CHAPTER 2
I jerked awake, blinking in bewilderment. How long had I been asleep?
The sun was just beginning to rise in a cold, purple sky, and I was alone again, ensconced in the hawk's body and perched on my usual branch. I was flooded with a sense of loss that would have torn apart my fragile human heart.
But losing Rachel meant nothing to the hawk. I took refuge in his indifference, letting him protect me.
I drifted off again, locked in a sluggish state between sleeping and waking. Visions of Rachel swam before my eyes: Rachel fighting in her grizzly bear morph . . . Rachel soaring beside me as a bald eagle . . . Rachel laughing at some stupid thing Marco said. A part of me wanted to escape from the reel of images – another part of me wanted to be cocooned in them.
Claws scratching on bark jolted me from my stupor. I glanced toward the trunk of the tree just as a raccoon clambered clumsily onto my branch, his black, beady eyes gleaming with hunger. He was giving me the exact same look Ax would give a platter of fresh cinnamon buns.
Uh oh.
The raccoon waddled down the branch toward me with obvious intentions. I hopped away awkwardly on stiff legs.
((Crap, crap, crap!)) I said to no one in particular.
I hopped to the end of the branch as quickly as my little bird legs would carry me and tentatively spread my aching wings. I steeled myself. I shifted my weight forward. Then I slipped off the branch and into the chilly morning air.
I forced my protesting wings to spread further, willing them to catch a breeze so I could soar off into the brightening sky. But the air was still . . . my reactions slow . . . my body weak. My wings fluttered ineffectually, until –
THUNK!
I hit the ground with a jarring thud that rattled my bones and knocked the air from my lungs.
Ten feet above me, the raccoon peered down at my prone form. Then he launched himself into the air after me.
THUD!
He hit the ground waddling.
My heart raced with fear, but I was too tired to run and too tired to fight. I lay on my back like the pathetic creature I'd always been.
The raccoon grabbed me with his dexterous little hands and pinned me to the ground with his bulk. I knew how raccoons worked, so, trembling like a coward, I waited for him to bite my head off.
Instead, he tucked into my chest.
The pain was incredible. I shrieked and flapped my wings frantically.
He bit into my chest again, ripping eagerly through feathers, skin, and muscle in his search for my organs.
Before long the grass was stained with my blood, and what little strength I had left was rapidly waning. I stopped struggling and submitted to the raccoon's burrowing teeth. I was fading fast, slipping out my body. The pain was becoming more distant, replaced with sweet, soothing relief.
I was going to Rachel now – her soft lips . . . her gentle touch . . . her loving eyes. I would no longer be alone. And the pain and exhaustion would finally be gone.