Destined Fur More

Never Let Sleeping Teagues Reproduce

We'd been driving for about ten minutes when we got into Holy Cross. The place really didn't have many buildings, but it was an Alaskan town. You could see every building in the town in a glance, even the immense foliage surrounding it.

Unlike Sleetmute, Holy Cross was a town that thrived on fish. Teague had told me it was mostly salmon fishing that kept everyone's' stomachs full. The town was right next to the Yukon, and even encased in ice, your heart could be warmed by the sight of it. Small towns could be so cute sometimes.

Unless, of course, you lived in one.

There were a few snowmobiles sitting out front of the modest houses, the same as Sleetmute. I'd actually found it unusual Graham used a truck instead of a snowmobile, but some people would rather be snowed inside their small cabin with no one to argue with but Kwenton. And from what I could tell, he didn't use the supermarket for food.

We drove through the town in less than two minutes, turning onto a long road. There was another minute of me preparing myself for the six hour drive when I saw the airport we'd just turned into. My eyes narrowed momentarily, crossing my arms.

"We're riding a plane to Anchorage, aren't we?" Teague asked with a small voice.

Graham arched is eyebrow, "You want to make a road to Anchorage? Fine with me. Go ape shit." Not understanding, he faced me with knit eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes. "Teague, you live here. How should I know if there's a road to Anchorage?" It made sense. Airports were a common one of traveling in Alaska.

There was a minute of silence as Graham parked his truck. As we were getting out, Teague asked, "We're going to be on a plan for how long, exactly?" Graham threw to packs at Teague, which he caught deftly, despite the look on his face.

"I don't know, Teague. Probably two to three hours." Graham answered, tossing a backpack at me. I, of course, attempted to catch it, but really only succeeded in landing my ass on pure ice and feeling my well-padded but bone cry out.

I lay there on the ground, grimacing in pain as the two boobs completely ignored me. Actually, Graham didn't ignore me. He threw another pack on my face. I was barely able to peep out a noise of pain and a single tear from my eye.

"Fuck…" I whimpered, afraid to move.

"Two to three hours?" Teague exclaimed. "Graham, I cannot do that! You didn't even give me a warning! No. I'm not going. I'll stay here." One of my eyes saw him take a sturdy position, as if expecting someone to full-body tackle him.

"Help?" I peeped, cold creeping into my parka. Both of the bags seemed to weigh more than me, which is a lot. Just in case that didn't click.

Graham slammed the back of his truck, carrying a thick bag on his back. "Well, you're going to have to, Teague. If they find out that a shifter hasn't been registered, you could get in serious trouble. Your mother expects you to be gone for a few weeks for this, and I am not putting my ass on the line because you don't like planes." He declared, 'accidentally' kicking me in the side. "Oh, I'm sorry, Fisher. You should get up before I almost trip over you again."

I glared and stayed where I was.

"Okay, Graham, are you sure there's no road to Anchorage?" Teague asked, to which Graham shook his head. "None at all?" Teapot persisted, "There has to be some kind of back road or something. We can't be totally cut off from them." Teague said with a hopeful tone. "I can't ride a plane, Graham. I can't. Heights aren't my thing, and a few sheets of metal between me and the ground three miles down are not going to help."