Page 110 of River & Rue

He stares at me for a beat, then cups my chin and brushes his mouth over mine.

“You don’t have to explain. Animals are your weather.”

I grab the back of his neck and give him a brief, hard kiss, then turn and find the zipper. As much as I believe there’s no danger, I still lift it slowly. River hovers behind me, ready to pull me backward—not because he doesn’t trust me, but because he understands. Like storms, animal behavior is only predictable to a point. Forces of nature can never be truly understood or tamed.

More moonlight filters through the growing gap. A sniffing nose pokes into the tent, giving me a glimpse of a scarred snout before it withdraws. I pull the zipper over the curve and back down, and the nylon sags open.

Lenny sits outside, her tongue lolling in a doggie grin. I cautiously extend my hand. She sniffs my fingers and whines happily before scooting back a few feet.

I blink back tears. “Hey there, Lenny girl. Thank you so much.”

River’s shoulder brushes mine. “You’re the best, Lenny. You can pee on my leg whenever you want.”

She makes another happy sound and looks over her shoulder. I follow her gaze, and it finally sinks in.

She’s not alone.

She’s not alone.

The five coyotes blend so seamlessly into the shadows near the creek, it takes me a few seconds to spot them. They’re still and alert. The biggest, unquestionably a male, is positioned slightly ahead of four smaller animals.

“Is that your family, girl? They’re so beautiful.” My voice wavers, and River presses a steadying hand to my back.

Lenny stands and pads toward us. A low, warning growl sounds from the creek. Her chin jerks, but she otherwise ignores her mate. When she’s close enough to touch, she tilts her head expectantly. River and I share a grin, then reach out together to scratch her head and chin.

“I swear she rolled her eyes when he growled,” River whispers.

“Of course she did,” I murmur. “Who’s the boss, Lenny girl? That’s right, you are.”

River chuckles.

We pet and scratch Lenny until she signals her satisfaction by licking our fingers. With a soft yip, she turns and trots toward the creek. Her family greets her with whines and sniffs. As she leads the way toward the forest, the male hesitates and looks back at us. He squats, then shakes out his coat and follows his family.

“He just took a shit, didn’t he?” asks River.

“That he did. Payback for flirting with his woman.” Movement in the forest catches my eye, and I pick out dark shapes moving around the campsite, pausing intermittently. “They’re marking all around us. Protecting us.” I turn to River with a smile. “At least there’s no wind, right?”

He nods, his eyes wide with wonder, and starts to drag a hand through his loose hair. With a sniff and a grimace, he aborts the movement. “Gross. Antibacterial wipes immediately.”

I don’t bother smelling my own hand. Lenny licked our fingers, which guarantees they smell nasty.

We move back into the tent, leaving the door flap open to welcome moonlight, and I grab the wipes I stashed in a mesh pocket. We clean our hands in silence. Mine are still trembling in the aftermath of the second-most harrowing experience of my life.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Think so. Just rattled.” I tuck the used wipe into the pocket. “I swear I put all the food away.”

River takes my hands between his. “There could be a dozen reasons the bear felt aggressive, none of which are your fault.”

I avoid his eyes. “What if it was my fault? What if they… sensed me somehow? I’ve never understood this part of me. I was so scared. If I hadn’t been, maybe I could have⁠—”

“No, Rue,” he interjects. “Don’t do that to yourself. Besides, you’re nuts if you think I would’ve let you hug a fucking bear.”

I crack a smile. “That would be pretty crazy, even for me.”

He tugs me sideways into his lap, strong arms encircling me. I tuck my face into his neck, breathe him in, and release a shaky sigh.

“I’m really glad we didn’t die.” My lips move against his skin. He shifts beneath me, one hand stroking down my back.