We had been riding horses for 48 hours straight, and the exhaustion was starting to set in.
Salvatore's breathless voice broke the silence, "Okay team, it's time to find a camping site. Go ahead and locate a place for us to rest."
Salvatore had made space in his saddle for Mariella, causing jealousy among the group. They had been fucking on horseback for hours, but I paid no mind, leading the pack with the Queen.
I just rolled my eyes about the absurdity of the whole damn thing. It felt like before, like I was not supposed to have sex with anyone, only Mariella was entitled to that, and with Damon.
As the wet sounds of their sex still continued, I resumed riding alongside Adam, Charles, Alaric, and Wulfe. We chatted about everything, including the mating couple. Adam was openly hostile, still upset over Salvatore's actions. I reassured Adam to let them be and focus on setting up camp, grabbing a bite to eat, and getting some rest. Charles, feeling possessive, distracted Wulfe and Alaric to talk to Magnum, leaving me between them.
After 45 minutes, the team found a suitable campsite, and the work began. Mariella had to pause her activities with Damon to gather food for us. Mimosa and I were eager to start, setting off in human form to avoid alerting our prey.
After walking for ten minutes, I suggested to Mimosa, "How about I climb higher to scout for prey?"
Mimosa hesitated, gazing at the tall trees in the dense forest.
She replied, "Fine, but you'll have to climb very high."
I smiled and transformed into a parrot that I had seen flying around.
Mimosa's voice sounded a bit irritated as she remarked, "Of course, that will help. God damn it, Mimi, you are full of surprises."
Flying higher, I spotted Mariella and others trudging through the forest, Damon and the Salvatores hanging near the campsite, and Adam, Charles, and the others exploring a nearby river. As I flew a little further, I spotted a flock of deer grazing with a few wild cows. I landed nearby and waited for Mimosa to join me.
She arrived in her wolf form, skillfully masking her scent.
I told her, "I'll try to get one of those cows. You can choose between a doe or a stag."
Grinning in her wolf form, she replied, "Who knows, maybe I'll take both. Let's go. We have the pack to feed, and at this pace, we'll need plenty of food, as we don't stop too often."
I reassured her, "We hunt. Let the rest worry about it. This is what it's all about. I think Damon is testing us to see if we micromanage everything or interfere with others' tasks. Let's just hunt and let others handle the rest. If they can't, then we can complain."
Mimosa chuckled. "Let's have some fun and show them how it's done. I can't wait for the Salvatores to come up here and try to take these back to camp."
I smiled and said, "That's their problem, not ours. We can even fly back if we want after we get our prey."
She nodded, and we were ready. I transformed into a black jaguar, as it was strong enough to take down the cows and had a scent different from the local wolves and foxes. I wanted to hunt as a jaguar, distinct from the other chimeras in our pack. They were lions as base species and I was a jaguar, so I was always one who did not fit in, so to speak.
I crept closer, smelling the fat cows. They were well-fed but not pregnant, carrying extra weight. My paws moved silently, my heart pounding. Damon sensed my hunt through our bond. He knew we were on the attack.
I crouched low, my belly brushing the damp grass, then leaped onto a massive cow, sinking my teeth into its neck. Hot blood filled my mouth; I smelled its panic and felt its struggle weaken as my jaws crushed its windpipe. Blood sprayed my fur as it collapsed, its final breath shuddering out. The other cows scattered.
Fueled by the kill, I chased one down, jumped onto its back, clamped onto its neck, and crushed it.
I panted, then Mimosa announced, "I got three—two hinds and a stag. We have meat!"
"I got both cows," I replied. "Plenty of meat! We can't carry it all, but we'll eat well."
Shifting into my largest white tiger form, I gripped a carcass and began dragging it, teleporting short distances when it got too heavy. We piled our kills at the forest's edge.
"We've got meat," I told Damon. "Your turn."
"Ready," he said. "Not much fish or birds, so I hope you got something."
I kept my smugness in check, but we all laughed heartily with Mimosa. Mimosa showed me a nasty bruise on her ribs from the stag; it hadn't been an easy hunt.
I told her, "Number Four's a medic; show him. He needs to know."
She nodded grimly, saying, "I think my ribs are cracked, but at least partially healed."
Ignoring her prodding, I said, "Leave them alone! Don't poke them if they're not fully fused. You don't want to puncture a lung!"
She grimaced, and we sat by our kill. It took Salvatore twenty-five minutes to find us. Damon's expression upon seeing the pile of carcasses was priceless, but soon they were hard at work, armed with saws and long knives to butcher the animals.
I told Damon, "We're clear of the camp. Get to work; we've done our part."
He nodded grimly. I shifted into a parrot, took flight, and flew back to camp, Mimosa following as another parrot. Our hunt had been successful, but I knew it wouldn't always be so easy. We needed to cook and dry much of the meat—make jerky—for lean times.
As I told Mimosa, though, that wasn't my problem; the cooks would decide what to do with Salvatore's share of the spoils. Landing in camp, we drew attention; no one expected shape-shifting.
Number Three said, "You two can choose to sleep spots. Many are already taken. I suggest near the fire, you know, nights get chilly."
Smugly, I strolled to Queen, who was calmly eating hay. I opened my saddlebag, revealing tents, mattresses, and linens.
Mimosa said, "You certainly packed a lot. I'll sleep in wolf form; no problem."
I smiled. I found a sheltered spot near the treeline. Number Three approached, wrapping his arms around me, sensing my smugness.
He nuzzled my neck, asking, "What's up, baby? I told you, near the fire; I'll keep you warm."
I pointed to the heavy clouds. "It might rain tonight. Best to be prepared."
I pulled out my pop-up tent, unfastened the Velcro, and watched it spring open.
Number Three whistled low. "Oh, that'll easily fit two. Baby, are you seducing me?"
I ignored his heated comments; any response would be misinterpreted. It wasn't that I objected to flirting or intimacy, but I hadn't decided who, if anyone, I'd invite into my tent. Next, I unpacked my mattress, placed it inside, and inflated it.
Number Three whistled low, murmuring, "Now you're definitely seducing me, creating our own little love nest! That mattress looks sturdy enough for some serious… sanctification."
I replied, "I haven't decided who, if anyone, I'll invite. I just wanted something more comfortable than the ground; I'm not a masochist."
Number Three was behind me, his hands sliding under my shirt, cruelly pinching my nipples. I gasped as my body reacted intensely.
His voice, low and husky, brushed my ear: "No, baby, you want a different kind of pain, don't you? I can smell…"
He withdrew his hands and left as he heard the others returning to camp, dragging meat. Number One probably told him to cook, not seduce me.
I was still organizing my tent when Wulfe said, "Getting comfy, are we? I might join you if it rains, but I usually prefer sleeping outdoors. Nicely done though—another point for Mimi Salvatore, to you, my unicorn!"
I smiled, replying, "Comfort first! I have two other tents and extra mattresses, plus lots of supplies. And now we have plenty of meat thanks to our successful hunt. Ask Mimosa."
Wulfe saw the men hauling meat, shaking his head as he offered help. Adam and the others returned with some fish, though not much. Charles raised an eyebrow at the amount of meat and went to help. Damon urged everyone to gather as much meat as possible, and the cooks began preparing meals. Some meat would be kept raw, but they aimed to cook as much as they could.
I had a few ideas but kept them to myself. Instead, I shared them with Number Three—he's the most level-headed and wouldn't see my suggestions as interference. He might even pass them off as his own.
I suggested a pit filled with hot coals to slow-cook tougher meats as well as bones when I remembered Mimosa's cracked ribs, so those meats could cook in the pit overnight.
Soon, Number Three was telling Number One, who ordered Numbers Ten and Nine to dig it. Lepard and Demon built up the fires. Things were happening. I watched from a boulder until Mariella and the others returned with bags of berries, nuts, herbs, and other supplies.
Mariella looked tired, and the sight of all the meat made her purse her lips. Noticing me, her expression soured further.
Approaching Damon, she whined, "Darling, Mimi has a tent and a mattress? Shouldn't she give it up, or be made to sleep like the rest of us? That's luxury, not for this kind of trip!"
Damon looked up, recognizing his "first," wife (technically Mimi, as he'd been married to her longer).
He snapped, "Well, darling, she clearly packed smarter than you. This isn't the time for jealousy. God knows I've been a hypocrite with you – splitting Adam and Mimi, then taking you on my horse for hours on end, doing exactly what Mimi had in mind with you, fucking you to bits. That won't happen again, so fix your attitude and enjoy the trip."
Mariella started to protest, but Damon's sharp knife and steely gaze reminded her of his brutal cleansing methods.
She tried to sound neutral. "Can I help? At least I'm asking, not just watching like Mimi."
Damon hissed, "Darling, correct your attitude, or I'll let Number Two share your sleeping bag for three nights."
Mariella nodded. Saint Mimi was, once again, untouchable. Disrespecting her had consequences. It infuriated Mariella, but she recognized her own pettiness—a jealous, clingy cow, exactly what Damon despised. She needed to confront her behavior and change.
I watched as Mariella approached, eyeing my tent. "I didn't realize tents could be so tiny," she said. "Next time, I'll bring my own."
Jealousy, I guessed, fueled by uncertainty about my sleeping arrangements. "I prioritize comfort," I replied. "I have clothes, but I'm not sleeping on the ground, and it might rain."
Clouds gathered.
Mariella sighed. "I'll get soaked then. Serves me right. I am a cow."
I rolled my eyes. "Use those saplings to make a roof. Ten spells a day—why not use them for shelter?"
She nodded. "Idiot. Of course! A roof, maybe even a mattress."
"Use hay and moss," I suggested. "Remember those breeding-season nests Damon made? You have time; food's still cooking."
She smiled. "Right. I will."
She strode off, determined to build a proper nest.
I knew I had to lead by example, inspire, and simultaneously endure the jealousy my supplies might attract. Sharing would likely be necessary, but as I pointed out to Mariella—they had ten spells per day—cloning my tent with a single spell wouldn't be difficult. It would easily fit in their saddlebags.
I could show them space-saving techniques, but I wouldn't provide straightforward answers. This was, after all, about survival and fostering independent thinking; not letting them rely on Damon like a remote control.
That thought sparked a cooking show idea: a "remote control chef" game. Less experienced cooks—Tim, Taylor, Dresden, Constantine, Alaric, Murdock, Magnum, Dexter—would direct one of us skilled in cooking.
As I planned this, men hauled more meat. Damon and his crew, on their third trip, now used a large cart—Mariella's spell suggestion—easily pulled by the men. Charles, digging through his saddlebags, shared herbs with Damon, teaching him how to make jerky. The free Salvatores also selected jerky meat.
Our trip seemed to be dragging on, but we were learning. I still hadn't decided whether to share my tent or sleep alone, sprawling out as I'm a restless sleeper—at least, according to Adam, Charles, Murdock, and Dexter, who'd described how I might use them as pillows or kick them in my sleep.
Maybe that's why Damon usually tied me securely to him, ensuring I couldn't flail around, but still had space in my tent to sleep comfortably.
Exploring the surroundings, I spotted something interesting. Being a botanist helped; this unremarkable plant—peanuts, which grow wild in Australia—was a find.
Approaching a few plants, I crouched down and saw Mariella. "Got nuts? Come see!" I called through the hive.
"Aren't those pea plants?" she replied.
I pulled one up, showing her the peanuts.
"Oh wow, peanuts! We're taking these; thanks!" she exclaimed.
Shadow, Elena, and Katherine arrived with bags, and soon everyone was digging up peanuts.
Damon noticed, his voice in our bond saying, "Thanks, baby. You're a team player. Nice tent and mattress, by the way."
I smiled smugly as the rain started falling, prompting the men to scramble to protect the cooking area. I retreated to my tent to wait for dinner.
What about this trip held? Who knew? But I was well-prepared. I sat for ten minutes, then went to the Queen, rummaged in my saddlebags, and grabbed my plastic cups, utensils, and mugs. I also had a foldable tray, which I retrieved. Damon's gaze sharpened, a slight smile curving his lips as he noticed my preparedness.
Through the hive, he said, "My lovely wife, do you have more of those plates? We could use them; you might want to share, won't you?"
He approached and cloned the trays with a spell, ensuring everyone had one. Then, I had to give him all my cups and plates. Why? A nasty headache by my telepathic husband, who was in a determined mood and did not want to hear the word no, pressed into my mind, refusing to leave until I shared.
Fine. At least I had more room in my saddlebags. The pressure lifted as he took everything. Number Two already had some; cooks were placing utensils on trays, preparing to serve. Wulfe used a spell to label each tray, plate, mug, and utensil. As I said, it was a lesson in sharing, however infuriating. But it would be alright.