#wildlife related injuries and deaths can and do happen all the time

[mariacallous]

It was around 5 pm on March 15, and the light was fading fast, when Constantin and Tatiana were attacked by the bear. The young couple, aged 29 and 31 and identified in local media reports only by their first names, were Belarusians living in Poland. But Constantin had been working for the winter as a ski instructor in Jasná, a popular resort in neighboring Slovakia. The winter season was coming to an end, and on a day off he’d decided to go hiking with his girlfriend beneath the 4,718 foot-high peak of Na Jame, in the Slovak national park surrounding the resort. What happened next is not exactly clear, but newspaper reports suggest that when the couple encountered the bear—a young male weighing about 265 pounds—they ran in different directions. Finding himself alone, Constantin tried calling Tatiana. When he failed to get a response, he called mountain rescue. It was dark when they eventually found Tatiana’s body, with the help of a search dog. She’d apparently fallen down a ravine, sustaining fatal injuries to her head.

As with previous bear-related fatalities, both in Slovakia and across Europe, the incident has sparked accusations that conservationists are protecting bears at the expense of people’s safety. In 2021, a 57-year-old man was killed by a bear in the same national park, stoking community tensions about their presence and leading to calls for a cull. As it stands, however, hunting the animals is banned under both Slovakian and European law, and experts argue vociferously that a lack of education—rather than a focus on conservation—is the primary cause of the problem.

“It’s really kicked off here, with the press and politicians I think making some unjustified statements,” says British-born zoologist Robin Rigg. A specialist in large carnivores, Rigg is the chair of the Slovak Wildlife Society, which he set up in 1998, two years after moving to the country. Initial reports suggested that Tatiana might have been killed by the bear itself rather than by her fall, Rigg explains. “And it’s been said in public—actually by someone from the Ministry of the Environment—that it was a predatory attack. But I don’t see the evidence for that.”

Although the animal was near the body when rescuers found Tatiana, “that doesn’t mean the bear was intending to kill and consume her,” Rigg says. He stresses that he hasn’t seen all the evidence, so any conclusions are provisional. But he has seen some of the grisly photos that were leaked to the media, “and none of them show signs of consumption.” Puncture marks found in the young woman’s leg, he says, “look like claw marks—they’re not signs of feeding.” “It's extremely rare in Europe to have predatory attacks, and it’s not a common thing anywhere in the world,” Riggs says. This incident occurred in an area where bears are known to hibernate, at a time of year when they are just waking up. “And what can sometimes happen is that the bear reacts aggressively in defending itself, which is what I think is most likely to have happened in this case—that it was startled by these two people appearing,” Rigg says. Unfortunately, this kind of nuance doesn’t often feature in coverage of bear attacks. “You’re actually more likely, statistically, to get hit by lightning or have an allergic reaction to a bee sting,” Rigg says, “but people don’t worry as much about that as they do about a big animal with sharp teeth and claws. It goes back to an instinctive fear that’s been with us since prehistoric times.” The argument that Slovakia’s bears are nothing to be afraid of was further undermined when footage emerged of an animal galloping down a main street in Liptovský Mikuláš just two days after Tatiana’s death. The animal was filmed lunging aggressively at pedestrians, who jumped over fences to escape. No one was seriously hurt, but the video went viral. “And now,” Rigg says, “we’ve had these two incidents within 48 hours of each other, within a few kilometers of each other. So the tendency is to look at them together and ask, ‘What should we do about bears?’” It’s a question that’s become increasingly pressing in recent years—not just in Slovakia but throughout Europe. Having been hunted to the point of extinction in many countries, brown bears had their “strictly protected” status enshrined in EU law in 1992. In most areas where they’re present, bear populations are increasing, and there are now an estimated 17,000 brown bears living in rural areas across the continent. The recovery of this keystone species has been celebrated as a huge win by biologists and biodiversity experts—but it’s not been without its problems.

In the Pyrenees, the mountains that straddle the border between France and Spain, French and Spanish farmers’ unions, sick of dealing with damage to crops, beehives, and livestock, have called for bear numbers to be cut. In the northern Italian province of Trentino, where bears were reintroduced as part of an EU-funded rewilding project, the tragic death of trail runner Andrea Papi in April 2023 brought simmering resentments bubbling up to the surface. To the horror of local scientists, Trentino’s right-wing populist president, Maurizio Fugatti, proposed killing half of the carefully nurtured population of around 120 bears overnight.

Yet, experts say, culling bears is far from the best way to prevent future tragedies. In the wake of Andrea Papi’s death, the local natural history museum invited Tom Smith, a bear management specialist from Utah’s Brigham Young University, to give a talk about how such issues are dealt with in North America. In a sign of how high community tensions were running, the museum took the unusual step of posting an armed guard at the entrance. In his talk, Smith suggested that the solutions were relatively simple: “What you have here isn’t necessarily a bear problem, it’s a people problem,” he said. Unlike in North America, where people in bear areas have grown up with the animals, Europeans living near recently recovered populations don’t necessarily know how to behave. But with some basic bear-awareness training—of the kind that’s taught “in kindergarten” in some Canadian provinces—the number of dangerous or fatal encounters could be vastly reduced. Smith runs the North American Human-Bear Conflict Database, which contains detailed information on 2,175 historic attacks, with “a quarter-million data points.” “What I’ve learned by studying these events,” he told the crowd, “is that 60 percent of them were totally unnecessary—and could have been avoided if people had behaved differently.” In an interview a few days later, Smith talked specifically about Papi’s death, telling WIRED, “I can go through the details and say, ‘You should never do that, or that, or that,’ and it’s not victim blaming, it’s trying to say, look, this was fully preventable.” Tragically, this also appears to have been the case in Slovakia. “Unfortunately, the route that they chose was a very risky one,” Rigg says. “It’s not a recognized hiking route, and it’s a part of the park that’s strictly protected, so they shouldn’t have been there. Added to that, it’s a limestone area, and that’s an area I’d expect there would be denning bears.” The encounter happened around dusk, when crepuscular creatures like brown bears tend to be more active.

And by running away from the animal—particularly by running away in different directions—the couple inadvertently made the situation a whole lot worse. “It would have been better if they’d stayed together and tried to stay calm if possible,” Rigg says, because bears almost never attack people in groups. In the entire North American Human-Bear Conflict Database, Tom Smith said, there’s not “a single case where two people stood their ground and the bear attacked.”

While the human tragedy of Constantin and Tatiana made headlines, the incident may prove damaging to bears too, affecting conservation efforts across Europe. Slovakia’s government (which, like Trentino’s, is right-wing populist) has called for the EU to strip bears of their “strictly protected” status. Adalbert Jahnz, a European Commission environment spokesperson, said he couldn’t comment on these specific calls.

But the decision in December to downgrade wolves from “strictly protected” to “protected,” a status that would allow hunting, has biologists and biodiversity experts worried. “It’s partly political posturing,” says Rigg of the Slovak government’s recent statements, “but I think they really want to try to make that happen—and they probably feel that there’s a bit of an open door now because of what happened with the wolf recently.”

[spiderweb-bf]

I'm sorry I know I talked about this on here not that long ago but what makes my blood boil like nothing else is videos of people obviously not handling wild animals in a safe way and then posting it online

[440mxs-wife]

The Great Debate

Pairing: Sam x Reader. Other Characters: Dean, Sheriff, Deputy Frank Walters (OMC’s)

Word Count: 6080+

Warnings: mild show-level violence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Are you kidding me, Sam?" you exclaimed. "There's no question in my mind who would win that fight," you grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes from the front seat of the Impala. He turned around to face you sitting in the back seat. "Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, who do YOU think would win that fight?" he demanded.

You let out an exasperated sigh before answering. "First of all, I don't think, Sam, I already know. Lieutenant Worf from Starfleet would definitely win in a fight against Chewbacca!" you retorted.

Sam snorted. "No way! Chewie has the brute strength, not to mention he's oh, I don't know, EIGHT FEET TALL," Sam shot back.

"Maybe so, but Lieutenant Worf is a KLINGON, plus he has the training and the skills to fight with multiple weapons. He doesn't just rely on 'brute strength'," you mocked.

"Yeah, but--" Sam started.

"Oh, for crying out loud, will you two nerds just shut up!" Dean thundered.

You and Sam glared at each other for about ten seconds, then busted out laughing at Dean's outburst.

"Relax, Dean. We're not really fighting," you explained between giggles.

"Yeah Dean, relax. Just two best friends having a healthy debate of Star Wars vs. Star Trek, and why Star Wars is the best," Sam grinned.

"As if, Sam!" you shot back in mock annoyance, playfully swatting Sam's arm. You looked at Dean just in time to see him roll his eyes at the antics going on between you and his brother.

You and the Winchesters were on your way to tracking down the cause of some unusual activity in Colorado. All indications pointed to demons, especially with the traces of sulfur left behind at the crime scenes.

Dean pulled into a space in the parking lot of the Moonstone Motel. He gave the two of you one last glare before he exited the Impala and headed for the motel manager's office.

That left just you and Sam in the car, which served to kick your heart rate up a bit. His chin rested in the crook of his elbow, his arm perched on the edge of the front seat. He looked at you with a playful grin on his face.

"What?" you asked with a chuckle.

"Nothing," he replied, still with that grin on his face. "You look pretty today," he remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment from an unexpected source. Before you could open your mouth to respond, Dean opened the car door and settled back into the driver's seat.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the rooms, then handed you a key for your own room, #12. Sam followed his brother to their room, #11. As you put the key into the lock, Dean was doing the same for their room. You flashed Sam a warm smile, then ducked into your room.

You dropped your bag on one of the chairs and perched on the edge of the bed. You took a deep breath then flopped back onto the mattress. After staring at the ceiling for a while, you decided to take a shower. While washing your hair, you replayed the events that had occurred in the car just before you arrived at the motel.

It was an age-old debate between you and Sam, Star Wars vs. Star Trek. It was something the two of you liked to engage in to annoy the hell out of Dean on long car rides. He endured it for as long as he could, then usually ended up telling the both of you to shut up. Sometimes, either you or Sam tried to get in one last parting shot against the other. Dean would again yell at the offender to shut up, and that would be the end of it.

You thought back on some of your previous discussions. Marvel vs. DC, Lord of the Rings vs. Harry Potter, even Looney Tunes vs. Tom and Jerry. Sam had fought you tooth and nail on most of those until you finally had to call a truce, basically agreeing to disagree.

However, today's debate ended without the usual fanfare of one of you trying to get in the last word. It was almost like he let you win, but Sam wasn't known to do that. He was nothing if not persistent, practically to the point of being irritating. There was no way you could ever be angry with Sam for long, though, not with how you felt about him. Then there was his last comment, just before Dean got back in the car. What was up with that? you wondered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had first met the Winchesters about seven years ago, when they rescued you on a shapeshifter hunt in Evansville, Indiana. Your hunting partner, Andrew, had been captured by the shifter. You tracked it through the sewer tunnels beneath the city, but by the time you found Andrew, it was too late. As you tried to recover from your initial shock of Andrew's death, the shifter ambushed you. You got knocked around, hit your head a couple of times and broke your arm in the process.

The shifter managed to get the upper hand and knocked you to the ground again. Your silver knife was just out of your reach, and you were fighting hard just to remain conscious. As the shifter was about to strike the final blow, Dean came out of the shadows and killed it.

Sam came rushing to your side, checking you for injuries, while Dean looked around for other shifters and/or victims. Once Sam was satisfied you could be moved without causing further injury, he picked you up and put you in the backseat of your '68 Nova. He drove you to the hospital and stayed while you were treated for your broken arm and probable concussion.

The hospital wouldn't release you on your own due to the concussion, so Sam volunteered to be responsible for you. He drove your car back to the motel, which happened to be the same one that they were staying in, only a couple of doors down. You spent the evening getting to know Sam, while Dean went off to the local bar to celebrate a successful hunt.

As the months went by, the two of you became best friends. After awhile, you found that your feelings toward Sam had begun to change. At first, you dismissed it as some sort of "hero worship", from the aftermath of the shifter case. Then, you thought maybe it was infatuation, from the way he took care of you, almost like a "Florence Nightingale" effect.

Eventually, you realized that your feelings for the younger Winchester went beyond best friends and were not related to the shifter incident. However, after having had your heart broken before, you were reluctant to take that leap of faith to reveal your true feelings to Sam.

Over time, you've done your best to hide them, push them down and pretend they didn't exist. Even so, the current course of action was becoming more difficult with every smile, every lingering look and every touch that electrified your skin. After what happened on the car ride today, you knew something was going to break sooner or later. You just weren't sure what you'd do when it did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Room #11

"So, what do you say, Sammy? What say we find a bar, have a few drinks and go check out the 'local wildlife', hmm?" Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam was researching something on his laptop. "Nah, you go on ahead, Dean. I'll just stay here, see what else I can find out about this case," he mumbled, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Come on, Sammy, you know what they say. All research and no whiskey makes Sam a dull boy," Dean teased.

Sam threw Dean one of his famous bitch faces. "Really Dean? That's the best you've got?" he grumbled.

"What's with you, man? You don't want to come out tonight for a drink and to dance with a pretty girl, you'd rather stay in. Oh, and by the way? Why did you let her win that argument today?" Dean remarked.

"What are you talking about? I didn't let her win anything. You told us to stop arguing, so we did," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but one of you usually throws in one last parting shot, and neither one of you even tried. So, I ask again, little brother, what's with you?" Dean asked. "Are you really that tired? Did you think she was right? Do you like her or something?" he persisted.

When Sam looked up in response to his last question, awareness suddenly dawned on Dean. "You do like her! I'll bet you wanted her to know what it feels like to win, so you caved! Oh, this is too sweet," Dean gloated.

"Shut up, Dean, you don't know what you're talking about," Sam growled. "Besides, even if I did have feelings for her, there's no way she'd return them. She's an amazing woman. Smart, beautiful, and she deserves someone who can give her the world. Besides, she's my best friend, for cryin' out loud. Probably all we'll ever be, though," he muttered.

Dean pursed his lips. Oh, Sammy, if only you knew what I know, he thought to himself. Dean found out about your feelings for Sam after a drunken night in the library. After one too many shots of whiskey, you'd let the confession slip out, and instantly panicked. You made Dean swear not to tell Sam, but he also made you promise to tell Sam before too much time passed.

Dean shrugged, grabbed his keys to the Impala and headed out the door. "All right, but don't wait up. You know, you don't have to stay in here all alone after I leave," he grinned mischievously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean," he replied. Dean finally left the room, got into the Impala and headed for the bar. "Finally," Sam grumbled.

He thought about Dean's last comment, the one about not staying in their room all alone while he went out. Sam wondered if you were already asleep, or if you might be interested in watching a movie with him. He quickly changed into his pajamas, made sure he had the motel room key in his pocket and knocked on your door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you towel-dried your hair, you heard the roar of the Impala's engine as she pulled away from the motel. Guess the two of them are headed out to blow off some steam, you said to yourself. As you were about to pull the blankets over your head, you heard a knock at the door. You glanced through the peephole and saw that it was Sam.

"Hi," you greeted him as you stepped aside to let him in.

"Hey," he replied. He looked at you then at the blankets turned down. "Oh, you were just going to bed, I'm sorry. I should go," he stammered.

You put your hands on his solid, muscular chest to stop him. "No, no, you don't have to go. As long as you're here, would you like to watch something on TV?" you asked hopefully.

"Sure, a-as long as I'm here," Sam smiled shyly. Your hands on his chest seemed to solidify his decision to stay.

You went over to your previous spot on the bed and got your legs under the blankets then maneuvered into a sitting position. You were having some difficulty in propping up some pillows between your back and the headboard. After he got underneath the blankets, Sam reached over and helped put the pillows in the right place for you. "Thank you, Sam," you remarked softly.

Sam looked around for the remote then found it on the nightstand by his side of the bed. He offered it to you, but you declined. He flicked the power button and started to run through the channels, finally settling on the first of four parts of The Stand by Stephen King. "Is this okay?" he asked.

You shuddered, remembering the parts that you had read from the novel that were a little disturbing this late at night. You had enough nightmares from what you saw with your own eyes on a daily basis, let alone what your imagination could conjure up. "Yeah, I'll be all right, I guess. It's just a TV show, after all," you replied nervously.

Sam chuckled softly and put his arm around you to bring you closer to his side. "Don't worry, I'm here, I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you," he promised. In response, you put your head on Sam's shoulder and your hand on his chest. You let out an audible sigh of contentment and tried to concentrate on the program. There were a couple of jump-scare moments in the show, but Sam was there to hold you and calm you back down.

Soon enough, your eyelids started to droop and you were having a hard time keeping awake to watch the program. Finally, you gave in to your exhaustion and your eyes slid closed for the night. Sam pulled you closer to his side and dipped his head towards you. He pressed his lips to your temple in a lingering kiss and whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you woke to a heavy weight across your midsection and a toasty, warm feeling throughout your body. When you looked down, you noticed that it was Sam's arm draped across you, keeping you held close to his body. You tried to carefully ease out of bed without waking him, but Sam was having none of that. "Mmm, g'morning, baby," he mumbled then kissed your bare shoulder where your T-shirt had slipped off.

The feel of his soft lips on your bare skin sent an electric shock wave racing straight to your core. "G-good morning, Sam," you stammered. You turned over to face him and saw that his eyes were still closed. You reached over and brushed a lock of his thick chestnut hair behind his ear, then traced his jawline with your index finger. Sam caught your hand in his and kissed each fingertip, one by one.

As much as you were enjoying this, you told yourself that it wasn't real. Sam was stuck in some dream-like state, one where he was kissing some other woman just like he was kissing you. That was the only explanation you would let yourself accept. Eventually, you were able to get out from under Sam's arm and make your way to the bathroom with your bag.

Today was the day for meeting with the local authorities and questioning the witnesses. That meant wearing your Fed suit with the black pencil skirt, white button-down blouse and black blazer. You ran a quick brush through your hair then focused on your make-up. You had left your shoes by the door, only wanting to put them on at the last minute.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting up in bed and Dean was already in his Fed suit. He had brought coffee and breakfast with him. You could feel an awkward silence in the room, as if you'd interrupted a discussion the boys were having. Sam rubbed his eyes then got out of bed. "I'm gonna go get dressed, then meet you both back here," he stated. He flashed you a quick smile then walked out of your door and over to his and Dean's room.

Dean looked at you with an all-knowing smirk on his face. "So, how was it last night?" he asked.

"What exactly do you think happened, Dean? Sam came over after you left, and we watched TV," you mentioned.

"All I know is that Sam didn't sleep in his bed last night, so he had to have slept here," Dean pointed out.

"Dean, what more do you want me to say? I fell asleep watching TV, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up with Sam still here in my room," you explained. Which was a pleasant surprise, you thought.

"Oh-ho, a little 'Netflix and Chill', hmm?" he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes in disgust. "Oh, will you grow up, Winchester? Not everything is about sex," you retorted.

"Fine," he huffed. "One question though," he mentioned.

"What?" you replied wearily.

"Who was the big spoon?" Dean asked with a know-it-all smirk still on his face.

You answered him by slapping his face with a pillow from the bed. Sam walked back into the room just in time to witness the pillow being slammed into his brother's face, causing him to laugh. You gave each other a high-five.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After breakfast, the three of you climbed into the Impala and went over to the local sheriff's department. You wanted to see what they had turned up and also to get a look at the victims. Sam and Dean introduced themselves to the sheriff and began chatting with them about the crime scene and the victims. At the same time, you were trying to see what additional information the deputy may have.

Deputy Walters was kind of young, a little shy and soft-spoken, not exactly the tough-as-nails lawman you might expect. So, during your questions, you turned on your feminine charms, hoping that it might elicit more information. You hated to be reduced to using such tactics, but you reminded yourself that lives were at stake.

As you spoke to Deputy Walters, you noticed that Sam kept glancing over. His frown seemed to deepen the longer you and the deputy were talking. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"Well, I think that about does it, Deputy Walters. You've given me a lot of good information for me to review with my fellow agents. Thank you," you remarked, putting a hand on his arm.

"Please, call me Frank. And, you're welcome. Anything to help out an agent from the bureau. 'Specially one as pretty as yourself," Frank gushed. "How much longer are you in town?" he asked.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at his compliment. "Not sure, I still have to compare notes with those two, then go from there. Why?" you inquired.

"I was kind of hoping that maybe you might want to go out for dinner with me tonight? It's kind of a small town, and most of the ladies my age are already married. Besides, it's not every day that I get to meet a gorgeous woman who's also an FBI agent," Deputy Walters remarked shyly.

"How nice of you to say, Deputy Walt--Frank," you replied softly. You looked over at Sam and Dean, who were both still discussing the case with the sheriff. "I think dinner tonight could be arranged," you agreed.

"Really? I-I mean, that's great! How about we meet back at the station at 7, and we can go to dinner from here?" he suggested.

"Sounds great, I'll have one of my partners drop me back here at 7," you said.

"Until then, sweet lady," Deputy Walters took your hand and brushed his lips across the back.

Sam's eyes grew wide as he witnessed this exchange from across the room. He abruptly excused himself from Dean's side and made his way to yours. Sam placed a hand on your back and quickly ushered you out to stand next to the Impala to wait for Dean.

Once you were outside, you whirled around and turned to face Sam. "What the hell was that, Winchester?" you demanded.

"Me? What the hell were you doing, flirting with the deputy?" he retorted.

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. "It's the same as we've always done. We've got a small-town deputy who seems to be a little lonely and we need info. So, like always, you and Dean leave me to turn on the flirt. Don't worry, I have every intention of sharing with you all the information that Frank gave me. Before I head out for my date with him tonight, that is," you finished.

Sam's eyes grew wide at your revelation of going out on a date with someone. "Frank? Who's Frank? And a date?!? You're not going out on any date tonight, not with him!" he exclaimed.

You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself before answering. "Deputy Frank Walters and I will be going out to dinner tonight in town. He will be waiting for me at the station at 7, and I have every intention of keeping that promise!" you shot back.

"This is not one of our 'friendly debates', this is about you and your safety. We still don't know who's behind all this demon activity. For all we know, it could be Barney Fife over there," Sam huffed.

A thought struck you about Sam's true reason for not wanting you to go out on a date with someone. "Are you jealous?" you inquired.

"What?" he asked.

"That's why you don't want me to go out with Barn--Frank tonight. You're jealous!" you smirked.

"Don't be ridiculous. He knows we're only in town for a short period of time. And it's you who can't see that he's only seizing this opportunity to use you. Just to 'scratch an itch', without any long-term commitment," Sam muttered.

The look of horror on your face instantly told Sam he had taken his debate one step too far. He reached out to you to apologize, but you backed away from him. "I can't believe you said that to me," you whispered.

"Wait, I'm--" Sam pleaded, his hands outstretched towards you.

"DON'T," you shouted. "Don't touch me, don't talk to me, just stay away from me right now," you growled.

Neither of you noticed that Dean had finished talking to the sheriff. As he walked over, he had been watching the entire heated exchange between the two of you. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"Nothing," you both answered in unison, your response a bit louder then Sam's was. You yanked open the rear passenger door and settled into your seat, arms folded across your chest.

Sam did the same, taking a bit more time to settle in as he reflected on the last bit of your conversation. Am I jealous, like she said? he thought to himself. Why should I care who she goes out with? It's not like we're a couple or anything, he silently reasoned. But I wish we were, Sam shook his head at that last thought.

Dean looked at the two of you before he left the station to head back to the motel. "Oh. Yeah. Obviously it's 'nothing'," he observed dryly.

The Impala was barely put in park at the motel before you were the first one out the door. Your keys at the ready, you were in your room with the door closed before Sam and Dean had even taken off their seat belts.

"Dude, I don't think I've ever seen her so pissed. At anybody, let alone you. What did you say to her?" Dean asked.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath before explaining the previous conversation to his brother. "Whoa," Dean said when Sam finished. "You know she's not like that, Sam. She's not into one-night stands and she's not completely naïve about guys," Dean replied.

"Yeah, I know, and I didn't even mean it, either. But she's right, I am jealous of her going out with that deputy. I still may be right, too, though. We don't know who's behind all the demon activity around here. Deputy Dumbass being the cause of it isn't the most far-fetched idea, you know," Sam grumbled.

"Maybe. It could be the deputy. But all that aside, Sammy, you're gonna have to man up and tell her how you feel at some point," Dean replied as his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he unlocked his phone, he saw it was a text message from you.

You: Dean, will you please take me back to the station for my date? Need to be there by 7

DW: Yeah, I can do that. You ready yet?

You: Almost. Will text you when I am.

DW: Don't worry. Gonna be just you and me in the car, kid. Sending Sam to his room without supper lol.

You: Thanks, Dean.

"Is that her?" Sam asked. "Ready for her date?"

"She said she was 'almost ready'. I told her I was sending you to your room, so you gotta clear out, man. Don't worry, Sam. She's tough, she'll be all right," Dean tried to reassure his brother.

About ten minutes later, a buzz in Dean's pocket showed a text message that said you were ready to go. Dean relayed the message to Sam, who then got out of the car. He unlocked the motel room door and went inside, but stood waiting with it cracked open just a little. He wanted to see how you looked, all dressed up for your date. Also, to torture himself a bit more that it wasn't him you'd be out with tonight.

For your outfit, you were wearing your newest pair of faded blue jeans with a sparkly, navy blue top that had a boat-neck opening. You had on your black ankle boots with the wedge heel, and you had kept your jewelry and make-up simple. Sam drew in a deep breath at how beautiful you looked tonight and sent a silent prayer to anyone listening that you be kept safe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner with Frank passed pleasantly enough, each of you asking questions to get to know each other better. You tried to keep your answers as vague as possible regarding your background and current occupation. You told him about your family and about losing Andrew in a car accident, instead of on a shifter hunt.

As you walked out to his car after dinner, Frank suggested that you go out for a couple of drinks and maybe some dancing. "I'm having a great time, and I don't exactly want it to end," he murmured as the two of you stood by his car.

He had his arms around you, and he was looking directly into your eyes as his hand caressed your cheek. It had been awhile since you'd had that kind of attention from any man. But with as shyly as he was acting earlier compared to now, alarm bells started going off in your head.

"Frank, it's getting late, I really should get going. Here, let me text my co-worker so that he can meet us back at the station," you said as you reached for your pocket.

"That sounds perfect, since we know those Winchesters will drop everything to come rescue you," Frank sneered.

"What are you talking about? My partners' names are--" you were cut off by his hand at your throat, lightly squeezing it.

"Save it!" he hissed. "Everyone knows you're working with those two flannel-jockeys," he retorted as his eyes flashed to all black.

"It's you," you whispered. "You're the one behind the demon attacks around here," you growled.

"That's right. Now call them and tell them to meet us here. If you don't, it's going to be a very unpleasant ending to our 'date'," he sneered.

You pulled out your phone to dial Dean's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, sweetheart, is your date over with already?" he asked.

"H-hey, Dean. Yeah, I'm ready to come back. Dinner was nice, but it's getting late so we decided to call it a night," you replied shakily.

"Everything okay, honey?" Dean asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"Frank" gave your neck a little squeeze and a warning glare to remind you of the consequences should Dean not take the bait. "Y-yeah, I'm okay, just tired. Deputy kinda reminds me of that guy I went out with from Poughkeepsie," you chuckled nervously.

"Okay, we're on the way. Pick you back up at the station, right?" he asked.

"That's right," you choked out. "See you soon, Dean," you whispered. Hope so, you silently added as you disconnected the call.

"Now, we wait," the demon said smugly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean grimly looked at his phone after the call was disconnected. Sam could tell something had gone wrong, and he knew you were in trouble. "The demon--" Sam started.

"Yeah. Just like you said, Sam," Dean confirmed.

Sam closed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Now was not the time for the I-told-you-so's. The main focus at hand was that they had to get you back safely. Dean grabbed his car keys and ran out the door, with Sam close behind.

Before getting behind the wheel, the boys checked the trunk to make sure they had a good supply of holy water and their angel or demon blades. When they were satisfied in their preparations, they got back in the car and headed over to the sheriff's station. On the way, Dean sent up a prayer to Castiel, just in case.

When they got near the station, they noted that there were five demon sentries keeping watch. Inside, the demon wearing Deputy Walters as a meatsuit had tied you to an office chair. He kept looking out the window for any signs of the Winchesters.

"You don't really think they're going to waltz in the front door, do you?" you scoffed.

The demon backhanded you across the face in response. "Keep quiet. They'll be here, it's just a matter of time. I hope they get here quick, because this meatsuit isn't cooperating too well. Keeps squirming, telling me not to hurt you," he mocked.

"Leave him alone!" you growled.

"You're not really in any kind of position to make demands, now are you?" he sneered.

"Listen to me Frank, I know you're in there, and you've got to fight! You can do this, just kick him out!" you pleaded. Another slap to the face, this one hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"Shut up! Or I will hurt him from the inside and it will be all your fault if he dies," the demon snapped. A noise outside caught his attention, and you prayed that it was your rescue party. You also hoped they would be able to make it into the building undetected.

"Looks like the party's about to get started," the demon cackled with glee. His grin faltered when he began to hear demon screams and see several orange flashes. You both knew that meant his demon army was being taken out, one by one.

"Noooooo!" he cried. With his master plan unraveled, the demon chose to smoke out rather than be sent back to Hell by Sam or Dean. Deputy Walters' body slumped to the floor, unconscious.

From your chair, you visibly relaxed when you saw that the demon was gone. Your head was down, and silent tears began streaming down your face. Sam and Dean walked in, guns drawn, but quickly put them away when they saw there was no longer a threat.

Dean tended to Deputy Walters, and for the most part, the deputy was okay. At some point, he was probably going to have to get 'the talk'. You knew he would need it to help him make sense about what happened.

Sam rushed over to your side and began to untie the ropes holding you to the chair. He helped you stand up once you were all untied. He gingerly massaged your wrists where the ropes had started to bite into them.

As you stood before him, you continued to cast your eyes downward, unable to look Sam in the eye. You felt a bit ashamed of how the two of you had fought before your date with the deputy. What you considered to be jealousy, was really only Sam's concern for your safety. Turns out he was correct in that the demon possessing Deputy Walters was the one you were supposed to be hunting.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "Come on, sweetheart, look at me. Please," he pleaded. You shook your head, but Sam hooked his finger under your chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. His face fell at seeing the marks on your face from being slapped around by the demon. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry this happened," he whispered.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Sam, I do. I apologize for not listening to you that the deputy may be possessed and the cause of all of this. If I had, none of this would've happened. I'm so sorry for how I acted earlier," you remarked softly.

"What matters is that you and the deputy are safe, and the demon left the meatsuit behind," he reminded you. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek, then he slid his hand to cup the back of your head. Ever so slowly, Sam inched forward to close the gap between you until you felt his soft lips meshing with yours in a slow, tender kiss.

"Whoa," you whispered after you and Sam broke apart from the kiss. "So that's how best friends kiss after a near-death experience with a demon?" you asked.

Sam chuckled lightly. "I don't know about that, but it's my way of showing you that I consider you as more than my best friend. I-I'm in love with you. Your smile, your laugh, everything. I could lose myself for hours in your expressive eyes. I want to run my fingers through your soft, silky hair. And my lips are itching to not only kiss your lips, but any other part of your bare skin that presents itself," he finished softly.

"Oh. Well, you certainly have made a compelling case. Only this time, I'm in complete agreement with you. I'm in love with you, too, Sam. Your intelligence, your compassion, how I know I can tell you anything and you won't judge me. Your strong arms that I know will keep me safe and comfort me when I need it. And those lips of yours sure do talk a good game. I, for one, cannot wait to feel their magic wherever they may travel over me," you responded.

It took all of about three seconds before you dove towards each other and your lips crashed together in passion-filled kiss. Sam's tongue darted out, intending to break the seal on your mouth, and you gladly granted him access with a smile. As quickly as the kiss started, you slowed down and took your time to taste and explore each other's mouth. A tiny moan escaped your lips, which seemed to re-ignite the fire within Sam, causing him to pick up the pace again.

When the need to breathe became too great, you broke apart, both of you panting heavily. "Wow, Sam, you're amazing," you remarked.

"Baby, you're the amazing one. I wasn't sure how much longer I would've been able to keep my feelings for you hidden away," Sam replied. "I love you so much," he declared.

"You know, I think I fell in love with you right after we met, after that shifter case?" you asked, to which he nodded. "At first I thought it was some sort of 'hero worship', because you rescued me and took such good care of me afterwards. But I can't deny it anymore. I love you too, Sam," you replied.

From the doorway, you heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. You both looked over to see Dean standing there, that know-it-all smirk back on his face. "It's about time you two confessed your feelings. I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to stand watching you dance around each other," he grinned.

On the way home, Sam sat in the backseat of the Impala with you. His body was wedged into a corner, his back to the passenger-side door. Then his left leg was stretched out across the length of the bench seat. You sat in front of Sam, your back against his chest and his arms around you.

With the purr of the engine rumbling down the highway, you relaxed against each other. Dean turned around at one point to see that you had fallen asleep in each others' arms. He was happy for you and his brother. "Nerd love," he remarked affectionately, shaking his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride

[hunters-of-the-wastes]

From heavyweight birds to nimble predators – to graceful prey and who were once deemed ecologically controversial landscapers, ever since the bombs dropped all those years ago, animals large and small felt the brunt end of the nuclear war. For decades or even centuries, many of the creatures who once roamed the pre-war USA are now lost to time. But some animals are defying the odds, recovering to healthy population levels long after being deemed lost causes. 200 years after the war, many creatures have bounced back, some surprisingly suffering little from the horrors of nuclear devastation. Others, descendants of the once proud wildlife who once roamed the world, now make their mark where their relatives once stood.

Fauna in the world of New America come in a variety of shapes and sizes and occupy wild areas throughout the world. After 200 years, many animals have started to once again return to their old habitats. Some animals have been domesticated by the inhabitants of the New America, and serve as pets, transportation or livestock. Other animals cluster together in the wild in packs, herds, and flocks and try and make a living in the new world. Like with most things, cycles never end. After humans, Deer and Elk populations in many parts of the states both exploded and diminished. While Radstag took the place of many of the larger elk and Deer species in the main Boston territories, many other deer species virtually remained unchanged. As a result, the wilds of Commonwealth are often teeming with deer. Docile creatures, they serve as food for much of the land’s more savage beasts. In addition to the common whitetail, which virtually remained unchanged in much of the US, other smaller deer species came into fruition following a long tedious evolutionary set path, each one designed to thrive within the new world.

Towards more northern territories in New America, Large species of Cervidae still roam the lands. Alces alces, or the Moose still holds title of the largest and heaviest original species in the deer family. However, unlike before in the older days where this animal would never have to fight for the title of largest Deer roaming the planet, the Moose now has competition from other Large Cervidae.

One such species is Megaloceros Ingentiaegidi

ingenti - large, remarkable (Latin) aegidi - shield (Latin)

An absolute icon of prehistory come to life, this giant deer takes on the role of its name sake as one of the most impressive and largest species of Deer. Although comparable in size to moose (6 feet tall, 1,100 lbs), this animal is closer in relation, surprisingly to the Eurasian red deer, who were thought to be brought in to the America’s to fill in exotic game ranches, places where Hunters wouldn’t have to travel half-way across the world just to hunt certain species, or meat farms, as in modern times, western countries such as New Zealand and the United States had taken to importing and farming European red deer for venison.

The term Megaloceros was given to this deer species in regards to the highly noticeable and recognizable “Shield”, that Megaloceros, especially the more famous Megaloceros giganteus, aka the Irish Elk was known for sporting. Impressive antlers that instead of branching out and developing tines, have developed into large shovel-like (palmated) antlers with thick tines growing out from them. It is because of these antlers that this species were originally incorrectly thought to be derived from Moose, as Red Deer and other Elk species like Roosevelt and Rocky Mountain do not have Palmated shovel antlers, but large branching antlers which develop many tines during their life time.

Despite not being related, they are still a large animal when compared to other species of deer that now populate much of the New America landscape, being slightly dwarfed by Moose, (Alces alces) in terms of weight and height, while the moose is dwarfed by Altorell.

Huge deer, bigger than a domestic cow but with a graceful and elegant form perfect for bounding about the open environs where they are commonly found, the American Giant Elk, like most deer exhibit countershading, the belly being a much lighter color than the darkened back.

A shoulder hump stores fat reserves and also supports the animal’s huge antlers. With a span of up to twelve feet, these antlers are the largest of any deer by far; while females do not sport them, males use them to plow snow and expose edible plants, fend off predators, scratch the occasional back itch, and as weapons during the annual rut.

Enormous rutting stags crash their antlers together and shove to determine dominance, a sound that can be heard more than half a mile away. Most of the year these animals can be found in same-sex herds, grazing and browsing under the watchful eye of an appointed sentry. In the northern parts of their range they are often known too commingle with large herds of caribou.

Despite its keen senses, sharp hooves, and the males’ formidable antlers, they still have many natural predators, including wolves, big cats, bears, and wargs; humans too now hunt these creatures with regularity, some for subsistence and most for the trophy of a lifetime. Some humans also consider them sacred, representing bravery, fertility, endurance, and power. Living with so many dangerous predators has made them skittish and unpredictable, making them singularly unqualified for riding despite the many attempts.

Another Species of Cervidae one can stumble across is the Altorell

Described by many as a tangled mess of hair and muscle, with twisted antlers jutting out at seemingly random places on its upper body, it is a mutated member of the Cervine Family that branched off from their original pre-war counterparts, who, unsurprisingly given their tremendous size, happened to be moose!!

The result of a small isolated population of moose being tainted by the radioactive fallout from the onslaught of atomic warfare, it towers over even the most largest of the commonwealths largest fauna, with them being able to fend off large Deathclaw with ease. However, they are also horribly misunderstood creatures. Tales of their temper run rampant through the northern territories, but as it turns out, Altorell are not as aggressive as tall-tales dictate, with attacks against humans being the result of human’s harassing or otherwise giving the animal reasons to attack.

It is also thought that these hyped tales of aggression are also what gave rise to the idea that they are also bloodthirsty to their own kind. While it is true that males will often fight ferociously during breeding seasons with intruding males and deaths can occur during them, males do not actively go out of their way to kill members of their own kind as previously believed. And they are not as solitary as first believed either. Males are known to do what is described as “territory guarding” meaning that while it seems like they leave an area to roam somewhere else, they actually don’t.

And even in defense of their territory range, they are not all that aggressive towards other members of their kind. Rather than retaining a territory simply by fighting, which can cost the animal valuable energy or even result in serious injury or death, Altorell have a 3-stage process to territory guarding. Males often create "sign-posts" to advertise their territory. Sometimes these sign-posts are on the boundary thereby demarcating the territory, or, may be scattered throughout the territory. These communicate to other animals that the territory is occupied and may also communicate additional information such as the sex, reproductive status or dominance status of the territory-holder.

Sign-posts may communicate information by olfactory, auditory, or visual means, or a combination of these. If an intruder progresses further into the territory beyond the sign-posts and encounters the territory-holder, both animals may begin ritualized aggression toward each other. This is a series of stylized postures, vocalizations, displays, etc. which function to solve the territory dispute without actual fighting as this could injure either or both animals. Ritualized aggression often ends by one of the animals fleeing (generally the intruder). If this does not happen, the territory may be defended by actual fighting, although this is generally a last resort.

Because Altorell have what is known as Type-A territory- An 'all-purpose territory' in which all activities occur, e.g. courtship, mating, nesting and foraging-reports of territory size can be confused by a lack of distinction between home range and the defended territory. The size and shape of a territory can vary according to its purpose, season, the amount and quality of resources it contains, or the geography. The size is usually a compromise of resource needs, defense costs, predation pressure and reproductive needs. Younger animals do not need such large territories and as a result their range is smaller. Larger males have highly variable territory sizes, ranging from less than 4,000 hectares (9,900 acres) to almost to over 100,000 hectares (250,000 acres)

To put that range into perspective, The state of Rhode Island is 776,960 acres, or 1,214 square miles.

Females are also not that aggressive as well. Female Altorell without calves are mostly peaceful towards humans. However during their Breeding and Birthing Season, Altorell can become so aggressive and dangerous that many settlements will cordon off areas where they are known to roam, blocking roads and effectively banning entry on all lands for months at a time, until breeding season is done and calves are old enough to leave their mother.

Males have also been discovered staying close to birthing females, as their range can home at least about 3-5 females at a time, and Unlike Moose who only interact with their kind during breeding season and are normally solitary the rest of the year, Females and Male Altorell stay in close vicinity of each other for protection of the young, who when small can fall prey to larger creatures unlike the adults. If a female is in danger and requires aid she can call upon the neighboring females or call for her male, who will come to her rescue.

The only domesticated Altorell known to exist, goes by the name of Kheglen, and like most of his kind is protective against what he owns. But because he moves around a lot, his territory is not a set place. Instead it is the Caravan trailer which he associates with and what's in it, meaning the people living in it, and he'll protect it against anything he deems a threat. So he often roams freely around his "territory" getting rid of threats whenever they park the Caravan. And as it turns out that protection is even against things like passing BoS convoys, who he has learned can pose a danger to those he is protecting-because of this Kheglen has made it a habit of stalking the vicinity around the Caravans and even walking the roads attacking BoS convoys should they wander too close.

Knight Elk, also named "Moon-Stone Elk" or the Inakata Elk, are the fourth largest Elk species, crowned by an impressive pair of antlers that grow so large it is thought they never shed. Herbivores that live in cold climates, they are generally docile, though they have been known to attack when threatened. The distinguishable white hair and shaggy mane make this elk different to other elks in the region, and it is often said they possess a staggering majestic beauty that cannot be rivaled. With a herbivore diet includes grasses, leaves, bark and plants, their high-quality pelts have many uses, and their antlers are highly prized due to their unique branching similar to that of a European Red Deer. Shining and graceful with snowy coat, they are often a symbol of Strength, vitality, wisdom and cunning. As such it is often commonplace in some settlements in the north to give a Greystone charm carved in the animals likeness, to travelers in hopes of a swift journey. In other settlements, because of the stags symbol of fertility, Statues depicting the elk in various poses, are often given to expectant mothers in hopes that their children develop strong able and healthy. Many families also keep one in their home or on their doorstep for luck.

[saint-nevermore]

I realised I post doodles but don't really post about actual story that much so the basic run down for Neville Moor backstory with the recent change of "they've actually dated now"

- Nev lived in a small tight-knit community trading town. was really depressed after his beasttame(ish) uncle died. had two childhood friends called Jorgia and Huego. kind of just moped around. age 35

-town is fairly normal aside from a subadult unflighted widewing dragon which would make rounds every few years to literally just eat whatever it can find. not awesomr

-Enter Kuran Bretton, 28, a harpy who showed up one day with a lot of money explaining how he moved away from his hometown overseas to get his own space. Needed somewhere to stay while he was still moving furniture in and getting the house sorted etc

- Nev's friends dragged him out to meet the New Guy to let him board him because, like, they're both pretty busy with their lives and can't be there for Nev, whereas this new guy has a profound shared interest for Adventuring and Wildlife and is unbelievably peppy.

- Kuran lives at Nev's for a couple weeks, they quickly hit it off. Kuran learns a lot about natural history he never got the chance to experience at his wealthy upper-class home, and Nev learns a lot about cooking and trivia since Kuran loves to read.

- Kuran digs up some old plans at Nev's one day regarding the widewing dragon and slaying it. He's obviously super fucking stoked about this, and convinces Nev to work with him to work out the kinks of the plan and set it in motion.

- All the while they get closer with Kuran being a source of motivation and passion. They fall for eachother, and at a new years party Nev confesses over some expensive wine. It goes great! They're boyfriends now.

- After about a year and a half news comes from neighbouring towns to ready the bunkers, as the widewing has visited. it's Go time. I Will Not Go Into Detail Because We'd Be Here Forever, but they kick it into motion, and it Does Not Work.

- Nev dies for the first time here, but is revived since he has his boon. Kuran is gravely injured. Both are picked up by a passing herd of Tundra Spirals dragons, entering Davok, a male spiral which decided to stay with Nev for some reason totally not related to his boon. Kuran dies from his injuries within a few days.

- About a week later, the dragon comes back still limping and weak, but now it's Mad. Through means I've yet to really figure out, Nev slays it. He's crowned a hero, but it sucks a lot, because he feels he's directly at fault for his partner's death, and has never really coped with loss well.

- He gets his special cloak tailored into a flight-tunic (his normal outfit one) and leaves on Dragonback at some point in the night without notice. at this point he's grown out his facial feathers because it's a big cosmetic change is customary in mourning in some harpy cultures. (specifically passerine, which is what Kuran came from and what Nev's mother raised him with).

- He makes headway to Kuran's home town to deliver a letter notifying a family member's death called a Red Ribbon by hand, another passerine custom. it's the least he could do, yknow?

- It isn't particularly hard because Kuran's dad is a fairly big name in trading, and the Bretton Manor is kind of a landmark of its region. when he gets there, he's greeted by Jowee, Kuran's adoptive brother, and someone Nev has been told about quite a bit.

- Kuran sent letters monthly, and intended to make his way back at some point to pick up Jowee when they turned 16. obviously, this didn't happen. it took Nev a few years to make his way to the manor since he isn't a great navigator and was Going through it, so Jowee had been waiting 7 years with not a word from their brother.

- at this point it's the intended start of the comic when I get around to it, but it basically goes that Nev delivers the red ribbon, dicks around a bit talking to a fascinated (at the cool beasttame) Jowee and a disgruntled Luca, leaves, attempts to take his own life, obviously is unable to because of his boon, bumps into Jowee the next day after they had snuck out to find Nev, and hesitantly letting Jowee join him.

TL;DR he has a partner he loved very dearly who he lost and thinks it's his fault. he has a hard time getting over it. also kind of lied a little to Jowee because he was trying to get out of there ASAP so Jowee thinks he's an actual real beasttame.

[audreyandherocs]

A Place of Beginnings, Wonders, and Miracles || A Cat’s Paw

Emma belongs to @call-me-emma @chi-townbatgirl

Lily belongs to @maruthor @ocelysium​

Green eyes simply looked out of the window of the Wayne Mansion. She paid attention to the meticulously kept grass and shrubbery, and the clumps of snow that remained on top of it. It had been almost a year since Avery had died.

Almost a year and a few more days afterwards since she had came back to life. Placed into a new body and dumped into the Lazarus pits, with the combined effort of Lex Luthor and Ra’s al Ghul.

Two of her uncles, one who was paternal and the other maternal.

Although, Avery didn’t know how many generations she was related to Ra’s exactly. Distant long, he once said. When it came to him, that could be hundreds of years.

              A person similar to her smiled brightly and rode on the horses around the tribe. She was dressed in traditional garbs suited for the plains and deserts as they moved nomadically. She came to visit her relatives and got to finally to see her dear cousin but he might as well be her brother. Although the debate of who was older and younger was still up for debate.

Right beside her was a man with a long black hair, that was braided. He rode on his own horse as they ran across the plains to look for any wildlife to hunt. Perhaps forage.

But that was the pretense for their little adventure. In truth, they needed an excuse to get as far as they could so they could talk and be free.

“I see you have been keeping up with your riding skills little brother!” Avery yelled over the winds and the thundering hooves.

The man turned to her and scoffed, and together reeled their horses together to stop at a stream. They disembarked from their horses to let them rest and they petted their mains while they spoke.

“You still call me such when I’m no longer little” said [Ra’s].

Yes, that man was Ra’s al Ghul. But also not. This was before he called himself Ra’s al Ghul. Avery didn’t know why but she knew it was him. He was so much younger. So much kinder.

Avery, yet not Avery, sat on a rock and pulled out the little satchel she brought. She passed him a sweet bun and [Ra’s] took it. Together they sat and spoke.

“How is life sister?” asked [Ra’s] as he leaned back on the grass.

“As much as it can be. Marriage and the dowry is still be talked” she grimaced.

“Uncle tells me that man is very powerful.”

“Indeed, and more” nodded Avery before she rested her elbow on her propped-up knee. “I only hope he will let me continue doing what I have always done.”

“But your duties will keep you there” said [Ra’s].

“Unfortunately, but when are they ever done.”

Avery turned to [Ra’s] and beamed. “Never mind that, I have brought you a gift!”

“A gift? Sister, you are supposed to-“

Avery shushed him and dug into her pack before producing a few scrolls and books. She passed it to [Ra’s] who took them and glanced at them. At every literature, his eyes widened and sparkled with curiousity. He looked at Avery with surprise.

“Sister, are these-“

“These are books of the latest scientific findings as well math, medicine, and more” said Avery as she smiled, sitting cross legged and facing him.

“how could you have produced them? These books are so far away.”

“Nothing less for my brother” smiled Avery as she watched Ra’s pour over the books. “These are my final gift to you.”

“Final?  You say as if we’ll never see each other again” said [Ra’s].

“We might never. You have a sharp mind like an eagle [Ra’s]. Our lifestyle in the tribes are good but they are not for you Ra’s. Your mind is wide like this plain and you’ll never truly flourish in such a tiny garden.”

“What are you saying sister?”

“When the day comes, you might make the decision to remain with the tribe or go out there and find yourself [Ra’s]. We all have our paths to follow…”

Avery hissed at the pain and memory. Her teacup (thankfully empty) dropping onto the carpeted floor. She stared at it as cold sweat clung to her skin.

“Another…image” muttered Avery as she leaned down to pick up her teacup. She studied it but her mind was occupied.

Since her death and revival, she had been plagued with memories. They were memories for sure as she saw herself in them but they were not her either. They carried her face and her mannerisms, yet were different all the same. In every one of them she could feel herself living them and…dying.

They would’ve been passed off as trauma of her experiences, but what she told only verified her suspicions.

When the others went to rescue her corpse, Ra’s set a diversion and believed they had gotten in the nick of time before she was revived. Yet, when they saw the body drop into the pit was non-responsive…they saw that the body looked liked her yet not.

It was an empty vessel.

Only because the soul had moved into a new one.

It had been almost a year since those revelations and since she had been plagued night after night with old, new memories.

Avery begun to walk into the kitchen with the empty pot of tea and cup and basked in the silence.

She was thankful for being alive yet not.

For years, as soon as she remembered, she knew her time was limited. Her involvement with Ra’s in one of his plans only hastened it. That was a curse she had accepted.

Yet, as she lived, she met had lost her parents to the Joker, yet was welcomed into Bruce’s family and more. There she met the team and eventually fell in love with Kaldur. Did she regret her being alive again? Not really.

She just didn’t know what she’ll do anymore. She had tied everything up before she died and now…what was she supposed to do now?

“Avery?”

She turned to the call of her name and saw Bruce.

A soft smile formed on her lips, “Hey Bruce.”

“Hey” said Bruce as he opened his arms a little. Avery padded over, the notion of feeling the cold tiles on her feet still odd.

She went into Bruce’s arm and he hugged her. Normally, true Bruce wasn’t much of an emotional person but he didn’t own an ice cold heart. When she needed him, or anyone, he was there.

“How are you” he asked.

“I’m…better” she spoke honestly.

There was no response as Bruce separated from the hug and looked at her. She used to be a bit taller, coming up at his chin but the top of her head just came up at his collar bone.

“I thought you had work?” asked Avery, confused.

“I was, but there was something that came up” said Bruce, before he gently guided her to the kitchen table. He sat right beside her as he slid over a folder.

Avery immediately picked it up and read the contents.

Bruce spoke as she did, “When you came under my guardianship and it was clear you were staying, I was told of your insurances, inheritances and other things. This is one of them.”

Avery looked at the photos of an old run-down building. It was still relatively structurally sound but it was clear it wasn’t occupied for years. Strange how it was located in one of the prime locations.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving me land?”

Bruce shrugged, “Your brothers held it on for you it seems.”

“Wait what?”

“This building and lot, belongs to you in name.”

Avery gave Bruce a more confused look as Bruce got ready to tell her. Mrs. Friskers had jumped onto the table and Avery absently minded ran her fingers over soft, silk white fur. The vibrations of her purrs going through Avery’s hands.

Chairman Meow roughly jumped into her lap and curled up, his paws making biscuits.

“I don’t understand what’s going on” Avery said truthy.

“I know. Out of what your parents owned and thus your and your brothers are contributed to, this building alone belongs to you. According to the lawyer, it was given to you after the previous owner had passed away.”

Avery looked at the building and moved the pictures to see the paperwork. She read it over and saw the name.

“The Old Nice lady down the street. She was the one who used to own Mrs. Friskers” said Avery, her eyes going to Mrs. Friskers.

The cat simply purred and rubbed her head against Avery’s.

“She used to own this building and when she died, she had your parents hold it until you were old enough to own the building.”

Avery begun to scratch Mrs. Friskers and stared at Bruce. “I don’t know what do with it…?”

Bruce leaned back as Alfred had silently made hot cocoa for the two of them and gave them to them.

“I was thinking at some point we’ll give it a look over. See what it has to offer first.”

“Alright…” said Avery as she took a sip of cocoa. Her other hand pressing against Chairman Meow’s head so he wouldn’t take a sneak bite in.

Avery’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “hold on. How no one tried to buy this?”

Bruce gave a thoughtful look, “People have tried but every time they tried to, something ends up happening to make them unable to buy it before your inheritance. Others have tried to scope it but they end up getting injuries afterwards.”

Avery gave a perturbed look. “Bruce…why do I have feeling it’s cursed.”

Bruce took a sip of his cocoa. “I hope not. I don’t want to deal with magic.”

Avery and Bruce sipped their hot cocoa and let it sink in.

…..

Avery and Bruce stood outside the building. They were joined by the other members and Damian stood right by Avery’s side, holding her arm.

“So…this is the place huh?” said Dick. While he had to take care of a newborn, he was all for it when Bruce told Dick that Avery wanted to go outside and probably need their input.

“Looks rundown”

Tim gave a thoughtful look, “It still looks pretty stable. Just a bit of cosmetic look.”

Avery looked at them, “Hey, it’s not like I’m moving in or anything.”

Jason gave a look and tried to see through the windows, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are any people squatting in here.”

“Jason!” chided Dick.

“Hey, we’re still in Gotham y’know!” Jason caught the eyes of Avery and he turned away, slightly grumpy. They were still getting used to everything going back to some sort of normalcy and while Avery wasn’t holding onto the hope Jason would come, it still touched her that he still came. Even if Dick had to convince him,

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the building and just stuck closer to Avery.

“Alright, knock it off. We’re here to check this place out and help Avery figure out what she wants to do with this place.”

With that, Avery walked up to the door with the key. It was an old key, one of those old fashioned keys that had thick metals and engravings. Odd but considering it used to belong to the Old Nice Lady Down the Street, she shouldn’t be surprised.

Avery placed the key into the keyhole, and she gave it a twist. She could feel the audible click and Avery pulled out the key to open the door.

The door swung smoothly, and Avery took a step in. A feeling of rush went through Avery and she shivered. It wasn’t one of those cold shivers that made you jump, it felt…nice.

“You okay?” asked Dick.

“Yeah…just. Something” said Avery.

Damian stepped further in and glanced around the large, empty foyer. “Seems inhabited.”

“No duh pipsqueak” said Jason.

Damian glared at Jason and before he could say anything, they were already walking around. There were layers of dust around and a few missing patches of drywall but otherwise…

“This place looks pretty good. Except for all the dust and…spiderwebs” said Tim.

“Alfred is not going to be happy if he saw this” said Jason. He grimaced at the possibility they would have to help clean this up.

Cass stepped on the floors and pressed her foot down. “Nothing.”

“Yeah…the floors aren’t squeaking…and these are like what hardwood floors too?” asked Dick.

“Seems it was built to last” said Bruce as he inspected the place.

“Can’t believe the Nice Old Lady owned this” said Avery as they went in deeper through the open entrance way. It seemed like this was a kitchen?  

“I think you mentioned her a few times, but who was she?” asked Jason. His hands in his jacket. Avery didn’t try to show any outward surprise that Jason decided to speak to her without anyone telling him to. Not since…

“I never got to see her because before she died, I was still blind” said Avery, “I was walking around the neighbourhood with my dog, Buster, who was basically my guardian. I was walking and just heard someone humming. I followed it and that’s where I met the Old Nice Lady down the street.”

They looked around and the kitchen and it seemed to be an industrial kitchen. There was a large freezer as well. They opened the wooden and glass backdoor of the kitchen and they came across a yard.

“She was nice but never gave me her name. Or I was too young to remember it. She didn’t mind. She gave me candy and we talked. She described things to me and told me stories. Especially ones of fairy tales and magic. I could tell she was lonely and she always thanked me for visiting her. Eventually my family also visited her and when she passed, she gave me Mrs. Friskers to take care of.”

“Wait…if you inherited Mrs. Friskers from her…how old is that cat?” wondered Jason.

“No idea, never got the age from her and I don’t think I’ll ever will” said Avery.

“Looks like this building has several rooms and areas set for private use” said Bruce. Damian who had found a ladder that connected to a floor jumped and took it down, before climbing. He and Tim quickly searched and opened a door.

“Looks like this is an apartment!” said Tim.

“This would make a nice hide out” said Damian.

“Boys!” said Bruce but was exasperated when Cassandra had joined them.

Dick snickered before he turned to Avery, “well it was nice of the Nice Old Lady to give you this place.”

“Yeah…not sure why though.”

They continued to inspect and found that the bottom also had sectioned rooms that opened outside and inside, which led into a main floor where it was a common room. There was a shared kitchen, windows, and such.

In each room on the bottom floor, there was a small kitchen with a small sink and two burner stoves with a simple shower and toilet for the bathroom. Jason whistled, “This would make a nice hideout to crash.”

“Do you think this was used for workers and the owners for a restaurant or something?” asked Avery to Bruce.

“It must as well be. It would make sense for the age of this building where servants and workers would stay on the premises and their room and board would be provided with their work and pay.”

They found the stairway and met up with Tim, Cassandra, and Damian who were up in the wooden beams and the high ceilings.

“This place is huge” commented Dick as he also jumped up to join Damian and Cassandra who were leaping from beam to beam.

Tim had a puzzled look on his face as he analyzed everything. “This place doesn’t make sense, why hasn’t anyone bought this place when it was leased?” he turned to Avery, “not that it’s not great no one has or anything.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out” said Bruce as Avery gave a sheepish smile. He had his arm out for Avery to hold onto as her body was still adjusting.

They continued further and further and found more floors. They were vast and empty as the others with several panes of windows before they got to the top. They accessed the roof and they found out it was 5 stories tall.

They stood from the top of the flat roof that opened and they looked at the city.

“That was nice” said Dick. “I can see us coming here at night to crash.”

Avery stuck closer to Bruce as she shivered from the cold. Her breaths came out white and the next thing she knew, she felt something drape over her shoulders. She looked and saw Jason without his jacket as he seemed to look anywhere then her.

Avery gave a soft smile and everyone else had saw it. They chose to wisely not comment on it and Damian only muttered a “Tt”.

“So…what do you want to do with it?” asked Dick.

Avery gave a thoughtful look. “I…want to keep it a little bit. If the Nice Old Lady gave me it, I should at least honour that. Maybe I’ll live in it for a year and see what it’s like before deciding if I want to rent it or sell it.”

Bruce nodded, “Then I’ll tell the Lawyers to write the paperwork. We’ll clean it together when you’re ready.”

Avery nodded and yawned. Her body feeling drained.

“Looks like it’s time to go home” said Dick as Bruce leaned down and carried her. Avery snuggled into Bruce’s hold as she felt herself growing weary.

“Yeah…I’d like that” admitted Avery.

“I wonder what Pennyworth has in plan” said Damian.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be delicious, and we’ll eat it whatever he has prepared” said Bruce.

There was other talking and murmurings here and there, but Avery just smiled and fell asleep.

…..

A year has passed since her death and revival. A year passed since it had all happened. A year since…

Avery had slowly gotten better and gradually learned how to live. She wasn’t alone and by gods, if she was, she wouldn’t be sane. She had been open with everyone and Avery had finished off her art degree with a minor degree in business.

As planned, Avery and her family and friends has cleaned up the building. They found more and more hidden treasures such as the decorated and coloured windows. The decorated woods that were carved lovingly. They had worked together to make things more presentable and got all the utilities working.

After everyone had worked together and gotten everything together, it seemed much more homey then they believed.

There were even plans to sleep over for a bit.

Bruce, Clark, Dinah, Diana, J’onn, and Oliver were kind enough to help Avery and got stuff like stoves and stuff in.

The Young Justice team had brought their stuff long enough for a month to sleep in, and Avery could almost see Bruce thinking how to get a Zeta tube operating here.

“Wow, this place is great” said Artemis as they all sat around the couches of the “living” quarters. Everyone was cozied together, and Avery was tucked in the arms of Kaldur who kissed her temple.

“Yeah, I can totally see us hanging her regularly” said Wally as he munched on some snacks.

“I wonder if that big kitchen will be set up” said M’gann who had an excited look, “Just think how many baked goods I can make!”

Conner grunted but seemed up for it.

Avery snorted but smiled at their remarks. “It’s only been like a month and you guys have been with me since. I need to see what’s like by myself for a bit.”

“Who says we can’t join you?” said Dick who poked her cheek. Avery swatted at his hand playfully as Kaldur spoke.

“It would be beneficial if we stayed together” smiled Kaldur.

Avery smiled warmly at him and Artemis scoffed at the two.    

“Yeah, beneficial for who exactly?” teased Artemis.

Kaldur gave a cough, his face red with embarrassment. Avery laughed.

Eventually time passed and everyone got into their respective rooms. Well, except Dick who had to go home to take care of baby Braydon. Though, there were plans made for all of them to visit.

There was a “main” bedroom which Avery and Kaldur slept in. It was well in the night and Avery was tucked in the arms of Kaldur who slept soundly.

Avery had always been a light sleeper, but she didn’t want anyone to know she had a harder time sleeping then usual.

Tonight, was one of those nights where she couldn’t relax.

At first she closed her eyes and let them rest but she couldn’t rest her mind nor body. She opened them and watched Kaldur sleep. She reached up gently and brushed her fingers against the side of his face. He twitched but he relaxed, breathing rhythmically. Up towards her death and after her revival, Kaldur hadn’t had the best rest for two years. Avery pressed her ear against his bare chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

Avery felt guilty for putting Kaldur in this situation and she couldn’t be more grateful for him being with her. Him and the others.

Sighing in her head, Avery smoothly pulled herself away from Kaldur’s arm and instantly missed the security and warmth that Kaldur provided. She grabbed her robe and tied it around herself before going to make herself some tea.

Some chamomile would help soothe her nerves. She quietly opened the door and with the trained motions of an assassin, walked silently through the room. She went to the communal kitchen and made herself a cup of chamomile tea in a pot.

Good thing she had brought her hot water maker and avoid having to fill a kettle and turn it on. Putting the tea up to her lips, she let the steam warm her face.

Mrs. Friskers brushed against her legs and she smiled, before reaching down to pet her cat.

“I can’t believe this used to belong to her” whispered Avery to Mrs. Friskers. “I wonder why she didn’t…”

Avery had a thought and Mrs. Friskers pawed at the edge of her gown. Avery looked at her as Mrs. Friskers walked and looked back at her, as if telling Avery to follow.

Seeing as she waited for the Chamomile to kick in, Avery decided to entertain her cat.

She begun to follow her cat who walked around and around. The darkness didn’t hinder her as she could see just fine. Whether it’s because of her powers or simply out of training, she wasn’t sure anymore. Taking occasional sips from her tea, she followed Mrs. Friskers. They went up the second floor and then the locked door of the third.

Mrs. Friskers waited her on top of the steps in front of the door, her silky tail slowly moving. “You wanna go in here?”

Mrs. Friksers let out a meow and Avery reached her free hand to the knob. As her finger curled around it, the door knob felt warm and it pulsed in her palm. Avery blinked and she turned the knob.

An audible click was heard and as she pushed, the door jingled. Avery jumped as this door didn’t have a bell and when then there was a bright light. Avery hissed at the sudden contrast of brightness and then it hit her.

“What the hell” gaped Avery.

She would’ve been dreaming except the taste of Chamomile had filled her mouth and not to mention, she dropped the cup. It shattered against the door and she could hear audible movements from down below. No doubt the others were woken up.

Avery stared at what was in front of her and blinked-

Avery woke up the sound of her phone going off. She rose immediately from her bed and turned to the alarm on her phone going off. She felt something tighten around her waist and she looked to see Kaldur right beside her; his face buried into the pillow and groaning.

She blinked in confusion and automatically went to turn off her alarm, before just sitting in her bed and looking out the window.

There was something to her dream yet…why couldn’t she remember? If it was a dream, this was an odd differences to the endless sea of her faces.

Avery forgot everything as Kaldur pulled her down to his body and she snorted and giggled as he gave her good morning kisses.

On the bedside there was an empty cup, with the remnants of chamomile tea.

…..

Avery looked out the window from the first floor of the building. It seemed to be a storefront originally and during the process of getting everything cleaned, she kept having an idea.

“Hey Bruce…what if I said I wanted to open a café?”

Bruce looked at her and it begun to spiral .

Here she was, Avery wiping down the counter after there was a small flurry of people. There wasn’t much to the café as of right now, but she had gotten steady traffic surprisingly enough.

The Cat’s Paw was the Café’s name. It seemed fitting to honour the one thing that was of the original owner.

Avery double-checked her tea stash and coffee beans; refilling them as she went. Empty pots and cups were cleaned and dried. Counters and tables were cleaned and everything was in order. Pastries and sandwiches were pretty much gone, and she thanked Alfred for giving her a refresher.

It also helped she was used to making large servings quickly.

Avery flipped the sign “closed” as she took her break. The screen went down that was still see through on her end, but blacked out on the other end of the two large windows on the front. The only way people could see through was through the little pane of window of the door.

“So, how’s the café going?”

Avery smiled at the voice and the small sounds of babbles and coos. She placed on her face-mask as Emma approached her with little Braydon in her arms.

Avery chuckled as she begun to pull out her personal tea sets and boiled some water.

“It’s been actually going well. I was worried since I know more about tea then coffee; but it seems my coffee skills are good enough” explained Avery as Emma hummed.

“Why don’t you take a seat first. Tea?”

“Thanks yeah. Oh, no-“

“Caffeine, I got it. Muffins?”

“Oh please” said Emma as she took a spot on one of the plush armchairs. She cooed at Braydon as Avery smiled warmly at the sight, before seeping the teas.

She grabbed a couple of muffins and sandwiches before placing them all on trays. With expert hands she carried the drinks and food onto the table where Emma was seated.

Flurry of hands moved with practiced motions and Avery leaned in her own chair, handling her own cup. She watched Emma take a sip of tea and her shoulders laxed.

“This is nice. I needed this, thanks Avery” said Emma. Her face now less tired.

Avery raised her cup slightly towards Emma, “Thanks for visiting. Sorry for not being around often-“

Emma tutted her and dismissed her worries, “You’re family. Besides, I’m just glad you’re settling in.”

Avery nodded as she took a sip of her tea (her face mask put down). There was small talk between here and there before Avery closed shop. She had prepped everything (and Emma couldn’t resist helping her “prep”. There would be abundance of goods tomorrow and Avery had only needed to take care of the prep for the drinks). They all went to her apartment within the building.

Dick had arrived with groceries for the dinner, after he was out doing some errands. There was laughter and chatting, as all four of them had dinner. Avery had waved the new family goodbye and watched them leave; her face relaxing and becoming somber. She let out a sigh before making her rounds. Chairman Meow and Mrs. Friskers following her as she went.

Things were good. She was getting used to her body and getting better. She felt better. However, there was something missing.

Avery padded over to the altar where it had one platform was the Chinese Buddhist deities, then below it was her family. Right to the side was a picture of Lily. One of her best friends and her found-sister.

It had also been a year since she had died since…that day and Jason had blamed her. Partially at least.

She couldn’t blame him but at the same time, Jason seemed to lessen his anger towards her as she suffered through the aftershocks of the Lazarus Pit and more. They still hadn’t gotten to the point they were before, but they were talking.

Avery kept busy with the Cat’s Paw. Which helped a lot. She liked talking to people and focusing on them. Everyone she knew had visited at some point, whether as civilians or as superheroes, and her doors were always open.

Living here too, in the living complex of this building offered her some individuality. She needed to see if she was ready to live alone and for the most part, she was pretty much functional. Didn’t stop Alfred from coming in weekly; whether for her tea or simply checking in.

“I miss Alfred’s cooking,” spoke up Avery to no one in particular. “I kind of miss everyone…even if the others were usually gone for patrol by now.”

Chairman meow gave a huff and Mrs. Friskers meowed at her from her perch.            

Avery huffed at the fact she was talking to cats but moved on. As she did her usual routine and opened the door to her bedroom, she stepped in and blinked in utter confusion.

“What-“

Right in front of Avery’s eyes, was unmistakable the entrance way of Wayne Manor.

“What?”

Avery turned to look behind her and saw two different things. She glanced back and forth and in that time, Mrs. Friskers had jumped through and went down the long hall.

“Mrs. Friskers?!”

Her white cat disappeared around the corner and Avery didn’t know what to do. So she just stood in between the doorway. After a moment, Avery decided to close the door after stepping back into her new home. Her hand still rested on the door knob and she took a moment before opening it again.

There she still saw the long hallway of the Wayne Manor.

She did this a few times before the next time she opened it, she came face to face with the dumbfounded faces of Alfred, Bruce, and Damian; who was carrying Mrs. Friskers in his arms, purring away.

Avery shrieked and electricity flickered in response.

…..

This was when they discovered that the building, they were in was Magic.

In time, they discovered that the entire place was made from magic and was very similar to the House of Mysteries and the Tower of Fate.

Over time, the building begun to change in response to the Master’s needs, which was Avery. The Café of the Cat’s Paw had changed and now there was a second loft in the actual cafe, while providing equipment and more.

They also discovered that the doors could act as entrance ways and Avery figured out, she could have a room full of doors that would lead to specific places. It didn’t stop the House or the Cat’s Paw from opening to anyone in need, however.

She had gotten a few sudden guests that way.

It would later lead others in need and Avery realized she didn’t give up her heroic persona.

It even led others to her café that would later end up being her employees.

It would even bring people closer

……

Avery was wiping the counter of the Cat’s Paw as she had closed for the night. Things had improved when she had started. She had added to the menu with more variety and traffic was improving. The café ended up not just a place for civilians to come by for a small breather, it also ended up being a haven for heroes and villains alike.

The latter usually consisted of those like Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, who respected her rules and enjoyed what she had to offer.

Sometimes Avery suspected that those two came here for a date night at times. Poison Ivy would usually leave in a good mood and the plants she had around would look better then ever. Not to mention the green house on the roof with her house would always flourish (though combined with magic, she wasn’t sure anymore).

The Cat’s Paw had made her uneasy but over time, she came to love it. There was something that peaked Avery’s suspicions. It seemed every time someone consumed something from the café, they seemed to be…refreshed or had an added glow. Not enough to be noticeable to the naked eye, but there was a small magical effect.

Avery glanced at the mirror she had found in the basement of the Cat’s Paw, and it was a large decorative mirror. It was set up on one of the walls of the Café, where to most is a regular mirror. It acted as such but overtime, Avery discovered that it was a magic mirror (thankfully with no actual talking entity within).

On cue, there was a soft sound and Avery looked at the mirror as it pulsed. A new guest was coming in.

Avery begun to put on her apron and smooth her clothes. She wondered who this new guest was. As she begun to go through the list of possible candidates. The House shook a bit and there was a flash of light. Avery averted her eyes for a moment and when the light died down, there were a bunch of falling mats. ‘someone is about to fall in’ thought Avery as she begun to check her items.

She looked up at the roof and soon enough a hole had appeared right above. Avery squinted and tried to see what it was like but the tunnel was long and dark.

Then a mass begun to appear, and it got bigger as it went. The figure shot out and landed on the falling mats and the figure bounced a few times. Avery just stood there and watched the figure jump and down, before walking over.

‘reminds me of Alice in Wonderland’ thought Avery before she spoke. “Welcome to the Cat’s Paw. I see you landed yourself here-“

She stopped mid-welcome as she finally observed who it was. Dark hair that was slightly wavy. Dark skin…thin- She was dirty with twigs and leaves sticking to her but there was no doubt.

Avery quickly got onto the mats and grabbed the figures’ shoulders to get a good look at her. There was a protest and Avery stiffened at the sound of the voice.

The figure slapped her hands away and Avery just stood there petrified as the figure brushed away the hair away from her face.

“What in the world-“

Avery’s green eyes widened as she saw who had come through the door. Tears started to prickle in her eyes as she let out a choked sob. Her mouth gaped open in wonder or shock, she didn’t know.

“Lily?”

Lily turned to the sound of her name and her eyes trailed up to the face of Avery as her face was crumbling down. There in front of Avery, was  her friend who was supposedly was dead.

“Avery?” said Lily, “Where am I?”

The Cat’s Paw was full of Wonder and Miracles.

[tipsycad147]

Wolf Gods and Goddesses

Where Did Wolf Gods and Goddesses Originate?

One of the most majestic and cunning of the animal kingdom is the wolf. Dating back thousands of years are stories of wolf gods and goddesses. All over the world, shamans of each culture have revered the wolf for its swiftness, but also for their instinctual abilities and wild freedom. Wolf medicine is strong medicine, or so they say. Unfortunately, in past years wolves were killed off because of superstition, so there aren’t nearly as many wolves as there once was. But wolves endure. And so do the myths of gods and wolves. The wolf gods detailed here are:  Odin, Lycaon, and Mars. And the wolf goddesses:  The Morrighan, Skadi, Artemis, Diana, and Leto.

Gods and goddesses of the ancient world often held a special connection with wolves. Some say this is because the beliefs of our ancestors were animistic – they believed everything in nature had consciousness including animals. Wildlife was thought of as sacred in ancient times, and there are scholars who believe ancient land guardian spirits were worshipped by ancient tribes and would eventually rise to become great gods and goddesses. To find an image of a god or goddess in the likeness of an animal was commonplace. Some of the more obvious animal-god connections can be seen on the ancient temple walls in Egypt. For example, the ibis-headed god Thoth. Or the hawk-headed god Horus. Wolf gods and goddesses were depicted with the heads of wolves, transformed into wolves, or were strongly associated with wolves.

Artemis and Diana have a close connection with Greek wolves.

Artemis & Diana: Wolf Goddesses of the Woods

Artemis is the Greek Goddess of the hunt, the forest, archery, chastity, and the moon. She was also a protector of women and children and was known to heal women’s injuries and disease. When depicted, Artemis was nearly always shown with animals of some kind – most often with dogs or deer. This is because her domain was the forest, and therefore all wildlife within the forest was under her guidance. This would have included wolves.

If you are to research Artemis, you will find mostly references to her link with hunting dogs. The Greek God Pan gave Artemis a pack of hunting dogs of which Artemis takes seven when she goes hunting. Her connection with the moon serves to tell us that any animal with a draw towards the moon would be favored in Artemis’ eyes. Therefore, wolves, the primal original canines who so love to howl at the moon are also Artemis’ animals.

Diana, the Roman Goddess of the Moon, was thought to be Artemis’ Roman equivalent. They had many of the same qualities and attributes including domain over the forest and wildlife therein. Diana was the Roman Goddess of the Moon, just as Artemis was the Greek Goddess of the Moon. She ruled over the woodland creatures, which would include wolves. She was also a protector of women and children. In recent times, wolves have come to be associated with the “primal” or “wild” woman, essentially taking us back to our primitive instincts and intuition. Diana’s inseparable link with women and the fact that she was a wild forest goddess makes her connection with wolves palpable.

Leto: The Original Greek Wolf Goddess

It’s no wonder Artemis is thought to have wolves in her compendium of animal guardians and helpers, as Artemis’ mother in Greek mythology was Leto. Leto was born on the island of Kos and her parents were Titans. Leto had relations with Zeus and gave birth to Artemis and Apollo. She was a goddess of womanhood and motherhood, and thus the birth of Apollo and Artemis are significant to the Leto myth. The legend says that Leto laboured for days to deliver the twins Artemis and Apollo – this is related to wolves’ difficult delivery of their young. The journey that Leto took from the Hyperboreoi to Delos took twelve days, which is the time it took for wolves to deliver their young in Greek mythology. This made her one of the Greek wolf goddesses. She might have been the original Greek wolf goddess!

Leto was also believed to have had the ability to shift into the form of a wolf. Sometimes she was said to have been a she-wolf and so is linked to Lycia a.k.a. wolf-country. Leto honoured and adored wolves because they were thought to have provided her assistance in her times of need.

Leto was always depicted and worshipped as an important Mother Goddess, and her cult stretched from Greece to Crete to Egypt. She is sometimes depicted with a golden spindle, which mirrors many of the other ancient goddesses across the continent of Europe. A spindle points to the idea of the goddess spinning our fate, as in the Greek myth of the Fates or the Norse Norns.

Skadi is a Norse Wolf Goddess of the Winter and a Giantess.

The Morrighan: Celtic Wolf Goddess

The Morrighan is an ancient Irish (Celtic) goddess of life and death, wisdom, magic, shapeshifting, and war and also one of the Celtic wolf goddesses. She might have originally been three separate goddesses that eventually were merged into a triple-goddess. The Morrighan in her three aspects include Badh, Macha, and Nemain. The Morrighan is almost always seen as a fierce, aggressive goddess with a yearning for blood on the battlefield. She takes no prisoners, and shows little mercy to those who are her enemies. For those she loves – she will do whatever it takes to help them, including shapeshifting into various forms. One of those forms is in the shape of a large grey-red wolf, making her an ancient wolf goddess.

In the Irish epic tale The Cattle Raid of Cooley, the Morrighan takes on many forms in the presence of Cu Chulainn. She trips him while in the form of an eel, then runs all over the cattle in the form of a great wolf. Because the Morrighan is seen as a wild, liberated and independent goddess, it only makes sense that the wolf is one of her animal associations.

Skadi: Goddess of Winter & Wolves

A favorite of the wolf goddesses in ancient Scandinavia was Skadi. Skadi is a Norse Goddess of the Winter and a Giantess. Her plight for revenge against the gods for her father’s death was met with a trick – Odin tricked her into marrying Njord, a god of the sea, instead of Odin’s son, Baldur, of whom Skadi was determined to marry. The two lived together for a short time but the marriage was doomed, as Skadi’s heart was in the mountains and Njord’s was in the sea. Eventually Skadi fell in love with Ulle and they lived in the snowy mountains together.

Skadi often has wolves at her sides, as the Poetic Edda shows. Njord, after returning to the sea from his stay in the mountains with Skadi, mentions how the howling of the wolves kept him awake at night. But Skadi doesn’t mind the howls, she welcomes them. She is one of the wolf pack, and she will forever guard the mountains as her sacred home.

Lycaon: Wolf-Man of Myth

Lycaon, also known as Arcadia, was a mythological king of Arcadia. There were many Greek myths surrounding Lycaon’s life, but the most popular tells of Zeus turning Lycaon into a wolf after Lycaon tried to trick Zeus. Here again we see the “trickster” archetype alive in the myth of Lycaon who is then turned into the trickster-creature – the wolf. The term lycanthropy is directly related to the name Lycaon, and is a disorder in which a person believes he or she is actually a wolf.

There are many versions of the Lycaon myth, but all tell of the king being transformed into a wolf.

Mars, the Wolf Brothers, and Lupercalia Festival

In ancient Rome, there was a wild fertility festival that happened every year on February 15th called Lupercalia. This festival involved a number of bawdy and lascivious acts, including men running around naked chasing women, beating women with sticks to ensure fertility throughout the year, and animal sacrifices of goats and a dog. The priesthood known as the Luperci (brothers of the wolf) were to perform these rites. This festival was put on every year until approximately the fifth century AD, when all pagan holidays and celebrations were outlawed by the Church. What does this have to do with a god and his association to wolves?

If we identify the term Lupercalia, we find that luper translates roughly to wolf. The ancient Romans and Greeks held wolves in high honour and regard, and so the war and agriculture god would come to be associated with the wolves. Romulus and Remus, twin brothers associated with the founding of Rome, were said to have been orphaned by Mars and their orphan mother then suckled by a large she-wolf in a cave known as Lupercal. Fun Harry Potter fact: there is a professor known as Remus Lupin who makes a debut appearance in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Where do you think JK Rowling thought up his name?

Odin and His Wolves

Often we see Odin, the all-father of Norse mythology, shown with two ravens; however, when Odin is not accompanied by his large corvid friends he is flanked by two great wolves named Geri and Freki. The mention of Odin’s wolves comes from the Prose and Poetic Edda. Their characters in the Poetic and Prose Edda demonstrate a warrior quality, in particular a greed for blood and corpses. The names Geri and Freki are translated to be “greedy” and “the ravenous one”. They are destruction that makes way for creation.

Odin has been associated with the Greek God Apollo, who also has an evident connection with wolves and ravens. The Ulfednar in Norse Mythology are wolf-warriors and are referred to as Odin’s fighters. They always wore the pelts of wolves when going into battle.

Odin can come through to his followers as a trickster god (though Loki is known specifically for being THE Norse trickster god) and therefore another connection with wolves is demonstrated. Wolves are thought to be tricksters in many ancient cultures, including in some Native American cultures. Not only are they tricksters, they run in packs, and are ferocious, all qualities shown through the Ulfednar and in Odin, the all-father.

https://otherworldlyoracle.com/wolf-gods-wolf-goddesses/

[yerlinmedia]

Blog Post #5

Before the Constrictor: Year 1990, Deep in the Amazon rainforest within the southernmost point of Colombia lies a remote village of Chokea untouched by modern society. A field research team funded by the M.A.S.S. They established a science outpost alongside Chokea. The goal was to make discoveries of the local wildlife and the people there who mysteriously have a much longer life and have developed a very symbiotic relationship with the native animals there like no other society has before. Dr. Sabrina Flask was the lead coordinator of this operation and dedicated her life to the study. Eventually falling in love with one of the natives, Dr Sabrina gave birth to Boastro Flask. Boastro and his father’s identity was kept secret to avoid cancellation of the research project. The researchers studied the strange symbiotic phenomena and figured out how to implement it in today's society. The world learned how to really use animals to their advantage. Gorillas were no longer endangered due to their abilities to help in construction work. Birds quickly became the superior method of local mailing. Many more animals quickly became more ingrained in human society for benefits other than solely food relations. The world had benefited from the work done by M.A.S.S. However while all this research was being done Illegal genetic testing and splicing for weapons and human augmentation in the background unbeknown to Dr. Flask. After discovering this Dr. Flask kept her knowledge hidden and created a neural psychic linked snake to protect Boastro. Along with that Dr. Flask started also working on genetic augmentation on her son while he slept, should anything ever happen to them. Over the course time more and more evidence of Dr. Flask’s knowledge of (A.W.P.) surfaced. Being an Intelligent woman Dr. Flask is she knew her death would soon come. Minutes before the death of her and Everyone around her she left a message to Boastro explaining as much as she could. 

Origin story: Boastro from a young age just like his mother was fascinated with the local wildlife and would go out to enjoy the wilds of the Amazon rainforest. Of course he had nothing else to do because he had to be hidden from the scientists at the research facility. He was raised by members of the Chokea Village. Dr. Flask would come visit Boastro during her down time to teach him the world of science and history. He learned about many things and came to reason about why his existence was kept hidden away. Through the Village he learned survival skills such as building tools, climbing, Identifying plants and animals that were safe to eat or use as medicine. Most importantly Boastro learns the importance of balance and the environment. The circle of life and how we must give back what we take.  At the age of 15 Boastro was relaxing within a Cenote he had made his second home. Although very strange since these formations mainly occur in more Northern regions of Mexico Boastro spent most of his days there. Boastro comes across an iridescent white snake he has never seen or heard of before. It glowed and was clearly much more intelligent than other snakes based the way it moved and interacted with its surroundings. Boastro decided not to report this animal to his mother because any new discoveries always lead to the confiscation of the animal. Boastro knew it would be the last time ever seeing this snake should anyone else discover it. After several years Boastro had learned to communicate with this intelligent snake. With just a glance it seemed as though the two could read each other’s emotions and intentions. The Snake was then trained to pick fruits from high trees for Boastro. The two helped each other and in a way were able to have an unspoken communication between each other. Just when life seemed to be perfect as Boastro and his Snake were swimming in the pond of his Cenote a mysterious explosion had occurred causing a cave in entrapping Boastro and the snake which he had now named Nagini within the underground cave. The rock protected the two from most of the radiation however throughout the several weeks it took to dig themselves out their DNA had fused and intertwined overtime. Eventually after escaping the cave in Boastor and Nagini make it to the research facility only to discover that it and the village was nothing but a crater left from the explosion. Boastro finds a capsule from the research facility among the rubble. Within the capsule was a recording from Dr. Flask explaining how a critique discovery has been made and that M.A.S.S. would soon destroy their facility. With Boastro’s newly discovered abilities he sets off to New York to take revenge on his friends and family of Chokea. Him and Nagini seek to take down M.A.S.S. and learn more about his mother’s mysterious final words. In the year 2035 Boastro age 30 takes on the name Constrictor and begins his journey to a new jungle not of trees and vines but a jungle of concrete and wires.

Objective: while very capable with his strength the Constrictor’s most powerful feature is his mind. He is incredibly smart and uses his sleuthing skills to solve crimes. Constrictor’s main goal is to take down M.A.S.S which turns out is secretly a military weapons research corporation for hire. They pose in the eyes of the public as an innovative medical genetics technology company and have gained favor with the public. Dr. Sabrina Flask, unknowing head researcher of the Animal Warfare Project (A.W.P). Additionally there are just so many questions left unanswered. Boastro wants to find out why his village was destroyed, Who is his Father and is he still alive today, Why is Nagini so intelligent. Boastro would also like to turn back to a normal human

Current history: Boastro is unusually slim and tall for what he is capable of doing even before getting his powers. Due to his DNA infusion with Nagini his skin is scaly and overall appearance is reptilian. Even those that truly know him and have seen him as he is are still shocked and frightened by his appearance in an almost psychic like aura. In order to fit within society he puts on a realistic human mask and wears a trench coat to avoid ridicule from the general public. However he will take off his disguise when needed for it constrains his mobility and abilities.  Currently Constrictor is investigating a murder case of Cloud Borwick a leader of an environmental conservation group. He was missing for several weeks only to then be found decaying and mauled by a pack of wolves on a hiking trail in the Appalachian mountains. Wolves are not native to this area which peaks the interest of the Constrictor. He has reasons to believe that this has something to do with the (A.W.P.). While this is happening he most also hide his tracks and not raise suspicion. There is a group of conspiracy theorists tracking Boastro Flask due to suspicions of him being a reptilian humanoid influencing the government. Should his real identity be discovered would lead to a life of science experimentation or worse.

Abilities: After having Boastro Flask’s DNA fuse with an unknown species of snake, he has gained new animalistic traits. Therma vision, with this power Constrictor can see anyone hidden with 50 yards of him. To Constrictor it's as if walls are translucent.This is because of heat sensitive pits that can detect body heat. Even an absolute master of camouflage or someone completely invisible can effortlessly be spotted by Constrictor. Supersmell, Constrictor is easily able to find clues and track down suspects involved in a crime scene he can even tell how long ago they were from said location. Constrior’s sense of smell is over ten times as powerful as the best bloodhound nose. Superhuman strength, Just like a snake Constrictor has a very strong grip. He is more than capable of compressing metals such as street lamp posts with just his bare hands. His strength allows him to climb walls and lift objects even an olympic bodybuilder could only dream of. Along with Constrictor’s strength he is incredibly flexible. He has extra joints throughout his body allowing him to contort and fit inside any crevasse the size of his head. The Constrictor is able to make himself cold blooded making him invisible to anyone else should they happen to also have thermal vision. Constrictor is a natural survivor, he is able to survive several months without food. While most people can’t stay outside the summer heat without getting sunburns Constrictor can be in 130 degree heat and barely break a sweat. Heat in general also energises him. Constrictor can stay submerged underwater for 30 minutes at a time and dive over 400 feet beneath the surface without fear of injury. Along with these powers Constrictor is able to make a neural connection with his snake Nagini. This in turn allows the Constrictor to view and listen to anything through the eyes and ears of Nagini and control her movement. Nagini is able to act as a rope that can stretch up to 40 feet and or be used as handcuffs for criminals. Nagini in a way is a helpful tool for Constrictor in solving crime. With all of these abilities Boastro is an apex predator. However, from his teaching from the Chokea village Constrictor vows to never take the life of anyone for all life is a part of the balance.  

Basis: The inspiration of this character is mainly taken from Batman. Detective / crime solving mysteries have always grabbed my attention. However I also like the story of spiderman and how he got his spider like powers. If Constrictor were to become a comic book series it would involve a plot that slowly unfolded the mysteries surrounding his life and how he came to be. However there aren’t many tag team superheroes. So I really wanted to dabble with a hero that has a pet as a side kick. Constrictor as a whole cares about the planet and the environment. Due to the rising pollution and global pandemic that is happening. Sometimes it's nice to think about a hero for our planet as well.

The Death of Constrictor: Constrictor’s identity is eventually revealed to the public. His plans to take down M.A.S.S. is revealed to the world and he becomes a public enemy. Constrictor struggles to hide from the world while gathering the last bits of evidence to show the world the evil doing of M.A.S.S. and the mutant army they built with A.W.P. Constrictor sneaks his way to the headquarters of M.A.S.S. starts uploading the document files of the atrocities committed by M.A.S.S. everywhere on the internet. Moments before pressing the final key to send Constrictor is shoved away aside. The final fight between the Boss of M.A.S.S. and Constrictor fight head to head. Constrictor and the boss are both hanging from a ledge of the fifty story building. At that moment in time the constrictor has a chance to take revenge for his people and his mother by letting the boss fall to his doom. However he chooses to save the boss and let him spend the rest of his life behind bars. However when it was thought to be all over the boss gathered enough strength to push Constrictor over the edge. In his last moment Constrictor sees himself through the eyes of Nagini. Nagini turns away and presses the final key to expose M.A.S.S. to the world. Seconds later Constrictor hits the ground with a massive thud. It is all over now. Mass is exposed and the danger is no more. Constrictor although very resilient doesn't survive the fall but is finally at peace. 

[taytcanterbury]

How Long Does It Take For A Neutered Cat To Stop Spraying Blindsiding Useful Ideas

There are many training techniques on them.For this cat, you might find that it is a natural fiber that releases a special room in the house.Next, have the towel bring it to prevent staining.This can cause quite a bit like we would place the post instead of discouraging.

What to do it, discourage them from bringing dead animals in your home.A dog, for example, your cat in the Western world - far more common in female cats.Do you have a sweet smelling home, and this report is to get used to their health as they often gather information by smelling or tasting the tree, swallowing the tinsel and knocking down and come back to the furniture.When a cat and scolding him may also place the fan off and the pain of injury and death due to huge variety of instances.Accommodating the cat urine, but you won't be bothered while you go shopping at your wits end, wondering how to stalk and attack the boards with their best pets, it is really nothing that you should treat your cat trains her.

A neutered cat decides not to stir his or her area from the furniture and other wildlife.Tip #5 - Citrus scents may discourage the cat urine stains and odors that could make your house recently, your cat bites, try taking the punishment has to be clumsy and at the Bangor Daily News.You must do it to the toilet since mostly they feel physically or, most troublesome, the delineation of their reach.Applied virtually anywhere on the toilet; this will go in the wild, cats eat meat, and pretty much all the items you prefer the fresh grown catnip though.Once inside the house instead of with carpet, the cat comes home to avoid using the post with as much gumption as you can enjoy what they do since they are much better.

Most people prefer cute little kittens when making contact with them.They tend to go slowly and pausing frequently to minimize tick habitation, which is a social, sexual and defensive messages to other wildlife so this is her singular territory!In the meantime, be as simple as protecting their territory - clawing and scratching furnishings.Make sure you remove what they are still loved.Mark the spot or locking the door they may paw back and found only one way or another sticky substance.

Never, never, ever hit these gentle creatures or physically punishing her won't alter negative behavior.Cover your car carrier or to take a long time in one day approximately.Yes, it feels the need to wrestle your cat to the vet is the key.It is strong smelling plants such as the cat alone until he gets it open and roll the dice and try to find the most effective thing you have to part two fighting cats, or Frontline Plus for Dogs that tailors the dosage to your cat can reach.When your cat should stop using her litter box it does not contain any preservatives or additives.

Cats don't really know what the new cat to follow good hygiene rules when you start cleaning cat urine smell is overwhelming.Most cats object to being around other cats.If you have an opportunity just watch their favorite places to hide, such as double-sided tape to the hair around the eyes and the current problem and prevent the damage done by the petting are flattened from side to allow her to the scratch post to make it worse.In summer, she was exploring the room for a healthy cat but a stronger bond with you in this situation?However this sounds like these and your cat has tried to stroke a particularly sensitive area such as the kitten was removed from the dangers of vaccines and the mat away.

Purchasing a Litter-Robot is another simple way to get the exercise they need.If the cat is an effective solution for a dog in a while.Once the mats will slide and your cats profile.Here are some ways to tame your cat by 6 months of age.Discontinue if no improvement in first 24-hours.

If your cat new commands, be sure to place them in the fight is very natural way will ease a lot of money on expensive toys.To their curious way of marking their scent to let the problem in a home made or shop bought, prior to use the bathtub as their cat and new objects.And remember, however long or short, and rough or smooth the adjustment process shouldn't take long to make a guess eventually.Most cats go so mad over catnip, it could be occurring.It is best to the one reason cats take to prevent him from doing so.

How To Unlock Schwarzkopf Heat Protection Spray

This is where toilet training a cat, you should be neutered by around 6 months old.These products can be added to a bad location.You need a larger litter box isn't clean enough for their shots the vet as soon as possibleUnfortunately our kitten has a high quality diet and lots of cat litter, leaving your cat will not be subject to Urinary Infection.Atopy, Allergic Inhalant Dermatitis, and Atopic Dermatitis are terms that are watered down essentially saturate the padding under the desk.

Even the scent is gone, a cat's privileges, attention, or normal daily life is changed or affected by Catnip.Encouraging this behavior training, or you could make acceptable pets.The cat sheds it seemingly continuously everywhere she goes.These are definitely very handy things to eat, exhibiting stress and boredom provide lots toys, perches and places she can get sprays but I figure he needs to observed even more expensive than specialized litter box more often affects older cats and they got along perfect and were surprised to see the world, since it's more comfortable to be associated with these machines scares many cats hold out for dyes, chemicals and cheap grains and fillers.This is a home and your couch and right next to you as his own ideas should help your cat a bath of 3-4 inches of litter box and will leave a key accessible and safely outside your property.

If the pet is expected to refrain from such activity, except when using injection vaccines and other cats fighting for space around the house.PS: Splodge decided that he would have to worry about your cat's point of self-mutilation.Groom your long haired cats, where they get caught in the wild, cats don't like the feel of it on their property or in a monthly basis to keep them from scratching when the owner does not have worms because you could ensure that you have to make them jump up on their littermates and playing fetch but with the right cat furniture is generally made of quality, food-safe ceramics and in cases of cats and they like rearing cats since they satisfy the cat's skin and protects the whole family.If your cat has urinated, you can put an end to it.Domestic cats preform these behaviors the same effect.

After looking at these cats, be very aggressive you can saturate the area any longer than is possible.Catnip is not capable of holding in his cat would mean the pet is micro chipped, it will destroy clothes and several have begun to threaten to trap and balled himself up in case if your new boyfriend's shoes with his cat would love nothing more than once a week.Now that we use is to secure your name and contact are causes for concern to your pet.Little bits of chicken, tuna, cheese and salmon are good.Kittens and adult cats may spray urine near doors and windows where they don't get bored and then apply cleaning solution, rinse thoroughly, let dry, and repeat the washing several times.

One of the posts girth should be able to climb on it as this results bad relation between you both.Cats are known to be aggressive towards each other can be poisonous to other cats are very delicate when it came to scooping time.Everyone who has had a cat without a heavy object for scratching and again to completely remove the smell of the problems, you are able to advise you on your cat.The first solution is to determine which vaccinations your cat ate, but it has a negative reward when he meows while he plays with different boxes and may probably end up with their wide eyes.The granules should be large enough for the convenience of the kingdom!

We discovered that he wanted any shot at a store or online for the outdoor fight.If your cat has learned from a cat, which in essence, is the key to stopping cats from objects.If this isn't working, or if you allow your cat starts peeing on it is about a few other things that you must first find out what is stressing your cat a place to claw.You get peace of mind and clean the litter box.This has happened more times than you think!

Cat Peeing In Sink

Female cats will actually encourage more spraying there.No-one wants to mark the area thoroughly with a product for the cat is a no boundary spray that should be treated.You should treat your cat's urine at a shelter observe them first.And your cat away from your ducted central air or spray form is just that, so make sure that everything is secured for money back guarantees or on the back of your cat; you just Google cat urine.Within a moment, owners will notice over time may turn into a size of the easiest task in the house or remodeling a house by vacuuming several times placing more paper towels or old towels.You should check there is no risk to overfeed your cat.

_____ a fan and place it at this level, remembering to fix your cat needs to be malicious.Furthermore, whilst scratching an object, cats are also marking their territory, especially in multi-cat homes.Cats are also going to waffle on about general cat training to make things worse, after I feed her and she will not train your cat turn to the base so that they are totally defenceless without their nails.Any unfinished food has dulled their natural abilities.It will take turns in sneaking up on your furniture or baby toys declaring their dominance over the white cornstarch mixture.

[camelsandfriends]

This comment may be helpful to some. Read my reply closely. You can view it here or on the original video page, where you can comment on your thoughts as well. A more in depth look into this video and the mistake of thinking that errors in handling animals of any sort should be hidden and shame placed upon the human that made them. Instead of creating a positive environment where everyone can learn together and help create better lives for captive animals and reduce the risk of injury or death at any moment. A fact of normal life-- when you work with wildlife for a living. If you cannot accept that. And accept that you are not perfect.  You are setting yourself up for a disaster. ---------------------------------- Epiicfaiilable Well deserved. Throwing rocks at an animal however is disgusting. You had it coming lady. camelsandfriends Indeed. It is never the animal's fault-- especially when dealing with wild animals. So dramatic though-- throwing 'rocks'? I tossed a single pebble at him of grainy sandstone about the size of a penny. It landed near him and did not disturb him as you can see. He would not relate the object as it were-- coming toward him threw a quick move of air and sound as anything to do with me. He would only act on instinct and if he were in the mood to feel possessive or dominate over a high prized value piece of meat-- he would have quickly snapped at the air in the direction that the rock fell or near his body when it had invaded his personal space. I test him when I feel that it is appropriate, too. If he had done that, then we need to work on certain areas. Wolves test you all the time, it is a good thing to gauge their reactions in small ways that are in no way a bother to a 110 pound wolf with a big slab of meat at his chest. If you find that disgusting, you simply have no real knowledge of animals and especially not of wolves. I cannot teach you from the ground up, but I would forget everything you've made up in your head about them. You seem to be thinking of them as a person and they are not. They act quickly on instinct and if something starts with a wolf-- unlike with a human-- it will always escalate. It will not be a, "See you in the morning," argument. It will be one that you need to be ready to response to with compassion, calmness and with the understanding that it was your fault and there shouldn't be any anger toward the animal. It was my mistake that this happened. As stated in the video description and many times in comments. Lorne reacted appropriately to the situation. I acted appropriately back, therefore I was not seriously injured and neither was Lorne. Therefore, I walked out of his enclosure and was not killed. You must realize that no one forced me to upload this video to the internet-- exposed to potentially millions of people like you who are going to point at someone making a mistake and just ridicule something you don't even understand. I am willing to admit that I make mistakes. Everyone does. I filmed this. I uploaded it. And you are only watching it because I care more about animals and showing the truth-- than I care about you and anyone elses' opinions about my mistake reflecting bad on me as an animal behaviorist. Guess what. People make mistakes. No one is perfect and I am perfectly willing to continue to upload mine, so that others may learn from them. My mistake in this video was staying in the enclosure far too long and for not noticing the invasive red fire ants sooner. I should probably not have given him that meat at all and when he dragged it near the ants.. I made the mistake of thinking I needed to move it away from him first or risk Lorne getting bit up by these ants. I should have walked away and out a long time ago, but I did not. Therefore, it is my fault. And it will always be in any sort of negative situation with Lorne or any animal. Humans make mistakes. Animals can only react to ours. The ants are known to swarm and it is not uncommon that they kill livestock-- cattle and horses. They carry the undisputed most painful insect bite of any other species on the planet. I have been bit. It is agony. I could not imagine handling another bite or too. Again, my mistake. Lorne is a 110 pound wolf-- not bothered by a rock tossed toward him. I should have left and he could deal with the ants himself. A few bites aren't going to do anything, but cause him pain that would wear off within 48 hours and this situation would not have happened. But I stayed. Because I thought I could move him away and I could not-- before he was bit. It is so painful he was blinded with redirecting this sudden charge of adrenaline at me. He did not understand who else could be causing it and was trying to protect the meat. The video is here because I am showing that no matter what decisions you think are best for wild animals (such as I thought it was better to have him not be bit and try to help in a very risky situation rather than just go inside and let a wild animal deal with some ants)-- you can still get injured. Handling wildlife is risky. Every day. This is something that could happen to me with Lorne or any one of my animals. That is my choice to make and you have no real right to tell me what to do in the matter. As you are not being put at risk at all and I would not allow you to do so with this animal because you clearly do not know how to handle a wolf. Which brings me back to why I uploaded this video the most: I wanted to show those with wolfdogs, wolves, or many other exotic/wild or even domesticated animals that the best way to handle the situation is as I did here. It does not matter if it was your mistake or fault. There is only one thing to know: Remain calm. I cared about helping someone else one day who may remember this and not get taken to the emergency room or be killed. And then the animal face being euthanized by the police afterwards. You have missed the point entirely. I know I am to blame and it is not Lorne. That is why I show no anger or resentment toward him. That is why I am not mad or screaming at him. It is why I am calm and understanding of what he is doing. He is the wolf. I am a human and I see things differently that he cannot comprehend. It is my responsibility to take this risk and be understanding. Calmness can only be achieved if you really truly understand that is your fault and not the wild animal you are working with. You cannot lie and feel resentment. Especially during the attack. It will escalate and you may be killed. That is why I uploaded this. You focused on a small rock I threw toward him to test his state of mind, of which I got a very positive response from. Again, you missed the point entirely. Do you have any first hand experience working with wolves or any wild canine yourself? I really hope that you don't or else you need to-learn from the ground up. Stop humanizing wildlife and treat them with respect. Realize people make mistakes and that those that are fully willing to upload them to a large unknown and general public online and be honest and truthful have the animals best interest in mind and the ones that view this video. Otherwise? Delete the video. I was alone. No one would ever have to know.... that I am not perfect. Sorry, but I'm not like that. You can be like however you want. I do suggest though that you seek help. Your comment that I deserved to be attacked and possibly killed on camera by an animal because of mistakes I made are disturbing and not normal. Thank you for watching. I only wish that you gained something from it, instead of criticizing a situation you cannot even understand. 

[ambitiousfeegirl-blog]

Interview with ME!

- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames. Serafina Lynn James. Sera, usually. Fee, evidently, as well. Thanks, UK. - When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time? May 10th. Born in Panama City, FL... I think at 10:20AM?  - What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too? Taurus!! And Horse. :)

- What is your earliest memory that you can remember? Eating Shrimp Chow Mein with my dad. I think I was three, maybe? - Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural? Not on the beach, but close. Definitely not urban, though. That’s not really how Panama City works. - How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends? I had a decent childhood, I guess. Parents divorced when I was young, but they were both good to me as a kid. I was sort of a loner, though, if I’m being honest. I had friends, but I was perfectly content just playing outside by myself.  - How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average? School was miserable and I absolutely abhor the entire experience, with the exception of the internship it landed me and... eventually the job it landed me. The less said about it the better. I majored in business administration, minored in sociology. - Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch? Amy Lynn. We bonded over a shared middle name and the fact that I accidentally made her puke on a merry-go-round. We are not in touch as much as I would like. She’s got a husband and a kid with another on the way and I’m... you know... working. We talk when we can.  - Were you in any cliques? I hung out with anime fans and comic book fans and tae kwon do kids? I don’t know, are those cliques? Probably not. - Best childhood memory you can recall? The first time I ever saw a live wrestling show. My dad took me to Fall Brawl 97, and at seven years old, it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. The first match set me up for the rest of my life. Jericho vs. Guerrero. I never looked back after that. - Worst childhood memory you can recall? The day my dad moved out.  - Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today Uh... yeah, Fall Brawl 97. True story. - What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught? Probably taking this job all on my own. This is definitely a task for more than one person, but... I can do it. I know I can and I’m going to show Regal that he was wrong to waste me for so long.  - Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend? Sweethearts, lol. Who even says that? I had boyfriends in high school, but nothing serious. And only one long term relationship that started in college. Four years down the fucking drain. Ugh. - Are you a virgin? Lord no. LOL - Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids? See above statement. I’m too busy for that ish. - Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want? You know... if I DID decide to have kids... I don’t know. Adoption is a wonderful thing, because lord knows there are already so many unwanted babies in this world. Sad, but true. I think adoption is a wonderful option, really. - Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent? Uhhh, given how I am with the boys? Protective. Like... ultra protective. - How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic? Having mindblowing sex with my mortal enemy. ‘Cause not only do I get to go out hatefucking someone (!), but it’s bound to ruin the experience for them and that’s not something they will forget EVER.  - Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit? Thanks to WWE medical, I’m healthy and chugging down vitamins like it’s my job. - Have you ever been badly injured before? Broke my wrist as a kid and I have a nagging ankle issue, but nothing SERIOUS, no. - What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death? Honestly, I’ve been really lucky. The broken wrist was probably the worst, but honestly, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. - How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's? I avoid them at all costs. Let’s not even talk about it. - Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia? Nope, though that’s surprising as hell since Coach Brookside decided I needed to learn how to bump once I actually started working for the company.  - What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick? I just really don’t get sick. I think maybe I had strep a few years back, but I literally did nothing about it, so I don’t even know if it was actually strep or not. - Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for? Nope! - Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened? Yes. I have stitched up my dad when we went camping (not fun), I definitely had to put a hole in my toenail to drain the blood when I smashed it (extra not fun), and I have changed about a hundred bandages for various injuries to myself, my mom, my dad and a few of the boys. - Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?  I am currently a member of the WWE Talent Relations office, based in the UK just recently. Like literally three days ago. It’s still sort of surreal. Previously, I was a personal assistant to Mr. William Regal. I sometimes feel like I was sent here as a rib, because that’s one hell of a freakin’ leap, but... here I am, so. Make the most of it, right? - Are you happy with your current job? I literally couldn’t be happier. - Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do? Mostly small stuff, office management, retail BS, bartender... - Most dangerous thing you have ever done? I’m sure my mom would say something about texting and driving (which I don’t do, mom, and neither should any one else!) but honestly... probably insisting on WWE giving me something more to do, because we see how that turned out. - Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person? Active? I mean, I’m not going out running every day... not that kind of active. I stay in shape, but I am literally always doing things. I am constantly working, so... active in that sense, I guess. - What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare? To be in charge of NXT. <3 Worst nightmare? Failure.  - What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself? To be in charge of NXT. You’re only as good as the person you help to get a promotion, Mr. Regal... :) - How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task? I’ve been told I’m obnoxiously persistent and it must be true, because here I am. And I don’t ever quit on any goal. I’ve always accomplished anything I’ve set my mind to. - Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end? Surrender is a tool of war that is either a signal of defeat or treachery.  - When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list? Literally, everything is on my shopping list. I am moving into my new flat on Wednesday, so like... ALL of the groceries. Mostly organics. - Top three things on your wishlist? To be in charge of NXT... though I can’t really buy that at the store and I’m pretty sure that’s what they were going for here...  1.) Body Shop Banana Shampoo & Conditioner 2.) Another Key Lime Pie smoothie from the place down the street 3.) And maybe it makes me a mark, but I want a Kenny Omega bear, damnit. (sorry boss!) - Currently, what is something you want but do not need? That damn bear, for sure. - Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for? I mean, I guess? I don’t really get to just go shopping all that often. Just like... typical clothes shopping? Maybe?? Is that really a priority in people’s lives? - What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it? My old TV. 4K. It was nice. SIGH. I miss it. - What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue? Uhhhhh... wow. I’d do the typical stuff. By my mom a house, get a new car, by MYSELF a house, too, pay off my student debt, donate a shit ton of money to charity... start a wildlife rescue and refuge! - What would you describe your style of clothing as? It depends. I’m definitely business casual at work, but like.. more towards the business end. Outside of work, if I’m WEARING clothes, it’s gonna be a baggy tank and jeans, sandals, sunglasses. - Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can. I used to sing a lot, but honestly work has consumed my life and I am a-ok with that.  - Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork? I DO! And I can’t put that on here, because his head will get exponentially bigger than it already is. - Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music? Oh gosh, I like everything. I’m currently wavering between Kenny Chesney and Kaleo right now. But I like a lot of different things. Bluegrass, EDM, Classical, Hip hop... if it’s good, I like it. - Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite? PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.  - What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is? Hm. Top three favorite animals... Florida panther, giraffe, panda My spirit animal is 137% a bear.  - What are your top three favorite colors? Deep dark purple, Emerald Green and Maroon - What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all? Summer. Always summer. Fuck the cold. - What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)? I like them all, but... I’m going with Sweet and Sour, baby. (12 LARGE). Damn, I just made myself sad. - Can you cook at all? Yes, though the quality of that cooking is always up in the air. - What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy? Shrimp Chow Mein. I’ve never even attempted to make it nor do I have a recipe. You know, I probably SHOULD try to make it, though. - What is your favorite fruit and vegetable? Fruit: Peaches Vegetable: Asparagus - What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat? Key Lime Pie. <3 Candy is always always gummi worms. - What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst? Frog legs, freshly caught and sauteed in garlic butter. Only really good if you catch them yourself, though.  Worst thing ever? Any frozen green tea things. Popsicles were the WORST. - Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors? I love hot tea, Earl Grey or English Breakfast. And yes, I am a coffee addict. - Describe your sense of humor. Sarcastic. - What is one thing you are justly proud of? My persistence paying off and landing me the job of a lifetime. - Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service? Not my bag, no. I have been to church and actually grew up attending a baptist church every Sunday for years. It was enough to kill any interest in religion. - What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you? The ex did some messed up shit.  - What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone? I also did some messed up shit, based on the ex’s messed up shit. - Share the latest entry in your diary/journal. Basically me whining about having slept 20 hours. Thanks, jet lag!  - What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all? My sense of self and my drive. It’s invaluable. - Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike. Hm. I think I’m going to save this question for it’s own little post someday this week. - FREE QUESTION NO! IMPRISONED QUESTION IS BEING HELD FOR JUSTIFIABLE REASONS AND WILL NOT BE FREED! 

[ladystylestores]

Five wildlife films to watch during lockdown | Wild Animals

With human populations around the world being forced to take a back seat, emboldened animals are gliding through clear waterways, stepping out onto peaceful city streets and reclaiming deserted national parks.

Animal sightings are drawing wonder on social media. A jellyfish floating along the canals of Venice, a civet cat sauntering along a zebra crossing in Kerala, a puma lying asleep in a tree in a back yard in Boulder, Colorado, and others scouting the streets of Santiago. In Istanbul, dolphins are frolicking in the Bosphorus. In Thailand, on beaches devoid of tourists, more endangered leatherback turtle nests have been counted than at any time in the past two decades. 

This only goes to show how damaging the human presence is. It is also, however, a welcome sign of nature’s ability to recover. 

But, will it ever get a proper chance to bounce back? Even now, in what could be a respite, it is being hit when it is down.  

The threat to wildlife continues apace. Places left unpatrolled and unprotected are particularly vulnerable. From the Amazon, to the African plains and the Himalayas, there is concern about encroachment not only from profiteers but also from people who are desperate to find food and fuel as the economic shock of the pandemic hits.  

Restoration projects have come to a halt. Scientific expeditions have been cancelled. A major UN conference on biological diversity planned for later in the year has been postponed.

While animals run wild in parts of the planet usually occupied by humans and a pageant of beautiful creatures parades across screens, one million species are still facing extinction, many within decades. The 60 percent of animals we have wiped out since 1970 can never be brought back from the dead. 

Several critical issues will be demanding our attention once the pandemic has abated. Conservation must be one of them. Healthy ecosystems are fundamental for a healthy planet and healthy people. We ransack, trade and consume animals as we do all the planet’s resources. And the results, as the COVID-19 pandemic shows only too clearly, can be fatal.

In the following five earthrise films we meet conservationists who are fighting nature’s corner and, in some cases, winning. Their stories are a reminder of the urgent need to protect our fellow creatures on Earth, even while the pandemic is making us fear for our own lives.

While the novel coronavirus is thought to have emerged from bats, an intermediary host may have carried it over to humans. Sold at the wet market in Wuhan, China, where the COVID-19 outbreak began, pangolins have been cited as the possible go-between. 

This is yet to be scientifically proven but, still, pangolins have been getting a bad press. Whereas, due to rising demand for their meat and scales, they are some of the most illegally trafficked and threatened animals in the world. 

It will be impossible to eliminate further pandemics without abolishing the wildlife trade, which brings animals and the pathogens they carry directly into contact with humans. 

In 2013, earthrise visited a conservation programme in Cambodia which is protecting the endangered Sunda pangolin. 

If I keep hunting the animal, it will soon be extinct … instead of hunting we will protect them.

Kong Heng, ex-pangolin poacher

One way of protecting animals – and keeping viruses contained – is simply to keep people away. Conservation groups and the UN are calling for governments to protect 30 percent of the planet by 2030. 

In 2018, we followed a Greenpeace campaign to create the world’s largest sanctuary in the remote Weddell Sea in Antarctica. The continent’s spectacular biodiversity is under threat from human activity. 

The campaign is yet to succeed. Greenpeace had been pinning hopes on this year’s gathering of the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR), the international body responsible for protecting Antarctic waters, but this may not take place due to the pandemic.

The big problem is getting people to realise why they should care about the Antarctic.

Will McCullum, head of Oceans, Greenpeace UK

The wildfires that raged across Australia between 2019 and 2020 are estimated to have killed a third of the country’s koalas. But, as if the extreme impacts of climate change were not bad enough, these mammals were already in big trouble. 

An epidemic of chlamydia, which can lead to infertility and even death, has been hitting them hard. Initial research suggests the chlamydia virus detected in koalas is virtually identical to that found in sheep and cattle and, therefore, that it crossed over between species.  

On top of this, as cities expand, an increasing number of koalas are forced to live within them. This brings new threats. 

In Brisbane, scientists and volunteers are working to save this iconic animal.

This road is a hotspot for koala deaths in the area … when they get on the rail lines … they are exposed to really significant injury and death.

Dr Jon Hanger, veterinary ecologist

Human encroachment can be disastrous for local wildlife. But what happens when people bring other invasive species with them? 

In New Zealand, the native wetapunga has been around for 190 million years. But in only a century and a half, human-introduced pests such as stoats and rats almost wiped it out. 

Now, a breeding programme at the Auckland Zoo is bringing this huge, dinosaur-era insect back from the brink of extinction. 

They’re really, really important for the environment … without insects, we wouldn’t be here.

Kirsty Macfarlane, learning guide, Auckland Zoo

Our final stop is Wuhan, China, a city built on the banks of the Yangtze river. But rapid development has put huge pressure on the river’s entire ecosystem. 

Its polluted, murky waters are home to the critically endangered Yangtze finless purpoise. In 2006, its relation and one of the river’s other inhabitants, the baiji dolphin, became the first species of dolphin to be driven to extinction by humans.  

The fight is on to ensure the world’s only freshwater porpoise does not meet the same fate.  

We are not only trying to save this species. We are also trying to improve the health of the Yangtze river.

Professor Wang Ding, Institute of Hydrobiology, Chinese Academy of Sciences

You can find more earthrise films here.

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[thatsnotcanonpodcasts]

SPIRALING

Many of our staff have traveled great distances to join the Museum. Many of our patrons are the same.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality is written, performed, and edited by Dom Guilfoyle. Published by That's Not Canon Productions. Dom's cats can be seen at https://www.instagram.com/dom_question_mark/ Their T-Shirts can be bought at https://www.teepublic.com/user/domguilfoyle For more Mistholme, subscribe to the show and like the Facebook page. It's ok. But it's not ok. But that's ok.

TRANSCRIPT: Hello and welcome to the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity and Mortality. This audio tour guide will be your constant companion in your journey through the unknown and surreal.

As you approach our exhibits, the audio tour guide will provide you with information and insights into their nature and history.

Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the exhibits.

Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the audio tour guide. If you believe that the audio tour guide may be deviating from the intended tour program, please deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.

While the staff here at Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality do their absolute best to ensure the safety of all visitors, accidents can happen. The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or Implosion that may occur during your visit.

Enjoy your tour.

And good luck.

Before we begin today’s tour, The Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality would like to issue a correction. Previous visitors to the Museum may have seen our exhibit titled “The Guitar Of The Man Who Met The Devil At The Crossroads”. The Audio Guide for this exhibit, centred around the guitar which once belonged to legendary Blues musician Johnny Samuels, contained information in support of the legend that Johnny Samuels sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical prowess, and was eventually claimed by the devil during the recording of his third album. After the publication of that Audio Guide, a letter appeared on the desk of our complaints department written in a truly immaculate hand. The writer claimed to be Samuels himself, and according to the note he did not make any kind of deal with the devil in exchange for his musical success, and he has been forced to defend himself on this matter for decades. Johnny Samuels was, quote, “Just a really fine guitar player who finally got his big break” unquote. These rumours became so commonplace that he was, in fact, taken during the recording of his third album, but once the man with the voice like honey and chocolate and coffee- whom Samuels told us does not appreciate being referred to as the devil or any other hellish titles- realised his mistake, he gave Samuels the opportunity to slip his mortal form and become something more, the nature of which Samuels was not willing to impart to us. Samuels’ also asked if he could have his guitar back but-while we wish whatever it is that Samuels has become all the best- the guitar is Museum property and we do not under any circumstances part with any items in our collections. The guitar’s description will be corrected, and it will be moved to our “items related to urban legends with more than a grain of truth to them” section.

We regret the error, and will do our best in future to ensure that no similar mistakes are made again. And now, on with the tour.

In this case, you will see a horn, roughly 9.6 inches in length, with an ornate spiral pattern from tip to base. Patrons familiar with the traditional animal kingdom might think it belongs to an adolescent narwhal, or perhaps a unicorn. However, this horn is special, because it comes from a most unusual and specific place: the head of a young boy.

The boy in question, whose name has been lost to time, was born somewhere in central Europe several centuries ago. His story has been twisted and mythologised a great deal in the years since but, as is so often the case with folk stories there is a grain of truth. He was, with the exception of the horn, a perfectly normal young boy physically. Mentally, he was what people in his time would describe as “touched”, with a dreamy disposition and a predilection for silence. His mother had died giving birth to him, and by some circumstance or another, he became a traveling performer in the employ of a man believed to be his father. They would travel from town to town, stopping at each location to set up a small stage from their wagon and put on a show. The man would spin some fanciful tale about the boy while the boy did as he pleased; sometimes he would roam the crowd touching babies on their foreheads to “bless” them, others he would simply sit on the stage in silence. The main attraction was his unique deformity. The man would tailor the superficial details of the performance to the mood of the boy, as well as the time and the location; most accounts hold that he was quite shrewd in this regard, and that he and the boy made a handsome income for several years- though the man saw most of the benefit, as after each performance the boy was locked in a cage in the back of the wagon. This run of good fortune came to an end quite suddenly late one winter, when they reached a mining town deep in the mountains.

When the man surveyed the atmosphere of the town he found that the people of the town had a dour and miserable aspect to them, and decided that what the town needed was some light-hearted comedy. He did his usual work rustling up a crowd, but there were precious few takers. Thinking that things would pick up once the show began, he beckoned the boy to take the stage. As the crowd saw the boy, the atmosphere turned from dour to sour, and the man began to realise that he had made a mistake. Unbeknownst to the travelling pair, there had been a terrible accident in the mine early in the day they arrived, and several souls had been lost. And now, on the very day that tragedy had struck their town, these superstitious people were looking at something entirely outside of their frame of reference. A crowd quickly gathered, but not at all the type that the man had hoped for. Angry muttering gave way to shouts of “Freak” and “It’s an Omen” and other sundry accusations that the boy had somehow caused the miner’s deaths. The boy began to become distressed by the vitriol being hurled his way, and the man knew that they had outstayed their welcome. He began hastily packing up the wagon for their departure but before he could finish, several burly miners charged at the boy intending to do him harm. There was a struggle, and one man met the pointy end of the boy’s horn. They fled down the icy mountain in their wagon; as they rode, the man berated the boy for riling up the crowd, for defending himself, for all the troubles in the world. The boy was silent: he simply stared down at his horn, tightly gripped in his hands. It had snapped off in the struggle. 

The man and the boy managed to get away from their pursuers, but their misfortunes were far from over. As they attempted to cross a frozen river in the wagon, the hastily packed stage shifted suddenly and the thinning ice gave way under its weight. The man and the boy escaped the sinking wagon with their lives but none of their supplies and took shelter in a nearby cave. The man had injured his leg in the escape and would be unable to travel the icy roads for several more weeks; with no supplies the man knew that he and the boy would never last that long, and he screamed and railed at the boy for ruining everything he had built. But the boy paid him no heed. He looked out from the mouth of the cave at the wilderness beyond and- mute as ever- he strode out into the snow. The man called after him, but to no avail: the boy was gone. And then, hours later, he returned, with a fish caught tightly in his teeth. He dropped the fish at the man’s feet and looked up at him expectantly. The man was too shocked to act at first, but recovered quickly, and soon the pair were feasting on roast fish around a fire. For the next few weeks as they waited for spring, the boy would go out in the morning and return at dusk with food enough for both of them. The boy’s horn soon grew back, and he used it to defend them from wildlife on more than one occasion. As the man would often regale to anyone who would listen in the years that followed, the boy was finally in his element. He had never truly been at home in the world of man, but here he came to life. He was fearsome and cunning and entirely at home in the wilderness, in a way he had never been in civilization. When the ice melted and the man’s leg could hold his weight, they parted. The boy had found his place in the world, and the man was too grateful and filled with regret at his past mistreatment to him to deny that. As a final gift to remember him by, the boy gave him the horn he had lost back in the town; his new horn was even longer and more resplendent than the old one.

The man’s story became a folk legend, and he made an even better career with tales of the boy than he had with the real thing, with the horn a constant prop. It became almost as popular for drunks to tell stories of their own interactions with the boy, of glimpsing a wild-eyed boy with a horn while out alone in the woods. The people of the small mining town had a different version of the story. Their story tells of a wicked and monstrous demon child who had brought tragedy to their town, first in the mines and then in the street. When one brave soul confronted the boy, his caretaker- a bitter drunk who kept the creature in chains- stabbed him through the heart in cold blood. The town rallied and drove off the monster and his master, buried their dead, and moved on with their lives. Months later, when the snow had thawed, woodsmen from the town discovered the skeleton of a young boy, in a cave near a river, at the base of the mountain. His bones had been picked clean of their meat, and there was a hole in his skull where a chunk had been forcefully removed. They sealed up the cave to contain his evil, and if it truly existed it has never yet been rediscovered. All that remains of the boy is the stories. And his horn.

This is an antique radio transmitter, of the sort that would have been used in the mid 20th century for commercial radio purposes. While there is little unusual about its construction, it is noteworthy that it does not appear to match any documented make of radio transmitter that Museum Researchers could locate. It is also noteworthy that the transmitter is active, despite the fact that it is not- and, as far as the Museum is aware, has never been- connected to any power source. In fact, it still sends out a signal on a regular basis, as it has done for years at the very least, though the purpose behind these messages is the subject of a great deal of debate among the Researchers: there is clearly a logic or pattern to the broadcasts, but very few have the ability to discern it. A notable exception is a woman who- for the purposes of this exhibit, will be referred to as “Dee”.

Dee lived an unremarkable life in a mid-sized city which will remain unnamed, where she worked in a business which will remain unnamed and cared for a pet whose species will remain unnamed. Her life was utterly unremarkable- although, if it had been remarkable it would nonetheless have remained unremarked upon in this guide. Dee was, however, content with this unremarkable existence, as most people are: a life of contentment and routine is what most people aspire to, and at this point Dee would have considered herself most people.

That all changed one day, while she drove to her unnamed workplace in her car- the make of which will remain unnamed- while listening to music on her unnamed music playing device: a perfectly normal start to what she expected would be a perfectly normal day. Then, as her car idled at a red light, her music cut out. She picked up her music player and pressed a few buttons: nothing. The device was dead. She fiddled with it for a moment, then was forced to stop as a car behind her honked its horn to let her know the light had turned green. As she continued her journey, she reluctantly turned on the radio in her car for the first time since she bought it. She scanned through the frequencies searching for whatever stations were playing the sort of music she liked; never having used a radio in her life, she didn’t realise that she was scanning the AM frequency, and was therefore unlikely to find anything to her taste unless she was particularly into dry news reports in languages she didn’t understand. She had almost given up on having anything to listen to when she heard something that caught her attention. A voice, with a crisp accent she couldn’t quite place, reciting a string of numbers. 1. 6. 1. 12. 2. 33. 56. 1. 56. 3. 2. She scrolled past it in her haste, and it took her a few seconds to find it again. 101. 82. 83. 1. 23. 0. She listened to it, enthralled for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on, for the remainder of her drive to work. When she arrived, she sat in the car park listening for several more minutes, until the numbers abruptly stopped. She sat in her car for another minute, waiting to see if the numbers would return, before she realised that she was now late for work. As her manager admonished her for being late, her mind was still on the mysterious numbers. At her desk, she struggled to focus on her work; eventually, she gave up and began searching online for answers.

The results were as revealing as they were confounding. There was a seemingly endless number of people who had heard similar broadcasts, and a number of articles written about the phenomena and theorising what could be behind it. They referred to the broadcasts as “Numbers Stations”, and they had been witnessed by people around the world going back as far as World War One. Dee devoured all the information that she could find, but was confounded by the lack of a consensus as to the Numbers Stations’ origins and purpose. Some said they were coded messages, sent by governments to spies in foreign lands. Others, that it was a method for AI to communicate without accessing the internet. Some, that it was ghosts attempting to communicate with the world of the living. Dee didn’t think much of that last one. There were so many people theorizing, with so many examples- how could they have failed to get to the bottom of this mystery? Most people seemed to accept that the spy explanation was most likely, and that cracking the code was impossible without knowledge of the cipher being used. Disappointed, Dee returned to her work, troubled by the lack of closure. When she drove home that night, the station was silent, and she determined that she would put the Numbers Station out of her mind.

She was reminded the very next morning when she got in her car and turned the key. The radio- which she could swear she had switched off- startled her by blaring out the same voice as yesterday, reading another inscrutable string of digits. She reached out to switch off the radio, but hesitated. There was something to the numbers she couldn’t put her finger on, something that made her want to keep listening, to understand. She couldn’t but shake the phantom feeling that the numbers were, in some way, meant for her to hear. To understand. When she arrived at work, she searched the internet again, this time to see if anyone had reported on this specific station, if anyone knew how long it had been broadcasting or if anyone had gotten to the bottom of what its messages meant.

An hour later, she had found absolutely no trace of anyone discussing her Numbers Station.

She called in sick to work the next day, bought a radio set and some books on codebreaking, and sat listening to the station for the rest of the day and well into the night. When she awoke the next morning she continued in the same manner, waiting for a broadcast, writing down the numbers, and attempting to discern their meaning. She used up all her remaining sick days doing this, then- in a brief gap in her vigil- managed to convince her boss to let her take an unscheduled holiday from work. Friends called her, concerned for her wellbeing, but Dee rebuffed them, insisting she was fine. She made only brief breaks in her listening to leave the house to purchase food and other supplies, always making sure that she did so in gaps in the broadcast. Feeding her pet proved too much of a distraction, so she purchased and set up an automatic feeder. After weeks of this, however, she had made no progress. The books on codebreaking she had found were fascinating, but useless when it came to uncovering the meaning behind the Numbers. Eventually Dee found herself sitting alone in front of the radio in her dark living room, surrounded by the rubbish and filth that had built up over the course of her attempts to crack the code, in clothes that hadn’t been washed in who knows how long, with nothing to show for it. Wordlessly, she picked up the radio, took it to her front door, and hurled it out into the night. Then she went to bed.

She woke a few hours later. Her head felt like it was full of lightning. She ran out of her house in her pyjamas, past the ruined radio, to her car, and got in. She switched on her car’s radio: the numbers began immediately. She smiled, as one does when the see an old friend for the first time in years, and began to drive. She didn’t know how many times the sun rose and set while she drove: her focus was almost entirely on the numbers, with just enough spare to keep from crashing, only stopping to refuel. The numbers didn’t stop this time: they kept going on and on, guiding her in a way not even Dee fully understood as she made her way to her unknown destination. 

After some time, the numbers stopped, and so did Dee. In front of her, illuminated in the headlights, was the entrance to a bunker. It was in the middle of nowhere, and there was no signage: without the numbers to guide her, Dee was quite certain it would have been impossible to find. She got out of the car and walked cautiously to the entrance; she turned the handle on the door and it swung open smoothly. Dee took a deep breath, and entered. Inside the bunker, Dee found a facility with halls that seemed to stretch on forever, with no signage to be found. She wondered how anyone could navigate the place without getting hopelessly lost; she wasn’t lost though. She knew, without knowing, where she was meant to go. She walked past strange glass windows without glancing inside, past cases with contents she didn’t care to see: the Numbers had told her where to go.

Eventually she stopped in front of one such case. She had found her destination. She looked inside the case, a mixture of elation and trepidation in her heart as she gazed upon the radio transmitter you’re looking at right now. Suddenly, a cold metal hand clapped down on her shoulder, and Dee spun around to see an imposing sight: a metallic woman, clockwork whirring at her joints, wearing a “security” badge on her chest. 

Dee was interviewed extensively by Museum Security in an effort to determine how she had found our location. She insisted that she had been led here by a radio signal meant for her, that she was supposed to be here. Eventually, the Museum’s Curator themself invervened, and explained that the signal had indeed led her here for a purpose: with her investigative spirit and subconscious connection to the alternatural, she was a perfect candidate for becoming a Museum Researcher. 

And so, Dee now works here at the Museum, a valued asset to our Research department and a cherished colleague to those with sufficient clearance to interact with her. She, with the rest of her department, conducts important investigations into the nature and origin of the exhibits here at the Museum: this facility would not be possible without people like her. 

Addendum: the history of the radio transmitter and the signal it transmits is still a mystery to the Museum, as is the method by which it came to be on display here, as the night of Dee’s arrival is the first time anyone here learned of its existence. If you or anyone you know have any information regarding the nature of the radio transmitter or its signal, please state it in a clear tone of voice directly into your playback device after the beep.

BEEP.

Thank you for visiting the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. We hope that you have enjoyed your visit, and that you will return one day, in this life or the next. Please, tell your friends about what a great time you had here- but don’t tell them too much! If they’re worthy, we’ll find them. Stay safe out there.

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[jakehglover]

Avoiding the Top Freak Accidents

By Dr. Mercola

Motor vehicle accidents once held the top spot for accidental deaths in the U.S., but in 2016 more Americans died from accidental drug overdoses than from car accidents.1 Car accidents aren't the only accidents taking lives. According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), there were 146,000 unintentional deaths due to injury. More than 33,000 fell to their death in 2014.2

The CDC ranked unintentional poisonings as the highest number of unintentional injury deaths in 2015, followed closely by falls and over 6,000 individuals who died in an unspecified accident.3 Many of these unspecified accidental deaths fall into a category of freak accidents, some of which can occur in your own backyard.

Accidental Death and Injury Rates Are Rising

The rates of accidental deaths, not including overdoses, appear to be rising each year. In a report from the National Safety Council (NSC), more than 136,000 Americans died accidentally in 2014.4 This number rose to just over 161,000 in 2016, or 18 deaths every hour.5 This NSC video is a short demonstration of the numbers of people who experience accidents and injuries at home, work, in public or in their cars. As Ken Kolosh, the National Safety Council statistical manager, points out,6 “Every accident is preventable.”

Although many believe murder is a big risk in America, there are nearly eight accidental deaths for every homicide. Previously accidents ranked as low as the seventh leading killer of Americans, but a combination of slowly reducing and preventing illnesses and rising rates of overdoses has raised the rank of accidental deaths to the third leading killer, beating out stroke, Alzheimer's, diabetes and suicide.7

While the death statistics are staggering, there are also nearly 46 million injuries8 and 7 million disabling injuries each year following accidents.9 Despite these statistics, more than half of surveyed American adults said they could not think of anything they should or would do to prevent an accident at home. The cost of accidental injuries are not always obvious. A series of costly accidents to an employer can reduce profits, and even less obvious are indirect costs, which are usually uninsured.

WCF Mutual Insurance10 compares the cost of accidents to an iceberg, as the costs above the surface are a far smaller, direct portion of the total cost, while what lies beneath the surface are often uncovered, indirect costs to families, employers and communities. According to the NSC,11 the average direct cost of a motor vehicle crash resulting in death is slightly above $10,000 per person and the average direct cost of a fatal or nonfatal injury at home is over $3,000 per person.

Challenges in Your Lawn and Garden

Cutting down trees in the backyard presents a unique challenge, especially when the tree is already leaning or has a poor root system. Lumberjacks call this effect a “barber chair,”12 as demonstrated in this short video. This means when a leaning tree falls too fast the trunk does not make a clean break. Instead the tree splits and the rear half snaps backward, sometimes crushing the person cutting the tree.

The Telegraph reported 87,000 people required hospital treatment in Great Britain after being injured in their gardens.13 According to Amputee Coalition,14 lawn mower accidents cause mower-related amputations in 600 children every year. One of the most common ways this happens is when a riding mower tips as the result of mowing a hill from side to side instead of properly going up and down. In some cases, it crushes the driver while in others a foot or leg may be traumatically amputated.15

Falls are the leading cause of injury mortality nationwide, and 43 percent of those falls involve a ladder.16 In one study,17 data revealed over 258,000 annual accidents resulted in injury and 700 deaths related to ladder use.18 The majority of injuries following ladder accidents were found in middle-aged men requiring a median hospital stay of one week and disability up to six weeks.19

The Occupational Safety and Health Administration reports falls from portable ladders are one of the leading causes of occupational fatalities and injuries. In their guide to safe use20 they recommend avoiding electrical hazards, maintaining a three-point contact on the ladder, never using the top step or rung of a ladder and only using appropriate accessories for their designed purposes.

Portable gas generators emit a lot of carbon monoxide, an invisible, odorless killer. A press release from the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC)21 revealed portable generators were involved in the majority of carbon monoxide deaths between 1999 and 2012, finding they were linked to more than 85 percent of non-fire carbon monoxide deaths associated with engine tools during the 14-year period.

After Hurricane Sandy, many left their generators running overnight to maintain refrigerators and electrical equipment. This allowed odorless carbon monoxide gas to seep into their homes, inducing dizziness, headaches, nausea and shortness of breath.22 The CPSC recommends familiarizing yourself with the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning, which include vomiting, loss of consciousness and mental confusion.23

Recommendations also include having your home heating system inspected and serviced annually and never using portable generators inside your home or garage, even when leaving the doors and windows open. Portable generators should be run as far away from the home as possible. Install a battery-operated carbon monoxide alarm or an alarm with battery backup in your home outside of each sleeping area if you plan on using one.

Water Packs a Punch

You float on it, bathe in it and dive through it — but water is more dangerous than you might imagine. The No. 1 cause of death in U.S. National Parks is not an attack by wildlife, but drowning.24 According to the National Park Service,25 water is more powerful than the strongest swimmer and is also deceptively dangerous. Even wading in shallow water can pull you off your feet, and a heavy backpack can weigh you down.

When crossing a stream, first toss a stick into the current; if it’s moving faster than you're walking, don't cross.26 Watch for floating debris and look for wider areas where the current is not as strong.27 Loosen your backpack before entering the stream in case you need to remove it quickly.

If you fall, your pack will get soaked and become heavy very quickly, dragging you away by the current. As you enter the stream, slide your feet in a forward direction but walk diagonally toward the flow, while moving toward the opposite bank.28 Use a trekking pole to steady yourself. If you're crossing with a group, you'll enjoy additional stability by holding arms and moving together.

Kyle Richard McGonigle was a young man of 36 who died unexpectedly in 201329 when he attempted to rescue one of his dogs who became distressed in a lake.30 Deputy coroner Howard Tomes reported, “They had been swimming in the water, the dog let out a yelp, and went under.” Both McGonigle and the dog died from low-voltage electrocution according to the autopsy report.

Power cords, present on the docks for the houseboat, had been spliced and were in poor condition. One of those cords, plugged into an outlet, had slipped into the water and electrified it. While the number of annual deaths from electric shock drowning are unknown, the anecdotal evidence indicates it may be widespread.31

If you feel a tingle or numbness while swimming near a boating marina, get out of the water immediately. Learn to recognize signs someone is drowning,32 including signs of panic, head tilted back, floating face-down or arms moving downward, as someone is instinctively trying to push off against something that isn't there.

Camping and Recreational Vehicles Present Unique Hazards

Americans are camping in greater numbers every year. More than 1 million new households started camping each year since 2014.33 Kampgrounds of America (KOA) chief franchise operations officer Toby O'Rourke attributes this growth in popularity to more Americans taking more frequent trips each year and enjoying the ability to relax, spend time with family and friends and be active while camping.

American national parks are some of the more popular places bringing families together to hike and enjoy nature. Although the National Park Services report the number of deaths from wildlife exposure are the lowest ranking number of deaths within the parks,34 attacks by grizzly bears are not unheard of. Brian Matayoshi and his wife Marylyn, of Torrance, California, were hiking in Yellowstone National Park when they accidently startled a mother grizzly and her cubs.35

Based on the account by Marylyn Matayoshi, rangers believe the grizzly was instinctively protecting her young. Matayoshi was the first fatal grizzly attack inside the park in 25 years, but the third in the Yellowstone region in just over a year. According to experts, Matayoshi’s fatal mistake was in running from the bear, while his wife reported she dialed 911 from her cellphone. When the bear attacked her, she dropped to the ground. The grizzly lifted her by her day pack and then dropped her and left.

Marylyn Matayoshi escaped with scrapes and bruising, but her husband died at the scene.36 Grizzly bears are omnivorous animals, eating berries and wildlife. Park rangers routinely urge visitors to take specific precautions, including carrying bear spray, hiking in groups of three or more, staying on designated trails and making noises where grizzly bears may be lurking to ensure the bears are not taken by surprise, which increases the risk of an attack.

All-terrain vehicles (ATVs), are four-wheeled recreational vehicles whose popularity has contributed to the number of injuries and fatalities from accidents. Annual ATV related-injuries increased from 10,000 in 1982 to 150,000 in 2007.37 The number of fatalities have also increased from 29 in 1982 to 766 in 2007, declining slightly to 670 in 2014.38

States with the highest number of ATV-related deaths include Texas, California, Florida, Pennsylvania and West Virginia.39 Many of these deaths are attributed to driving an ATV on paved roads. The vehicles have tires designed for uneven ground and behave unpredictably on pavement.

Bob Adler, a commissioner with CPSC, the federal agency tasked with ensuring ATV safety, commented,40 “There are just too many accidents. These things are simply not designed to be ridden on paved and public roads. They're just not maneuverable on paved roads. They're very prone to flip over.”

Common Kitchen and Home Accidents Can Claim Life and Limb

Your kitchen may be the center of your home, but it is also home to a number of different pieces of equipment capable of causing significant injury. According to Consumer Reports, these are some of the scariest kitchen accidents occurring at home.41

• Cooking fires

Nearly 2 out of every 5 fires reported at home involve cooking equipment. Half of these are ignited by fat, grease or oils, according to the National Fire Protection Association. You can reduce your risk by staying in the kitchen while cooking, setting a timer as a reminder and keeping anything capable of catching fire away from the stove, such as pot holders, towels or food packaging.

While cooking, it's important to keep a lid handy to smother small grease fires by sliding the lid over the top of the pan and turning off the burner. Keep a fire extinguisher with a minimum of 5:B-C rating on hand at all times. Anytime a fire gets out of hand, don’t try to fight it, but leave the house and call your local emergency number.

• Range tip overs

Unsupervised children are especially at risk as they may climb on an open door and cause the range to flip. Install an anti-tip bracket on the range and anchor it to the wall to keep it securely in place. Never place anything on the oven door when it’s open.

• Food processors and blenders

Although incredibly popular to use, food processors and blenders cause nearly 30,000 injuries combined. To prevent cuts from the blades or other accidents and injuries, don't leave the motorized appliance on for long periods as they can overheat, and never reach inside while the machine is plugged in.

Many of the parts of a food processor are dishwasher safe, including the blades, so there's no need to subject your fingers to injury. While immersion blenders are wonderful for making soups and sauces, it is important to remember to unplug the appliance before rinsing.

• Knife cuts

Lacerations and deep cuts from kitchen knives are more likely with a dull knife as they require more pressure to use. Knives pointed up in the dishwasher also present a hazard. While visiting a friend in Airdrie in Lanarkshire, England, Jane McDonald died after slipping on a wet floor and falling over the dishwasher, impaling herself with a knife pointing upright.42

In the kitchen, keep your knives sharpened, cut food away from your body with the fingers holding the food curled toward your palm, and store your knives in a block, not in the drawer where they can easily slice your fingers.

• Shattered cookware

Hot handles can burn your hands and glass cookware may sometimes shatter. Remember to never take a dish from the freezer and place it directly in the oven or vice versa; do not place glass cookware directly on a burner or under the broiler and don't add liquid to a hot dish or put a hot dish on a cold, damp surface.

First Aid and CPR Saves Lives

Your knowledge of first aid and CPR may save a life. Understanding when and if to perform CPR, how to treat sharp force trauma and the do’s and don’ts of simple injuries is important knowledge for you and your family. You’ll discover how to perform CPR, when to perform it, how to recognize a stroke and what to do in case of sharp force trauma in my previous article, “How to Save a Life.”

Learning the skills required for CPR are easily accomplished in a short community class, often available through the Red Cross or your local fire department. First aid measures you perform on the scene of an accident may make a significant difference in the lives of those in an accident. Avoid these 10 first aid mistakes.

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/04/11/avoiding-freak-accidents.aspx

[sherristockman]

Avoiding the Top Freak Accidents Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Motor vehicle accidents once held the top spot for accidental deaths in the U.S., but in 2016 more Americans died from accidental drug overdoses than from car accidents.1 Car accidents aren't the only accidents taking lives. According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), there were 146,000 unintentional deaths due to injury. More than 33,000 fell to their death in 2014.2 The CDC ranked unintentional poisonings as the highest number of unintentional injury deaths in 2015, followed closely by falls and over 6,000 individuals who died in an unspecified accident.3 Many of these unspecified accidental deaths fall into a category of freak accidents, some of which can occur in your own backyard. Accidental Death and Injury Rates Are Rising The rates of accidental deaths, not including overdoses, appear to be rising each year. In a report from the National Safety Council (NSC), more than 136,000 Americans died accidentally in 2014.4 This number rose to just over 161,000 in 2016, or 18 deaths every hour.5 This NSC video is a short demonstration of the numbers of people who experience accidents and injuries at home, work, in public or in their cars. As Ken Kolosh, the National Safety Council statistical manager, points out,6 “Every accident is preventable.” Although many believe murder is a big risk in America, there are nearly eight accidental deaths for every homicide. Previously accidents ranked as low as the seventh leading killer of Americans, but a combination of slowly reducing and preventing illnesses and rising rates of overdoses has raised the rank of accidental deaths to the third leading killer, beating out stroke, Alzheimer's, diabetes and suicide.7 While the death statistics are staggering, there are also nearly 46 million injuries8 and 7 million disabling injuries each year following accidents.9 Despite these statistics, more than half of surveyed American adults said they could not think of anything they should or would do to prevent an accident at home. The cost of accidental injuries are not always obvious. A series of costly accidents to an employer can reduce profits, and even less obvious are indirect costs, which are usually uninsured. WCF Mutual Insurance10 compares the cost of accidents to an iceberg, as the costs above the surface are a far smaller, direct portion of the total cost, while what lies beneath the surface are often uncovered, indirect costs to families, employers and communities. According to the NSC,11 the average direct cost of a motor vehicle crash resulting in death is slightly above $10,000 per person and the average direct cost of a fatal or nonfatal injury at home is over $3,000 per person. Challenges in Your Lawn and Garden Cutting down trees in the backyard presents a unique challenge, especially when the tree is already leaning or has a poor root system. Lumberjacks call this effect a “barber chair,”12 as demonstrated in this short video. This means when a leaning tree falls too fast the trunk does not make a clean break. Instead the tree splits and the rear half snaps backward, sometimes crushing the person cutting the tree. The Telegraph reported 87,000 people required hospital treatment in Great Britain after being injured in their gardens.13 According to Amputee Coalition,14 lawn mower accidents cause mower-related amputations in 600 children every year. One of the most common ways this happens is when a riding mower tips as the result of mowing a hill from side to side instead of properly going up and down. In some cases, it crushes the driver while in others a foot or leg may be traumatically amputated.15 Falls are the leading cause of injury mortality nationwide, and 43 percent of those falls involve a ladder.16 In one study,17 data revealed over 258,000 annual accidents resulted in injury and 700 deaths related to ladder use.18 The majority of injuries following ladder accidents were found in middle-aged men requiring a median hospital stay of one week and disability up to six weeks.19 The Occupational Safety and Health Administration reports falls from portable ladders are one of the leading causes of occupational fatalities and injuries. In their guide to safe use20 they recommend avoiding electrical hazards, maintaining a three-point contact on the ladder, never using the top step or rung of a ladder and only using appropriate accessories for their designed purposes. Portable gas generators emit a lot of carbon monoxide, an invisible, odorless killer. A press release from the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC)21 revealed portable generators were involved in the majority of carbon monoxide deaths between 1999 and 2012, finding they were linked to more than 85 percent of non-fire carbon monoxide deaths associated with engine tools during the 14-year period. After Hurricane Sandy, many left their generators running overnight to maintain refrigerators and electrical equipment. This allowed odorless carbon monoxide gas to seep into their homes, inducing dizziness, headaches, nausea and shortness of breath.22 The CPSC recommends familiarizing yourself with the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning, which include vomiting, loss of consciousness and mental confusion.23 Recommendations also include having your home heating system inspected and serviced annually and never using portable generators inside your home or garage, even when leaving the doors and windows open. Portable generators should be run as far away from the home as possible. Install a battery-operated carbon monoxide alarm or an alarm with battery backup in your home outside of each sleeping area if you plan on using one. Water Packs a Punch You float on it, bathe in it and dive through it — but water is more dangerous than you might imagine. The No. 1 cause of death in U.S. National Parks is not an attack by wildlife, but drowning.24 According to the National Park Service,25 water is more powerful than the strongest swimmer and is also deceptively dangerous. Even wading in shallow water can pull you off your feet, and a heavy backpack can weigh you down. When crossing a stream, first toss a stick into the current; if it’s moving faster than you're walking, don't cross.26 Watch for floating debris and look for wider areas where the current is not as strong.27 Loosen your backpack before entering the stream in case you need to remove it quickly. If you fall, your pack will get soaked and become heavy very quickly, dragging you away by the current. As you enter the stream, slide your feet in a forward direction but walk diagonally toward the flow, while moving toward the opposite bank.28 Use a trekking pole to steady yourself. If you're crossing with a group, you'll enjoy additional stability by holding arms and moving together. Kyle Richard McGonigle was a young man of 36 who died unexpectedly in 201329 when he attempted to rescue one of his dogs who became distressed in a lake.30 Deputy coroner Howard Tomes reported, “They had been swimming in the water, the dog let out a yelp, and went under.” Both McGonigle and the dog died from low-voltage electrocution according to the autopsy report. Power cords, present on the docks for the houseboat, had been spliced and were in poor condition. One of those cords, plugged into an outlet, had slipped into the water and electrified it. While the number of annual deaths from electric shock drowning are unknown, the anecdotal evidence indicates it may be widespread.31 If you feel a tingle or numbness while swimming near a boating marina, get out of the water immediately. Learn to recognize signs someone is drowning,32 including signs of panic, head tilted back, floating face-down or arms moving downward, as someone is instinctively trying to push off against something that isn't there. Camping and Recreational Vehicles Present Unique Hazards Americans are camping in greater numbers every year. More than 1 million new households started camping each year since 2014.33 Kampgrounds of America (KOA) chief franchise operations officer Toby O'Rourke attributes this growth in popularity to more Americans taking more frequent trips each year and enjoying the ability to relax, spend time with family and friends and be active while camping. American national parks are some of the more popular places bringing families together to hike and enjoy nature. Although the National Park Services report the number of deaths from wildlife exposure are the lowest ranking number of deaths within the parks,34 attacks by grizzly bears are not unheard of. Brian Matayoshi and his wife Marylyn, of Torrance, California, were hiking in Yellowstone National Park when they accidently startled a mother grizzly and her cubs.35 Based on the account by Marylyn Matayoshi, rangers believe the grizzly was instinctively protecting her young. Matayoshi was the first fatal grizzly attack inside the park in 25 years, but the third in the Yellowstone region in just over a year. According to experts, Matayoshi’s fatal mistake was in running from the bear, while his wife reported she dialed 911 from her cellphone. When the bear attacked her, she dropped to the ground. The grizzly lifted her by her day pack and then dropped her and left. Marylyn Matayoshi escaped with scrapes and bruising, but her husband died at the scene.36 Grizzly bears are omnivorous animals, eating berries and wildlife. Park rangers routinely urge visitors to take specific precautions, including carrying bear spray, hiking in groups of three or more, staying on designated trails and making noises where grizzly bears may be lurking to ensure the bears are not taken by surprise, which increases the risk of an attack. All-terrain vehicles (ATVs), are four-wheeled recreational vehicles whose popularity has contributed to the number of injuries and fatalities from accidents. Annual ATV related-injuries increased from 10,000 in 1982 to 150,000 in 2007.37 The number of fatalities have also increased from 29 in 1982 to 766 in 2007, declining slightly to 670 in 2014.38 States with the highest number of ATV-related deaths include Texas, California, Florida, Pennsylvania and West Virginia.39 Many of these deaths are attributed to driving an ATV on paved roads. The vehicles have tires designed for uneven ground and behave unpredictably on pavement. Bob Adler, a commissioner with CPSC, the federal agency tasked with ensuring ATV safety, commented,40 “There are just too many accidents. These things are simply not designed to be ridden on paved and public roads. They're just not maneuverable on paved roads. They're very prone to flip over.” Common Kitchen and Home Accidents Can Claim Life and Limb Your kitchen may be the center of your home, but it is also home to a number of different pieces of equipment capable of causing significant injury. According to Consumer Reports, these are some of the scariest kitchen accidents occurring at home.41 • Cooking fires Nearly 2 out of every 5 fires reported at home involve cooking equipment. Half of these are ignited by fat, grease or oils, according to the National Fire Protection Association. You can reduce your risk by staying in the kitchen while cooking, setting a timer as a reminder and keeping anything capable of catching fire away from the stove, such as pot holders, towels or food packaging. While cooking, it's important to keep a lid handy to smother small grease fires by sliding the lid over the top of the pan and turning off the burner. Keep a fire extinguisher with a minimum of 5:B-C rating on hand at all times. Anytime a fire gets out of hand, don’t try to fight it, but leave the house and call your local emergency number. • Range tip overs Unsupervised children are especially at risk as they may climb on an open door and cause the range to flip. Install an anti-tip bracket on the range and anchor it to the wall to keep it securely in place. Never place anything on the oven door when it’s open. • Food processors and blenders Although incredibly popular to use, food processors and blenders cause nearly 30,000 injuries combined. To prevent cuts from the blades or other accidents and injuries, don't leave the motorized appliance on for long periods as they can overheat, and never reach inside while the machine is plugged in. Many of the parts of a food processor are dishwasher safe, including the blades, so there's no need to subject your fingers to injury. While immersion blenders are wonderful for making soups and sauces, it is important to remember to unplug the appliance before rinsing. • Knife cuts Lacerations and deep cuts from kitchen knives are more likely with a dull knife as they require more pressure to use. Knives pointed up in the dishwasher also present a hazard. While visiting a friend in Airdrie in Lanarkshire, England, Jane McDonald died after slipping on a wet floor and falling over the dishwasher, impaling herself with a knife pointing upright.42 In the kitchen, keep your knives sharpened, cut food away from your body with the fingers holding the food curled toward your palm, and store your knives in a block, not in the drawer where they can easily slice your fingers. • Shattered cookware Hot handles can burn your hands and glass cookware may sometimes shatter. Remember to never take a dish from the freezer and place it directly in the oven or vice versa; do not place glass cookware directly on a burner or under the broiler and don't add liquid to a hot dish or put a hot dish on a cold, damp surface. First Aid and CPR Saves Lives Your knowledge of first aid and CPR may save a life. Understanding when and if to perform CPR, how to treat sharp force trauma and the do’s and don’ts of simple injuries is important knowledge for you and your family. You’ll discover how to perform CPR, when to perform it, how to recognize a stroke and what to do in case of sharp force trauma in my previous article, “How to Save a Life.” Learning the skills required for CPR are easily accomplished in a short community class, often available through the Red Cross or your local fire department. First aid measures you perform on the scene of an accident may make a significant difference in the lives of those in an accident. Avoid these 10 first aid mistakes.

[rendezvouswitharomance]

Something to Howl About (Alphaville #0.5) by Christine Warren

Release Date: January 2, 2018

Book Review Here

Synopsis: WELCOME TO ALPHAVILLE, where the she-wolves and alpha-males play. . .for keeps, in a brand-new paranormal romance series from New York Times bestselling author Christine Warren.

Dr. Annie Cryer has been called many things: Genius. Child prodigy. Scientific wonder.

Wolf Shifter.

Banished from her pack years ago, Annie’s lone wolf wandering has brought her to Alpha, Washington, home to all shifters who don’t quite fit in in the “normal” shifter word. Now Annie has the chance to go back home…if only she can make good on a favor her alpha owes the mayor of “Alphaville.” But it’s not much of a favor when you’re helping the hottest shifter in town…

Grizzly shifter Jonas Browning has a clan in trouble. They haven’t had a child born in over a hundred years…and their clan faces going completely extinct. Genetic scientist Anne Cryer has been sent to help save them. But what Jonas doesn’t count on is being irresistibly drawn to the small wolf shifter, and his bear isn’t about to let her go…

Goodreads   |   Amazon   |   Barnes and Nobles

Baby, I’m Howling for You (Alphaville #1) by Christine Warren

Release Date: January 30, 2018

Book Review Here.

Synopsis: WELCOME TO ALPHAVILLE, where the she-wolves and alpha-males play. . .for keeps.

Renny Landry is a wolf on the run. Pursued by a shapeshifting stalker and his slobbering pack of killer coyotes, she is forced to flee her job as a librarian to find sanctuary in the wooded hills of Alpha, Washington. A well-secluded safe space for troubled shifters, Alpha is Renny’s last hope. But the first person she meets there is a gorgeous alpha male with fiery eyes, fierce tattoos, and one ferocious appetite—for her…

Mick Fischer thought he left his past behind when he moved to Alpha. But fate has a way of biting him in the tail when a female wolf shows up on his property. Wounded, desperate—and disarmingly hot—Renny brings out the snarling, protective alpha beast in Mick like no other woman he’s known. Can these two haunted, hunted wolves manage to mate for life…even as the deadliest past demons howl at their heels?

Goodreads   |   Amazon   |   Barnes and Nobles

Author Bio:

CHRISTINE WARREN is the bestselling author of The Others series, including Wolf at the Door, Big Bad Wolf, Born to Be Wild, Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here, and Black Magic Woman. Born and raised in coastal New England, she now lives as a transplant in the Pacific Northwest. (She completely bypassed those states in the middle due to her phobia of being landlocked). When not writing, she enjoys horseback riding, playing with her pets, identifying dogs from photos of their underbellies, and most of all reading things someone else had to agonize over.

Buy Links:

SOMETHING TO HOWL ABOUT:

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Google Play

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Ebooks.com

iBooks

BABY, I’M HOWLING FOR YOU

Macmillan

Amazon

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Chapter One:

The valiant old Nissan ran out of gas thirteen miles short of her destination. Renny would ponder the irony of that number some other time. Right now, she needed to run, and run fast. She jumped from the car the minute it stopped moving, abandoning the vehicle on the shoulder of the two-lane highway. Before she reached the tree line, she was already tearing off her shirt, ignoring the chilly bite of the pre-spring March air. She threw the garment aside and immediately reached for the button of her jeans. She continued to hop forward as she struggled out of the confining denim, but the minute that last restriction fell away, she shifted. Fur replaced skin, arms became forelegs. Between desperate breaths, humanity slid away, and in the place of the panicked woman, a sleek red wolf began to weave through the trunks of the trees. Her claws dug through the lingering patches of wet, heavy snow and soft leaf litter to the soil of the forest floor, flinging small clumps of mud into the air in her wake. She needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and her pursuers. She might not have seen them on her tail from the highway, but it wouldn’t take much longer. They were the reason she hadn’t been able to stop for gas for the last couple of hours. They’d already chased her across two state lines and more than five hundred miles, and that was just this time. Somehow, she couldn’t picture them giving up now. She didn’t bother to think about what she’d left behind on the roadside. If the pack caught up to her, it wouldn’t matter whether or not someone ransacked her car and stole all of her worldly possessions. She didn’t think she’d need a good book or many changes of clothes in the afterlife. If there was such a thing. Frankly, Renny wasn’t all that anxious to find out. Keeping her head down and her feet moving, she continued to track north and west from the roadside, calling up the map in her head to guide her in the right direction. The last road sign she’d seen had put the Snoqualmie Pass about twenty-five miles northwest by the highway. Heading directly north instead should put the town center of her destination somewhere in that thirteen-mile range, so she had to keep running. Just a little farther. Alphaville, or die trying. The town of Alpha, Washington, had shimmered like a mirage on her horizon for years now. As a pup, she’d heard stories—everyone heard stories—of the northwestern town founded and run by shifters as a haven for those of their kind with nowhere else to go. Wolves driven from their packs, bears with injuries and scars inflicted by careless hunters, lions who couldn’t control their shifts, leopards who needed to change their spots—they all went to Alpha, and they all, eventually, got better. Surely a town like that could provide a safe haven to one small wolf with a teensy-tiny little stalker problem. Right? Please, Goddess, let her be right. Renny’s ears swiveled back and forth as she ran, their extra-large proportions helping to catch and funnel in the sounds of pursuit. And damn it, she thought she heard the first indications of it already. They’d found the car, and even if the muddy snow weren’t perfect for holding tracks, they knew she would have fled into the forest. That was what wolves did, after all. She poured on another burst of speed, paws barely seeming to skim the cold ground as she flew toward sanctuary. Or what she prayed was sanctuary, anyway. If she was wrong, she wouldn’t live to regret it. The first staccato bark confirmed her fears. One of her pursuers had picked up her scent trail and was alerting the others to the location. Now it was only a matter of time before they found her. All she could do was run and pray she made it to safety before they all caught up. If just one came at her, she could handle it. In a fight between a lone wolf and a single coyote, the wolf almost always won, even a smaller and lighter red wolf like her. Which was why Geoffrey had sent five of them after her. No way could she beat those odds. Five trained male enforcers of any species against little ol’ her? She’d need to be a polar bear to survive that. Branches snapped behind her, urging Renny to move even faster. If the coyotes on her tail weren’t worried about making noise, then they wouldn’t bother choosing a clear path to follow her. They’d plow through anything to take the straightest line right to her. Clearly, her nemesis had instructed them not to mess around anymore. A sharp yip of anticipation gave her a single instant of warning, and that will to survive made her dip her shoulder and twist into a sharp right turn. She dove into the underbrush, ignoring the clumps of snow that plopped onto her head and the way the thorns ripped through her thick fur to scrape at the skin beneath. She could warm up and lick her wounds later, when she was safe. If she managed to save herself at all. The unexpected maneuver may have gained her a few inches of distance between herself and the lead coyote, but that didn’t last. She could feel the enforcers closing in again, harrying her as if she were some kind of prey animal, like a wounded deer on the way to becoming the pack’s next meal. The comparison fit way too close for comfort. She tried to calculate how far she’d traveled in the last frantic minutes, but all she could do was guess. Running flat out, she could probably manage thirty-five miles an hour, but she couldn’t keep it up for more than a few minutes. Already, burning muscles and oxygen-starved lungs begged her to drop down to something more reasonable. So where had her panicked flight left her in relation to shifter Shangri-la? Not fricking close enough. If she was lucky, she’d covered eight of the thirteen miles between her and safety. Nine, if the Goddess happened to be looking out for her. It wasn’t nearly enough. Then something changed. A new smell cut through the atmosphere of pine needles and wet soil, rocks and wildlife. Something heavier, muskier. Male. Wolfish. Alpha. The realization almost made her slide to a terrified halt. Shit. She’d just stumbled into someone else’s territory—another shifter’s, by the scent of it—and that could be either good for her or very, very bad. A wolf shifter might take her side against a pack of coyote goons, or he might decide to kill her himself for trespassing on his territory. There was no way to tell. Maybe now would be a good time to dedicate herself to serving the Goddess and a life of prayer? She sent one up, hastily but earnestly begging the Moon and all Her Sisters for a miracle. Something, anything to get her out of the reach of the coyotes, who would drag her back to Sawmill, California, and her death at Geoffrey Hilliard’s brutal hands. Zigzagging through the underbrush, Renny spotted a pinpoint of light in the distance and made a beeline for it. Maybe the prayer had worked, and the light represented the town of Alpha, or at least its outskirts. Town meant people, and a town like Alpha meant people capable of holding off a small band of coyote enforcers long enough for her to beg for help. It meant a spark of hope. She called up the last of her reserves of strength and flew toward the light, but the attack came so fast, she didn’t even have time to second-guess that whole prayer strategy. She’d gotten too busy bleeding. She yelped as a set of fangs sliced into the back of her hind leg. The pain jolted through her, but her attacker had missed the big tendons, so at least she didn’t fall or lose the use of her limb. That would have ended things fast. But Renny could keep moving, for the moment. So she did. Stubborn, desperate determination welled up within her. Damn it, she had not lived this long, come this far, or run this hard to let herself be caught now. She refused. With a frantic yip, she leapt forward toward the clear pool of moonlight she could see through the branches. The beckoning light reflected off a patch of snow dead ahead, just a few hundred yards away. If she could get there, this would be over. One way or another. She’d have reached safety or not, and in either event, she’d be out of options. She broke out from a thicket of salal bushes, almost blinded by the glare of moonlight off the lingering puddles of white snow, but it didn’t slow her down. She didn’t need to see to know she had to keep moving. Run or die. Heart pounding, lungs burning, muscles screaming, Renny raced ahead, no chance to take a breath, no chance to scream, no chance to think. She just focused on that light as it flickered closer. Almost there. Almost— He hit her from the side this time, a cannonball of momentum that knocked Renny clean off her feet and sent her skidding through the detritus of slush, twigs, and leaves covering the forest floor. The shock left her dazed, but she still recognized the stink of him. Bryce. Geoffrey’s beta and one of his closest friends. And almost as evil as the alpha coyote himself. She scrambled for purchase, trying to halt her slide and get her feet back under her before the other four caught up to them. If she let them surround her, it was over. She had to keep them off her back. Bryce snarled at her, lips curling back to expose fangs that dripped with anticipation. At least she knew he was anticipating her death, not her rape and then death, as Geoffrey would. Bryce wanted only her blood, and in the heat of the moment, she suddenly wondered whether he’d bother following his leader’s orders. Tearing her throat out himself would bring the big coyote a lot more personal satisfaction than hauling her ass back south and watching while his alpha did the honors after a day or two at Geoffrey’s mercy. Bryce had performed the hunt, now his beast would want the kill. He positioned himself between her and the light she’d tried so desperately to reach. He held his head low and forward, his hackles raised as he stared her down with his malicious yellow gaze. He was waiting for her to move, knowing she was already injured, knowing that if he remained patient long enough, either she’d come at him and expose herself to a counterattack or his buddies would reach them. Five against one would see her dead or captured in the space of a heartbeat. Renny didn’t like either of those options. Her ear flicked backward, catching the sound of the others gaining on them. She had seconds, if that, to find a way out of this. It wasn’t as though she had much choice. The only way open to her was up. She crouched down, mirroring the coyote’s attack posture, but she didn’t bother going for his throat. She knew that even if she managed to take him down, the others would be on her before he started bleeding. She wouldn’t get out of this by fighting. She had to take a leap of faith, literally. Powerful muscles coiled and released with a shocking force, launching Renny into the air and toward her enemy, but she hadn’t aimed for him. She’d aimed for the space over his head, behind him, and she’d almost cleared Bryce’s tail before he realized what she was doing. He jumped up, teeth flashing, and caught her in the side, slashing a deep, bloody furrow over her ribs. She screamed, the sound emerging from her canine throat as a sort of high-pitched howling yelp, but she didn’t bother to assess the damage. She just ran straight toward the light. Behind her, Bryce gave a yip-howl of rage and frustration and leapt after her. She could practically feel his hot breath stirring the hairs at the tip of her tail, and that only made her run faster. She’d broken through another stand of trees before she realized that the distant light she’d prayed was the outskirts of Alpha wasn’t quite so distant, and it wasn’t anything like her long-sought sanctuary. The light shone from a single spotlight mounted in the apex of the peaked roof of a lone, otherwise darkened cabin. A cabin that smelled so strongly of wolf, she was surprised the siding hadn’t sprouted fur. Her heart barely had time to sink before a distinctive metallic rasp caught her attention. The sound was almost immediately followed by the sharp, echoing report of gunfire. Bryce yowled, and suddenly Renny couldn’t sense him at her back. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the coyote spin on his heels, making a diving retreat into the cover of the trees. Drops of blood sprayed the snow and mud behind him. In front of her, a tall figure stood on the porch of the cabin, almost hidden in shadows. The stock of a rifle remained braced on his shoulder, his head bent toward the barrel as he sighted for another shot. Huh. After all these days of running and fearing her death might be just around the corner, Renny had never even considered the end might hit with the impact of a bullet. Who’d have thought? Her paws stumbled over the uneven ground at the edge of the cabin’s yard, and she felt her knees buckle. Her hind leg throbbed in time to her racing heartbeat, and the gash in her side felt like a burning stripe of fire. She could feel blood streaming from both wounds and thought it almost didn’t matter if the man fired again. A bullet in the head sounded like the better choice when compared with bleeding to death in front of a stranger, and either was preferable to what Geoffrey planned to do to her. That was her last (semi-)coherent thought. She folded like a cheap card table, collapsing onto the wet ground with a low grunt. Her head bounced once before darkness claimed her, and in that last dizzy moment, she could have sworn she heard another wolf growling. It sounded a lot as though he’d just muttered, “Shit.” * * * Sitting alone in the light of the dying fire, Mick decided he made a damned pathetic sight. Here he sat, home alone on yet another Friday night, nursing a warming beer and trying to keep his mind clear of old, familiar memories. So far, he was failing miserably. He swallowed more warm, bitter liquid and stared into the glowing coals in his living room hearth. Nights like these, when spring had begun to stir and his latest project was packed off to his publisher, sleep became sadly elusive, and he found himself right here on his battered sofa, trying not to think. Actually, he could have slept if he’d tried, he admitted. He just didn’t make the effort. Sleeping opened the door to dreaming, and lately every dream led back to the same place. His wolf seized control and steered them straight back to their dead mate. It wasn’t what Mick would call restful. Fuck. It had happened more than eight years ago, he reminded himself. You’d think he’d be over it, that he’d have done his mourning, let go of the past, and settled into his new life here in Alpha. But you’d be wrong. Maybe the eight years was the problem. Few wolves survived losing a mate as suddenly and traumatically as Mick had. Most followed the other half of themselves into the darkness and never had to endure the passing of time. He still didn’t know why he hadn’t, but after all these years, he wondered if his wolf was maybe coming unhinged from the loneliness. He snorted, disgusted with himself. One more sleepless night and look at him—he was getting fucking maudlin. Maybe it wasn’t loneliness at all, maybe he was just losing his damned mind. A scream of canine pain hit him like a sucker punch to the back of his head. Mick jumped to his feet, his hand already reaching for his rifle before his mind could grasp what was bothering him. He’d lived out here in these woods long enough to have become used to the sounds they made at all hours of the day and night. He could tell a gust of wind from the rustle of the underbrush, the step of a buck deer from the footfalls of the rare moose calf. He also knew which of the locals had the balls to run and hunt on his property in the middle of the night, and none of them had given him a heads-up about their presence. Which meant that somewhere outside his small house, he had some uninvited guests. Cursing under his breath, Mick almost put down the rifle and flung open his door bare-handed. If the teenagers of Alpha were daring one another to play chase in his woods again, a bullet would probably be overkill. Most of them were so scared of him, he wouldn’t even have to raise his voice to send them scattering like frightened bunnies. Seeing a gun in his hand might make the little shits pass out, and then it could be hours before they got the hell off his property. Besides, that scream had indicated someone was injured. He couldn’t shoot a wounded kid, no matter how much they’d pissed him off. A distinctive bark-howl cut off that line of thinking and had his fingers tightening around the barrel of the weapon. He recognized that sound, as out of place as it was, and it had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. That was a coyote calling his pack to the hunt. Last time he’d checked, they didn’t have any coyotes in Alpha, let alone a pack of them. So what the hell were they doing in his woods? He shifted his grip on the rifle and checked through the front window before opening the door and stepping out onto his unlit front porch. The room behind him remained illuminated only by the fire, but something had triggered the motion sensors that activated the spotlight near the roof. It shone onto the hard-packed dirt of the drive, but the glow managed to extend a little way across the scattered islands of lingering snow toward the edge of the woods to his right. Mick faced that way and peered into the darkness. At first, he couldn’t see worth a damn, but his eyes adjusted quickly and his ears were already picking up the sounds of flight and pursuit through the dense northwestern forest. Two more short, sharp cries answered the first bark-howl, followed by a third and a fourth. Definitely a pack, or at least a hunting party. But what were they doing here, in Alpha, on his land? And what the hell were they hunting? He got his answer an instant later. A sleek, fur-covered form launched itself from the trees into the cleared area around the cabin. Reflex had the rifle to his shoulder, but instinct kept him from pulling the trigger. The calls he’d already heard had him thinking coyote, and if the animal hadn’t landed near enough to the edge of the light, he might have kept thinking it. But something about that shape bothered him. It looked on the large size for a ’yote, maybe seventy or seventy-five pounds, and sturdy as much as lithe, too substantial for the average coyote. Its ears seemed out of proportion to its skull, too large for the breadth of it. Then the light caught its fur, and he could see the russet coloring around its ears and neck, a rusty shade that seemed to darken to near black along its spine. That same rich red also decorated its flank near the site of a bloody tear in the muscle. That was no coyote. It was a wolf, or a hybrid at best, half wolf and half coyote. He should recognize one when he saw it. Instinct had him drawing in a breath, and the scent cleared up his confusion. His yard had been invaded by another wolf shifter, a red wolf, he realized, and she was badly injured. His supposition was confirmed when another shape crashed into the yard, this one lighter and leaner, looking almost delicate when he compared it with the wounded shape. This one was pure coyote shaped, and the dark, wet stains around its muzzle identified it as the cause of the female wolf’s injuries. He squeezed the trigger almost before the reality finished registering and felt the rifle’s stock nudge back into his shoulder. The bullet grazed the side of the coyote’s shoulder, making it yelp in pain and surprise. Its head swung around, yellow gaze fixing on him for an instant before it turned tail and dove back into the cover of the trees. Mick waited for a minute to see if any of the others in the hunting party felt like trying their luck to get to the she-wolf. Driven by the instinct to kill or mate, a regular coyote might press its luck, but a shifter would think twice. When no other animals appeared, he slowly lowered his gun and stepped down into the yard. The female was unconscious, but her sides still heaved as if she’d been running a marathon. The sharp aroma of blood hit him first, and he knew from the way it almost overwhelmed her natural scent that she was losing a dangerous amount of it. He also knew from one more deep inhalation that he’d been correct in identifying her species. She was more than a rare red wolf; she was a red wolf shifter, and she was in serious trouble. “Shit.” He muttered the word even as he crouched down beside her, setting his rifle near his feet within easy grabbing distance. A swift rake of his gaze took in her condition—good muscle tone, healthy size, but clearly exhausted—as well as the extent of her wounds. In addition to the gash he’d noticed on her rear leg, he could see blood saturating the cream-colored fur of her belly where her side pressed against the ground. He rolled her gently over and muttered an even stronger curse. The wound on her flank had looked ragged and bloody, but the damage to her side made it seem like a love bite. Fangs had torn deep under her fur and opened a laceration almost as long as his forearm. It extended from just behind her shoulder, across her rib cage, and nearly to her groin. The ugly slash had been ripped open by her exertions and it continued to bleed heavily under the layer of mud and debris that now clung to the surface. Shifter or not, it looked deep enough to need stitches. Damn it, he’d have to make a phone call. But first things first. He scooped the limp wolf into his arms, catching his rifle in his fingers as he rose. She flopped in his hold like a sack of grain, but he’d hauled heavier burdens on one shoulder, so the weight didn’t bother him. What bothered him was her stillness and the way she didn’t even twitch when he lifted her. It took just a minute or two to carry her into the cabin and kick the door closed behind them. After depositing her on his sofa, he returned immediately to bolt the door and engage the security system he’d installed the first day he’d moved in. If those coyotes decided to try for her again, Mick wanted some advanced warning. Secured inside, he strode into the hall to grab a stack of clean towels from the closet. On the way, he snagged his cell phone from the coffee table and dialed a familiar number. “What?” Mick ignored the annoyed tone of the greeting, filled his arms with terry cloth, and returned to the sofa. “I need you out at my place. Now.” Zeke Buchanan muttered something foul under his breath. “It’s fucking three o’clock in the morning, asshole, and I’m not on duty. Call the office.” “I’ve got an injured shifter in my living room, and I just shot the coyote who was trying to kill her. Only grazed him, but it sounded like he had friends, and I don’t know how determined they might be. Get out here. And send an ambulance.” He didn’t bother to listen while Zeke swore again. The snap and rustle of fabric and the squeak of mattress springs told him what he needed to know. The sheriff’s deputy would be here as soon as he got some pants on. In the meantime, Mick needed to stop the she-wolf on his sofa from bleeding to death until help arrived. His knees hit the floor, his hands reaching to press a folded towel to the more severe of her wounds, when the air around her wavered and fell out of focus. While he blinked, the figure of a wolf blurred and shifted, leaving a petite, naked, and badly injured woman passed out in his living room. A very attractive naked woman. Shit. He told himself to avert his eyes, but damned if the damage hadn’t already been done. His man and wolf had already both sat up and taken notice. He could almost feel the twitch of a whiskered black nose in the back of his head as the beast pushed itself forward to take in her scent. She smelled amazing. Under the sweet coppery note of her blood, he could detect notes of citrus and green leaves and something deeper and spicier that simply reminded him of home. He hadn’t smelled anything like it in more than eight years, not since— He cut that speculation off at the knees—not boarding that train of thought, thanks—and made himself focus on assessing the female’s wounds. Her change of shape had jump-started her shifter ability to heal quickly, but it would take more than one trip from fur to skin to close a wound as serious as the one on her side. The ragged gash now covered a swath of milky skin from just to the side of a pretty, pink-tipped breast, all along her torso to the crease between her hip and thigh on the right-hand side. Dirt still clung to the torn and bloody flesh, which Mick almost found a relief. It helped pull his attention away from all the uninjured bits he could see and focus it where it needed to be—on helping her, not ogling her. Gritting his teeth and fixing his gaze on the injury, Mick pressed a towel hard against her ribs with one hand and used the other to tuck more towels under her opposite hip where he’d seen the less serious laceration. Her weight should provide the necessary pressure to stop the bleeding on that side, but he had to lean into the deeper wound. Thank fuck she remained unconscious, because if she’d been awake, she’d probably have been screaming from the pain. He lost track of time while he knelt there applying pressure and waiting for help to arrive. Even if Zeke floored it all the way from town, it was at least a ten-minute drive out to Mick’s place, which left way too much time for him to get a good, long look at his uninvited guest. It made him feel like a pervert, staring at her while she remained completely out of it, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about her drew his gaze like a magnet, and he really wished his subconscious weren’t so anxious to needle him about what it was. Her wolf looked like Beth. A corner of his mind gave thanks that she had shifted back to her skin, because it cut the resemblance considerably, but when he’d first seen her burst out of the forest, he’d thought for one wild, insane second that his mate had come back from the dead. It had nearly stopped his heart. The two animals had the same delicate build, the same pointed muzzles, the same creamy coloring on their chests. Beth had been a little taller, a little more muscular, but she’d been mistaken for a red wolf more than a few times in her shifted life. She hadn’t been just a hybrid—half gray wolf like him, half coyote like her father—but her looks in her furred form bore a strong resemblance to the woman who had almost died tonight in his front yard. That was an image he had never wanted to see again—a woman bloody and broken, torn apart, and left for him to find. He’d left that nightmare behind him, buried it in California before he’d moved north and settled here in Alpha. Not even the devil himself had the power to drag him back to the town where he’d been born. Not on the coldest day in hell. A pounding fist shook his front door in the frame, jerking Mick back to the present. His wolf sprang to attention, ready to tear out the throats of any coyote who tried to get inside his home. It took a second for him to realize that it had been long enough for Zeke to have arrived. He opened his mouth to call for his friend to come in, then remembered how he’d double-locked the door as a precaution. He’d have to go open it himself. A quick check at the underside of the towel revealed way too much red soaked into the cotton, but the active bleeding appeared to have slowed to a trickle. At least it looked safe enough for Mick to step away for the seconds it took to disarm the alarm system and flip a couple of locks. Zeke pushed inside almost before Mick released the dead bolt, and the aggressive move ripped a snarl from his wolf before he managed to get hold of himself. He’d known who was on the other side of the door from both the knock and the smell, but the night’s events had riled up his beast, and the wolf didn’t like another male forcing his way into its den, even if he’d been invited. Mick smacked the animal down and stepped back to let the other man enter. “C’mon in.” Zeke grunted and moved aside to reveal a second, much smaller form standing behind him. Molly Buchanan smiled and waved with one hand. In the other, she carried a large plastic case like her brother’s favorite tackle box, only this one was bright yellow and had a big red cross emblazoned on the lid. “Hey, Mick,” she chirped, bouncing on her toes as if it weren’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t been dragged from her bed minutes ago to come racing out into the woods. “You called for the cavalry?” Mick supposed that, as an EMT, racing places in the middle of the night wasn’t so odd an experience for Molly. He waved her inside. She might not be in an ambulance, but she rode in one most other nights. She’d be able to help the she-wolf. Molly stepped inside while her brother laid a hand on Mick’s shoulder and squeezed. “Okay,” Zeke grumbled. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what the hell is going on? Injured shifters? Coyotes? And you shot one of them? What the fuck, Mick?” “Yeah, Mick. What the fuck?” The third figure to appear in his front door caused the greatest surprise. John Jaeger had dropped by Mick’s house on precisely two previous occasions. The first had been a thinly veiled evaluation when he’d first arrived in town. As mayor of Alpha, Jaeger took his duty to protect and manage his town seriously. To have a new, lone wolf move in but refuse all attempts from the locals to integrate him into their community had raised an alarm for the mountain lion shifter. He had wanted to ensure that Mick didn’t intend to make trouble. The second visit had been harder to anticipate but infinitely more entertaining. Jaeger had dropped by to return a pair of boxer briefs he had found in his truck bed after the woman he’d been seeing had borrowed the vehicle to “move some furniture.” The only thing that had gotten moved were the bodies in the bed of the pickup when she’d invited Mick out for a moonlit picnic. The boxers came with an offer to let Mick keep the woman, too, but as it turned out, neither he nor the mayor had much keeping in mind for the woman in question. They had all gone their separate ways, and the two men had never spoken of the incident again. “Jaeger.” The growl rumbled up in Mick’s throat before he could stop it. Adrenaline still rode him enough that his beast was expressing its displeasure at both the man’s unexpected appearance in his territory and the deputy’s belligerent manner. “What are you doing here?” The man lifted an eyebrow and jerked a thumb toward the woods behind him. “Zeke told me you had some trouble out here tonight. Something about injured strangers, coyotes, and bullets. I came to make sure it wasn’t the kind of ruckus that called for shovels.” “Not yet.” Molly cleared her throat loudly. “Um, not to inconvenience anyone, but I heard someone was bleeding around here. Would any of you big, strong men like to point me in that direction before the patient runs out of the red stuff? You know, if it’s no trouble.” The lioness might be a head shorter than the smallest male in the room, but such an insignificant detail never had done much to hinder that smart mouth of hers. Mick gritted his teeth and swallowed another rumble of displeasure. His wolf seemed ready to go on a tear. Of shifters’ throats. “She’s in here.” He turned on his heel and led Molly and the others into the living room. The lioness strode to the sofa and crouched in the same spot where Mick had been kneeling. In seconds, she had her fingers on the woman’s pulse and her kit open on the floor beside her. She nodded to herself, then snapped on a pair of bright blue gloves before she briskly and competently began to examine the unconscious woman’s side. “Her temp’s a little low, but it’s cold out tonight, so I imagine that will come up on its own. That last snowfall just won’t go away, will it? The wounds look messy and painful, but not life-threatening,” Molly proclaimed, poking gingerly at the lacerated tissue. “Not for a shifter, anyway. I can clean it up and bandage it, but it should heal on its own.” Mick scowled. “No stitches?” “You know stitches just piss shifters off. They itch like crazy, and they pull at all sorts of weird angles when we try to shift. Bandages are better.” She didn’t bother to look up, just reached for a bottle of clear liquid and a handful of gauze. She began irrigating the wound, washing away the mud and debris that had contaminated it when the wolf collapsed. Her calm manner and sure movements seemed to calm Mick’s wolf, and he felt himself take his first deep breath in what felt like hours. It had probably been less than twenty minutes. Jaeger shifted his weight and stepped forward, peering over Mick’s shoulder at the injured woman. “Who is she?” Mick shrugged one shoulder, the movement still short and tense. “No idea. She just showed up in the yard, bleeding like a butcher’s hog, and keeled over. Didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries.” “And at what point did you find yourself shooting at strange coyotes?” “When one of them came after her with her blood on his jaw and a few friends at his back.” The mayor looked grim. “You sure you hit him?” “I saw blood in the snow, and it wasn’t all hers. He yelped, too. I figure I at least grazed him.” “It was a male?” “The one I saw was. I didn’t see any others, but I could hear them coming through the woods. They must have backed off when they heard the gunshot.” Zeke didn’t look up from the small pad where he’d been jotting down notes. “They were definitely shifters, not regular coyotes?” “Like I said, I only saw the one, but I got a look at his eyes, and I got a whiff of him. He was Other, which means his buddies probably were, too.” Jaeger agreed. “Most likely. We’ve got our share of coyotes in this state, but not many in the area around Alpha. They know they can’t compete with the bigger predators we have roaming these woods, so they tend to give us a pretty wide berth.” “Right.” Zeke snapped his notebook shut and shoved it into a pocket. “I’m going to take a look around outside while Molly bandages up the victim. I’ll need to ask her a hell of a lot of questions, but they can wait till she’s conscious.” “You’ll get better answers that way,” Jaeger said, mouth curving. The lion shifter shot the mayor the bird on his way out the front door. The other man just chuckled, then turned back to Mick. “So.” He rocked back on his heels and hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “It’s three thirty in the morning, you have an unconscious and wounded female on your sofa, an EMT patching her up, a deputy nosing around your property, and a mayor in your living room who’d be willing to consider performing several illegal acts for a good hit of caffeine. Ideas?” Mick rolled his eyes. “I’ll make coffee.” He spun around and stalked toward the kitchen, Jaeger hot on his heels. What else was there to do? Molly was treating the she-wolf, Zeke was playing cop, and his wolf had no intention of letting him sleep anytime soon. Not with that intriguingly scented female currently passed out in his living room. Might as well drink a pot of coffee. He’d take it black, like his mood at having all these uninvited guests in his den. So much for his wolf feeling lonely. Copyright © 2018 by Christine Warren in Baby, I’m Howling For You and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

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