To Love a Stray

Chapter 1

The town is like many other small towns I have passed through - nothing more than half a dozen houses, a general store, pub and a small post office branch. The pub is similar to many others I have walked into during the last few months, noisy and smelling of stale smoke and alcohol. The people that fill it are in various stages of drunkenness. There are a couple of businessmen at a table against the far sidewall eating their supper as they talk. I tune out their conversation of real estate prices as I pass them by. There seems to be the usual drunk standing by the bar swaying as he raises his glass in a shaking hand to drink his beer. Several groups of people enjoying a drink make up the scant clientele and I walk up to the bar to order a meal and a beer. I smile at the barkeeper as he runs his gaze over me appreciatively.

"What can I get you?" His name is Darren according to the name embroidered on his shirt.

"I’d like to order a counter meal please, a large steak medium rare with roast vegies. And a schooner of beer thanks," I say with a smile. I watch as he turns around and calls my food order through a window to someone working in what smells like a kitchen.

"What brand of beer would you like?" Darren asks as he picks up a clean glass and looks at me. I put my forearms on the bar and lean forward as I glance at the taps that deliver beer to the bar.

"Whatever you have on tap will be fine thanks," I grin at him. He expertly pours my drink and I hand him the twenty-dollar note from my pocket. I take the change he hands me along with my glass and head to a small table in one dim corner. The amber liquid is cold and bitter on my tongue as I swallow.

Unease tingles up my spine making me glance around nervously. Some instinct warns me of danger and I turn my head to watch as four men enter the bar room. I look away quickly before they notice me looking their way. The smell hits me, sending me into a fear-filled hunch over my drink. Werecats! The intricate levels of their scents tell me they are clan cats: born to this life, not some roving strays that have been turned by fate’s cruel hand. I glance their way without lifting my head, a sly movement of my eyes. They seem unaware of my presence as they make their way to the far end of the bar and order their choice of drinks as the barman greets them familiarly. All four of them are large, six foot tall or more and three of them have the solid muscular build of mature clan cats. Roving strays are often thin and scrawny but clan cats that are secure in their clan never are. They have well defined muscular bodies moulded by plenty of physical exercise.

"A large steak medium rare with roast vegies," a female voice says at my elbow.

I smile and nod at the woman from the kitchen as she places my plate of food on the table in front of me. I control the urge to grab the plate and growl possessively as she puts the cutlery down beside it. I sneak a quick glance at the four men as the woman walks away and before I reach for the knife and fork, they seem oblivious to the fact that I am a werecat, a stray, and I am trespassing on their lands. My mouth begins watering as I begin to cut the steak into chunks pausing only to put a large piece into my mouth and chew as I continue to hurriedly cut the entire piece of meat into chewable pieces.

My instincts are screaming at me to leave but my body demands the food in front of me. It has been too long since my last proper meal in human form, and I have only been hunting small game when I shape-shifted so I don’t attract human attention to my presence. I am halfway through my meal when the inevitable happens; one of the four toms walk past where I had lent both arms on the bar as I had ordered my food and drink. He stops in mid-stride. My acute hearing lets me hear him draw in a sharp breath as he catches my scent on the bar, and I hear the sudden stop of conversation from his companions as they too hear him. Tension quickly fills the bar room as suddenly hostile eyes look around the room. I can almost feel the tremors of fear that threaten me as sharp eyes skip over me dismissively.