The Hawk and Her LumBEARjack: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance by Zoe Chant Page B
Book: The Hawk and Her LumBEARjack: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance by Zoe Chant
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Zoe Chant
Ads: Link
knew. Bears and wolves. This was wild country, the edge of the forest primeval that spread into Canada and all the way up to the Arctic. There were not many people here. Every once in a while she flew over a logging camp or a small town on a lake. There were a few far-flung roads. Mostly, this was country for people who liked their privacy and solitude.
Shifters, for example.
There were, Felicity had heard through the family grapevine, quite a few shifter communities up here. She herself hailed from points farther south; she'd grown up in Indiana, in a family of hawk shifters who lived in farm country east of Terre Haute. That was a nice part of the country to be a shifter; the neighbors had known and had been okay with it. Open fields were prime hunting territory for red-tailed hawks, which was what she was, and there were several other bird-shifter families in the area—owls, other hawks, even a family of kestrels. It was a good place to grow up.
But Felicity had always been drawn to the city's siren song. These days, though she remained close to her family, she couldn't imagine living anywhere that rural. She couldn't exactly run her fashion design business from a farmhouse in the middle of a cornfield. Having decent restaurants and 4G was more important to her nowadays than being able to walk out the back door, change right there, and stretch her wings.
Still, one of the reasons why she'd decided to locate her business in Minneapolis was because it was so close to all this wilderness. She might not be able to enjoy it every day, but on weekends she could go out and fly for hours without seeing a soul. And there was something in her that was thrilled by this wild land, in a way that the farm fields of her childhood, although pleasant, had not excited her. Some deep primitive place, in the back of her brain, told her she'd come home.
Now if she only had someone to share it with. Ah, that was the problem. There were certainly other shifters in Minneapolis, and she'd gone to a few shifter bars and tried a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. One problem was that there weren't very many bird shifters in the area. Most of the shifters she'd met in Minneapolis were big northern animals: deer, elk, mountain lions. She'd had one utterly disastrous date with a buffalo, and the less said of the moose, the better.
Her mother kept asking her if she'd met a nice hawk or falcon, "or a seagull if you really must, dear". Felicity had decided not to mention that she'd been dabbling on the big-game side of the fence. Besides, it wasn't like she'd met anyone she liked anyway. Maybe her mother was right, and a relationship with someone other than a bird shifter could never work out. Landbound shifters, her mother said, could never understand the needs of a bird shifter.
She was always half-hoping, in her flights around the northern part of the state, that she might meet some more bird-of-prey colonies to expand her dating options somewhat.
Seagulls. Honestly, Mother. She'd rather date a ... a bear .
Not a moose, though.
***
By early afternoon she was becoming aware of a shift in the weather that made her nervous. The wind had changed, blowing down from the north, and there was a sharp, wintry chill in it. Scattered clouds had been gathering all morning, playing hide-and-seek with the sun. Now they'd knit together into a gray wall. It felt like late winter more than spring.
At this time of year in northern Minnesota, the weather could be dangerously unpredictable. When she'd checked on Friday, it was supposed to hold clear through the weekend, but there was a big storm system gathering on the north side of the border. It was not, at that point, supposed to come far enough south to worry about, but now she wondered. She wished for the first time since leaving the car that she had her phone, so she could check the weather app. But it was back with her clothes and everything else, completely useless to her.
It couldn't possibly snow,
Shifters, for example.
There were, Felicity had heard through the family grapevine, quite a few shifter communities up here. She herself hailed from points farther south; she'd grown up in Indiana, in a family of hawk shifters who lived in farm country east of Terre Haute. That was a nice part of the country to be a shifter; the neighbors had known and had been okay with it. Open fields were prime hunting territory for red-tailed hawks, which was what she was, and there were several other bird-shifter families in the area—owls, other hawks, even a family of kestrels. It was a good place to grow up.
But Felicity had always been drawn to the city's siren song. These days, though she remained close to her family, she couldn't imagine living anywhere that rural. She couldn't exactly run her fashion design business from a farmhouse in the middle of a cornfield. Having decent restaurants and 4G was more important to her nowadays than being able to walk out the back door, change right there, and stretch her wings.
Still, one of the reasons why she'd decided to locate her business in Minneapolis was because it was so close to all this wilderness. She might not be able to enjoy it every day, but on weekends she could go out and fly for hours without seeing a soul. And there was something in her that was thrilled by this wild land, in a way that the farm fields of her childhood, although pleasant, had not excited her. Some deep primitive place, in the back of her brain, told her she'd come home.
Now if she only had someone to share it with. Ah, that was the problem. There were certainly other shifters in Minneapolis, and she'd gone to a few shifter bars and tried a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. One problem was that there weren't very many bird shifters in the area. Most of the shifters she'd met in Minneapolis were big northern animals: deer, elk, mountain lions. She'd had one utterly disastrous date with a buffalo, and the less said of the moose, the better.
Her mother kept asking her if she'd met a nice hawk or falcon, "or a seagull if you really must, dear". Felicity had decided not to mention that she'd been dabbling on the big-game side of the fence. Besides, it wasn't like she'd met anyone she liked anyway. Maybe her mother was right, and a relationship with someone other than a bird shifter could never work out. Landbound shifters, her mother said, could never understand the needs of a bird shifter.
She was always half-hoping, in her flights around the northern part of the state, that she might meet some more bird-of-prey colonies to expand her dating options somewhat.
Seagulls. Honestly, Mother. She'd rather date a ... a bear .
Not a moose, though.
***
By early afternoon she was becoming aware of a shift in the weather that made her nervous. The wind had changed, blowing down from the north, and there was a sharp, wintry chill in it. Scattered clouds had been gathering all morning, playing hide-and-seek with the sun. Now they'd knit together into a gray wall. It felt like late winter more than spring.
At this time of year in northern Minnesota, the weather could be dangerously unpredictable. When she'd checked on Friday, it was supposed to hold clear through the weekend, but there was a big storm system gathering on the north side of the border. It was not, at that point, supposed to come far enough south to worry about, but now she wondered. She wished for the first time since leaving the car that she had her phone, so she could check the weather app. But it was back with her clothes and everything else, completely useless to her.
It couldn't possibly snow,
Similar Books
