Dawn Discovered

Claire stepped into the doorway of GT's room. Her mom and dad were standing at the crib, staring down at GT. And to her surprise, they were holding hands and whispering things she couldn't quite hear. Her heart burst with happiness and a tear of joy gathered at the corner of her eye. Her son was more special than he'd ever know. He brought so much love into the world. He was the miracle she'd never known she needed and was waiting for. Quietly, she tiptoed out of the suite and let GT work his magic.

Chapter 6

The purple glow of twilight shadowed the woods in shades of gray and soft black. The storm had washed out big patches of gravel from road and turned the lane leading to the cabin into a bumpy, muddy, twisting path. Hunter had some trouble navigating the four-wheel drive without getting it stuck. Even though Grant and Claire had been here and the place was well maintained. Nature refused to release her hold on this remote location. The woods were bursting with new life and the promise of summer. He didn't exactly know what day it was. And it really didn't much matter. Gina sat in the seat beside him, grabbing onto the 'oh shit' bar as the SUV rocked and bucked over the potholes and washboard surface of the path.

He'd always loved summertime. The heat of it, the sunshine, the longer days, and shorter nights, and the random cool breezes that came out of nowhere to stroke his skin. Summer was here in earnest. And he and his wolf could not be happier. His wolf scratched at the corners of his mind, wanting out to play. And damn, if it were not for Gina, he'd be happy to indulge. There was prey in the woods. Things to hunt. Things to eat. Visions of fat rabbits and white tailed deer popped in his head. And even though his wolf did the hunting and the subsequent eating, Hunter licked his lips at the prospect. Maybe, once he got Gina settled in and she bedded down for the night. He'd let his wolf off the chain.

Gunning the engine to avoid getting stuck in a particularly muddy spot, the SUV rounded a gentle curve and the lake came into view. The water was placid with hardly a ripple breaking the surface. With the little light left before night fell, the trees cast dark reflections on the crystal clear lake. From across the lake's wide expanse, far on the distant shore, the dim glow of electric lights, faint smells of food cooking on grills, and the soft whisper of music and people talking and laughing drove home the point that they were not as far from humanity as the woodsy, peaceful setting led them to believe.

The cabin was situated in a little alcove, out of view from the activity of the main campground. The place was made for privacy. And the woods provided. A shallow lagoon made the perfect spot for swimming. Hunter was not a swimmer. He didn't engage in anything just for fun. Well, he hadn't until this point. But, the thought of a moonlit skinny dip with Gina had him rethinking his previous policy.

A little boat rested on the rocky shore. The peeled paint and name painted in black, neat lettering on the side, RMS Titanic, had him wondering if the tiny boat would float or sink straight to the bottom of the lake. A wooden deck, weathered from the elements poked out from the shoreline. A ladder made it easy to climb down into the water without jumping from side of the deck.

Hunter rolled down his window to let in some fresh air. The breeze was fragrant with blossoms and the scent of growing things. Hunter's wolf lifted his nose and wagged his tail eagerly at the prospect of prey on the air. Hunter squashed him down into that place in his mind where he controlled the wolf rather than letting the wolf control him. Sometimes, it was a fragile balance between the two halves of him self, a trick of give and take. His wolf balked at first and then settled down into the metaphysical world from which it had been spawned. Truly, it wasn't that difficult to placate his wolf. Not where Gina was concerned. She was their primary concern.

The sound of cricket song and the throaty calls of bullfrogs did not detract from the quiet of early nightfall. Hunter eased up on the gas and rolled to a stop. How different this place was from his childhood home. Oh, the desert was beautiful in her own right. Flat lands and graceful outcroppings of rock and the rough, rugged, arid terrain, a land of browns and vibrant hues of orange. A wide open place of clear, velvet black night skies and stars so close you could almost reach out and capture them in the palm of your hand. Everything here was green and alive, gentle sloping hills, trees of every shape and size, wide, grassy meadows dotted with wildflowers of every color imaginable, and miles and miles of plowed fields. The woods were dense and it would be so easy to get lost in them and to lose your self to them in this land of green.

When he'd first arrived, Hunter had been surprised by how much water there was. It rained and sometimes, it rained some more, and then, some more. It seemed like more water than should be in one place. He'd been in the service. But, he'd never stayed in one place for very long. He'd traveled the globe. But, he never really thought much about the scenery. His mind was too focused on the tasks at hand to think about how pretty or ugly a particular place might be. The decorated veteran he had been was no more. John Smith had disappeared after Vietnam and he hadn't and wouldn't be seen again. That was, unless the need arose. And then some other version of John Smith would step up to serve his country.

Hunter had a rare gift he'd probably inherited from his father. His wolf could survive for long periods of time without Pack magic to sustain him. Hunter had never tested exactly how long his wolf could stay with him. He'd served from the start of the war to the end and his wolf was still going strong. For him, there was only one way to separate himself from his wolf and that was to willingly force him out. Hunter didn't want to think about life without his wolf. His wolf had saved a great many lives. And probably Hunter's hide more times than he wanted to think about. After the war, he'd lived on the fringes of the Pack. For over a decade he'd existed. Haunted by the nightmares of all the awfulness he'd seen.

Then Marianne came along and changed everything. He owed his wife just as much for saving his skin, his very soul, as he did his wolf. They'd had many happy years of loving before Tristen was born, and after that, the happiness and loving continued as Daniel was birthed and Marianne blossomed with Mouse. After Marianne died, Hunter had wanted to join her in death as so many mates did. He'd been too much of a coward to end his life and too much of a coward to truly live without her. Existing, just getting by, seemed to be the repeating theme of his life. And here he was with Gina, throwing the gearshift into park, contemplating happiness and starting over yet again.

There were a great many things he had yet to explain to Gina. She knew what he was beneath the wrapper of his human flesh. But, there was much she didn't understand about his world. Of his wolf, of the wolves, she had no fear and that was good. He had plenty to tell her. The truth of his age and how long he'd live. He'd outlive her, not by years or decades, but perhaps by centuries. Well, he didn't plan to last that long, not this time. For him, there'd be no third chance, no starting over. This was it. When she left this earth for the spirit world, so did he. And there was more he needed to tell her. Things he suspected, but had never said, mainly because he didn't know how. But, they were things she needed to hear and deserved to know.

The cabin was just as scenic as its surroundings. The new construction was barely noticeable in contrast to the existing structure. The Pack had done a nice job with the handiwork. Tristen and Daniel had put on the new roof and hammered in the timbers to form the walls. The whole thing was Grant's idea. And somehow, by some miracle, the Pack had made it happen. Hunter was filled with pride that his sons had helped to build the addition. Once in a while they could get along long enough to get something accomplished. The rest of the time, they fought and carried on as brothers so often do.

Much like Grant and he had. By the time Nash, his father, had adopted the squalling baby, Hunter had been an adult. He could have been a mentor, a big brother, and a guide. Instead, he'd suggested they drown Grant in the river. Grant and he still had their moments, less often now though. But, he was glad their father had maintained a close eye on his adopted brother and had kept him from drowning Grant. He really wouldn't have drown Grant...well, he might have. No, he wouldn't have. Even though there were times, and still were, where it was a very tempting idea. Hunter could have blamed his thoughts on post war PTSD, alpha rivalry, or a dozen other things. But, the truth be told, Grant had been just that much of a pain in the ass growing up and sometimes still was.

The winters were harsh and relentless, turning this lush land of green into a barren world of white and cold. And the cabin had shown the effects of the weather. The blistered and peeling paint on the wooden siding had been scraped and repainted an earthy tone of brown. The shudders over the windows were new and painted a woodsy shade of green, the color of pine trees. Fresh gingham curtains, the checks red and white, hung over the windows. Someone, probably Mouse, had dug flowerbeds and planted rows and rows of perennial blossoms. The stairs leading up to the front porch no longer sagged. And the handrail was good and sturdy. The old roof had been torn off and a new one put on. A natural stone chimney poked out from the shallow peak of the roof. The overall effect of the setting was homey and comfortable. A place to relax and just let it all hang out, forget about the outside world for a while and let the big ball of mud spin and spin without you. And it was exactly what Gina needed.

Gina climbed out of the SUV and looked around. She shuddered against the coolness of the oncoming night. It really wasn't cold. No, not at all, but she had goose bumps anyway. She didn't like this place. The darkness and the remoteness of this cabin set her on edge. The woods were black and creepy. The sound of crickets and bullfrogs and the occasional chatter of something from the depths of the trees surrounding the cabin grated her. She supposed Hunter had taken her out here for some peace and quiet. But, the place was anything but peaceful and it sure as hell wasn't quiet.

The lake was a dark mirror reflecting a dim sky. Not a ripple broke the glassy surface. Maybe, she'd seen one too many horror movies. Maybe, it was just everything she'd been through. But, this cabin and the woods as picturesque as they might be, gave her the creeps.

Gina swatted a mosquito and tromped around to the rear of the SUV where Hunter was loading bags of supplies into his arms. The interior dome light barely cut through the darkness. Ok, so she was a city girl born and bred. No shame in admitting it. Growing up, family vacations centered around urban hot spots like Disneyland or New York City. She'd never been camping. She'd never gone fishing. And she'd never swum in a grungy, filthy lake before. She wasn't getting in the water. She wasn't singing Kumbayah around any damn campfire. She was miles away from anything remotely resembling civilization and without the glow of neon lights and the background noise of the city she was completely thrown off kilter.

Hunter obviously had brought her out here for an escape from anything that could possibly trigger her unwanted memories. She had to give him some credit for that. This place was as far from the urban jungle as a person could get. He couldn't have known that she'd lived such a sheltered life. Gina chalked up her apprehension to the fact that this was something new. There were no axe murderers lurking in the woods just waiting to chop her into bits. There were no grizzly bears in Indiana. Hunter and the Pack were the only wolves to be found here. And while they weren't exactly tame, they weren't going to eat her. There were no killers in hockey masks or chainsaw toting maniacs. Nothing here was going to hurt her. Hunter wouldn't allow it.

Gina batted at a moth the size of a pigeon and took the duffel bag Hunter handed her. There were bugs everywhere. Moths swarmed the porch light. Mosquitoes buzzed around her head in determination to suck her dry. She didn't want to think about snakes and spiders and whatever else called this place home. The day had been warm, almost hot. And with the recent rains, humidity hung over her shoulders like a hot, wet, miserable blanket. Sweat beaded her brow and rolled down her spine. Indiana was probably the only place on earth a person could sweat in air conditioning thanks to the relentless humidity.

Hunter stared down at her as if he expected her to say something. And he probably did. He'd never said. But, with his wolfish side, Gina guessed he could sense her moods. He always seemed to know what she needed before she realized she needed it. She didn't want to disappoint him. And maybe, once they were inside of the cabin and the outdoors shut out, she would relax a little. Gina gritted her teeth as they rounded the edge of the cabin and she spotted what she only knew from pictures and books. An outhouse? There was no way in hell she was peeing in a hole in the ground. She'd rather deal with her fear of ...everything than have that particular adventure. But, he was trying. And because of that, she'd try. "It's pretty here." And it was. The scenery just wasn't for her.

"Very." Gina's body posture was tense and on guard. But, a slight curve of a smile she couldn't help tilted the corners of her mouth. She was a reluctant country girl. Of course, she'd feel more at home in the noise and hustle and bustle of the city than out here in the middle of nowhere. And he had taken that into consideration. If he hadn't, they'd be pitching a pup tent and the true middle of God's country. She was a city girl to her core. She'd need certain modern conveniences, a toilet, running water, a shower, electricity, a roof over her head, and a soft bed to sleep in. While he could do without all the above and be quite happy sleeping under an open canopy of stars. The fact that she could not was not lost on him. And the cabin provided a happy medium for the both of them.

She was apprehensive of the woods and the oncoming darkness, sticking close to his side as he toted the bags of necessities to the front door. Her mind needed this time to get away from everything. She just didn't realize it yet. Gina was terrified of new things. Unfortunately, she was terrified of the old too. And after everything she'd been through. He didn't blame her. And that was exactly why he'd chosen this place. The cabin was just far enough away and close enough to. They could be in town in less than fifteen minutes. Yet, at the same time if they chose to isolate themselves from everything they could. He unlocked the door with the key hidden under a flowerpot on the porch and ushered her inside.

Once Gina saw there was electricity and a bathroom, she'd feel better about being here. He hadn't totally taken her from the outside world and the convenience of the things she'd always known. Soon, she would relax enough to appreciate the woods and their wild beauty. He planned to be gentle with her and to give her the time and space she needed. He would be no more at home in a posh highrise than she was here. He couldn't stand the city, the stink, the constant daylight of neon lights and streetlights, the crowds of people, and the way the city was never still or at rest.

Hunter flipped on a light switch and crossed the room to deposit the bags on a two-seater kitchen table. He motioned for her to put the duffel bag he'd put in her hands on the edge of the bed. He'd done it more to give her something else to do besides bolt for the SUV and demand him to take her home, than because he actually needed help carrying the thing. Busying himself unpacking their food for the next several days, he backed off, kept quiet, and gave her space to look around.

Gina took a step inside the door. She was relieved by the reinforcement that yes, the place did have electricity and from the looks of things, running water and a fully functioning bathroom. The cabin wasn't anything fancy. Rustic, of course, but not elaborate and overdone in that way some places trying to boast a country atmosphere were. Everything here was genuine from the rough cut floors worn smooth with the constant tromp of footsteps and time to the hewn logs pieced together to form the walls.

The furniture scattered about in various groupings was well used, but comfortable looking in a miss match of textures, styles, and fabrics. The cabin was one room, creatively divided into an eating/kitchen area, a small sitting area, and an equally small sleeping area equipped with a queen sized bed. The space should have looked cramped and small. Instead, the placement of the furniture was well planned and thought out.

The kitchen had a rustic, old-fashioned hand pump and cast iron sink and counter combo. Checked red and white gingham fabric new but meant to look old formed a curtain under the sink and hid what was probably storage space. A small, round table big enough for two was decorated with a matching tablecloth and a vase of freshly picked wildflowers. The curtains covering the windows were made of the same cheerful checked pattern.

The bathroom was a recent addition. She could still smell the fresh paint and sawdust over the essence of smoky autumn wood fires, the crisp mint chill of snow, the fragrance of spring blossoms, and the coconut scented sunshine haze of summers past. Off the kitchen, the room although new was decorated to look as if it had been a part of the original cabin. The walls were wainscoted with rustic looking half logs midway up their length. The paint was creatively chosen to match the outdoorsy setting and was a woodsy shade of brown. She was relieved to see a shower and a toilet, modern though designed to look old. And there was a deep tub, claw footed, maybe an antique, dominating the smallish room.

Decorated in colorful, hand knitted afghans, bright patchwork quilts, and equally vibrant hand woven rag rugs, the place definitely had no shortage of country charm. A stone fireplace occupied one corner of the living space. And even though the day had been warm and the evening humid and sticky, the night was cool. Hunter had opened the windows and a gentle breeze rustled the curtains. The lights were dim. And he had the makings of a small fire blazing on the hearth. Not because they needed one, it wasn't that cold. The fire was just big enough to fill the place with the pungent scent of wood smoke and the warmth and glow from the flickering flames.

Gina's toes curled in her tennis shoes at the sight of him lounging on the floor on a soft braided rug. He'd taken off his boots and peeled off his socks. His big, bare feet stuck out from beneath the hem of his jeans. The sleeping area was partitioned from the seating arrangement by a large screen made of colorfully embroidered sheets of cloth stretched between thick, roughly cut planks of wood. There was only one bed. And although she'd shared a bed with Hunter in the past, their relationship had taken a decided turn since then. He would never fit on the twin cushion loveseat. And that meant there was only one place he intended to sleep, with her on that bed barely big enough for two. The word that came to Gina's mind was cozy. This cabin, this quiet setting and this man stretched out on the floor and that double bed was definitely cozy. And she wondered just exactly how much sleeping and how much of other things would go on tonight.