Turned 2: The Bramblewood Werebear

Chapter 4: The Werebear

Jennie moved about that afternoon, unable to settle to anything, haunted by shame. The one time she had ventured alone to wade in the river, her beloved had caught her. Not only him--one of the wolf men, as well. What if Oliver had not come along? Would she have been bitten and been forced to become a monster?
The idea simultaneously attracted and repulsed her.
To become an animal and race about the countryside, without fretting over clothing, or shoes, because she was clad in a thick pelt of fur, seemed an amazing freedom. When a person became a beast, did they retain their reason? Or did the change of body also bring a change of mind, a sinking of nature to something more base?
She remained in her sitting room until supper. The painting of the bear seemed to glare at her, as if with disapproval. At last she dressed for supper and descended the stairs.
Jennie and Oliver ate nearly without speaking. Had she not been famished by that time, she scarcely could have stood it. As it was, she gave her full attention to the chicken cutlets and was comforted by her full belly. Oliver ate with a distracted frown, and avoided eye contact. This served to heighten her apprehension.
Afterward they retired to the veranda. The sun had set, but afterglow remained, and a fresh breeze stirred the warm air. Jennie seated herself and inhaled the breeze. At least a good meal had brought her the strength to face whatever tongue-lashing Oliver had in store.
He sat near her in one of the cushioned metal chairs, and frowned at the horizon, brows drawn together. For several minutes neither of them spoke.
Jennie gathered her courage and faced him. "Again, sir, my deepest apologies. I understand the shame my actions must have caused." And the danger she had been in.
Oliver sighed, rubbed his forehead, then favored her with a smile. "I cannot berate you. Improper as it was, I confess I enjoyed observing you."
Her face grew hot, and she studied her folded hands in her lap. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had expressed his displeasure. He was a man, and subject to the appetites of a man--she was foolish to have left it out of her reckoning.
He sat back in his chair and rested one arm on the table. "To tell the truth, I was more concerned about the beast we encountered. They do not encroach on my property, especially not by daylight. This one sought you out particularly. I met some ... unsavory men in town earlier, and I fear there is a connection."
He related the incident, and Jennie listened with growing trepidation. "They attempted to extort you?"
He drummed his fingers on the table, and his mouth hardened. "It would not be the first time. But then I rode home and found you in danger. This does not bode well for anyone."
He had not been angry at her at supper--he had been fuming about the veiled threat to her. The tightness in her heart eased. In hindsight, her exploration of the river, alone and vulnerable, seemed a very foolhardy action.
"What of your bite?"
He rolled up his sleeve and displayed a white bandage wrapped around his forearm. "A trifle. It is not deep."
"What of the curse?"
He heaved a sigh, and replaced his sleeve. "Jennie, the answer to that lies far back in my ancestry. Do you wish to hear the tale?"
She smiled. "Of course! Your parentage remains a mystery to me."
Oliver launched into the doings of his ancestors four generations previous. They had been Sea Wolves--vicious pirates who roamed the coasts and raided coastal towns. This was the business of vik-ing.
The Gunnersen clan had been famous for their bear-like strength and ferocity. Sometimes they appeared to become bears in the heat of battle.
"Then when my great great great grandfather was a youth," said Oliver, eyes sparkling as if this was his favorite part, "their village was threatened by a stronger tribe. While negotiations were happening, he discovered a bear had broken into his father's sheep pasture. He took his sword to slay it. But his blade passed through, for it was a spirit bear. Enraged that he had attacked it, it sprang upon him, and he became a bear, himself. But his mother called him, and her voice returned him to his senses. He became a man again. But later, when the enemy tribe attacked, he summoned forth the power of the bear within him, and struck down hundreds of the foe single-handed."
Jennie gazed at the evening star to avoid meeting his earnest gaze. "So ... your ancestors could become bears?"
"Yes. It is not considered a curse, but the wolf curse has no power over me."
The picture in her room flashed before her eyes, and her heart trembled. "You can become a bear?"
"Yes."
She drew a careful breath and gripped the arm of her chair. Everything within her screamed that she must run away, fast and far. Yet she forced herself to remain, and gazed at him. He waited for her reaction with the eagerness of a small boy. Despite his size and strength, she could crush him with a word.
She wrestled with her fear and tried to master herself. "You do not--kill people?"
"No." He sank back in his chair as if in relief at the reasonableness of this question. "Bears are not savage hunters like wolves are. Left to our own devices, we would happily live on berries and fish. I patrol the grounds and hold the werewolves at bay."
The nightly rambles and torn clothes were at last explained. Jennie struggled to remain reasonable, although it was swiftly becoming too much. She rose to her feet. "May I retire for the night? I must think about all this."
He jumped to his feet. "Of course, madam." He took her hand with a gentle smile. "Thank you for hearing me out. You have nothing to fear here."
She gave him a thin smile of her own. Her flesh cringed from his touch. Quickly as she could without rudeness, she withdrew and fled to her rooms.

***

After Jennie departed, the butler emerged on the veranda with a cup of strong tea. "How did she take it, sir?"
Oliver received the tea and took a long drink. "Not well, I'm afraid. It is a shock to discover that your suitor can take animal form."
The butler nodded in sympathy. "What of the wolves?"
Oliver gazed across the darkening grounds to the black wall of the forest. "I must patrol tonight, I'm afraid. Inform the staff. The wolves are becoming over-bold and I may need to do more than threaten."
"Understood, sir." The butler withdrew.
Oliver sat for some time over his tea. Jennie might very well break the engagement, and he could not blame her. Who would wish to marry a beast-man like himself? But it sank his spirits like a stone in an ocean. He had adored his bear form since childhood, and yet it made him less than a man in her eyes. Less of a man, more of a monster.
Slowly he removed his suit coat and laid it across the chair. Whether Jennie fled or not, he had a job to do: protect all the lives under his roof at Bramblewood.