Page 5 of Rescued By the Surly Sasquatch

With that declaration made, Betsy hauled herself up and stumbled to the bathroom. She had leaves to pick out of unmentionable places and a date with the largest, hottest bubble bath the cabin's ancient plumbing could provide. Anything to stave off the burning itch in her fingers.

As she soaked, rubbing in the calamine lotion, Betsy couldn't shake the feeling that something out there—something big—was watching over her. The thought should have been terrifying.

Instead, she felt oddly safe.

CHASE

Deep in the heart of the forest, where shadows lay thick as molasses, Chase stood motionless. His dark eyes, keen as a hawk's, were fixed on the small figure stumbling through the underbrush. Every snapped twig, every muttered curse, set his teeth on edge.

This human—this Betsy as she kept calling herself—was more disruptive than a herd of elephants crashing through his carefully tended woods. Her very presence here was an affront to the natural order, a chaotic element in a world Chase had spent centuries carefully balancing.

And yet...

Chase's nostrils flared, drinking in her scent. Beneath the sharp tang of sweat and fear, there was something else. Something that stirred memories long buried, feelings he'd thought withered and dead.

She smelled of herbs and wildflowers, of sun-warmed skin and something uniquely her. It was intoxicating. Maddening.

Chase growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling through the forest like distant thunder. He shouldn't be thinking like this. He was a guardian, a protector. This human was a threat, nothing more.

So why couldn't he look away?

He watched as Betsy crouched by a patch of plants, her face lighting up with misplaced triumph. Chase's eyes widenedin alarm as he recognized the distinctive leaves of poison ivy. Surely she wouldn't...

But no, there she went, harvesting the irritating plant with all the enthusiasm of a child in a candy store. Part of him—a larger part than he cared to admit—wanted to stride into that clearing. To snatch those leaves from her hands and toss them aside. To show her the true bounty of the forest, the hidden wonders that only one such as he could reveal.

But no. That way lay madness. He'd learned long ago the folly of becoming attached to these fleeting creatures. Humans came and went like seasons, their lives a mere blink in the grand tapestry of the forest. To care was to court pain.

And yet, as Betsy's expression shifted from triumph to confusion to dawning fear, Chase felt something stir within his chest. He should have helped her. Especially, now that she had mentioned her grandmother. She was Francine’s granddaughter.

The memory of the old woman hit him like a physical blow. Francine had seen him not as a monster, but as a fellow guardian of the woods. Francine, who had left him and the forest vulnerable by her passing. Surely, Betsy wasn’t planning on replacing her grandmother.

Chase shook his massive head, dislodging the ridiculous thoughts. Betsy couldn’t be one with the forest. Not if she couldn’t recognize poison ivy. But if she wasn’t here to aid him with the forest, why did her scent made him want to howl at the moon like some lovesick pup?

With silent steps that belied his enormous size, Chase began to track Betsy through the woods. He told himself it was merely to ensure she didn't damage any more of his forest. It had nothing to do with the way his chest tightened every time she stumbled, or how his keen ears strained to catch every muttered word and breathless laugh.

As Betsy's path grew more erratic, her movements more frantic, Chase felt an unfamiliar urge rising within him. The need to help. To guide.

Before he could think better of it, he found himself leaving subtle signs. A branch bent just so to mark the path. Pebbles arranged in arrows too perfect to be natural. Signs that any forest-dweller would recognize instantly, but which he hoped might trigger some buried instinct in this bumbling human.

"What are you doing?" Chase growled to himself, even as he nudged another stone into place with his foot. "Let her find her own way. It's not your concern."

But he couldn't stop. With each step Betsy took, with each frustrated sigh and fearful glance, Chase felt himself being drawn further into her orbit. It was maddening. Infuriating.

Exhilarating.

Then came the wolves.

Chase smelled them before he heard them, their wild, musky scent carried on the breeze. He quickened his pace, moving with a silence and speed that would have seemed impossible for a creature of his size.

He arrived at the clearing just as the pack began to circle. Betsy stood frozen, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. The mother wolf's growl filled the air, a clear warning to the intruder who had dared to approach her den.

For a moment, Chase hesitated. This was the way of the forest. The natural order he had sworn to protect. Who was he to interfere?

But then Betsy spoke, her voice trembling but still tinged with that ridiculous humor that seemed to be her defense against the world. "Nice doggies. Good, terrifying, probably-going-to-eat-me doggies."

Something inside Chase snapped.

The howl that erupted from his throat was unlike anything the forest had heard in centuries. It was the voice of the mountain, of ancient trees and hidden caves. It was power and warning and command all rolled into one.

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