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“Which way?” Rock asks Phillip, who stands up and inhales deeply, with his eyes closed. That is how we best recognize the scent of something or someone. The eyes can sometimes be a distraction, leading us in the opposite direction to that of the nose. But in instances such as this one, the nose is the best guide.
Phillip doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads the way through the darkened woods, his movements methodical and deliberate. As a bear shifter twice our age, his skill and expertise in tracking is unmatched by anyone in the village.
He crouches down to examine the forest floor, his fingers grazing over the leaves and soil. I wonder if the moon is providing enough light for him. Then again, I remember that he doesn’t need his eyes at all, not in the dark. Phillip pauses, his fingers brushing against the disturbed foliage.
“Tracks,” he mutters, signaling to us to look down.
With a careful touch, he traces the imprints in the soft soil. His fingers are telling him a story that we can’t hear. So, we wait patiently.
“Bear shifters,” he tells me.
“How do you know they’re not just ordinary bears?” I ask.
I have to admit that even after all this time, I find it difficult to differentiate between tracks of ordinary bears and tracks of bear shifters. I suppose it is all a matter of practice. Having lived here for ages without any threat of an outside clan, our tracking skills have gotten a little rusty. But not Phillip’s, fortunately.
“See here,” he points to a hole in the ground, created by a paw. “The stride is different. The marks are more defined. It’s them.”
Neither I nor Rock say anything to this. Instead, we allow Phillip to guide us through the night. The moonlightbecomes our ally, revealing faint outlines of the path ahead. Phillip keeps pointing out broken twigs and displaced leaves, indicators of a recent passage. The scent in the air also becomes more pronounced, carrying with it the distinct markers of the enemy bear clan that we are trying to pursue. We are counting on Phillip’s experience to piece together the puzzle of their movements, but slowly, both Rock and I can feel their presence.
But there is something else I can sense. I almost feel as if we haven’t left Elena behind at all. I notice that Rock occasionally turns around, but we’re both focusing on the bear shifters, thinking that we’re probably taking Elena’s own scent with us, seeing as we spent time with her.
We keep moving through the woods, until finally, Phillip turns to us, pressing his finger to his lips. “Shhh,” I can hear him whisper.
He crouches first, and we follow suit. He points somewhere in the distance. I move a flowering branch from sight and realize that we’ve approached the bear shifters’ camp.
“Won’t they sense us?” I whisper my question right in Phillip’s ear.
He turns to me, patting his pocket. “Juniper.”
I immediately remember that juniper branches or crushed juniper berries are known for their potent, natural fragrance that can help disguise or even completely cover someone’s scent, by blending with the surrounding environment. Phillip once told us that this practice is often employed by human hunters and wildlife observers, but that actually we, the bear shifters, taught them that. Lots of good that did us.
All three of us focus our attention on the bear shifter camp, set up in a clearing. The light of their lanterns is very low, not visible unless we were very close. They were smart enough not to light a fire, not to reveal their location easily.
I notice that they’ve already made simple shelters from woven branches and leaves. They wouldn’t be of much help in a hailstorm, as they have obviously been made in a hurry, but even from where I’m standing, I can see that they were made well. At least, well enough for the purpose.
The assembly consists of both humans and bears, as their forms blur between the two, proof of their supernatural capabilities. Most of them are wearing simple, human clothes, wanting to blend in easily, just like us. They have formed several smaller circles, talking and gesturing with their hands. We are too far away to hear anything, but that doesn’t prevent us from being as quiet as possible.
Some of them are placing their belongings in one pile, pouches and bags that seem to be full of something. Others seem to be inspecting the perimeter with keen vigilance, on all sides. It would be close to impossible to organize a surprise attack.
Rock is the first one to speak in a very low tone. “We need to gather intel. Figure out their numbers, their intentions. We stay put for a while, observe and then decide our next move.”
I nod in agreement. “I second that. We can’t rush into this blindly. We need to know what we’re up against.”
“Is it possible that they don’t mean us any harm?” I wonder.
“They’ve already attacked several of our own,” Rock reminds me. “Remember that Dawn and Willow were out fishing by the lake, and they were attacked? Fortunately, a few of us were there and we scared them away. We all thought they were just bears back then, but it happened again.”
Phillip interjects this time. “I know the difference between a bear and a bear shifter even with my eyes closed.”
“See?” Rock nods. “If they mean no harm, they wouldn’t approach women like that, attacking them. Women, Cal.”
“I know,” I agree. “I was just hoping that this didn’t have to be a full-blown clan war.”
“Sometimes, war is inevitable in order to keep the peace,” Rock says philosophically, and I know what he means. If we need to fight, then that is what we shall do to protect our own and keep the peace we’ve been living in for generations.
“As long as we are one step ahead, we have the situation under control,” I remind them all. But at the same time, I’m wondering if this is possible.
“See him?” Phillip huddles close to us, pointing in the direction of the camp.
