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My luck stays good all day. I was only perched in the tree for twenty minutes before I caught a whiff of a Beta family, headed my way. I crept down the tree, out of sight as they got closer.
The parents were an athletic, cheerful couple. The two teen daughters they’d dragged out for a hike seemed less enthusiastic. They kept loudly complaining to each other about the lack of cell service, which was great. Loud complaining meant they couldn’t hear my footsteps as I trailed behind them.
Finally, they stopped at a lookout. Both girls dropped their packs near a thicket of brush and took their phones to the trail edge to shoot some selfies. It was easy to sneak up and raid their supplies. I got a big Ziploc bag of trail mix with plenty of M&Ms, a travel bottle of pain reliever, and best of all, a bottle of electric purple nail polish. Perfect for a project I was working on back at the shelter.
The girls were still taking photos when I snuck away.
I tap the fallen tree and the big nose boulder on my walk back.
Momma would be proud of the shelter I built. It’s covered in evergreen boughs, to insulate me in the cold months and disguise me from anyone who might stumble on it. I’d snagged a big tarp from a truck at a camping site, which made sure I stayed dry. It’d been tough in the winter, but I survived the brutal cold. I don’t know how I’m going to manage this year—if the snow’s worse and I can’t go out to scavenge, I’ll have to pray I saved up enough supplies.
Long term, I’d love to build a sturdier structure, one with walls. But that would be almost impossible without an ax, and I haven’t been lucky enough to get my hands on one.
I try not to spend too much time dwelling on what I don’t have. Because I can always be creative with all the things I do.
The forest has everything you need, little Bee. You just have to know where to look.
I’ve been working on finding ways to bring color into my shelter. Color more than what nature can provide.
I’ve always had a crafty side, but surprisingly, I’m even more creative when I’m miles away from a hot glue gun. I started by using crushed berries to paint designs on birch bark, propping the little drawings up against the wall of the shelter. After that, I moved on to making a quilt from the sewing kit and all the sweatshirts I’ve found or stolen. I rely on my sleeping bag to keep me really warm, but the quilt helps make the shelter look a little homier and blocks out the breeze when it gets too cold at night.
Recently, I’ve been collecting mirrors to build a mini disco ball, using clay to stick the broken pieces on a round basket I wove from reeds. It reflects the firelight from my campfire, sending little diamonds of amber to the shelter roof.
The clay sticks out between the mirror pieces, though, and it’s always bugged me. The electric purple nail polish will be perfect to cover the cracks.
I store the stolen goods in my shelter then bring my water purifier and canteen to the stream to collect what I’ll need for the rest of the night.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I allow myself a rare moment of pride. It’s easy to forget that I came out here with almost nothing. Just the clothes on my back and one of Mama’s old hiking packs from the hall closet. It didn’t have much in it, but it was enough to make a start. Everything else I have now has been foraged, stolen, or built from nature’s bounty.
While I wait for the filter to do its work, I plan the rest of my day. Since I caught those hikers in the early afternoon, I can afford to spend some time for myself. Even if it’s not sunny, it should be warm enough to swim. I can wash off the mud from my hunt, then enjoy at least a palmful of the trail mix while I stargaze. Not the worst birthday I’ve ever had.
Then I scent it.
Mountain pine and wild mint. Sweet clover and a salty sea. Warm steel and spicy peppercorn.
It’s delicious. Captivating. An irresistible lure. I’m practically salivating at the delectable blend of scents, interweaving with each other so each flavor is heightened and complemented. Like an expensive designer cologne, custom-made for my nose.
There’s only one thing that could smell that unbearably good to an Omega.
Alphas. More than one. Close.
Way too close. But they’re downwind. As long as they keep moving and the wind doesn’t shift, they shouldn’t scent me.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m stumbling in their direction, my body moving halfway across the tiny clearing. I physically stop myself, throwing my arms around the trunk of a birch tree. The bark feels rough against my cheek, and I nuzzle against it. Trying to bring myself back to earth.
I’ve avoided my heat for months. Being this deep in the woods, far from any contact with others, is the only way I’ve managed to keep it from coming on again.
My first heat turned me into someone I barely recognized. The pain overwhelmed me so badly that all I cared about was making it all end. I was so desperate for someone—anyone—to knot me, that I let it happen. I didn’t stop him.
Even now, now that I’ve lived with this goddamn mark on my neck for a year, I don’t know if I could trust myself to fight off an Alpha.
I should be running right back to my shelter, huddling in the back until those Alphas are miles away from me.
But my heart thuds audibly in my ears, my breaths push hot through my parted lips, and I can’t seem to make myself turn around. I can’t stop imagining the men those scents belong to. They’ll be tall and broad, but almost all Alphas are. And they must be fit if they made it this far into the woods. My shelter’s placed far from any of the easy trails. The Alphas coming toward me are nothing like the casual hikers I’ve encountered so far.
They’ll protect me. They’ll keep me safe. I can finally stop running.
I bang my forehead against the birch tree, digging my nails into the grooves on its trunk, trying to overpower instinct with logic. Biology with the ugly truth. I’ve not only experienced an Alpha’s violence before, I’ve seen the fruit of it with my own eyes, right here in the park. I shudder at the memory, shaking it out of my mind before it can sink its claws in and ruin the day.
