Chapter 16 - The Stars Underground [https://cdn.midjourney.com/41f694a5-1920-4178-b182-2192c71cef6c/0_1.png]

Kennedy lay back on the worn blanket. “Is this what happened to my birth mother?”

He nodded, his fingers still exploring his palate, brow furrowed. She looked at her hands, her wrists. The familiar seemed strange. Her mind creaked and complained at the new reality. The taste of dried fish was still in her mouth, and her belly was full. She rested her hand on the tight curve.

“Your mom said people think my birth mother killed some boy.”

He nodded.

“Was that boy my dad?”

Terry grimaced and nodded.

Her bones chilled. “And am I like her?”

Nodding again, he sank down beside her. Claiming one of her hands in his own, his fingers engulfed hers gently as he lifted her hand to his chest and tapped it against him.

“And like you.”

“Ya.”

“Aren’t you scared to be out here with me?”

He shook his head no, his lips twisting into a bemused smile.

“Will it happen again?”

He shrugged.

“Just randomly, I turn into a bear? You gotta be shitting me.” He laughed then, throaty and rough, as if he wasn’t familiar with making the sound. She asked, “Are you trying to tell me I’m a werewolf?” He shook his head no, amused.

“Werebear then, for fuck’s sake.”

He shook his head no and pointed toward the sky. “There.” He graveled.

She looked up at the expanse of the sparkling blue sky. The hallucinations had been so clear that she almost believed him. The light of the sky was so crisp and sparkling, she felt the taste of it on her tongue as a fizzing sweetness.

Cutting short the whole slew of questions his answers brought up, he rolled away from her and stood up. He was beautifully made, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His body rippled with strength and grace. Sunlight hallowed his head, gilding his dark hair. He looked holy, a saint from an illustration. The spell broke when his stomach gave a loud grumble.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

As mortal as she was, he grunted and looked at the four-wheeler. The back left side was damaged with deep scratches. Had she done that? Remembering her struggle to get the delicious-smelling bag free, she flexed her hands. Deep grooves marked the metal. No human was strong enough to do that kind of damage.

He untied the untouched supply sack that hung on the other side. The one that had held the dried fish was in tatters on the grass. She had done that. When he returned to their blanket, he handed her a bottle of water. Thirstier than she had realized, her throat suddenly ached. Her tongue tasted of fish. Sitting up, she tipped the bottle and drank deeply. Ambrosia. Fresh as a spring, faintly mineral. A pound of dried fish could leave you thirsty.

He watched her drink as he put together a sandwich. Meat and bread. Her nose twitched. Ham. Yummy. He rolled his eyes at her open stare and offered her half. Even though Kennedy didn’t have room in her belly for more, her body demanded food. With the first bite, she sighed in relief, swaying side to side in a seated happy food dance. The corner of his mouth edged upward into a smile and he made her another. Her body must have burned a million calories.

With her second sandwich demolished, she rolled onto her back, one hand on the tight curve of her full belly. So sleepy. The sun shone overhead. The brightness didn’t matter. Her eyes didn’t want to stay open. She could feel the stars beyond the clouds, and in the ground. She reached for the ones nestled in the soil and slid into a dream.

The sounds of him packing woke her. A blanket of stars spread across the sky. More than she had ever seen in her life. Stunned, she lay there, just looking at them. When had the night arrived? A shooting star shot across the lower horizon, just in her line of sight. She could make a wish, but Kennedy didn’t know what to ask for.

Mere days ago, she would have wanted to know more about her birth parents. Now she knew plenty. Her Mom was a murderer who killed her dad. And she had the same mental illness. The memory of being a bear had dimmed. If it hadn’t been for the deep scratches on the four-wheeler, she could have convinced herself it was a hallucination. According to her equally insane camp mate, she was from the sky.

Naked under a thick thermal sleeping bag, she watched as he gathered the scraps of the sack she had destroyed. There was a lingering heat next to her, where he had recently been. Dressed, he almost looked civilized in his jeans and flannel. For a big man, he moved with ease. His steps were quiet. When he turned toward her and saw that she was awake, he paused. He lifted his finger to his lips before she could say anything.

Then she heard it, movement in the distance. Pinching the fabric of his shirt, he shook it and pointed at her. Quietly as she could, Kennedy slid from underneath the covers to gather her abandoned clothes. Her khakis were stiff with blood and hard to pull on. Her clothing from yesterday was disgusting, but at least the blood was dry. From the way Doc Terry was packing, they needed to hurry.

Kennedy tried to ignore her copper penny smell. He touched her shoulder as he gathered their blankets, gesturing to the four-wheeler. The sound of crunching in the distance was getting closer. She heard a distant huff. Bears. Shit. Terry made quick work of lashing the blankets as she gingerly seated herself on the four-wheeler, hoping its metallic tang would cover some of her scent.

Terry eased into place in front of her, throwing a concerned look in the direction of the noise. He had a gun, but would he use a weapon against a bear? No. As she rested her hands on the sides of his powerful wide body, the sky along the horizon began to lighten. In the distance, she heard a roar and shuddered. The sound was plaintive behind them as the four-wheeler jumped forward.