And the raven had been watching with something akin to pride in her eyes.
After that, he’d used that first snare as a template for making nine more. And by the second spring, setting and checking snares became part of his daily routine.
Late in the second year, the raven had dropped off two shiny fishing lures that glinted in the sun. She liked shiny things best. Meat became his main source of food in those early years since gardening didn’t come naturally to him. He had struggled to figure out how to get seeds for the next year, and his plants often got yellow patches on the leaves and wouldn’t produce. Eventually, he’d figured that out, too.
And his raven sat in her tree, always watching.
By his eleventh birthday, however, not even the raven’s presence could keep the loneliness at bay. Wild bears were solitary creatures, but Bear shifters were social by nature, and he had no one. He didn’t speak and eventually lost the use of his words until he’d met Creed. Now he had to work constantly at communicating with other people because back then, for so many years, his world had been void of human interactions. Cicadas, crickets, injured rabbits, bullfrogs, howling coyotes…these were thing things that filled up his head. Not the laughter from when Mom and Dad had been alive. Not conversations about how his day had gone or lullabies to help him sleep at night. His human world had dimmed and quieted until there was no need for it anymore. He had no one around to teach him about growing up or how to act around other people. There was no verbal compass for right and wrong, only instinct. And a bear’s instincts weren’t driven by good and evil. They were driven by want and need.
Why the fuck hadn’t she told him then? How many times had he been curled in on himself with hunger? How many times had he been driven to the edge of madness with desperation to hear someone talk to him? To say his name, or tell him everything was going to be okay? How many times had he been bone-deep cold in those snowy winter months and been sure that day would be his last?
Yet, she’d never revealed her human side to him. Aviana had watched and brought him tiny treasures, but she hadn’t given him what he really desired—companionship.
And now she was back after all these years, and for what? To reveal herself now after all the damage had been done. After he’d lost his mind, lost control of his bear, and was worthless as a functioning member of society? His thoughts had become clearer and clearer around her. His bear had quieted, and for a minute, he’d felt normal. Like maybe Creed wasn’t going to have to put him down. And it had been such a huge relief to feel safe for that instant, because every morning Easton woke up thinking today was going to be his last on this earth. Living in fear for his life like that for too long had ruined him from the inside out.
She could’ve ended his suffering years ago by Changing and talking to him. By looking at him like she had last night through those big blue eyes, as if he was worth something.
Instead, when he’d needed a friend the most, she’d flown away and left him altogether.
And after she’d gone, out in these woods all alone, Easton’s bear had killed the last good parts of him.
Chapter Twelve
Aviana waited for hours, hoping Easton would come back. Her night vision wasn’t as good as a bear shifter’s, and flying out after him wouldn’t work. Not with a sore shoulder, and not without a clear idea of where he had gone.
With the first streaks of dawn, she flew stiffly from the branch she’d been using as a lookout post, Changed into her human form, and stumbled into his trailer. She washed the salty tear streaks from her face, then dressed. There was a first aid kit still in its plastic wrapping under his sink, so she ripped it open and cleaned the bite mark as best she could.
A shrill whistle from the trailer park told her the others were waking up for their workday. She huddled into Easton’s jacket and sat on the front porch stairs, waiting.
Willa called out, “I’ll get him!” over the sound of truck engines roaring to life.
The sound of dry leaves crackling under footfall traveled to Aviana, and she wrung her hands as she waited for Willa to come. She couldn’t face the others right now, so she was grateful it was Willa who was coming to Easton’s trailer.
The spunky red-head froze in her tracks when she saw Aviana sitting there. Willa scanned the yard and asked, “Where’s Easton? And why do you smell sad?”
Aviana swallowed hard. “Easton’s gone.”
Willa’s eyes went hard as she asked, “Gone where?”
“He turned into his bear and went that way last night,” Aviana explained, jerking her chin toward the woods and hiccupping slightly. “I think he hates me.” A sob worked its way up her throat, and she clamped her mouth shut, biting her lip hard to punish herself for falling apart like this. Sometimes, she got so tired of herself for being so fucking weak. She turned her head toward Willa, but the stretch of her neck pulled on her injury and she hissed as pain rippled through her shoulder.