Chapter Eight

Cal

We crouch in the shadows, glancing at Phillip. As the seasoned tracker, we trust him on this one.

"I can sense something," he speaks in a hushed tone. "There's that unfamiliar scent, and it's not just the forest."

I nod, inhaling deeply. "You're right."

We are still motionless, our breaths slow and deliberate. We can all sense the enemy's presence. The moonlight oozes through the thick foliage all around us, so we have to stay concealed.

"Phillip, any idea how many we might be dealing with? And where they might be?"

Phillip's eyes scan the shadows for a few moments, then he replies with careful consideration. "Hard to say for sure. But the scent is fresh, and it's not just one. I tracked it from the cave."

Rock's eyes widen. "Do you think they entered it?"

"No," Phillip shakes his head. "I only caught their scent close by the cave, not in it."

"But it's only a matter of time before they enter it," I point out, and they both nod in agreement.

"Yes," Rock replies. "We should proceed with caution. They could be anywhere."

"We need a plan," I suggest. "If they're trying to encroach on our territory, we can't afford to be caught off guard."

Phillip's gaze remains fixed on the darkness, almost as if he's able to see something we aren't. "We need to cover more ground. They could be scouting, just like us."

"We shouldn't split up," Rock advises. "Not before we see some sign of them and find out how many there actually are."

"I agree," I nod.

"Which way?" Rock asks Phillip, who stands up and inhales deeply, with his eyes closed. That is how we best recognize the scent of something or someone. The eyes can sometimes be a distraction, leading us in the opposite direction to that of the nose. But in instances such as this one, the nose is the best guide.

Phillip doesn't say anything. Instead, he leads the way through the darkened woods, his movements methodical and deliberate. As a bear shifter twice our age, his skill and expertise in tracking is unmatched by anyone in the village.

He crouches down to examine the forest floor, his fingers grazing over the leaves and soil. I wonder if the moon is providing enough light for him. Then again, I remember that he doesn't need his eyes at all, not in the dark. Phillip pauses, his fingers brushing against the disturbed foliage.

"Tracks," he mutters, signaling to us to look down.

With a careful touch, he traces the imprints in the soft soil. His fingers are telling him a story that we can't hear. So, we wait patiently.

"Bear shifters," he tells me.

"How do you know they're not just ordinary bears?" I ask.

I have to admit that even after all this time, I find it difficult to differentiate between tracks of ordinary bears and tracks of bear shifters. I suppose it is all a matter of practice. Having lived here for ages without any threat of an outside clan, our tracking skills have gotten a little rusty. But not Phillip's, fortunately.

"See here," he points to a hole in the ground, created by a paw. "The stride is different. The marks are more defined. It's them."

Neither I nor Rock say anything to this. Instead, we allow Phillip to guide us through the night. The moonlight becomes our ally, revealing faint outlines of the path ahead. Phillip keeps pointing out broken twigs and displaced leaves, indicators of a recent passage. The scent in the air also becomes more pronounced, carrying with it the distinct markers of the enemy bear clan that we are trying to pursue. We are counting on Phillip's experience to piece together the puzzle of their movements, but slowly, both Rock and I can feel their presence.

But there is something else I can sense. I almost feel as if we haven't left Elena behind at all. I notice that Rock occasionally turns around, but we're both focusing on the bear shifters, thinking that we're probably taking Elena's own scent with us, seeing as we spent time with her.

We keep moving through the woods, until finally, Phillip turns to us, pressing his finger to his lips. "Shhh," I can hear him whisper.

He crouches first, and we follow suit. He points somewhere in the distance. I move a flowering branch from sight and realize that we've approached the bear shifters' camp.

"Won't they sense us?" I whisper my question right in Phillip's ear.

He turns to me, patting his pocket. "Juniper."

I immediately remember that juniper branches or crushed juniper berries are known for their potent, natural fragrance that can help disguise or even completely cover someone's scent, by blending with the surrounding environment. Phillip once told us that this practice is often employed by human hunters and wildlife observers, but that actually we, the bear shifters, taught them that. Lots of good that did us.

All three of us focus our attention on the bear shifter camp, set up in a clearing. The light of their lanterns is very low, not visible unless we were very close. They were smart enough not to light a fire, not to reveal their location easily.

I notice that they've already made simple shelters from woven branches and leaves. They wouldn't be of much help in a hailstorm, as they have obviously been made in a hurry, but even from where I'm standing, I can see that they were made well. At least, well enough for the purpose.

The assembly consists of both humans and bears, as their forms blur between the two, proof of their supernatural capabilities. Most of them are wearing simple, human clothes, wanting to blend in easily, just like us. They have formed several smaller circles, talking and gesturing with their hands. We are too far away to hear anything, but that doesn't prevent us from being as quiet as possible.

Some of them are placing their belongings in one pile, pouches and bags that seem to be full of something. Others seem to be inspecting the perimeter with keen vigilance, on all sides. It would be close to impossible to organize a surprise attack.

Rock is the first one to speak in a very low tone. "We need to gather intel. Figure out their numbers, their intentions. We stay put for a while, observe and then decide our next move."

I nod in agreement. "I second that. We can't rush into this blindly. We need to know what we're up against."

"Is it possible that they don't mean us any harm?" I wonder.

"They've already attacked several of our own," Rock reminds me. "Remember that Dawn and Willow were out fishing by the lake, and they were attacked? Fortunately, a few of us were there and we scared them away. We all thought they were just bears back then, but it happened again."

Phillip interjects this time. "I know the difference between a bear and a bear shifter even with my eyes closed."

"See?" Rock nods. "If they mean no harm, they wouldn't approach women like that, attacking them. Women, Cal."

"I know," I agree. "I was just hoping that this didn't have to be a full-blown clan war."

"Sometimes, war is inevitable in order to keep the peace," Rock says philosophically, and I know what he means. If we need to fight, then that is what we shall do to protect our own and keep the peace we've been living in for generations.

"As long as we are one step ahead, we have the situation under control," I remind them all. But at the same time, I'm wondering if this is possible.

"See him?" Phillip huddles close to us, pointing in the direction of the camp.

"Who is that?" I ask.

The man is standing right in the clearing, illuminated by a tidal wave of moonlight. His commanding presence immediately sets him apart from the others, and I know why Phillip is focusing our attention on him.

The man is tall and robust, with a muscular physique that seems to perfectly blend human and animal strength. His shoulders are broad, and he stands in a way that demands authority. His clothes resemble a caveman's, not all that human, as if his allegiance lies more with his animal side than his human side, and he wants everyone to know that.

His gaze is fixated somewhere opposite from us, and he doesn't move, almost like a statue. I wonder if he is even remotely, aware of our presence, of us watching them. The thought sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that their leader?" I ask with a low murmur.

"Mhm," Phillip replies.

"Do you know of him?" Rock inquires.

"No," Phillip gives an honest answer. "I've never seen him before. He must belong to a shifter clan I haven't stumbled onto yet."

"What do you make of him? Anything we should be wary of?" Rock asks another question.

"He is a formidable opponent, no doubt about that. A leader with both human intelligence and the strength of a bear," Phillip describes him as much as he can under the circumstances, but honestly, I could have figured that out on my own.

"Do you think it might be possible to communicate with him?" Rock's voice is a steady whisper. I can't hear any fear in it. He knows that a war is probably inevitable, but he is still considering saving both sides the unnecessary bloodshed.

"I can't know," Phillip replies. "I doubt it, honestly."

"I was afraid of that," Rock nods. "They've already made their intentions known. I suppose any talking would be a fruitless endeavor."

"Bottom line is that we need to keep our clan safe, no matter what," I say, and without even replying, I know that they both agree.

"We're going to spend some time here, so I want everyone to make notes on the clan, anything you can memorize about their numbers, activities… anything will be of help when we get back to the village and have a meeting," Rock instructs. "Phillip, check the numbers and the camp layout, especially the sentinel position. Cal, focus on the leader. I'll watch for signs of preparation and their interaction dynamics."

We do as he bid us. I myself make mental notes about the camp, aware that each detail, no matter how small and insignificant it might seem at first, is a part of the puzzle that is to be our defense against them. So, I do exactly as Rock instructs us. I focus on the leader and his behavior. I watch him for the next hour, my eyes narrowing, following the guy's every movement as he interacts with others as well as his signs of authority.

I don't know how long we stay like that, until suddenly, we hear a branch crack somewhere behind us, and all three of us freeze.