Wild is the Witch (25)

Just as my eyelids get heavy, I hear four loud hoots in the distance.





Ten


I wake to the sounds of scratching outside. I blink several times and let my eyes adjust to the light, then sit up and listen. A shadow crosses the front of my tent, and a low, guttural noise follows. I quietly slip out of my sleeping bag and put on my shoes, then I unzip my door and look outside.

Pike is quiet. He’s still sleeping, with the front of his tent fully zipped. I scan the campsite, and a large female cougar is pacing by the firepit. I step out and slowly stand to my full height. The early morning air is cold, and I shiver in place.

The animal snaps her head toward me. Her ears are lying back, and she snarls loudly, agitated.

“Hi,” I whisper, looking directly at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She watches me, and I carefully locate the magic inside her, assembling it in a way I can connect to. The particles snap into place and form a strong invisible string from the cougar to me. She looks surprised and snarls again, but I’m not afraid. She has likely never encountered a witch before, never felt the way magic can come alive inside her and all around her.

Even the fiercest creatures know to fear vulnerability.

I pull on her magic and let it search me from the inside out, let it see every part so that she knows she’s safe. She keeps her eyes on me, but her ears relax a little. Slowly, her stance becomes less aggressive.

“That’s it,” I say. “Time to go.”

I can’t force her, but I put the instinct to leave in my magic as it wraps around the animal. Still, it’s her choice. The cougar watches me for another moment, then gives in. She turns and begins to walk away when the zipper on Pike’s tent breaks the silence.

“Pike,” I say, keeping my eyes on the cougar, “stay in your tent.”

But he doesn’t listen and trips on the lip of his tent on the way out, falling face-first into the dirt. This would normally be the high point of my day, but there’s a cougar in the area and Pike just made himself look like prey.

“You really can’t listen, can you?” I say, my voice tense and annoyed.

Pike scrambles for his glasses and puts them back on, and I see the exact moment he notices the cougar. His eyes go wide, and he sticks his hand out toward me, as if to stop me from going anywhere.

“Iris, don’t move! There’s a cougar.”

“I know that,” I hiss. “That’s why I told you to stay in your tent.”

The cougar snarls and stalks toward Pike.

“Okay, don’t move. Make loud noises. Don’t look it in the eye. Shit, my bear spray’s in the tent.” Pike rattles off facts as if they’re his salvation, but he’s still frozen in place.

“For the love of God, stand up! She thinks you’re prey!”

But it’s too late. The cougar lunges, and Pike covers his head with his arms. Frantic, I find the string of magic once more and pull, bringing the cougar’s attention back to me.

“Stop!” I yell.

She’s surprised and on edge, confused by the magic coursing through her. But she veers and comes to a stop, just barely missing Pike. She stays frozen where she is, and I try to calm her down as much as possible. Slowly, the cougar adjusts to the connection we have and relaxes again. Pike manages to get to his hands and knees, the cougar not two inches from his face.

Pike looks from the animal to me and back again.

“Stand. Up,” I say.

Pike does as he’s told, and I swallow hard and straighten my stance. I direct the cougar’s magic back to my own, tell her over and over again that we aren’t prey.

“Go,” I say to her, quietly enough so Pike doesn’t hear.

She snaps her head back to Pike one final time and snarls. Then she looks at me, turns around, and runs away.

I let out a huge exhale and run my hands through my hair. Sweat is beaded all along my hairline and down my neck, and I pace around the campsite, trying to expel the nerves building in my system.

“What the hell was that?” Pike asks, tense and bewildered.

“A cougar.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” he says, taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses with a cloth he pulls from his pocket. That’s when I notice that Pike is in pajamas, matching navy pinstripe pajamas with a collar, buttons, and pocket that he seemingly keeps a cleaning cloth in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in a legitimate matching pajama set, and I force myself to swallow the laugh that’s building in my chest.

“Nice pajamas,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension he’s carrying. But the longer I watch him, the better he looks, and I force my eyes away, embarrassed.

They’re nice on him.

“Be serious. That cougar was ready to attack me, and it stopped, as if by your command.”

“You mean serious like those pajamas?”

He doesn’t say anything, though, and I realize how bothered he is. How he’s replaying what just happened and can’t get it all to add up.

“They don’t like loud noises,” I finally say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Yelling was the only thing I could think of, other than throwing a rock.”

There was no rock, but I need Pike to believe this was nothing. To believe we got lucky.