Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1) (13 page)

Chapter 10

When I wake, my head is pounding. Everything towers above me and I feel weird. I give myself a moment to make sure I’m fully awake. Nothing changes. Clumsily I wrestle to get to my feet. My feet have disappeared and it feels like I’m standing on my toes, I topple over. Small pricks spark through my arms. I grapple with my brain to remember what happened earlier. All I can recollect is being up in a tree. I turn then, gazing up at the tree that has grown massive since I last saw it, and the grass and bushes around me seem much taller than they should be.

Either I’d been lying here a
long
time or I’d . . .
Shrunk.
I hold up hands that aren’t hands at all. Black arms are in their place. I look down at a furry belly, hind legs, and tiny paws . . . and a tail! I shove back full-on panic and try to think. I reach behind my head to ruffle the hair at the back of my neck, but I can’t. The memory slides back to me: climbing the tree so I can keep watch and practice shifting at the same time. I’d been thinking of a cat. I’d thought Dark was wrong, then suddenly I was shaking and slipping. Although at the time I hadn’t been positive I was falling for real. It must’ve been a painful fall because I ache all over. I suppress a growl of frustration. Things had gone blank after that.

“Lissa!”

My eyes widen in surprise. I’d completely forgotten about them. Ryan’s shout hadn’t sounded very close. I rub my head, or had that been Trevor? I pull myself up into a sitting position. A new thought sends me frantically wobbling after the voice. What if they left me behind? They’d never recognize me this way.
Or would they?
I try to call out but my voice is painfully hoarse.

Walking proves to be a challenge. I’m not used to walking on all fours. I probably look utterly ridiculous—like a newborn kitten just learning to walk. Any other time I would have thought it funny, but not right now. Every step I take, I wobble wildly and my progress—though I push myself to go faster—is so slow it’s outright frustrating.

Stopping to catch my breath I listen for the others’ calls. Silence.
Just shift back,
a sarcastic voice says. Of course! How stupid of me to not think of that earlier. I close my eyes and try to bring up an image of myself.
Wait.
Hope flares in my chest as I detect a voice. Precious seconds are wasted as I debate between changing and running after them or following the voice so that I won’t lose it. I have to change; I’ll never catch up to them otherwise. I quickly clear my mind, picture myself and wait for the change to come.

A faint breeze shuffles through the leaves. Quiet rustlings come from unseen animals skittering about, the crunch of limbs above as squirrels daringly jump from branch to branch. Alarm gushes through me. Nothing’s happening.
Why?
Every minute I sit here Dark and the boys get further away. I try again.

Why?
Why isn’t it working?
I scream in my head.
Snap!
I whirl around, heart pounding, assuming the worst.
Nothing is there. Nothing I can see anyway. Fright crawls up my back and my fur fluffs out. I’ve been a cat not five minutes and already I’m exhibiting catlike behavior. I glower at the ground. What part of me had thought shifting was a good idea?

I try to shift back, again getting the same results. Frustration gnaws at my heart. I don’t have time for this. I head in the direction I hope the voice had come from.

* * * *

I stop and lean against a tree. Maybe I could try walking on two legs, maybe then I can move faster. I shake my head.
Yeah right.
Despite my urgency to find the others I just sit there.

Every crack or rustle from those unseen animals sets me even further on edge than I already am. I’m hyperaware that I appear to be struggling. That will attract any predator that happens to be stalking by and I have almost no chance of getting away alive.

I hopelessly survey the forest. I haven’t heard anyone calling for me the entire time that I’d been walking and so far I haven’t seen any trace of them either. I get angry with myself for not hearing their shouts and rousing myself when I’d been knocked out. Then I get angry with Trevor and Dark for not being able to tell—if they’d seen me lying on the ground—that the cat lying on the ground was me, despite my appearance. If their sense of smell is so superior why couldn’t they tell it was me just in a different form? I mean, I’m sure I still smell like Lissa no matter what form I’m in. Then I deflate and lie in a pool of self-pity until I force myself to stop moping and continue searching—rotating between endeavoring to shift and walking.

Streaks of light purple, dark orange, and salmon pink ignite the sky. I can only faintly see it because of the dense forest cover. A sigh of regret rests heavily in my heart. From the glimpses I can get of the sunset, it looks glorious, and this one reminds me of the last sunset I saw with my dad.

* * * *

“Look at that Licorice.” Dad and I stared in awe at the colors splashed across the sky. We sat on the porch swing like we did—used to—every night. It first became our ritual when I was seven. I knew he went to sit on the porch every time the sky was beginning to darken, but I didn’t know why. So one night I decided to ask him.

“Daddy, why do you come out here every night?”

“To watch the sunset,” he replied.

I looked up. Colors were very faintly seeping across the sky away from the sun. Nothing impressive if you asked me. I told him that.

“Patience. Things rarely come quickly and if they did we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. If you watch from the beginning it’s like someone’s painting right in front of your eyes. And every sunset is different. Never see the same one twice.”

“But it’s always the same colors.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Really?”

Doubt flickered in me. Were they? I’d always thought the colors were beautiful, but I didn’t feel like sitting on the porch swing watching every single sunset. To me there were other important things to do besides watching the sunset.

* * * *

The fur around my eyes becomes damp and silent sobs rack my body. I miss Dad much more than I’d thought. A black abyss opens in my chest. I’m lonelier than I’d realized. Dad had always understood me, always been a sort of friend when I had none. But even he had left me.

Anger suddenly pulses through me. He’d abandoned me when I’d needed someone so badly. Instead he’d slipped away into his own little world and left me to deal with everything on my own. Left me to pick myself up while he hid in his head, ignoring everything and everyone.

My silent grieving turns into desperate wails. A part of me knows that I should keep quiet so as not to attract attention, but I don’t care. Let a predator come and finish me off, end this endless pain.

But nothing comes. I am left to cry myself out. Dark, Ryan, and Trevor don’t return and the forest, which had seemed full of danger before, is now vacant of it. I lift one useless paw and stare at it in shock; it isn't a paw anymore, but a hand. I take a deep, shuddering breath. I had shifted without even knowing it. Relief washes through me when I find myself fully clothed. Even though Trevor had explained that the clothes would still be on me in human form, a small part of me was worried it would be different for me because I’m not a werewolf. I lean back. Shifting back into human form feels like a small, insignificant triumph compared to the ache I feel for my dad.

* * * *

I lie on the ground, unmoving. I haven’t moved in a couple hours so my body feels numb and semi-darkness is beginning to settle over me like a blanket.
Are you really going to give up this easily?
taunts a voice in my head.

“I’m recuperating,” I mumble to myself. Giving up has never been easy for me. Even when I’ve wanted to. Dad said it was a force I had been born with. I haven’t died in this forest yet and I’m not going to give up now. Determination sears through me. I still have to keep my promise to Dark. Grieving for Dad will have to wait.

I stand; brush myself off. Racking my brain, I try to think of what would be the best direction to take. It’s useless to try and find the others; who knows where they could be. Which means I need to head to those stones. Wherever they are. I need to ask for directions, which is not a very appealing idea. I stare at the forest, senses alert. I don’t feel very safe now that I’m aware of things around me, and traveling through the forest in the shape of a human doesn’t ease the feeling.
I should shift.
But I’m wary of shifting again. I don’t want to get stuck. I stand still for a few minutes, playing tug-of-war with myself. My other half, the smarter, more demanding side wins. I have to shift.

I run through my mental list of animals before settling on a mountain lion. I should be big enough to be a threat, but nimble enough to escape if a larger predator approaches me.
Mountain lion.
I let out a weary sigh. Once again nothing happens. I guess that it will happen the second I start to give up, but it doesn’t. Opening my eyes in frustration I glare at the young tree in front of me.
Why isn’t it working?
I don’t have all day to sit here. The last drops of light are fading; it’ll be pitch dark soon. Not that I’m afraid of the dark. Just—maybe the things that could be in it.

Letting out a grumble of frustration I try again.
Mountain lion.
My limbs start shaking and it feels like I’m encased in fire. Everything starts expanding, stretching; the tightness I’d felt turning into a cat doesn’t exist this time.

Breathless, it feels like a small victory that I don’t lose consciousness again. Raising a furry paw I look at the sagebrush brown fur, letting out a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad.

A harsh grunt sounds behind me. I whip around, fur rising along my spine. Then let out a sigh of relief. It’s only a moose, a small herd of females behind him. Ducking behind a bush I watch them through the leaves. I picture myself going over and asking for directions but it always turns out the same way: me getting impaled. I’ll just circle back, find the spot where we had rested, hopefully pick up the other’s scent and take it from there.

Except I end up back where I was before. I feel like I’ve been walking in circles for ages, although the very weak rays of the setting sun can still be seen. Turns out, there are hundreds of places that look like the place where we’d rested. Forests have a way of turning you around and making everything look the same—I know that and still almost get lost more than once. If one of the moose hadn’t bellowed I don’t know where I would have ended up. My senses aren’t helping either. Things I’d thought were close turned out to be farther away. I struggled trying to rely just on my nose. I thought I had picked up their smell, but it turned out just to be a small patch of grass in the forest, a bunny nibbling on the green stalks. My stomach had rumbled loudly at the sight of that rabbit and when it took off I almost went after it. The thought of actually killing it was what kept me rooted to the spot. I should’ve kept the backpack—at least then I’d have something to eat. But then Trevor and Ryan wouldn’t. I’ll just have to ignore the hunger.

Frustrated, I’d decided to just try tracking down Darklily but that was hopeless. My new powerful senses are beyond overwhelming, so I can’t make head or tail of anything. A small naïve part of me thought I’d get the hang of tracking, flying, and other things immediately—that I’d instantly know what to do and how to do everything. I was wrong.

I think the best way to go would be up and over the hill framing the edge of this forest. I don’t know if it’s the way my friends had gone, but right now it seems like my best choice. Dark had been afraid of the woods, and although nothing had attacked me when I was at my most vulnerable, it doesn’t mean there’s nothing out there.

I look back at the moose grazing on the delectable soft leaves of the young trees and bushes. I’ve been observing them for several minutes because I’m procrastinating. I tell myself that I’m taking a breather, but I know I’m not. These moose make me feel safe; I don’t want to leave safety. They know that I’m here and they’re not afraid of me. I wouldn’t be either since I’m like the size of a frog compared to them. Again I’d thought of asking them directions, but I chicken out every time. Plus one of them is a mother. I’m not dumb; I’ve seen how fierce moose can be. Not to mention how violent any mother can be if she has young.

My claws pluck at the ground. I could turn into a moose, but the last transformation had tired me and made me hungrier. My stomach growls loudly. I freeze. The mother moose immediately swings her large head in my direction, nostrils flaring. I flatten myself against the ground in what I hope is a submissive position. With hesitation she goes back to eating, her eyes flickering to me every once and a while.

The sun has fully set and it’s getting darker by the minute.
Get a move on then.
I want to whine “no” but I’m too deep in the forest for my liking.

My legs are so cramped from sitting here that I can’t feel them. I wait until the mother finishes another inspection of the forest then slink by. I faintly hear an angry snort and pick up my pace. I only slow to a trot when I’m positive they aren’t behind me. Now I just have to beat the total darkness.

The rocky crest of the hill looms up in front of me and I gratefully stop. I hadn’t thought it would be possible to get any hungrier but I have. Unless I go back and find that strawberry patch I’ll have to find something else to eat. On shaky paws I sigh and head up the steep incline.