The jeep's tires crunched over the familiar gravel, a sound that usually meant welcome, now a prelude to emptiness. Ava's cabin. Home. A wave of memories, warm and bright, washed over me, a stark contrast to the icy knot of grief in my stomach. I pictured her, apron dusted with flour, humming off-key as she rolled out pie crust, her laughter echoing through these very rooms. She always knew just what to say, how to make the world right with a cup of tea and a story.
This wasn't just a cabin; it was a sanctuary. Ava had built it into a haven over the years, a two-bedroom escape nestled amongst towering pines, only a few miles from the main town. To reach it, I'd turned off the paved road onto a dirt track, then onto a long, winding driveway that hugged the contours of the forest. The cabin sat in a clearing, a breath of open space before the dense woods swallowed everything. It was all one floor, practical and inviting, with an attached garage that always held a faint scent of sawdust and motor oil.
A massive front porch, wide enough for a swing and several rocking chairs, stretched across the face of the house, offering a view of the woods. A smaller patio tucked around the back faced the lake, a private, peaceful spot. Stepping inside, I'd always entered through the mudroom, a practical space off the garage with a washer and dryer, leading directly into the kitchen. The entire living area was an open concept, flowing seamlessly from the kitchen to a cozy dining nook, then into the living room, dominated by a grand stone fireplace. The two bedrooms branched off the living room—a master with its own bath, and a second bedroom, mine when I visited, next to the main bathroom.
Ava had updated the place over the years, a blend of rustic charm and modern comfort. She'd always kept it stocked, too. Firewood piled high for the winter months, a backup generator ready for the inevitable mountain storms. The pantry would be full, the gas stove ready to ignite. She thought of everything. She was everything. I cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening, punctuated only by the distant rustle of leaves. The dark windows of the cabin stared back, blank and uninviting. This was it. My reluctant refuge. The only tangible piece of her I had left. I sat for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel, the weight of her absence pressing down.
Then, a deep breath. Ava wouldn't want me to mope. She'd want me to live. I pushed open the jeep door, the cool mountain air a sharp kiss against my skin. Stepping out, I turned towards the lake. It shimmered through the trees, a sheet of polished obsidian in the twilight, impossibly calm, impossibly peaceful. A balm for a raw soul.
My camera bag felt less like a burden now, more like extend myself. I unzipped it, pulling out my trusty Canon, the cool metal a familiar comfort in my hands. In early fall in the Ridge, the leaves are just beginning their fiery transformation. A masterpiece waiting to be captured.
I walked the private path that wound through the pines, needles soft under my boots, leading to the water's edge. The air here was different, clearer, carrying smelling damp earth and something else, something wild and untamed. I lifted the camera, framing a shot of the still water reflecting the deepening sky, the distant mountains a jagged silhouette. *Click*.
Through the lens, a ripple disturbed the glassy surface. Then another. Something moved in the water, too far to make out clearly. I lowered the camera, squinting. The lake wasn't huge, maybe three miles across, three miles wide, with a maximum depth of twelve feet. Whatever it was, it was still a suitable distance out. I brought the camera back up, zooming in, the powerful lens narrowing the gap.
And then I saw him. A man. Naked. Swimming with powerful, fluid strokes. My breath hitched. He was magnificent, with broad shoulders cutting through the water, dark hair slicked back, a rugged handsomeness even from this distance. My face flushed, heat creeping up my neck. I knew I should look away. I couldn't. My finger hovered over the shutter button, a primal urge to capture this unexpected beauty.
He ducked under the surface, a smooth dive. I held my breath, camera still raised, my heart hammering against my ribs. A minute passed. Two. Where did he go? Then, the water exploded. Not a man. A beast. A colossal bear, fur the color of rich earth, rose from the lake, water streaming off its massive head, its powerful shoulders. It shook its head, sending droplets flying, then let out a deep, rumbling exhale that vibrated through the ground.
A shifter. Not just any shifter, but a Kodiak bear. The largest, most powerful of them all. My mind reeled. I'd known shifters existed. I'd seen a few from a distance and respected their privacy. But never like this. Never so close. Never this raw, this untamed.
My camera, almost on instinct, clicked. *Click. Click. Click.* I couldn't stop myself. His sheer size, his primal majesty, was breathtaking. Shifters were always bigger than their animal counterparts, Ava had told me, often two or three times larger. This one was a behemoth.
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest, a curious mix of awe and something else, something undeniably… dirty. Thoughts, unbidden and vivid, flashed through my mind–of powerful arms, of a powerful embrace, of a primal connection that transcended human understanding. I'd always been drawn to the idea of shifters, to their fiercely protective nature, their unbreakable bond with a mate. To be loved like that, cherished, body and soul. The fantasy had always lived in the smutty novels I devoured in secret. Now, here he was, flesh and fur, embodying every illicit thought. I was so lost in the swirling vortex of my own desires and wonder that I didn't notice him closing the distance. The bear was out of the water, lumbering gracefully towards the shore, towards *me*.
My head snapped up. He was only a few feet away, his massive form casting a long shadow over me. Water still slicked his fur, gleaming in the fading light. His eyes. Steel grey, intelligent, ancient. They locked onto mine. Don't run. Ava's voice echoed in my head, calm and clear. *Stay calm, Ruby. Don't look away.*
We stood there, a human and a beast, eye to eye, the thin veil of mountain air crackling between us. A silent conversation, raw and primal, unfolded in the space of a single shared breath. Threatening? No, not in the way a predator stalks prey. This was something deeper — a magnetic pull that hummed beneath my skin. Curious, yes. Observant.
His gaze, relentless steel-grey, bored into me, unwavering, stripping away every facade, yet held no malice. Only a profound, ancient knowing. I could almost feel his senses reaching, tasting the peach and vanilla I'd foolishly layered on, a scent I now realized was too sweet, too vulnerable. His head tilted, a subtle shift, and a deep, resonant rumble vibrated not just in his chest, but through the very earth beneath my feet, a sound that stirred a dangerous, exhilarating storm deep within my core.
Slowly, carefully, I took a step forward. His massive head turned, his gaze breaking from mine. He pivoted, a fluid motion for such an enormous creature and lumbered back towards the lake. He never looked back. He simply entered the water, the ripples spreading out from his powerful body, and swam away, a dark, moving mass against the shimmering surface.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching until he disappeared into the deepening twilight, a phantom of the wild. The lake settled back into its glassy stillness, as if the encounter had been a dream. But smelling damp fur and damp earth lingered, a potent reminder of the magnificent, untamed creature I had just met. And the camera in my hand, heavy with the weight of captured moments, confirmed it all.