Looking for Answers

by Jolene Dawe

She wasn't going to jump.

Standing roughly a hundred feet above the river with her hands wrapped around the rails for support, Taylor leaned over as far as she could, so that all she saw was water and sky. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mouth was dry, and her mind raced with a hundred emotions, but she knew she wasn't going to jump.

It was a ritual. She dealt with the panic, confusion, and fear as best she could, and when it got overwhelming she'd hike up here, climb onto the bridge, and dangle.

Oh, she'd jumped a few times, when it first started, but the water remained untouched. Before her body could crash into the water, it changed.

Not the water. Her body. She sprouted feathers and wings and flew to safety.

It didn't happen often. Every few months her skin would start to itch and she'd grow restless. Nothing she did alleviated the sensation. She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and couldn't focus. No amount of physical exertion helped. Drinking didn't help. Sleeping pills only made it worse. Taylor would bear it until it became unbearable, and then she would find a bridge and climb. The wind would play along her skin, soothing her until she felt like she belonged in her body, and she'd climb back down and go home.

She wished she were going crazy. Then there would be something she could do about it. But those times she had jumped and turned into a bird. A bird! She didn't think doctors were prepared to help her with that.

Taylor let one hand fall from the railing and leaned over a bit more.

No one ever seemed to see her when she did this. Cars whizzed by, their drivers oblivious to the girl about to plummet to her death. It was as if she'd turned invisible. Maybe she had.

Taylor uncurled her pinky from the railing.

She didn't want to be a bird. She didn't want the restless feeling. She didn't want to feel like a freak anymore. Above all, she didn't want to be alone.

She uncurled her ring finger.

But, she would end up alone, wouldn't she? She was a freaking bird. Who would ever understand that? Was there any use in fighting it, trying to cling to her life? Perhaps she couldn't die –- for whatever reason, her body wouldn't let her –- but she could fly away. Why did she have to come back? For school? For her family? For friends? If anyone ever found out what she was, she'd lose them anyway.

She uncurled her middle finger.

The weight of her body strained on her index finger and thumb as she leaned further over the bridge. Her ankles ached from the odd angle and added stress.

It would be easy to let go. Her skin crawled, too large and too small at the same time, begging for release. If she turned into the bird and stayed that way she wouldn't even have to hide. She could stay in the city and no one would know it was her. She could live right under their noses. Maybe that would be enough for her. Maybe she could be happy that way.

She uncurled her index finger.

It would be a simple thing, really. Just let go and fly.

Taylor closed her eyes, spread her arms out, and fell.

---

It was completely different, being a bird. The feathers covered her, soothing her restless skin, and the wing strokes that held her aloft were powerful, giving her a sense of control. Instinct guided her. She beat her wings to gain altitude. Once she found a current she stretched her wings out and soared. Buildings, streets, and cars all passed below her and she paid them little mind as she traveled her lazy way away from civilization. To the west a state forest lay, and she was hungry.

She wanted to hunt.

As she neared the small, protected forest she dropped a bit lower. Keen eyes scanned through the trees, searching for any sign of movement. For a while she simply watched. The branches of trees rustled as smaller birds and squirrels sought cover. Taylor passed them over. She wanted something bigger, something she could sink her talons into. Something –- there!

On the ground there was a flash of white and then a streak of brown as a rabbit fled for cover. Taylor tucked her wings in, pointed her nose down, and dove.

She miscalculated her height and speed. Talons closed just a second too slow, leaving her with tufts of fur and nothing else. Silence descended as small animals –- prey -– sought shelter. The forest knew she was here now. There would be no other chances for a while.

Frustrated, Taylor flew into the branches of a tree, perched, and settled in to wait. The change always made her a bit tired. She'd rest a bit and then move on.

Half drowsing as she cleaned her feathers, she didn't notice the coyote until it collapsed under her tree. The noise it made startled her and she took wing, getting distance between herself and the ground. Safely out of reach, she looked down in time to see the last of the transformation. Where the coyote had fallen now lay a woman, her limbs curled around her naked body, her red-gold hair hiding her face.

Surprise made Taylor forget to flap. She dropped a bit out of the sky, beat her wings, and regained control. Excitement flooded her whole small being. She wasn't alone.

Taylor circled overhead while the woman returned to herself. She stood up, brushed herself off, and reached under a hedge to withdraw a small duffel bag. In quick, controlled motions, the coyote woman dressed, slung the bag over her shoulder, and headed down a path only her eyes could make out.

Taylor followed. The coyote woman's path joined a real trail, which, in time, spilled out into a parking lot for hikers and hunters. One car was parked there now, and the woman got in it. Taylor flew a bit higher, too curious and excited to be afraid, and followed the woman home.

She was sure, when the woman pulled into her driveway and parked the car, that she hadn't been spotted. She was sure even as the woman walked to her front door and unlocked it. Taylor turned in wide circles, watching with her sharp eyesight while the woman let herself into her house.

Right before she closed the door she looked up, smiled, and waved.

Startled and embarrassed, Taylor headed for her own home.

---

She felt extra vulnerable when she changed back. Losing the feathers was worse than being naked. If she planned her changes, like the coyote woman seemed to, she could have stashed some clothing to put on. Hell, if she had planned she could have removed her clothing first and thus avoiding giving yet another outfit to the river.

Naked as she was, she had to wait for the cover of darkness before trying to get back to her dorm room. Her room was on the sub-level, with a half window facing the main road through campus. Taylor waited until the small hours of the morning and then streaked across the yard. She threw herself onto the ground, jimmied the window open and crawled inside. Her roommate was fast asleep in her loft bed. Taylor threw on a tee shirt, closed the window, and crawled into her bed. Though her own skin fit her comfortably once again, she spent the night restless, thinking about the coyote woman. When her alarm went off she was quick to dress and head to class, but her mind was far away from Medieval Literature that morning.

That Friday found Taylor back at the state forest. She carried an empty knapsack over her shoulder. Three miles into the forest she diverted from the marked trail and walked another mile through the undergrowth. Looking around she cocked her head and listened. There were other hikers, but she didn't hear anything aside from the birds and insects going about their short lives. Satisfied that she wouldn't be seen, Taylor stripped out of her clothes, tucked them into her knapsack, and changed.

She was nervous, at first. She'd never changed into the bird willingly before, and she was scared that she wouldn't be able to do it, especially so soon after her last flight. It ended up being easier even than turning back into human form. All she had to do was think of flying, of freedom, and she felt her body fall into itself, relaxing. She stretched her wings out, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her feathers, and dug her talons into the rich earth. She beat her wings once, twice, and then leapt, taking flight. As she flew she kept her eyes peeled, this time not for prey but for another predator.

She was not disappointed. As the sun dipped to the horizon and dusk set in Taylor saw a streak of red-gold racing through the trees. Ahead of the coyote ran a small buck. Taylor dropped lower and flew faster. She chased the prey and predator as they ran through the forest, lost in the hunt. She thought of the rabbit that had escaped her days ago, thought of the other small mammals that had not escaped her grasp times before. She felt the air streaming over her and imagined it running through the fur of the coyote woman. Taylor screeched encouragement earthward and dropped lower still.

A gunshot shattered the trance. On the ground the buck surged forward with renewed speed and the coyote was thrown off course, toppling head over heels. Taylor dove for the nearest tree, wanting cover. She was so startled that she was half-changed by the time she landed. The beech tree she landed in protested her weight, but she spread her naked limbs across the nearest branches and held still, praying that she wouldn't be noticed.

Through the leaves she saw the coyote roll to a stop. The buck was long gone. Men crashed through the trees, their motions loud and clumsy in the night. For a minute Taylor thought they wouldn't notice the felled canine, but they did, and they did at the worst possible moment. Half-conscious, the coyote woman was changing back. Without her fur it was easy for Taylor to see the gunshot wound. They'd hit her hip –- not a fatal hit by any means, but it looked painful, and by the way they lingered over her, Taylor didn't think they were going to rush to help her.

There was arguing that Taylor couldn't make out. One of the hunters pushed the others, and there was a small scuffle. In the end, the pusher removed his jacket, draped it over the coyote woman and the three of them disappeared back into the forest.

Taylor hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. Then, she took to wing once again, flying to where her clothing was stashed. It was heavy, almost too heavy for her to clutch and carry, but she doubted she could find the coyote woman on foot in the dark. She flew clumsily, found the beech tree she had hidden in, and released the bag. It crashed to the earth. Circling overhead, she scanned the area for the coyote woman. Taylor gained more altitude, checking her landmarks.

No, she decided, this was the right spot. Worried, she swooped down.

The deer the coyote had been chasing stood where the woman had just been, his antlered head tilted back, his black eyes on Taylor. She felt a jolt of recognition. She called out to him, questioningly.

In response, the buck blurred. One moment he stood on four legs, the next minute he was crouched on two. He unrolled slowly, coming to stand as tall and proud in the forest as he had in deer form. Through the entire change his eyes were locked on Taylor. Taylor landed next to where she had dropped her knapsack, and thought skin and arms and speech.

He turned his back as she changed. She dressed hurriedly, embarrassed despite his own nakedness, or maybe because of it.

"Where did she go?" There was no question whom Taylor was talking about.

"They doubled back when you were gone and took her." Dark eyes regarded her steadily. Taylor wondered if they were truly as black as the buck's.

"The hunters? Why? I thought they were after you."

"They aren't hunters," he said. "At least, not in the way you mean. They're collectors. They collect people like us and sell us. Mattie and I have been tracking them for a while."

"People like us? How many are there?" Taylor would have been thrilled if she wasn't so scared. "Where have they taken her? Who are you?" The questions blurted from her, each demanding to be asked.

The buck-turned-man gave her a brief smile. "Not as many as you would think. It's uncommon for even so many as two shifters to be in the same town, though it can be as many as five in a college town. Mattie and I met up a few years back, though, after my sister had been taken. She'd been on their trail for some time before that. I don't know what they did to her. We've moved as they've moved, warning others of their arrival, setting traps, taking them out as we could. They wised up to her trailing them two towns ago, and started hunting her. So, we brought them here and set the bait. They weren't supposed to be able to hit her. Normally she's too fast for them. Tonight, though, she was distracted." He looked pointedly at Taylor.

Taylor flushed. "You can't mean to blame this on me," she argued.

It looked for a moment as if he would. Then he shrugged a naked shoulder and shook his head. "No. We didn't know there was another shifter here, and we figured we'd be safe enough in the forest. They won't kill her . . . her kind are too valuable."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, but Taylor thought she didn't really want to know. "What do we do now?"

Her question seemed to take him by surprise. "'We'?"

"Do you know where they've taken her? Do we go get her back? What?"

Dark eyes considered her for a long time while he held his own counsel. Taylor tried not to fidget, but his staring made her uncomfortable. At last he nodded once. "Not here," he said, turned, and disappeared into the night.

Holding her knapsack to her chest, Taylor followed after him.

His car was parked off the road a few miles away. He unlocked it, reached into the backseat, and pulled out a pair of jeans. He dressed with as much ease as if he had been alone in his house, dressing. Taylor was thankful for the dark that hid her blushing. "Get in," he said.

She did.

They drove in silence. Less than five minutes down the road he pulled off onto an access road she hadn't noticed. Ten minutes more down that road and they came to a small maintenance building. A light shone from inside. He cut the engine, got out and led her inside.

She knew as soon as the door closed that something was wrong. Really, really wrong. Her brain was slower than her eyes were, and she was already trapped when the three hunters and the injured coyote woman registered. Strong hands seized her shoulders and shoved her further into the room.

Taylor stumbled into one of the hunters. He caught her, laughed, and shoved her toward the bench where the other woman was lying.

The bullet wound on her hip had been stitched closed. Taylor winced in sympathy at the sloppy sewing job. That was going to leave a nasty scar. Pale from the loss of blood and from the pain, the woman seemed fine otherwise.

Except for the whole being kidnapped thing.

Taylor curled her hands into fists and turned to face her captors.

"Watch her," the buck-turned-man cautioned. "The little hatchling has claws."

Taylor glared. "Why are you doing this?" The other hunters fell away from her mind. Her senses were reeling, overloaded. Too much had happened tonight. Betrayal raced through her, stronger than her fear.

Dark brows furrowed. "It is better to be the predator than the prey. But then, you wouldn't understand that, would you, Raptor?" Each word was clipped with anger. "What do you think she would have done if she had caught me? Let me go? No, I would have been dinner, just like the rabbit you nearly caught days ago. Surprised that I know about that? I see more than you'd think."

"You don't see nearly as much as you like to boast." One of the hunters removed his hat, revealing a gleam of red-gold hair. Without the visor to cast shadows over his face Taylor could see his sharp, calculating eyes and his foxy grin. It was clear to Taylor that he was a relation of the coyote woman's. A brother, perhaps?

The shotgun he carried rose up, its barrel leveled at the shifter.

Taylor noticed that the other two had moved as well. They were fanned out, ready to move if the shifter showed any signs of bolting. They moved in silence, with a grace that came from experience. Taylor thought of wolves bringing down large and dangerous prey.

The buck-turned-man stood, frozen in place for a moment, and then flew into motion.

A deafening shot shook the room. Taylor dropped to the ground and squeezed her eyes shut despite herself. Acrid smoke stung her nose and made her eyes burn. Blinking rapidly, she crawled to the coyote woman. Her ears rang, soft at first, but then louder, and it was a moment before she realized the sound wasn't coming from her ears.

The buck-turned-man was on the floor, screaming in pain. The three hunters knelt around him, one holding his body down, another leaning on his legs, and the third holding a glowing brand. Taylor watched in shock as the brand was lowered to the stump where his lower left leg had been. The smell of seared flesh and burnt blood mingled with the sharp smoke of the gun. Taylor gagged, coughed, and tried to get to her feet.

On the bench Mattie was sitting up. Cunning eyes opened, surveyed the room, and then closed. Her smile was still tight, still pained, but color was coming back. She touched the wound on her hip, fingered the stitches gently, and swore. "You couldn't do better than this, Todd?"

"Next time," the man with the brand –- Todd, Taylor assumed -- said, "don't get shot."

The wounded shifter man's voice had gone hoarse. Mattie's brother crossed the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a second gun. Before Taylor could register what was happening, he pulled the trigger and shot the shifter again.

"Tranquillizer," Mattie said, looking at Taylor. "Just to shut him up and get him out of here. You aren't worried for him, are you? He was going to give you to my brothers to sell."

Taylor shook her head. "No. I thought ... that is, he said ... I mean ..."

"“You thought they had taken me. He said he and I were partners. I know." She reached under the bench and pulled out a pair of pants. Moving gingerly, she pulled them on, leaving them unfastened.

"We didn't mean to get you involved, hatchling." Mattie's brother patted her shoulder. Todd and the other one were carrying the shifter out the door. "He was telling the truth when he said we didn't think any other shifters were in the area. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Taylor shook her head again.

The hunter flashed her his foxy grin. For a second, Taylor thought she saw ears poking through his thick hair. "Can we give you a lift home?"

"I have my car." The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere else with strangers. "I can manage."

"Let us at least give you a lift to your car then." Mattie got to her feet, favoring her right side. "It's my fault you got involved. We owe you."

Taylor edged away from her, and then steeled herself. Enclosed in a room full of canines made the bird in her nervous, but she was a predator just as they were. "Yes," she said, faking a confidence she didn't feel, "you do owe me, but it's a debt you can't pay with a car ride."

"Name it," Mattie said.

"I want answers. I want explanations. I want to know what's happening to me, and why. I want to know what I am. I want to know who you are. I want to know what happened tonight. I wa -- "

"Is that all?" Todd asked dryly. The other two barked laughter, but Mattie quelled them with a glance.

"Answers I'll gladly give, hatchling, but tonight is not the time. I've chased that beast all over the forest, I've been shot, I've got a butchering of a stitch job -- "

"Hey!" Foxy-grin faked a wounded look, but Mattie continued as if she hadn't noticed.

" – and I'm dead tired. How about we meet for coffee Monday evening? I'll give you your answers then. Deal?"

She offered Taylor her dirty, blood-stained hand. Taylor regarded her warily for a moment, and then darted her hand forward, shook, and withdrew it. "Deal," she agreed.

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, we need to be on our way. Are you sure we can't give you a lift back to your car?"

"I'm sure. But thank you."

"Our pleasure. Until Monday, then."

Taylor didn't move from where she stood until the sounds of the cars faded from her ears. Outside, the woods were coming alive again with the sounds of night. Taylor removed her clothing for the second time that night, fastened her knapsack, went outside and changed. Once back at her car she unlocked the doors and headed for home. A hot shower washed the scent of the night's events from her skin and eased the tension held tight in her muscles. When she sought her bed at last she fell into the most peaceful sleep she had experienced since her first change.

She wasn't alone. There were more people like her than she thought. And, come Monday, she would learn more about these kindred spirits of hers.

Taylor didn't think she was going to want to jump anymore.