Hakan Severin by Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright Page B

fourth time, she suddenly realized it wasn’t trying to attack her at all. It was pushing her back toward the border. It was trying to get her to run away. Get out of the Wildlands.
    No . She couldn’t.
    When it pounced a fifth time, she didn’t move. Refused her instincts. Breath stalled, teeth gritted, she held her ground. Pissed, the cat snarled. Snapped its teeth at her. Move, foolish human , it seemed to be saying. But it didn’t touch her.
    Tears pricked Taylor’s eyes, but she willed them away. She shook her head, feeling like her heart was going to explode. “No.”
    Nostrils pulsing with each breath, it glared at her.
    “I can’t go back there.” She glanced behind her.
    “My life is over if I go back there.”
    When she turned to face it again, the cat’s head was swaying from side to side as if to say, ‘ What do you think awaits you here, human ?’
    “I was hoping for protection,” she said, her voice cracking. She was done. Done running. Done planning every move she made. “I was hoping to stay here. Live here. Contribute in any way I could. I was hoping to hide.” She laughed suddenly. “Do you know what that’s like? Being so afraid you just want to crawl into a hole and stay there?” She shrugged. “Indefinitely.” Her eyes came up and locked with those silver orbs. “Do what you gotta do, puma. I know I’m in your world, on your land. Kill me if you must. Because if I go back there, I’m dead anyway.”
    For long seconds, the only sound in the bayou was the rain and the rushing water. The massive cat stared at her, regarded her, then started to move. But it didn’t come at her. Instead, it paced from side to side, every once in a while glancing her way, as if it were pondering an idea…or a question. Then suddenly it stopped.
    Taylor held her breath. Please don’t make me leave . This time, when it padded toward her, it didn’t leap or pounce or back her up against the border. Instead, it sort of corralled her down the shore of the bayou like a sheepdog. Light wasn’t in abundance so she had to trust that it wasn’t leading her into a sinkhole or swamp—hope it was taking her into town.
    “I’m sure you get people coming across your border for the wrong reasons,” she said as she trudged through the overgrown wetlands. “Or trying to. Curious tourists and irritating reporters. I’m not curious or a reporter.” Her voice dropped. “I’m not anything.”
    The cat didn’t make a sound, but she felt its head, solid with muscle, warm breath at her back. It nudged her onward.
    “I just want to be safe,” she continued, swiping rain from her eyes. “I just want to know what that feels like again.”
    She knew she was rambling. But she wanted the cat to see her as more than a pesky, unwanted human. She wanted it to see her as a being it could help.
    After a few minutes of walking, they came to a stand of cypress. Taylor started to veer left, but the cat darted out in front of her, cutting her off. Taylor stopped sharply, looked from the trees to the cat.
    “What?”
    Once again, the cat came forward and nudged her toward the tallest, broadest tree. The power in just that small movement was staggering. Confused, Taylor looked all around. What was it trying to tell her? The panic rose again in her throat and she swallowed hard. Was this the border? Just in another area of the Wildlands? Then she saw it. In the trunk of that one massive cypress. Or what should be a trunk.
    She squinted against the rain and her pulse kicked in her blood. There was a doorway in the trunk, as tall or taller than she was. How was that possible? To her left, the cat growled, then knocked its head in the direction of the hollowed-out tree.
    Oh, god . Her heart sank into her soaking wet shoes. It wasn’t taking her to town. Wasn’t forcing her across the border. “You want me to go in there? Why?”
    The cat looked up at the sky, then back at her and snarled.
    She shook her head. “I don’t