Page 1 of A Bear's Journey

Chapter One

Olivia

Olivia steppedout of the library and into the cool fall air. She stood there for a moment, her eyes closed, she inhaled the perfect scents of autumn: the dead leaves that scattered every yard and pathway in town, the earthy smell of yesterday’s rain, the sharp snap of evergreen that was present year-round but seemed especially pungent this time of year.

Fall always sent a bolt of panic through her. Winter’s coming, the cold air always said to her. You need to eat more, you need to find a den that’s safe.

Cascadia was far enough south, in what had once been northern California, that the bears there didn’t so much hibernate as merely sleep more, but even that took preparation. Olivia had a strong yet hazy memory of it: constantly eating, constantly feeling hungry, sleeping fourteen hours a night only for it to still be chilly when she woke, hours past sunrise.

The door behind her swung open, nearly hitting her , and Olivia moved out of the way, almost tripping over her own feet. A woman walked out and gave Olivia a sour look, her mouth narrowing in disapproval at Olivia’s mere act of standing on the steps of the library.

“Excuse me,” she said, fixing her eyes straight ahead again.

“Sorry,” muttered Olivia.

The woman was the head research librarian, and Olivia watched as she stomped off into the garden behind the library.

Cranky old bat, she thought. The woman had hair like a dark brown helmet, all dyed so uniformly that there was no doubt it wasn’t her real color. She had watery pale blue eyes behind frameless glasses, and even though Olivia was at least eight inches taller than the older woman, she had a way of looking down her nose at Olivia even as she physically looked up.

Finally, the sound of her sensible shoes faded away, and Olivia was alone again.

It was her favorite way to be.

She slid her sunglasses onto her face, since the day sunny despite the chill in the air, and went off to her favorite bench, lunch in hand. It was hidden in the back of the garden, on a short dead-end path. The rosebushes that usually abutted it had gone dormant already, but the cedar trees that hid it from the main path were evergreens, still lush.

Olivia sat on the bench, putting her book next to her and her bag lunch on her lap, taking out her first peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Her stomach growled in approval, and she bit into it.

Ten years of eating berries, roots, squirrels, and deer really did wonders for a girl’s appreciation of peanut butter.

Add it to the list, she thought, and made a mental note. Back in her tiny cubicle in the library, she had a very small notebook with one purpose only: so she could write down the things she liked about being human, and access to peanut butter was definitely on that list, along with time with family, indoor plumbing, and marshmallows.

She finished the first and started on the second sandwich, letting the quiet of the garden settle in around her. Even though her part-time job was to shelve books in a library, a job that involved very little human interaction, sometimes it felt like too much. Time and lots of therapy meant that her first inclination, when annoyed with someone, was no longer to rip their face off, but that didn’t mean she had to like being bothered.

Olivia finished the second sandwich and took a tart Granny Smith apple from her bag. A week ago, she’d mentioned how much she liked them to her mom, and in response, her mom had called up the nearest apple orchard and gotten them to bring over two bushels of them. Normally they didn’t deliver, but Olivia’s mother knew someone there.

Mrs. Lessing always knew someone.

The apple crunched between her teeth, its tartness perfectly complimenting the fall scents in the air surrounding her.

I should add apple pie to the list, Olivia thought. Though the list is getting a little food-heavy.

She took another bite. The list was food heavy because it was fall, she knew, her first fall as a human in ten years, and her body still thought it was going to hibernate in a couple of weeks. She’d gained fifteen pounds in the three months since she’d managed to shift back, but to be honest, the weight gain was the last thing on her mind.

Besides, she didn’t mind the way she looked with some curves.

She finished the apple and put the core in the plastic baggie that still had a smear of peanut butter on the inside from her sandwich, then pulled out two chocolate chip cookies. Olivia packed her own lunch every morning that she worked — she was twenty-seven, after all — but her mom always managed to sneak in some cookies.

At least she doesn’t get teary-eyed with relief every time I come home from work anymore, Olivia thought.

Then she heard voices on the main walkway: two women and a man, murmuring about something or other.

“And,” one of the women’s voices said, “Pierce wants me to help with the fundraiser for his cat sanctuary. He really said that to me, Lois.”

The other woman’s voice, who Olivia assumed was Lois, scoffed. “He’s got more than enough money to feed and house every feral housecat from here to Oregon,” she said. “And he wants you to help him? I swear, lions have some nerve.”

“Have you been to the cat sanctuary?” the man’s voice asked. “I’ve heard it’s quite nice.”

The three of them came into view, starting down the short dead-end path that ended in Olivia’s bench, and stopped short.

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