A/N: I'm back after the flu from hell. Thanks for being patient. The title of this chapter is a quote from Pride and Prejudice, one of my all time favorite books.

Chapter 11: Obstinate, Headstrong Girl

When Eric opened the front door, Sam and I gawped at each other in surprise before we both began speaking at once.

"Of course you're the park ranger!"

"Sookie! You're back at your old place!"

We both laughed and I led him into the living area, Eric trailing behind. Sam let out a low whistle as he looked around, poking his head around the corner into the kitchen.

"You've done some good work here, Sook."

"Thanks," I beamed. "And you! Look at you. Finally got a job in the parks service after all those years talking about it." He'd changed some, more wrinkles where there'd only been smile lines, gray hair mixed liberally with the strawberry blonde. It all suited him, especially his park ranger uniform, which he must have changed into after receiving Eric's call.

I turned to Eric, who was standing between us and looking a little thrown.

"Sam was my old boss back in the day," I explained. "I worked a few summers on the lake as a part-time life guard. Sam was one of the supervisors there for almost as long as I'd known him. Thanks for coming out so late," I said, directing my attention back to Sam. He had crouched down giving Bonnie, who was by the fire pretending to be asleep, a good scratch behind the ears. "I know Eric said you didn't mind…"

He shook his head in protest, standing up. "Nope. Think nothing of it. I'm keen to see these tracks. The pictures Eric sent the other day got me intrigued."

Eric flopped down onto the couch. "I think your exact words were: 'Holy shit, if you find anymore I need to see them IRL'."

Sam chuckled, perching his wiry frame on the edge of the armchair. "Yeah, that'd be closer to the truth. Now, Sookie," he said turning to me, his cheer fading. "Want to explain what happened here tonight?"

I shared a look with Eric as I seated myself on the opposite end of the couch from him. Eric's face was one of understanding and I caught the unsaid meaning. He would support me with however much I wanted to share. I wanted to scoot closer to him and take his hand but thought better of it. Whatever we were was too new, and ultimately this whole situation was my problem to face. I would be no shrinking violet.

I lifted my chin, steeling myself and told Sam about the multiple incidences of tracks I'd found around my property and the encounter from earlier that evening. Sam nodded throughout, although his eye took on an unusual gleam. I made sure to steer my explanation away from anything …extra-ordinary.

"Have you heard of anything like this?" I asked. I didn't want to tell him about the other occurrences just yet. I thought it best to scope out his opinion first.

"Now, now. I don't wanna jump the gun. Let's go look at the tracks first and we'll go from there."

I donned my coat and boots and grabbed the Benelli. When Eric moved to follow us out the front door I stopped him with a raised palm.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Coming out to have a look. Clearly." He crossed his arms, his chin jutted out like a stubborn toddler.

"You are barefoot and have no warm coat. You can turn on the flood lights for us if you like, the switch is beside the sliding door, but you are staying inside."

"But–"

"Nope. No argument. I have my gun and Sam with me." I pulled the door shut behind me on the unamused and unimpressed 6'4 hunk I couldn't believe I'd actually kissed only a few minutes earlier. The floodlights flicked on as we walked around to the lakefront side of the cabin.

There were prints everywhere. The thing's prints mostly - not just mine and Bonnie's. I stood by holding the torch as directed by Sam while he measured a print and took photos. I kept the gun over my shoulder, loaded, safety on and pointed away from us. Grandpa Mitchell was a stickler for gun etiquette and his habits stuck with me too. My eyes darted cautiously between what Sam was doing and the tree line the whole time.

"You know there's a large collection of documented Sasquatch prints from various locations around the country?" Sam said, measuring the depth of the print and writing it into a tiny spiral notepad that he'd pulled from his coat pocket. I didn't respond, from his enthusiasm I could tell he was busting to share. "A professor of anthropology and anatomy has cataloged a set of prints from an unknown species up in the Pacific Northwest. The prints had a distinct and hard to fake crippled foot. He was skeptical of Bigfoot until he saw them. Those prints were enough to convince him of their existence."

"Is this what you think it is?" Because I knew it wasn't. It was something far more sinister. Nightmarish. I wished it was only a friendly giant ape roaming the forest.

"Hmm. They are some kind of creature, alright. These prints are too short to be Bigfoot, typically their foot span is in the range of 15-18 inches. "

"You've seen Bigfoot prints before?" I was shocked. I never really put any stock in the myth of Bigfoot.

He chuckled, rusty colored hair shaking in dissent.

"Oh no. Not even so much as a rumor of a sighting in the area. Although I have to say, I get the odd feeling when I'm out in the forest. That sense of something being out there. Like something's watching, you know?" He looked up at me and I felt a chill run down my spine.

"Yeah, I know." That feeling was the one thing I could consistently count on during my walks since I arrived at Lake Douglas.

"I'm not saying I believe in Bigfoot, but the idea of an uncatalogued species that are descended from the homo genus or Gigantopithecus is pretty exciting. As for these prints… Well, I don't know. They're closer to human size and while it's clearly walking around on two legs it's certainly not human. This drag here obscures the shape of one foot. And here," he pointed to the next print, "You can see there's two toes, maybe a third here at the back... it could be a hoof or heel. My guess is that it's been injured or maybe its other foot, or paw - whatever it is - is deformed. An injured bear maybe, drawn out of hibernation after an attack."

Sam spent much too long for my comfort examining each print and taking photos on his camera. My feet jittered on the spot, nervous energy returning. I was eager to return to the safety of indoors.

When we got back in, we discovered Eric had fallen asleep on the couch with a movie going. His arm was curled under his head like a makeshift pillow. Bonnie was asleep on the floor beside him, no doubt seeking affection while they waited for our return. I turned the TV down and walked Sam out to his car.

"Thank you, Sam," I said, hugging my arms to my chest, trying to keep the cold at bay. "I really appreciate you comin' all the way out here."

"Think nothing of it, cher," he said, calling me by his old pet name. It started as a joke some fifteen years earlier after ribbing me for being a southern belle and somehow the moniker stuck. "Great to see you. Blast from the past."

"Tell me about it. Glad to see you doing so well for yourself. Do you still see the old crew? Rene, Buddy and all the rest?"

"We've all moved on from our lifeguard days, but most of them stuck around. You know us mountain people, Sook."

"Lifers," we said in unison and laughed. Such was the way of small-town folk. And I suppose me too. From growing up in Bon Temps to settling back in Douglas many years later.

"Still getting around with Dawn these days?"

"God, no." He pulled a face. "That ended in a battle, predictably."

"She finally drove off into the sunset in that hotted up Camaro of hers?" Boy, had she loved that car. Probably more than she loved Sam, though the two of them got around town in that metallic gray beast, even through the thick of winter, goodness knows how.

"More like she burned rubber." He sighed ruefully. They'd had a wild off and on relationship. "I'm married now. Melanie. She's the best thing that's happened to me. Life seems to have worked out. What about you? I heard on the grapevine a few years back that you were busy living a big city life; fancy job, husband, business."

"Oh well…" I trailed off wondering how much was acceptable to share during small talk with an old friend. "Life has a funny way of taking you places you never expect. I'm a widow now and living here."

His face dropped from one of innocent interest into a mixture of surprise and sympathy.

"It's fine," I said hurrying to speak over the inevitable turn the conversation was about to take. The I'm-sorry-to-hear-that and the you-are-so-brave. "It was earlier last year. I'm doing fine, getting on with life. Especially now I'm back here. " Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly the truth, but I needed to erase his pitying look. I was jack of it after seeing little else from everyone for the last 18 months.

"I'm sorry to hear, Sookie. Just let me know if you need anything. Work gets quiet through winter so I have time to help now. In fact, you should come down to the ranger station for a visit one day. My colleague is working on a project documenting and recording the oral history from people in the area. I'm sure he'd love to hear some of your tales from growing up here. He might've heard something from locals about your animal, too."

I locked up the house after Sam left and draped the quilt from my bed over Eric. The idea of waking him made me anxious, I didn't want him to go home until morning. He shifted a little, letting out a soft snore. It was any wonder I managed to wake him with my call earlier that night. He apparently slept like the dead.

I filled the fireplace with the last of the logs in the wood basket and curled back into old corduroy armchair I'd sat in before. I pulled Gran's old yarn-busting afghan tight around me. The huge dose of adrenalin had left me hollow, rattled and exhausted in every which way. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I put on that dumb Adam Sandler comedy and passed out halfway through the opening credits.

I smelled the coffee before my eyes even opened. I smiled and hummed appreciatively. It reminded me of mornings with Alcide, his ritual of waking me with a steaming cup after getting back from his morning run with Bonnie. I loved our mornings together. How we moved seamlessly around each other getting ready for work. It was a kind of choreography we had down to a fine art. Sharing the bathroom and easily scooting around each other in the kitchen. Him plating my breakfast while I fixed our lunches. The goodbye kiss and wave as we drove off in opposite directions. I had fixated on that last goodbye kiss for a long time after the accident.

I forced my eyes open and stretched my legs out. They were cramped and tingly.

"She wakes." Eric placed a coffee cup down on a corner of the coffee table closest to me and sat down on the couch. "I've had to check you were even alive. You are the quietest sleeper. You barely move or stir."

"I think it was more falling unconscious, rather than sleeping. Last night took it out of me." I yawned and brought the coffee cup to my face, breathing in what was possibly the best scent in the whole world. "This is perfect, thanks. What time is it?"

"Almost seven-thirty. That morning sun is blinding in here. Couldn't sleep any longer."

We fell into silence, turning over the previous evening's events.

"What did Sam say?" he asked after we'd both taken a sip.

"Not a whole lot. It's not human, not a Sasquatch, not anything he's seen. His guess was an injured bear. He invited me to go down and speak with one of the other rangers at the park. He might know something."

"How much did you tell him?"

"Just the basics. The explainable stuff, I guess. I wasn't comfortable elaborating any further about the stranger happenings."

Eric nodded in understanding, stretching out into a more relaxed position on the couch. I tried not to stare.

"So, do you still want to head into Chester today?" he asked.

"Yes," I confirmed, nodding. "I can't spend another night here without trying something more. Or at least investigating it further."

"About that…" Eric set his cup down, his face turning serious as he raked his hand through his hair. "Maybe you should come stay with me for a few nights? I have a spare room. Just until we know what's happening here."

"No, don't be ridiculous." I waved my hand dismissively. "Whatever it is can't get in otherwise it would have succeeded last night. It will be fine." Looking around the cabin in the bright light of morning confirmed that. It felt cozy and safe.

"Hardly ridiculous," he said, his forehead drawing into a deep frown. "You have no idea what it is. You seem convinced that it's something not of this world. Fuck, Sookie – you have me convinced too. Why risk something happening? You shouldn't be alone."

"Newsflash, Eric. I am alone. I've managed the first thirty years of my life unscathed, I can handle this too."

"If you were fine alone you wouldn't have phoned me last night." His annoyed expression was quickly giving way to anger. I bit my tongue, holding back an acerbic retort and took a deep breath.

"This is my home," I said finally. "I won't be chased away. I'll shoot that thing dead between the eyes before I leave my home out of fear."

"Are you even listening to yourself? You were a quivering wreck when I got here last night! It's okay to need help – to ask for help."

I gritted my teeth. He was right, I was all bluff and bluster. Big talk, no action. In the face of that awful thing I couldn't even bear to part the curtain to look at it, let alone shoot it. I wasn't sure it could be shot. It grabbed me from inside my own boot, for heaven's sake! A sign it wasn't operating under the normal rules of everyday life.

"Who exactly does it help if I leave? What if it just stays here waiting, or follows me? Leaving solves nothing."

"And what if it gets in? Then you die alone up here," he said gesturing around the cabin. "All because you were too foolish and stubborn to accept your limitations."

"My limitations?" I scoffed, hardly believing his words. "Can you even hear yourself right now? So, what's your great alternative here? You swoop in like some white knight and whisk me away from the big bad? You have some gall asking me to listen to myself! How are you better equipped to do anything about this thing than I am? You live a hop, skip and jump from me. It could just follow me to your place. And I bet you dollars to donuts I'm a better shot than you, blindfolded and spun till I'm dizzy!"

"So what's your grand plan for solving this?" he shot back angrily. "Burning another smudge stick and hoping for the best? Or cowering in your bedroom with your dog and shotgun?"

I gasped in indignation. "Are you always such an asshole?"

"Are you always so willfully stubborn? I'm trying to help you out here, but you seem intent to ignore reason and do the exact opposite!"

"Look, I appreciate your help," I ground out. "And you are most welcome to stay in one of my spare rooms but I'm sure as hell not going anywhere. This is my home. Mine. I have little else in this world. And I am not leaving. I'm not going to be forced out. You can't convince me otherwise." I stood up, slamming my coffee on the table, liquid slopping everywhere over the edges. I growled at my foolishness and stormed to the kitchen grabbing a cloth to wipe the mess down.

"Sookie… I'm not trying to force you out."

"Just don't even talk to me right now," I snapped at him. I cleaned up and back in the kitchen aggressively wrung the cloth under hot water, hanging it to dry on the dish rack. I grabbed the edge of the basin trying to collect myself. I was not going to leave. This house was like my baby. It was the only thing that kept me going the last few months. The only bright spot I'd had in my life to look forward to. I poured my heart and soul into remodeling the place. Making it a new home for myself. He didn't understand. I couldn't adequately describe what leaving this place meant. It was like admitting defeat. Like giving up on myself and my grief.

I marched past Eric and began stomping up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" he yelled after me.

"I'm going to take a shower if that's alright with you. Or do I need your permission to complete basic tasks around the house too? I suggest you go home and get dressed. I'll be leaving here in a half hour whether you're back or not."

Forty minutes later I sat in the driveway, truck idling when Eric emerged from the woods, jogging up to the passenger seat.

"I didn't think you'd leave without me." He smirked, zipping off his coat and buckling himself into the passenger seat.

He had showered and dressed in black fitted jeans, boots, and a Pink Floyd t-shirt with a striped thermal underneath. His hair was still damp, blonde tendrils falling across his forehead. I didn't reply, opting to roll my eyes and maneuver the truck up the driveway towards the road. If he hadn't looked so darn hot I might have been able to come up with a suitably snarky response.