Thomas Benoit was hot, sticky, uncomfortable, and wondered if he had fleas.
His father, Raymond Benoit, walked in front of him as they wandered through the woods. Tom didn’t want to be here. It was high summer, not hunting season, but one never knew in this neck of Ontario. They followed game trails and small paths that other animals had blundered through.
They were not built for subtlety, these two figures traipsing through the woods. But they were on the hunt for trespassers on the land. Trespassers that didn’t understand that this was not hiking land, who had broken down the fences and gone into the reservation, looking for what, it didn’t matter. Raymond was the caretaker of this land and he took his job damn seriously. He just wished his son would take it seriously too.
Thomas whined and Ray ignored him. Let the kid have the computer, the video games, and all that technology stuff after their rounds. Of course, Ray knew from experience that they would be exhausted by the time they got home, and Tom would just crash into bed. I’ll let him off easy tomorrow, Ray thought, let him play his Grand Theft Auto or whatever the hell he’s playing these days.
They came upon a stream, and Ray bent to drink, Tom doing the same. Ray saw the fish in the water, and easily scooped one up. He started tearing into it, but Tom didn’t want any part of it. You’ll have to eat this to learn to survive, boy, he wanted to say.
Then, suddenly, they heard a crash. Two people came out of the woods across the way. Four hikers, by the looks of them, three men, one girl, with their shorts and sneakers. One pulled out a camera.
Tom sat back on his haunches and posed. His father had other ideas. He splashed into the river, and started going toward the rocks where the hikers were. One of the male hikers tried to pull on the other male with the camera, but he didn’t budge.
His father was at the base of the rocks, and it was a jump of about ten feet straight up onto the flat rock with the hikers. Two males and the female moved back.
His father jumped straight up, easily clearing the ten feet, and landing right beside the hiker. He stood still, probably wetting his pants, but Ray didn’t give him a chance to think. He swiped with his paw, knocking the camera and slicing across his inner forearm with his sharp claws.
Now there was screaming. Tom shook his head as Ray reared up on hind legs and roared, then came down a foot away from the man. Terror crossed the man’s features, and he indeed had a wet spot in front of his pants.
One of the men bolted. Ray turned his head and bounded after him, thundering through the brush. There was a scream, and then nothing.
Meanwhile the other hikers scattered haphazardly into the woods, running blindly. Tom sighed, and looked down into the river. His father took his job too damn seriously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ray washed the blood in the river. He did what most bears did when seeing a running man; chase him, hamstring him, and then rip out his lungs. He didn’t bother with the other hikers, figuring they got the hint. When Ray went back to the place Tom was at, a naked young man sat under a tree. He was brown-skinned, from his mother’s side, deeply tanned, with black hair cut short and a lightning bolt cut in on the side. He had gray eyes, almost translucent, from his father’s side that had the French blood. Ray the bear dove into a pool of the river, held his breath for a long time as he changed, and came back up, a dark-skinned man with long black hair dripping wet.
“Why did you change?” Ray asked in a deep voice.
“I was hot and itchy.”
“It’s your imagination.”
Tom sighed, and picked up a stick, doodling in the sand by the river. “Dad, I don’t want to be sheriff.”
“We’ve gone over this before. It’s your duty.”
“Can’t I go somewhere off the reservation? Why do I have to stay here? Everybody knows me.”
“All the better to protect the people with.”
Then he piped up, “I want to go live with Aunt Alice in Millennium City.”
Ray blinked. This was new. “Why there?”
“I can be what I am, and nobody will be afraid of me.” Nobody will know that my father kills people who trespass on the land. Nobody will be afraid of his reputation-. Nobody will expect me to be like my father.
He frowned. “I don’t like the idea.”
“I’m done with school. I’ll get a job there and help her out.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“She knows you. She’s your sister, after all.”
“By marriage,” he said.
“Does it make a difference?”
“She wouldn’t understand.”
“Millennium City’s full of…” Werebears? “people like us.”
“You need to show me you can take care of yourself.” He was already shifting into bear form, and what came out next was like a growl. “Like clean your room.”
Tom shifted as well, and they started the trek back to the house.
Note: Deleted Angel Blades.