Page 3 of Wild Claim

Watch me. I’ll give this garden a real shot. It’ll take time and patience, a willingness to get my hands dirty. I wasn’t sure I had Grandma’s green thumb, but I had her stubbornness, her cheerfulness. If I could get this disaster zone under control, maybe I could do the same with my trainwreck of a life. One weed at a time.

Chapter Two

RORY

Feathers don’t stop teeth,and neither do claws.

I was hauling ass through the woods, my turkey legs pounding like jackhammers. Three mangy coyotes were on my tail, drooling like I was a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. Their yips and howls were getting closer, echoing through the trees. For the umpteenth time, I was wondering if this was how I went out. If today was the day I became Coyote Chow, served up fresh in the forest.

I dodged a massive pine, almost eating shit on a boulder. My wings flared out—good for nothing except not face-planting. I skidded left on slick leaves, buying a few precious seconds as the coyotes overshot. Everything was a blurred mess of green and brown branches clawing at me.

Ahead, a small ravine opened its mouth. I launched myself over the edge, plummeting into the brush below. A jagged pain split my side as I crash-landed, tumbling beak-over-tail through briars and rocks. I dragged my sorry ass up, pain shooting through me like a bitch. My brain was a pinball machine, bouncing between half-assed plans and cursing that witch who turned me into turkey takeout.

My survival instincts kicked in, drowning out the ache.

I kept running, but the reality was sinking in... I was just meat on legs, waiting to become some mangy mutt’s dinner. Life’s a sick joke when you’re at the bottom of the food chain.

The little bastards were gaining on me, their yips and snarls echoing through the forest. I weaved through underbrush and hurdled over fallen logs with a desperation born from years of practice. It’s not like I hadn’t outrun them before, but fear has a funny way of making you faster, even when you’re the Usain Bolt of poultry.

Damn it. Why did I have to mouth off to that witch?

I burst into a small clearing, my beady eyes scanning for one of my hiding spots. A familiar cluster of berry bushes came into view, their skeletal branches drooping under the weight of snow. The coyotes’ howls crescendoed as I dove into the thicket, the brambles tearing at my feathers. I tumbled into a shallow hollow, rolling to a stop against a moss-covered rock. My head spun, and for a moment, I imagined it was the dizziness of a human body standing too quickly.

The woods settled back into its usual soundtrack, water babbling, leaves rustling, some birds chirping off-key. For asecond, I dared to hope those mangy mutts had lost my scent. Despite that, I looked around the edge. The grove was a good hidey-hole. I’d used it a few times before. Still, I didn’t let my guard down. Hope’s a luxury I couldn’t afford, not with my ass on the menu.

The tension in my body didn’t ease as I sank into a patch of soft moss. The panic just morphed into something worse. A trip down memory lane. For a second, I was me again. Therealme. Six-foot-something of pure backwoods badass, with a beard you could lose small animals in. The kind of guy who’d headbutt a grizzly for shits and giggles. Back when I fit in this goddamn forest, instead of being nature’s feathered punching bag.

Damn that witch. I’d been strong, confident, free.

Now I’m a walking Thanksgiving dinner with an existential crisis.

The image of my former self vanished, giving way to the witch’s visage. I remembered that night all too well. I’d been cocky, striding up to her with the arrogance of a man who thought he was invincible. The kind of swagger that comes from years of being the biggest, baddest thing in the woods. All I’d wanted was to scare her off; to get her out of my side of the forest so I could keep things in balance. It never occurred to me she would have genuine power. Enough to change me, to unmake me.

Shit, I was a fool.

A curse until I found true love’s acceptance. She spoke as if love was attainable for me. It had been so ridiculous I’d laughed back then, but I wasn’t laughing now. How the hell was I supposed to find love’s acceptance when I couldn’t even accept myself like this? The whole thing was a cruel joke, and the punchline was my life.

The first weeks had been the hardest. Trying to survive in a body that wasn’t mine, with instincts that screamed over myown human reason. I thought I’d go mad from the confusion, from the sheer alienness of it all. But I’m still here, years later, still clinging to this useless existence. Just goes to show how stubborn a man can be.

Even when he’s not a man anymore.

Hell, I could have just talked to her. Maybe offered her some of the land as a favor. Witches were big on favors, weren’t they? But no, I had to go in guns blazing, acting like the lord of the forest.

I had laughed in her face, not believing for a second that she could do anything. The laugh had died in my throat the first time I saw my reflection. A gobbler staring back at me with terrified eyes.

The worst part was that I understood why I did it. Loneliness can make you do crazy things, like clinging to whatever piece of land or person gives you a sense of belonging. If I’d known back then what I know now...

Well, I’d still be a man. A lonely, grumpy one, but a man all the same.

Night was creeping in, smothering the forest in a blue-black haze. The coyotes would be back, I knew. Maybe not tonight, but soon. Predators had a way of remembering their prey, and I was a fixture on their menu.

A coyote’s howl ripped through the silence, snapping me back.

I needed to move, to find higher ground where I could roost safely for the night. My body was a wreck, every muscle and sinew screaming from the abuse I’d put it through. But the fear of becoming a midnight snack was a hell of a motivator. I forced myself to my feet and waddled to the edge of the grove, my eyes tracking upward to the towering pines. Not bad for a roost and just high enough to stay out of reach.

With a final, painful exertion, I leaped upward onto a lower branch. My body dangled like a sack of wet flour, every part of me protesting. I heaved and flapped, grinding my way higher.The ground receded in a dizzying blur, and I tried not to think about what a fall from this height would do to me. Probably tenderize me nicely for the coyotes.

I reached a safe height and perched on a thick limb, clutching the bark with numb talons. The forest stretched out below me. I could almost see the outline of Maple Ridge in the distance, the town’s faint glow seeping over the horizon like a memory.

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