Nathan didn’t come by the next day.  Well, to be exact, I did actually see him in my peripheral vision, stopping across the street outside of some of the shops and looking in the direction of the orphanage, like he was trying to figure out whether he could come over.  When I saw him, though, I deliberately turned and herded the children inside, trying to ignore my heart pounding as I waited to see if he was going to come over and knock on the door.

He didn’t.  It didn’t stop me from throwing up my breakfast, anyway.

Susanna realized something had happened between the two of us and tried to ask me, but I just shook my head and told her I didn’t want to talk about it and she gave up.  That was the nice thing about Susanna – she didn’t push much.  Whether it was because she was being sensitive or because she didn’t care enough to push, it didn’t really matter to me.

The kids, though, they whined about Nathan’s sudden disappearance and kept asking where he was.  He’d only been coming by for about a week, you’d think they wouldn’t get attached that quickly, but no, apparently they could.  I sighed and kept explaining that he had his own life and things to do so he wasn’t coming by anymore, but it didn’t stop them from asking again five minutes later.

Still, though, I was happy to get back to my regular routine.  No tall, gentle, soft-spoken man to distract me while I washed the dishes.  No quiet laughter to make me pause while reading a book to the little ones.  No one to whisper jokes to me and watch me try to hold in my laughter while the kids took their naps.

Stupid, stupid me.  I shouldn’t feel this bad about not seeing him.  It had only been a week since we met, I shouldn’t care that much.  And I couldn’t see him again.  It was too dangerous.  Had I already forgotten what could happen?  Had I already forgotten what he did?

By the end of the week I was so frustrated with my heart’s decision to be sad and whine to me about missing him – despite my head’s insistence that this was the safest thing – that I decided to take a run in the woods in my shifted form after the kids went to bed.  I knew from what he’d said when we were still hanging out that Nathan was leaving town tomorrow morning and then hopefully my heart would get over this, maybe pining for a while but then moving on.  I would never see him again, and that was for the best.

I got into the woods, looked around, and, after ensuring I was alone, shifted.

I’m small enough in human form, but even tinier in shifted form.  I’d like to say that’s why I was afraid of prey shifters, but reality is, that blame lies solely at the feet of one man.

Tiny I might be, but I am still fast and swift, able to steal through the woods silently.  I saw the odd mouse or insect while I ran, but I didn’t hunt them.  I hadn’t been able to bring myself to eat any meat for a long time now, plus even if I had been up to it, this last week I’d been so nauseous from fear that I was having trouble keeping much down anyway.

The run helped relax me some.  I actually stayed out all night, enjoying breathing in the fresh air, running off my stress, just being free for a while.  Forgetting the storm cloud that hung over my life, forgetting the fear that lurked in the corners.  I could just exist out here, forgetting the whole prey/predator dichotomy.

Dawn was starting to rise when I decided I should head back.  I’d probably regret staying out all night and not getting any sleep but right now I was relaxed enough I just didn’t care.  I headed back towards the orphanage and just reached the edge of the woods when a smell made me pause and then instinctively hide behind a fence post.

No.  No, it – it couldn’t be.

One of the nice things about being a fox is that I have a great sense of smell.  I can pick up on scents pretty far away.  But this – this had to be wrong.  This had to just be my imagination.

But to my horror, I saw him standing at the open door of the orphanage, showing something to Susanna.  A slip of paper that she was reading with an increasingly disturbed expression.  The words “Arrest Warrant” in bold across the top.  And my picture.

No.  He was really here, he had found me, even though I’d run so far away.  And now here he was, ruining the one safe place I had with his lies.

I turned, careful not to make a noise.  I had to get out of here.  I couldn’t come back – where could I go?  I just needed to run for now.  Get as far away as possible.  At least he couldn’t sniff me out, but I couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t recruit some of the townspeople, shifters who could follow scents, so I needed to be careful not to leave any trace they could follow.  I needed to find a way to hide my scent, or somewhere they couldn’t track it.

Wait.  Track.  The train.  The train out of town.

The one Nathan was going to be on in a short while.

I didn’t know way, I couldn’t explain it, but I knew this was the answer.  I couldn’t just walk there myself, someone might see me.  I needed a way to get onto the train without anyone realizing I was on it.

I ran through the woods and when I caught the faintest hint of Nathan’s scent near the inn, I automatically followed it.  Was it because my heart just insisted he was safe?  I didn’t know, I couldn’t even think through it, but I did know he was leaving town and somehow, in my mind, that seemed like the safest option.

I was relatively good at climbing and jumping, which is a plus for trying to not leave tracks.  I managed to climb up on a fence, take a leap to a roof, then carefully slink along, low as I could, getting closer to the inn.

When I got there, I took a moment to calculate the best way in when I heard his voice meet my ears.  Not close, just barely enough to be a murmur, but he was talking to other residents.  Looking for me.

That cinched it.  I had to get out of here now.  And Nathan seemed to be the best chance for that, whether he knew it or not.

I slipped through an open window in Rosewater Inn, which turned out to be in the kitchen.  As quietly as I could, I crept along, smelling until I found Nathan’s room.

The door was slightly ajar.  I could smell a stronger concentration of his scent down the hall, maybe in the bathroom?  Perfect timing.

I slipped inside, quickly looking around for a place to hide.  There.  His bag.  It was one of those upright soft kind, kind of like what military personnel used.  Perfect for me to hide in.

I crept into the bag, squirming my way under his clothes without being completely squashed by them.  Then I held as still as possible, hoping he wouldn’t notice the stowaway.

All I needed was for him to get on the train.  Once he did, I could find my way out of his bag and get off somewhere, anywhere, without anyone being the wiser.  It was a risky plan, but right now it was the only one I had.  He was leaving in minutes, right?  Nathan would be on the train before he would even have a chance to start asking around and get someone who could track my scent.

I heard footsteps and Nathan’s scent increased as he returned to the room.  He smelled fresh – like he’d just taken a shower.  Light footsteps as he stepped around the room, presumably gathering the last of his things.

Then I smelled something else, something that shouldn’t be here, and my heart squeezed in terror as a knock came at the door.

Nathan paused what he was doing and went to the door to open it.  “Sorry, I’m just about ready – oh, um, good morning?”

His voice greeted my ears, making me feel like shrinking down even farther – though I didn’t actually dare move, didn’t dare breathe in case I alerted either of them to my hidden presence.

“Good morning.  I’m checking with the residents in search of a feral predator.  The innkeeper mentioned you’re the only guest right now and that you’re a supernatural – have you seen this man?  I understand you may have talked to him some at the orphanage.”  I could hear the crinkling of paper and felt my heart sink some more.  I might not be able to ever have a relationship with Nathan, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to know he would now believe those lies, too.

“Feral?”  Nathan’s voice was polite, but sounded a little confused, too.  “I thought he worked at the orphanage.  And I’m sorry, who are you exactly?”

“Ah, well, he’s good at hiding it, but he’s actually quite dangerous.  Very vicious, very deceptive.  You’re right, he’s actually not quite feral yet, but he’s on the edge of going full feral.  And to answer your question, my name is Erik Van.  I’m a police officer over in Retherwood – are you familiar with it?  It’s a medium-sized town a couple hundred miles from here.  He ran away from there before we could arrest him and I’ve been hunting for him ever since.”

“I see.”  Nathan’s voice was calm.  I couldn’t tell how he was feeling about all of this, but I could guess.  He’d said he’d been hurt by predators – he was probably scared of me now.

Ironic, really.  I was probably the safest predator shifter in the world because I was terrified of prey shifters and never wanted to go near them.

“We had some issues in my hometown with a pack of feral shifters recently,” Nathan offered, “they kept attacking us prey shifters.  It got to be pretty bad, they were basically hunting us down.”

“Oh that sounds rough,” his voice was sympathetic.  “You’re a prey shifter too, then?”

“Rabbit,” Nathan confirmed.  “And I’m guessing you’re – ?”

“I’m a stag,” he said.  “It can be kind of rough for us prey shifters with rogue predators running around like this.  Keep an eye out for him.  He may look harmless, but trust me, he’s not.”

I could hear Nathan moving in my direction, and then suddenly the bag was airborne before settling on his shoulder.  I had to make myself hold still and not squeak as the clothes shifted a little, making it harder to breathe.  “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to help.  I’m actually on my way out of town,” Nathan explained.  “Back to my home.  I do hope everything works out for the best, though.”

“I see.  Well, safe travels, then,” he said.

And then Nathan walked out of the inn in the direction of the train station.

I stayed frozen, afraid this was too good to be true.  He and Nathan shouldn’t be able to smell me – they weren’t the right kind of shifters for that – and Nathan had just walked out of there.  He might not be happy to discover he’d unwittingly helped in my escape, but all I needed was for him to get on that train.  He never needed to know I’d stowed away in his bag.

After a few minutes, I could hear the sound of the train, the sound of my potential freedom.  Nathan sighed softly as it came close.  I wondered if he was sad to go back and see his friend who would never fall in love with him.

No matter, I reminded myself.  That wasn’t my concern.  My concern was surviving, escaping.  I would run further this time, hide better.  I could survive, as long as he never found me again.

After he got on the train, Nathan set his bag on the seat next to him, which was not ideal for my escape plan.  I couldn’t exactly crawl out of the bag while it was in plain sight like that.  I had to hope that once the train got to busier stations, he’d set it on the floor, and that would be my chance.

So I waited.  As I did, the steady noise of the train and repetitive motion started to make me feel sleepy.  I hadn’t slept at all last night, and now, huddled up in a soft nest of clothes, with the sound of the train around me, somehow – despite the danger I was in – I found myself drifting off to sleep.