Chapter One

Trike

This was my first visit to town in three years. I lived miles away from anyone and I didn't have a TV. I didn't care for the crap that was on them, but that didn't stop me from staring at the big ass screen in the bar. I was trying to figure out what the hell the woman was talking about as I sat in the corner. As always, I was attempting to keep a low profile, which wasn't easy for someone as big as me.

Some days, like today, I just felt so damn lonely that I gave in to the need to come into town to seek folks' company, even if they kept away from me because I smelled different from them. The newscaster smiled out of the screen as she continued to talk about ‘extraordinary shifters' and bizarre matings.

Deep furrows appeared across my forehead as I scoffed under my breath. "I'm the only extraordinary shifter out there." My dinosaur was in full agreement.

I stuck my finger in my ear and wriggled it around, blinking repeatedly at the screen. Had she just said potato shifter ? The glass in my other hand slipped out of my fingers and splashed cola all over the front of my T-shirt.

Potato?

No fucking way!

I'd lived for millions of years and there was no such thing as a potato shifter. Surely I'd have discovered it?

I barely registered the cola soaking through the material of my T-shirt and wetting my chest as I got up and went closer to the screen to look at the small blond guy looking nervous next to what appeared to be a grumpy-looking wolf. They held two small boys in their arms.

A giddy feeling came from my animal spirit, which threw me for a loop, as I asked, "Did she just say potato ?"

The bartender turned his incredulous gaze to me. He took a step back, something I'd gotten used to as his nose wrinkled, and he scoped out my size. "Where you been? Living under a rock."

At seven feet tall and larger than a tank, with as many muscles, folks gave me a wide berth. "Don't have a TV," I answered, keeping the natural growl in my voice as low as possible, returning my attention to the screen as the tiny blond explained about how he was a potato shifter, and his mate was a wolf. That the two babies he held were their pups.

My dinosaur made a grumbling sound in my head and urged me to leave.

I'll go when I'm ready.

"Then you don't know ‘bout Potatoville and how there's all these weird vegetable shifters sproutin' up everywhere?" Cautious was the only way to describe how the dude eyed me when I returned my attention to him at his obvious pun.

"Nope."

The guy leaned on the bar and grinned like he was about to share a big secret, then his lip curled up like he'd smelled something bad. "You ain't one of those weird and wacky shifters, are you? You smell kinda funny. What are you?"

His voice was strident and drew attention from others in the bar. I sighed and kicked myself for giving in and coming into town, which was full of wolf shifters. Telling this dude I was a deinonychus dinosaur would get me accused of lying, and then folks would want me to prove it. That never ended well for them. My dinosaur wasn't friendly and didn't take too kindly to assholes.

They're all assholes. Let's go find the potatoes.

Hearing my dinosaur say the word ‘asshole' never got old. It was a recent addition to the words he learned from the books I read recently—in the last century. Hearing him tell me to go find the potatoes, yeah that I wasn't so amused about.

I forced a chuckle out, aiming for a chill vibe. The guy in front of me didn't get the hint and stood, his hand reaching under the bar counter. I heaved a sigh and shook my head. "I wouldn't be doin' anything stupid."

"The only one stupid here is you, for coming into our town. Your weird kind ain't welcome here!" he snapped, all teeth that didn't scare me in the slightest.

Seeing that as my cue to leave, I turned and found a wall of wolf shifters. My jaw elongated and deadly blade-like teeth that could rip a head clear off a person's shoulders with no issue, dropped. Eyes flashing my animal, improving my stereoscopic vision, I tilted my head. "You don't wanna be messing with me." The guttural growl contained a warning they should listen to.

An uneasy tension filled the bar as folks parted to give me access to the door. One hand shifted. Of the three digits, the first was the shortest, whereas the second was the longest. The three digits all had long claws that could gut a man or wolf in a split second.

One look at my hand and those who were thinking I needed an ass kicking always thought better of it. Out of the bar, I headed to my hog and got out of town, feeling a sense that my time in this place was up. They would come looking for me. It was how it always was when I drew attention to myself and people got the sense I was different.

Being old and prehistoric sucked, despite being a fearless creature. Back to heaving a sigh at how damn lonely that was, I didn't bother kicking my ass for giving into a whim to be around people.

At my cabin, one I'd built and added to over the centuries, like many I had across the States, I gathered my shit together. All my homes were on land I owned and in dense forests, out of the way of shifters. Problem was, with the expanding population, staying out of the way was getting harder and harder, especially when I was lonely.

We won't be for long.

How you figure that? I questioned while messaging the new caretaker I'd hired to look after this place in Maryland, where I'd originally come from around one-hundred-ten-million years ago, give or take a few millennia.

With progress came problems for the likes of me, but in the last hundred years, moving from place to place had become easier. My animal had developed a liking for human comforts, and being on the road was not one of them. Even with the large motorhome I'd purchased several years back to appease it. He liked open space so he could shift, which could not happen in something roughly the size of a tin can to him.

With the hog stored in the back of the motorhome, I left less than two hours after returning home. Not a record, but close enough.

What's with you? It's not like you to go all cryptic? Has hearing about a potato shifter thrown you for a loop too?

Was it real, or some sort of fake news with folks trying to make money? Nothing surprised me anymore. I'd been around too long for that. The engine idling at the end of the drive, I pulled out my cell phone, looking up the maps. I'd been everywhere…

We haven't been to Potatoville.

The odd excitement I'd felt earlier came in an unsettling way I'd not experienced, or not that I could remember. My dinosaur encouraged me to head toward Potatoville and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand-up.

What's with you? You're acting weird.

You always get to choose where we go. It's my turn and I want to go to Potatoville.

Pushy fucker. Keep your feathers on.

I shook my head but put the cell phone into the stand on the dash to hold it. Minutes later, on the highway, I followed the instructions that led to Potatoville. If we get chased out of town by a bunch of potatoes, I'm totally gonna blame you.