Grace and Zeek, An Unusual Friendship

Zeek knocked on Grace’s door. Although he knew that Grace felt a kind of friendship for him, his hindbrain clearly registered she was an aggressive predator, much higher on the food chain than he. After all, he was only a shifter rat.

When she opened the door, he hopped back careful not to run like prey. Her brown eyes were lion golden, not human at all though the rest of her looked human. Her tawny-colored hair flowed down her back well below her shoulders, her skin glowed with a healthy sun-tanned cast as she stood in the doorway in rumpled blue jeans and a deep blue cable knit sweater. Her feet were bare but then Zeek remembered she had heated bamboo floors in her condo. Despite the fact that she was five-foot-eight, she slouched rather like she was getting ready to pounce. Zeek squeaked, "Grace." Stepping slowly backwards, she reached her hand out grabbing him by the front of his green flannel shirt and pulled him inside.

"What on earth is the matter with you?" Zeek squeaked closing his eyes as his hand pointed to her fist on his crumpled shirt. "Are you all right?" Zeek opened his eyes to look at her. "Your eyes are kind of lion-like." He hunched over anticipating claws forming and coming at him.

"Oh," Grace let go of his shirt. "Sorry, haven’t been feeling well." She backed away. "C'mon. I'm making breakfast."

Zeek swallowed. Grace had invited him in before but had never yanked him in. This felt a little overly aggressive. Did she not want witnesses to him being breakfast? Didn’t she say she wasn’t feeling well, and when did a lion shifter ever get sick? That was odd. He hazarded a glance around her place which was small, probably 850 square feet, and furnished in couches and chairs of ivory-hued natural wool, a thick silk, brown carpet, oiled walnut accent pieces, and sage green wall paint. The floor- to-ceiling living room window overlooked the grounds of downtown Portland State University. The marble kitchen counter held a carton of farm fresh eggs, a slab of freshly smoked bacon, and a loaf of multi-grain bread. She'd just been making a cappuccino.

Pulling her frying pan out of the cupboard, Grace said, ‘how do you want your eggs?  I can do scrambled, scrambled with cream cheese, or over easy?” She turned to grab the bacon and peeled off eight slices putting them in the heating pan.

 “Um,” Zeek’s mouth watered at the rich maple smell of the bacon. “Scrambled with cream cheese would be great. I haven’t had that in…” he stopped to think, “well, since 2010 when my friend, Fred, won a thousand dollars on the scratch offs.”

“This will take about fifteen minutes, why don’t you go take a shower and throw your clothes in the washer. Frankly, not to put too fine a point on it, you stink.” She turned over the bacon. “There’s a bathrobe in the bathroom you can use.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

She pointed at Zeek with the spatula. “I’m always nice,” then muttered, “except when I’m not.” Turning away from him, she started cracking eggs into a bowl. “You know I would help you find a place of your own, so you don’t have to live homeless.”

Zeek grimaced, “I’ve told you before that I like living on the streets. It suits me. I hate being confined for long.” He headed into the bathroom. “Oh, almost forgot what with the bacon smells. I know I haven’t stopped by in a couple of months, but been busy what with moving around and, you know, what with the swarm being in town. Lots of meetings between the mischiefs.  But how on earth could you get sick? Cougars do not get sick.”

Grace shuffled to the refrigerator to pull out the cream cheese.

She yelled out to Zeek just as he started the shower. “You always do this.”

The sound of water splashing almost drowned out his response. “Not always. Stop exaggerating.”

Annie moved closer to the door.  “Did you just come cause you were hungry?”

“Do you mind if I finish showering first, before we have this conversation again?”

“Yea, yea.  Frustrating rat. I’d be better off eating him.” Annie mumbled as she returned to the bacon.

 “I heard that. So moody.”

 While Grace cooked, she remembered the first time she had met Zeek. She was experiencing her first shift into a lion, at thirteen. The hunger had overtaken her as it did new shifters. All she could think about was food. She wanted to hunt, to tear apart another animal, to push her face into her bloodied kill and eat and eat. She’d never felt anything like it. It was midnight in Forest Park, a 5200-acre urban park with its eighty miles of trails in Portland Oregon. On her first private hunt, she’d been stalking a six-point stag. She was flashing her tail back and forth ready to pounce when the largest rat she had ever seen jumped right in front of her. He stood upright on two legs to yell ‘Stop,’ though his voice wobbled and urine ran down his leg. Growling, Grace raced up to him sticking her face right in his. Zeek had held his ground. “Ma’am. Stop.” He pointed at the spot the deer had inhabited just before it bounded away, a reprieve. He shook as he spoke. “He’s in the shifter pack. If you kill another shifter, from any tribe, unprovoked, it means death to you.” That had shocked her out of her hunger and saved her life. They’d been sort of friends ever since.

Twenty minutes later, Zeek emerged from the bathroom, squeaky clean, hair combed. The robe he wore was gray and far too large on him. The sleeves had been rolled up to allow his hands free. He smiled at Grace while he sniffed the food. She had set two dishes, flatware, napkins on the kitchen island placing the scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, orange juice and two cappuccinos on the counter also.  Zeek bellied up to the feast sitting on a leather counter height stool and dug in slopping mounds of eggs and bacon on his plate. Grace padded to the bathroom to grab his discarded clothes, shoes, towels, well, anything washable that Zeek had touched and shoved them into the washer set to hot, hot, hot. The comb she soaked in Clorox.

Once the washer engaged, she returned to the table, seated herself, stared at the food. On the other hand, Zeek couldn’t seem to shovel it in fast enough. She might need to make more eggs. For a little fellow, he ate a ton until he burped. He looked at Grace askance. “Pardon me.”

“Don’t you eat?”

“Not like this. This is delicious,” Zee garbled between bites.

Grace put down her fork considering if she still had an appetite.

Zeek nodded scarfing down another two pieces of bacon all at once. He glanced at her for a moment then set down his fork. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Grace picked up her dishes to start rinsing them in the sink before loading the dishwasher.

Zeek scarfed down another two hunks of bacon and a big fork of eggs then huffed to the washer, pulled out his clothes and shoved them in the drier.”

When he returned to the kitchen, he grabbed her arm and pulled Grace away from the kitchen to the couch.  They both sat as Zeek grimaced at her. “You look like shit and you’re not eating, and you don’t feel good and you’re acting a little weird. What’s happening.”

Grace sighed, head bowed. “I can’t shift.”

“No wonder you don’t feel good. Is that why I haven’t seen you out and about or  heading to work for the last few days?”

“Are you stalking me, again?”

 Zeek sighed, “No, just feeling protective.” Zeek noticed a chunk of bacon on his shirt and gobbled it down. “When was the last time you hunted?”

Grace thought, “I don’t know, a month maybe.” Tapping her fingers against her leg, she gazed out the window. “Come to think of it, humph.  I haven’t hunted or eaten any deer for over two, maybe three months, I’ve been so busy with my job.”

“There’s your problem. You know a healthy mountain lion needs to hunt and eat freshly killed deer at least twice a month. And that’s at a minimum to stay healthy.” Zeek pointed a finger at her. “You’re starving.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do you think it’s that simple? I’ve just been so preoccupied with this campaign for our candidate for state senator.”

“Get your jacket on. We’re going hunting.”

Grace whined. “But I can’t shift. I don’t want to go out and become prey in this condition.”

“Honestly, I’ve never heard you whine. You definitely need some lion food, the fresher the better.” Zeek hustled to the dryer to pull out his clothes then scuttled to the bathroom to get dressed.”

“We’re going. Chop. Chop.”

Grace sighed. She did feel off. Grabbing her coat and a bag to store her clothes once she got to the forest, she waited at the door for Zeek, her fingers trembling and her breath coming fast as her lion teeth lengthened and shortened in anticipation or fear. She wasn’t sure which.

For the first time in the forest, Grace was unsure of herself. She could feel the hunger cramping inside her, but she remained human and frozen in place. Zeek shoved her forward. “C’mon. I’ll hunt with you.”

 Grace huffed at him. “What are you going to do, hunt bugs?”

 “Don’t get snarky with me.”

 Grace plodded one step in front the other while scanning all around seeking danger. This forest at night wasn’t always safe for people, though no one bothered them during the day. Such was the unwritten agreement within the shifter population, but here she was hunting in the daytime. In the distance, she heard the sound of fangs tearing apart meat and the growls, yips, and howls of predators hunting. My goodness are we all breaking the agreement? Then a deer scuttled right in front of her seeking the end of the park. It wasn’t a shifter deer, but an actual deer.

 Without thought, Grace rushed after it, still human. When she noticed it slowing slightly, her fangs lengthened, her appetite fisted in her stomach and she shifted halfway. Racing behind her was Zeek trying desperately to keep up. But grace had no thoughts other than food, glorious food on the hoof. Heart racing, she caught up to the deer lunging at its neck, cracking open the jugular letting the bloody juice fill her throat as she, with relief, shifted to full mountain lion. Growling over her kill, she searched the forest ready to repel any trying to steal her kill. Then she settled in to eat and eat and eat. With one long claw, she ripped open the stomach to pull out intestines and heart and lungs. Gobbling the heart, the blood running down her lips, she purred. Next came the liver. Chewing, she glanced up. Zeek stood there, silently, on guard for her. Grace beckoned him over for a share. He hustled gladly and enjoyed a spot of venison, though how he could eat after the breakfast he wolfed down, she didn’t know. Lowering her head, she thanked him for saving her as they continued to enjoy the bounty. Grace acknowledged she couldn’t have a truer friend and Zeek, nodding in agreement, moved closer until they were touching sides while happily gulping down fresh meat. Her friend had saved her, again. Sensing her shifting back under control as her hunger faded, she vowed to be there for Zeek, as he always was for her.