Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(13)
As the hair on the back of Owen’s neck rose, they passed the van. Humans were within. And he caught the scent of gun oil.
Avoiding the park entrance, Tynan crossed the grass at the northernmost corner into the park. His voice held a distinct Irish lilt as he said, “It’s a pretty park, this old growth forest in the city’s heart, and I often run here of a morning.”
Owen wanted to ask what kind of fucked-up Daonain would live in a city, but this wasn’t the time…if there ever was one. He’d rather expected the notorious city-living shifter to be wild-eyed and half-crazy. Instead, Owen could feel the rock-solid nature of Tynan’s personality. For whatever reason the wolf chose to live surrounded by humans, it wasn’t because he was insane.
Following Tynan, Owen strolled past bushes, various buildings, a parking area, and finally into a forest that would have been at home in the North Cascades Territory.
“Have you figured out what the female is doing here?” Perhaps she was a youngster who’d taken a dare to enter the city and gotten herself lost.
“I don’t know why she’s here; I do know why she hasn’t left. Vans—like the one we passed—are parked at the entrance and along the adjacent streets, monitoring every person who leaves. When I scouted yesterday, I also discovered some humans camping out.” Tynan glanced back, and anger simmered in his eyes. “They’re hunting her.”
Fury rose in Owen. Humans were hunting a female of the Daonain? “Do they believe they’re out to capture a wild animal—or a shifter?”
“Oh, and the hunters know she’s more than a cougar. Animal removal would normally be handled by the Department of Fish and Wildlife. This group isn’t with the state, yet they obtained permission from someone. The company name on their vehicles is magnetic—easy to put on and easy to remove.”
“Anything else?”
“The park caretaker says they’ve been here two or three days. Last night, they brought in hunting dogs.”
Owen barely suppressed a snarl.
As twilight faded into full dark, Tynan veered onto a deer trail, moved through the dense underbrush, and stopped. “Right, we’ll leave our clothes here.”
Owen nodded. Most of the city stink had disappeared under the moist green fragrance of the forest. Douglas firs and orange-barked madrone towered over ferns, vining blackberries, and huckleberries. After stripping, he moved his hunting blade from his calf to his forearm, seeing Tynan do the same. The magicked weapon sheaths would trawsfur with them and be inconspicuous on their furry forelegs.
Tynan studied him for a second. “Alec calls you ghost cat. Says, on a hunt, you’re the most cunning, silent shifter he’s ever seen. So I’ll get us close to the humans, and you can lead us around them.”
Owen nodded. When he, Alec, and Ben worked as a cahir team, they dumped the sneaky undertakings on Owen. “Works for me.”
Tynan shifted into a heavy-boned, muscular, silver-gray wolf.
Owen sniffed, trying to catch the female shifter’s scent, but only caught the stench of humans. “Let’s go find her.”
*
Way to go, tinker.
Darcy wanted to cry—but, hey, not an option for a cougar. It was so amazing that she’d actually trawsfurred. Only…the miracle had turned into a disaster. Because she couldn’t shift back.
In the chilly September night, she lay curled up and shivering in a dirt hollow above a tiny stream. Her right hind leg, right foreleg, and ribs throbbed angrily. The gunshot wounds and the areas she’d cut with her knife were oozing and smelled foul. The wounds were infected.
And she was trapped.
Over the past…however long it had been…she’d kept trying and trying to trawsfur back to human form. No luck. As the humans would say, she was screwed. With her injured legs handicapping her and no experience, she hadn’t caught any food in the forest.
As far as she could tell, Seward Park was a tiny peninsula, a “finger” projecting out into a huge lake. Whenever she’d tried to escape the park, the Scythe had blocked her escape. Yesterday, they’d brought in hunting dogs and more men.
From experiments on the Dogwood captives, the Scythe knew tranquilizers drove shifters berserk, which explained why the hunters were shooting real bullets, aiming to disable her. They’d spotted her at dawn, and a bullet had grazed her ribs, slowing her even more. She’d escaped only because the park had opened, and the hunters retreated to their camp.
They’d find her tonight.
As her despair deepened, she rubbed her chin on her forepaws. She’d only be free and alive for a few more hours. When they realized she wouldn’t let them take her alive, they’d shoot to kill.
Well, if she died tonight, at least she’d gotten to be a cougar. She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze ruffle her fur. As each hair tip moved, the wind’s touch felt like a caress.
Her ears swiveled to catch the sound of a rustle in the grass. Ears that turned were so strange. And difficult to control. If she actually tried to make her ears or tail move, nothing happened. But now, with sickness and exhaustion overwhelming her, her feline instincts were taking over.
A louder noise caught her attention, and she lifted her nose to scent the breeze.
Only the forest fragrance.
Last night, she hadn’t caught the scent of any Dogwood shifter-soldiers with the Scythe’s humans and dogs. What if the male villagers showed up to hunt her tonight? Her stomach knotted. To keep their littermates safe, they’d follow orders and capture her. However, in cougar form, she couldn’t speak to tell them about the second concealed tracker.