Page 7 of Smoke and Mirrors
“I never thought about it like that,” I mused as we walked through the carnival gate, waving to the ticket attendant who knew me as the ringmistress. No one recognized Hunter without his fur, teeth, and claws, and we preferred it that way.
“Hardly anyone does anymore, at least consciously.” Hunter gave my hand an affectionate squeeze as we looked around at the attractions. The carnival had just opened for the day and some vendors and booth attendants were just setting up.
“Does it botheryoubeing here?” I asked him. “Knowing what goes on behind the scenes?”
“In general, yes. I hate how exploitive this whole industry is, and not just of shifters. People like Connor, too.” He smiled down at me. “But it’s good to know this one isn’t like that. And anyway, I’m here with you and determined to have a good time.”
“Right. Sorry to talk about negative stuff.”
“Don’t be, Mel.” His thumb stroked my palm. “So what are you in the mood for? Food? Rides? Games?”
“Ooh, shaved ice!” I said, pointing. A cold dessert never sounded so good right then. At noon in the middle of summer in Mississippi, the humidity already hung in the air with a palpable thickness. Beads of sweat ran down the back of my neck like a lover’s tongue and I prayed my makeup wouldn’t start running.
Hunter stepped up to the truck with no hesitation and ordered for us. I got a pina colada flavored one and he got a root beer float.
“Thanks.” I accepted the frozen treat from him, swept up in the surreality of a guy buying something for me just because he wanted to.
“Thank the ringmistress. She got me a job,” he winked, sticking a red plastic spoon in my cup of sugary ice.
A hula hooper danced for a small crowd not far away, so we sat down on a retaining wall to watch her and enjoy our shaved ice.
“What was your life like growing up?” I asked Hunter. “Did your pack have a lot of contact with humans?”
“We did at first,” he answered, chopping at his own ice with the tiny spoon. “My pack was well known in a small town in Virginia, right on the edge of Jefferson National Forest. My father was the town butcher and liked by everybody. My mother was a teacher at the local elementary school, where I attended with all the other human children. Back then it was in our best interest to integrate with human society as much as possible, while keeping our animal sides hidden.”
I hesitated before pressing. “But that’s not the case anymore?”
He spooned some shaved ice into his mouth and shook his head. “Some human locals saw my parents shift and started a witch hunt, or wolf hunt rather,” he scoffed. “I was in high school at the time. Our alpha pulled all of us out for our own safety and we had minimal contact with humans since then. Whenever we did, we never stayed in one place long.”
He set his cup down and rested both forearms on his knees. “It’s hard because we’re human too. We want comforts like a bed, a shower, and a home with a roof. We want our children to be educated, have good careers, and stable families of their own. It sounds like an easy solution to just live as an animal for the rest of your life, but we crave human lives too.”
“Shit, Hunter.” I chewed my lip, the sweetness of the shaved ice now cloying on my tongue. “I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a fun day and I keep making you bring up heavy stuff.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He nudged me with his elbow and shot me a heart-fluttering smile. “That’s just life for a shifter. I don’t mind talking about it. And anyway,” he picked up my spoon, holding a big chunk of shaved ice near my mouth, “we’re making new memories, better ones.”
I parted my lips and allowed him to place the spoon on my tongue, watching him watch me with those sharp, golden eyes.
“And hopefully I’m giving Roo and Rinna a better life too,” he concluded, breaking the intimate, brief spell between us to return his attention to the hula hooper.
“Are they okay alone while you’re out here?” Hunter’s children reminded me of my own siblings in many ways. Rambunctious, curious, and far too innocent for a world that could be so dark.
“Yes, they know not to leave the den when I’m away. It’s instilled in all wolf pups when the adults go on long hunts. They’re generally more independent than human children because of that.”
“What do you think is best for shifters in general?” I asked, scraping the edges of my styrofoam cup. “Integrating with humans or staying far away from them?”
Hunter let out a long sigh and took a moment to answer. He looked like a marble statue as he thought— still, beautiful, and wise.
“If there was a way to be among humans peacefully, with the same rights and protections, and without being hunted for what we are, I think that would be best for everyone. Because it’s impossible to hide from humans forever. Even if we created our own community away from everyone else, the wrong humans will undoubtedly try to round us up for their own gains. That’s essentially what happened to my pack.”
It made the most sense but would be the most difficult to achieve. Just the public knowledge of shifter existence would throw the world into chaos.
I threw my now-empty cup in the nearby trash can and wrapped my palm underneath his bicep. The slender muscle jumped at my contact.
“No more heavy conversations,” I said in a mock stern voice. “Let’s play some stupid games and try to win gigantic teddy bears and shit.”
His face lit up immediately as he closed his opposite hand around mine.
“Shall we make it interesting?” he grinned wolfishly.
