I run as hard and fast as my bear legs will carry me. It’s exhilarating, especially because it’s been weeks since I’ve shifted. I slow down long before I’m tired, turning to look back, standing on my hind legs for a better view. I see a woman, the love of my life, strolling down the trail, soaking up the warm sunshine. She stops to examine a cluster of wildflowers, perfectly at ease in the forest.
I used to live for the night, when I could disappear from my life as a human. The bear was my therapy, helping me deal with my subconscious dissatisfaction that I mistook for stress. Now, shifting is an afterthought, an activity I enjoy the way one might enjoy hiking through the woods.
I don’t fear the forest at night, but I don’t need it anymore. I am strongest when I am with her.