunted. But there were eyes on me and people might get curious if I snuck off into the trees. I refused to do anything that drew attention to me, other than walking down the street.
But my beast understood that this small town was wrong for us because he sensed the tension bubbling inside me. It left little room for him and he wanted it gone.
Gravel Ridge was a dead end and I headed back to the highway.
But as I passed the grocery store, a paper flapping in the wind had me turn my head.
I’d missed the community bulletin when I’d walked past the first time.
It was covered with notes offering babysitting services, used cars for sale, and another looking for a lost cat. But one flyer caught my attention.
Seasonal Help Wanted for the apple harvest. Fair wages, start immediately. Contact Stan MacFarlane at MacFarlane Orchards.
Below the text was a hand-drawn map giving directions to the farm.
I calculated it was about three miles east of town.
Farm work was backbreaking but as a shifter I was strong and had more endurance than humans.
Also the pay was usually terrible, but I might be able to sleep in a barn. There were worse places.
Another advantage to working on a farm was the farmer cared about an employee’s work ethic and if they had strong backs and arms. They paid cash, asked few questions, and didn’t insert themselves into their workers’ lives.
I studied the map. The orchard sat at the end of a road that wound through farmland and forest. Being isolated was perfect because I could earn money and there’d be no curious neighbors sniffing around.
It was getting late and if I wanted to reach the farm before dark, I needed to get moving.
According to the map, I could get there on the main road but it wound its way around the countryside, not taking a direct route to the farm.
If I cut through the woods that bordered the town to the east, I would get there faster and the forest was my home.
Our home !
My beast could navigate underbrush and rough terrain, and in my human form, my shifter reflexes and enhanced senses helped avoid obstacles and find my way. I wouldn't have to worry about passing cars wondering who the stranger was walking along the road.
I headed toward the treeline. The woods welcomed me and I inhaled the aroma of grass, moss and pine. While my beast longed to be part of a pack, being part of a group with rules and hierarchies had its disadvantages. While in the woods, I could pretend all was right with my life.
My wolf demanded to shift but until I had secured the job and scouted around for small cabins or hunters, I refused, and followed a deer trail that headed in the right direction.
It was almost dark and too late to speak to the farmer who would be an early to bed, early to rise kinda person. But I had snacks in my pack and my wolf could curl up under a tree for the night.
As I strode through the trees a sharp metal click punctuated the silence along with pain that exploded through my left foot and calf. Something clamped onto me, piercing the skin and reminding me of the fangs belonging to a rogue wolf I’d fought after leaving the pack.
My beast yelped, echoing my cries and when I glanced down the teeth of a leg-hold trap were buried in my calf and my pants leg was seeped in blood.
Black spots danced in front of my eyes as I dropped to my knees.
Who would set a trap this close to town?
And why hadn't I smelled any human scent on the metal?
My hands shook as I tried to pry the trap's jaws apart, but even with my supercharged strength, I couldn’t do it. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain up my leg. My wolf begged to shift, but he couldn’t escape either and if whoever set the trap found they’d snared a wolf, they might kill us.
I’d dropped the pack with my phone and couldn’t reach it. Besides, there’d be no signal as I had one bar in town.
I'd avoided pack alphas, humans, and shifter politics, but was felled by a piece of rusty metal in the middle of nowhere.