To Love a Stray

A mile later I stop and watch a herd of cows grazing on the lush green grass of the field. My tail twitches with nervous energy as I bring my urge to hunt under control. I dare not hunt livestock: to do so would undoubtedly alert landholders to the presence of a large cat. I slink along the edge of the field to the next lot of trees and from there up a small hill away from the cattle.

I find what I am looking for nearly two miles and an hour later. I catch the scent of feral goats and begin to stalk silently. I find three nanny goats in a small copse of trees; two have half grown kids with them and I immediately fix my attention on one of the kids that limps as it takes several steps. I burst into view startling the goats into action but none of them have a chance of escaping me. My front claws catch the hindquarters of the injured kid, one stride and then I am closing my jaws on his throat. I am merciful and I snap his neck instantly. I eat hurriedly, constantly alert as I rip chunks of warm meat from my kill. Soon I have an audience of two foxes and my tail flicks in annoyance even though I am relieved they will remove all evidence of my meal once I go. When I walk away from my kill I have had a good feed but I have not over eaten since I still have a long way to go before I reach safe territory.

* * * * *

The bright happy sound of birds greeting the rising sun wakes me and I smile as I yawn and stretch in my own bed. Silk sheets glided against my satin pyjamas as I move and I open my eyes slowly. I have made it home safely and I am in human form once again. Never one to lie around in bed I quickly get up and head to my bathroom. Locking the door I turn the shower on before undressing and stepping beneath the flowing water. My shower gel foams to a rich lather that smells of wildflowers and citrus as I wash myself carefully. After I dry myself I carefully rub a similar smelling mixture of oils into my skin taking care to cover every inch before reaching for my work clothes. My scent-disguising secret is in the ingredients of the gel and oil mixtures I use along with an herbal mixture I drink containing chlorophyll. A loud pounding on my front door has me skipping down the stairs to open it with a smile.

"Hi Pete come on in. You're just in time to make my morning coffee while I cook us breakfast," I tell him as he grins at my bright greeting.

"Hi yourself. You're certainly a lot happier this morning," Pete comments as he heads for the large kitchen in my house. He had called over last night not long after I had gotten home only to have me slam the door in his face so he couldn't get close enough to me to catch my scent.

"Jetlag - you know how it is," I return easily as I head towards the fridge. First on my breakfast menu is an herbal drink I make myself washed down by a generous glass of orange juice. Breakfast is a filling meal of pancakes, sausages, bacon and eggs washed down by copious amounts of hot coffee. Pete has his black with loads of sugar while I like mine with lots of milk.

"Any chance of you making a batch of those caramel cookies for me before you go back to work in a couple of days?" Pete asks as he savours his coffee.

"Just one batch?" I ask with a smile.

"I might be able to find room in the freezer for a batch or two," Pete says seriously but the mirth in his eyes gives him away.

"I'll have to go into town to get several things," I say with a sigh. I know how much Pete likes my caramel cookies and some instinct always makes me want to pamper him, not to mention I love his company when I am game enough to indulge myself.

"I got the morning off. I'll take you if you like." Pete offers.

"Shopping with my favourite male neighbour. How can I resist?" Laughter colours my words and Pete laughs too. We leave the dirty dishes in the sink and head outside to Pete's car. I smile as I climb into the passenger seat and turn on the radio to my favourite station.

The trip to town is uneventful, both Pete and I preferring to make a quick visit with as few as possible stops. It's on the way home that the first indication of trouble shows itself when the flashing of lights in the rear-view mirror catches our attention and Pete curses softly under his breath as he slows and guides the car to the side of the road.

"Well I wasn't speeding," Pete mutters as the sheriff gets out of his vehicle and walks up to my window.

"Hi Pete. Miss Tawny, Doc Caruthers rang our office to see if we could find you. He's busy over the other side of the Leaning T working on some hot-blooded horses and a call came in to him. Mac Toovey needs someone to go out and put down some stock that's been mauled by a bear. Doc asked if we could find you to go do it," Sheriff Kepler explains.

I frown as I glance at Pete. "I guess those cookies of yours will have to wait," I tell him.

"I'll just drop Tawny home so she can get her pick up and go do that for Mr Toovey," Pete tells the sheriff.

"No need for Miss Tawny to drive out there by herself. I need to get photos of the injuries to the cattle to record it and pass it on to the wildlife rangers," Kepler says with a smile in my direction.

"It's fine by me," I tell Pete.

"I've got your spare keys so I can put your shopping in your kitchen for you," Pete says with a slight smile.

I get out of Pete's car careful not to touch the door handle with bare skin and get into the sheriff's car. Kepler chats continually as he starts his vehicle moving and heads back towards town. We have to stop by the vet hospital so I can get the spare kit my uncle, veterinarian 'Doc' Caruthers, has in his office. I listen to what he knows of the bear mauling with interest. It turns out that the owner of the cattle hopes one of the mauled animals can be saved.

With the medical bag at my feet and the holster containing a high-powered pistol balanced on my lap we head for the place where the unfortunate rancher and his stock wait.

"We leave the vehicle here and go the rest of the way on foot," Kepler says as he pulls to the side of the road near where a man in overalls is waiting impatiently. I climb out of the vehicle and Mac Toovey rushes over to me immediately.

"Ah it's you Miss Tawny. Is the Doc busy?" Mac asks worriedly.

"The Doc is busy until late this evening and he sent me out here. Show me where these cattle are and I'll see what I can do," I tell him gently.

Mac takes the medical bag from me and heads towards a rough wooden enclosure. "Ain't a job for a woman, no sirree. Them cows are tore up something bad," Mac mumbles as I follow him across the rough ground. I can see five dark lumps in the knee-deep grass on the other side of the small loading pen and ramp. Three cows mill in one of the pens and I grimace as see that one of them is trailing intestines from a large hole torn low in her side. All three cows are heavy in calf and will probably calve in the next few days.

"These are the cows Doc put the purebred embryos in last summer. Only got three them left now. I can't be affording to loose them calves," Mac tells me with tears in his eyes.

"Let me see what I can do," I say gently and study the three surviving cows closely. After a few minutes I can tell two of the cows can be saved while the third one is beyond help but maybe it's not be too late for the calf she carries.

"You want me to shoot them Miss Tawny?" Kepler asks softly.

"No, I can sew up two of them. Give them antibiotics to fight infection, hopefully save them and the calves. The one with the torn stomach will have to be put down, but if I'm quick I should be able to save the calf." My voice is strained as I think of what is to come. It takes the three of us to put the two cows in the close confines of the crush where I can restrain them, take pictures with my digital camera and then tend to their injuries. I sew up the deepest of the claw marks and then give each cow injections to try to prevent infection. The last cow stands in the corner of the pen, her head hangs low and she is gasping for breath but she still has the strength to threaten to charge me as I cautiously climb into the pen with her to snap several photos. I know the heat of the day and the stressful work I have done has made me sweat and she can smell me. It is the scent of a large predator that alarms her.

"We ready?" I ask Mac and Kepler quietly. We have planned this carefully.

"Do what you must Miss Tawny," Mac says gravely. I know this is hard for him; I remember him telling my uncle and I how he had hand raised these cows as orphaned calves. The recoil of the gun kicks hard in my hand but I ignore it as I watch the cow fall.

"Knife!" I demand of Mac as I hand Kepler the pistol. Mac hands me the large knife I have taken from the medical bag and climbs into the pen as I squat beside the stomach of the cow. I plunge the knife deep into the stomach of the cow and cut making the entrails come out. Steam comes from the cut bathing my face in the smell of fresh blood and intestinal juices. My breath hisses out and I turn my face away as I struggle for control of my inner cat.

Saliva fills my mouth almost instantly and I have to continually swallow while I clench my jaw tightly as my inner cat scream in fury and fights to escape and feed on our kill. Another cut and a large organ can be seen; there is movement within it and I use the knife as carefully as possible. Tissue parts beneath the razor sharp blade and two legs spill from the incision along with the fluid that surrounds the unborn calf. I drop the knife; grab the two legs just above the small hooves and pull the weakly moving calf from its warm cocoon. I hurry to wipe mucus away from the nose and mouth of the calf, hoping it will breathe. When there is no movement of its ribs I grab it by the flanks and lift its hind quarts up to allow any fluid in its lungs to drain out its open mouth.

Mac begins rubbing the motionless chest roughly before reaching down and opening the mouth wide. The body jerks in my grip and a moist gasping sound comes from the calf; Mac rubs the calf's chest again and another gasp follows. I lower the calf down once again and stand back as Mac works on the calf. I try breathing through my mouth but it does nothing to cut down on the enticing aromas that come from the carcass of the dead cow or the still wet calf. My mouth still waters from the smells and I swallow several times. There is a buzzing in my ears and darkness flickers at the edge of my vision as the cat within me swells.

This is my kill! I should be pulling still warm organs from the body and eating my fill of fresh liver or heart.

"Scuse me," I mutter and stumble away. I poke my head and shoulders through the gap between two rails in the fence and lean against the lower rail as I struggle to force myself under control. My stomach roils and I retch loosing what remains of my breakfast. Restraining myself and refusing a shape shift always makes me physically sick when I manage it.

"Here," Kepler holds a metal flask out to me and I straighten up slowly before taking it. The liqueur burns as I rinse my mouth out and spit before taking a few deep swallows and handing the flask back.

"Thanks, I needed that," I say quietly and watch as he returns the flask to Mac.

"This will be one fine bull calf," Mac tells us happily as he struggles to pick up the calf and carry it to the passenger door of the old battered pick-up he drives. In the trailer attached to the pick-up the two living cows move restlessly and he glances at them once he has the calf settled on the seat.

"You need to look at the dead 'uns?" Mac asks as he looks towards the dark lumps in the field. I look towards the carcasses in the field with dread. The last thing I want is to be around the excess of freshly killed meat while my inner cat demands to be released but I must know if what I suspect is so.

"I need to check them out Mac. The injuries on those cattle in the yard didn't look like dog or dingo mauling to me," I say softly. Mac purses his lips while he thinks about it for a few seconds before taking a rifle from the front of his truck and glancing towards the place Kepler stands still holding the pistol I used to put the cow down.

"Ok let's do this then," Mac announces.

I head towards Kepler and force a tight smile as I stop near him, "We're going to check out the dead cows." He hands me the pistol and we join Mac walking to the first of the dead cattle. The first thing I notice is how badly the animal was clawed up on the hind quarters and that the stomach had been torn open to leave a trail of intestines before it had fallen. I walk out wide around the carcass and head for then next one. Claw marks on the front shoulders and signs of a strangle hold on the throat accompany the strong acrid scent around it. I take my small camera out and take several pictures of the carcass, the scratched up grass on it and the areas that reek of urine the strongest.

"This one here got a horn in whatever killed it," Kepler calls from the first animal.

I hesitate for a few moments as I scan the surrounding field for any signs we are not alone, my senses on alert I return to the first carcass and move to stand near Kepler. There is shiny black hair on one short thick horn, the tip discoloured by dried blood. I take a close up picture.

I notice a clear paw print in the torn up ground and glance at both Mac and the sheriff, "Look there where the ground is all torn up. See the print?"

"Woo wee! Must be some big animal!" Mac whistles softly under his breath.

I catch the look Kepler sends me and I nod when he motions back towards the vehicles. I quickly snap pictures of the paw print before squatting near it to hold my hand over it to get an accurate impression of the size. I hold the camera awkwardly in one hand and snap a picture for comparison.

"I think we should get out of here," I announce. I can smell the individual scents of several different roving strays on this beast and I am terrified they are lurking close by watching us. Neither man objects so we walk back to the yards; Mac climbs into his truck and follows the sheriff and me as we go back to the sheriff's car.

"I'll get you to email me a copy of those pictures if you don't mind," Kepler tells me.

"I'll do up an official report for you to pass on to the rangers if you like," I offer knowing it is expected.

"That would be good," Kepler says.

I glance at the two cows in Mac's trailer as we pass him; he gives us a wave as we go by and then he is behind us as the sheriff picks up speed.

"Back to your place so you can clean up?" Kepler asks quietly. I look down at myself and grimace as I realise my shirt is plastered to the front of my body by blood and amniotic fluid from saving the calf for Mac.

"Yeah, I need a shower," I mutter.

"So have you and Pete Willoughby got something going?" Kepler asks. I glance at him and realise he is only about Pete's age, not the middle aged person I had considered him.

"You could say that," I answer coolly allowing him to get the wrong impression. It's a ploy I have used in the past three years since I turned eighteen and men have become more openly interested in me. The rest of the drive passes in silence and I realise Kepler is embarrassed to have indicated interest in a woman who he believes is seeing of one of his friends. I don't attempt to encourage his former friendly manner; he's a nice guy and I don't want to encourage him when I have no real interest in men.

I am relieved when we reach my place and I get out of the car. Pete was at his place when we drove past and I know he will wait until either I phone him or take the cookies I promised to make to his place. I head straight for the shower stripping my dirty clothes off and putting them in a brown paper bag so I can burn them later. The smell from the beast I butchered to remove the calf from will be next to impossible to remove from the material and I have no wish to be reminded of the experience.

* * * * *

It is mid afternoon when I knock on Pete's front door carrying a container of still warm cookies, my digital camera and the USB cord that connects it to a computer.

"I come bearing warm cookies," I say with a wide grin as Pete opens the door and sniffs with appreciation.

"Come in, come in. Here let me take the cookies," Pete says even as he reached for the large container. He scoops several cookies into one hand and puts his other arm around the container taking it from me, already chewing on a mouthful of cookie as he leads the way inside.

"I was wondering if I could use your computer and Internet for a few minutes. My computer has decided to be difficult and I need to send pictures and a report to Kepler. Oh and Pete ... he might have the impression you and I are ... involved," I say with a grimace.

"Where would he get that impression?" Pete asks surprised.

"I might have ... err let him get the wrong idea when he asked if there was anything going on between us," I mutter acting slightly embarrassed.

Pete stops and looks at me with surprise. I know he can hear the nervous beat of my heart but he doesn't realise that it is not the announcement I just made that has made me nervous.

"Shall I let you get to work at the computer?" Pete asks after a moment.

"That'd be great," I say with a smile.

I sit at the computer and upload the photos before Pete wanders over.

"Was it a bad dingo attack?" he asks with some interest. I bring up a picture that shows the paw print in the torn up ground.

"Someone has had an exotic big cat escape. It killed five full-grown cows and mauled three others. One had to be put down. This animal leaves prints too big for a cougar, way too big," I say quietly. It is only because I am a werecat I hear his heartbeat pick up pace and his sharply indrawn breath.

"How big?" He asks. I go through the pictures until I bring up the picture where I have my hand beside the print and it is no accident that I have allowed him to see the picture of the fur and blood on the horn of one of the dead cows. Pete growls deep and low in his throat. It is a sound a normal human wouldn't hear but my sensitive hearing picks it up even though I don't react in any way.

"I'll let you do what you're doing. Want a cup of coffee?" He asks.

"That would be wonderful," I answer and glance over my shoulder at him as he walks away. When Pete is in his kitchen making the coffee I hear him on his phone making a call. He thinks I can't hear him as he talks to another werecat on the other end of the phone. I can hear both of them clearly even as I type up the report for Kepler and email it and the pictures to him.

"Want to stay for tea? I can throw a salad together and grill us some steaks," Pete offers from just behind me. I flinch from his voice startled I hadn't heard him approach.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Pete says quietly. He knows the story of my rape. Most people in the county do and put my dislike of physical contact down to that. I glance at him curiously. I know from eavesdropping on his phone call he's expecting werecat visitors around that time and I have to wonder why he would want me around while they are here.

"Make mine a couple of burgers and it's a deal," I say after a few moments pause. As much as instinct demands I avoid other werecats I am curious about them in general and the chance to 'study' some is too much to turn down.

"Burgers it is," Pete grins.

"Well if we're having burgers I had better go have another shower, I swear I can still smell the cows blood on me." I mutter as I get to my feet.

"I'll see if I can find us a movie we haven't watched for a while for after tea," Pete says as I gather my camera and cord up.

"Make it an action movie," I say and head for the door. Pete follows me and I stop just inside the door to look back at him when I open it.