Lynx Northern Shifters 3

exist but it couldn’t anyway, not in this freezing weather.
Gabriel flashed before his eyes. As did Quinn’s ragged body. Fifteen years ago, Trey had walked through the door to his and Quinn’s shared apartment, and walked into a life where Gabriel was lost to him and Quinn was utterly destroyed. Today was Jonah’s turn to be ruined.
The paw pushed down. Trey shouldered into the house.
A small amount of sun filtered dimly through the skylight, enough for Trey to see that Jonah’s body was not frozen in the main room. In fact, everything looked tidy, if unused. The dishes had been washed up, the fireplace cleaned, the bed made.
It gave him an odd kind of hope and enough courage to move on to the back room.
Also empty of Jonah. Trey nosed through his belongings, catching a faint whiff of Jonah’s scent. His winter gear remained. So Jonah had left in warmer weather, or he’d left as lynx.
Despite the house being small, and Trey’s nose being keen, he made himself explore every nook and cranny, as if that would tell him something about Jonah’s departure.
It didn’t.
The light was failing now, as was he. His energy was gone, sapped, and part of him wanted to lie down on one of the two cots—his chest ached to see that Jonah had kept the two cots out—and never wake up again. He should eat, he knew he should. He’d never been so weak as to not eat to keep his strength up. It was why he remained strong.
But this time something in Trey gave. He didn’t climb onto a cot. Instead he curled up on that rug he’d slept on as wolf those two long years ago, and he let himself fall into the oblivion of exhausted, painful sleep.
    Trey woke in the dark and cold. As he breathed in, he recognized that Jonah’s scent was close to nonexistent, a hint of it left in the rug and bedding, perhaps, if Trey allowed his imagination to go to work. But clearly Jonah had left here a while ago.
    He didn’t know if it made it better or worse, that Jonah was long gone. Trey hoped he’d left under his own steam, made the choice to go elsewhere.
Which was what Trey should do, simply leave. There was nothing he could accomplish here but the idea of going away again… He balked. Instead, Trey lay down and pushed himself to shift to human. His body resisted—the freezing temperatures and the full moon wanted him to remain wolf—so the pain was worse than usual. And Trey embraced that pain, anything to chase away the sadness that threatened to envelop him.
He woke a second time. His internal clock said it was half an hour later, long for him. The cold air didn’t harm him, his body too heated by the shift. But that would change quickly. While he was not in the best state of mind, he wasn’t suicidal, so he strode to the back room and donned some of Jonah’s clothes, then went to the fireplace to build a fire. Jonah had been organized in his leave-taking—matches still there and some supply of firewood, perhaps so if he returned in the dead of winter he could do as Trey was now doing.
During the two weeks that followed, Trey lived at Jonah’s. He knew it was foolish to hope Jonah would arrive there unexpectedly, but he allowed himself the hope because otherwise it was hard to get through the day, to be around Jonah’s things with Jonah himself absent.
He should have left immediately, of course. But if he lived here, went through the routine Jonah had gone through, maybe he could find some clue as to where Jonah had gone.
He refused to believe Jonah was dead. During his time in the cave, Trey searched the surrounding area, though admittedly the snow covered too much for the search to be as thorough as needed. He also was careful not to delve too deeply into the food supplies, in case Jonah arrived back a week after Trey left and needed them. Trey built up the firewood supply, cutting down trees, chopping up the wood.
And he wrote Jonah a long, long letter. He was careful with it, he didn’t put down his name, or Jonah’s, but he made it clear that he’d been here and why he’d been away. And he promised to return midsummer, having reason to believe he could safely get away then.
The letter writing brought him no pleasure, it was painful from beginning to end, but he owed Jonah that much.
The day Trey left the sun was shining, the hard light assaulted his eyes and the hard snow cut his paws on his way out. Despite the danger of it, Trey went to the nearby town where Jonah had picked up supplies, and asked some questions.
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