Page 5 of Goldie's Grumpy Grizzly
The bear unleashes an angry roar in my direction before turning and limping toward the tree line.
“He’s moving. Looks like he’s going into the forest. I guess he’s okay? But he was limping a bit.”
I bite my lower lip, wondering if I’ve doomed some poor animal to a lifetime of pain and suffering.
“If he’s moved off, that’s a good sign. They’re resilient creatures, but we’ll still send someone out to look for any signs of greater injury.”
A shiver dances on my spine as I remember how awareness flickered through me when we’d eyed each other, but I push aside the thought.
I’m obviously hopped up on adrenaline from having smacked into a freakin’ bear. I’m shaken up from seeing my first ever real-life bear in person. Usually, I only visualize them in my dreams or on the page when I write my epic shifter fantasy romances.
I jolt.
Shit, I’m not in Soltero Beach anymore. I’ve already passed through the magical barrier that separates the outside world from this one; I felt a ripple through the air and gooseflesh pop on my skin as I crossed the boundaries.
“What if it’s not an ordinary bear?” I blurt. “I’m not from this area, but I know the residents here can be special. What if I hit a person in their bear form? Would they be okay? Would they still bounce back?”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. If you’ve done any real damage and someone was injured, they wouldn’t likely leave the scene, and they’d surely seek medical attention. I’ll be sure to alert the area hospitals too, just in case.”
My panic eases some, and I remind myself I’m in a forested area. Real bears and bear shifters must surely roam the area intermingled. Maybe.
“Aside from the bear, are you alright? Is your vehicle operational?”
“I’m fine. A bit rattled, is all.” I fiddle with my necklace, rolling the gemstones between my fingers and staring at the space where the bear had been. “As for the car…”
I wince and climb out. Surveying the damage, I say a little prayer of thanks that I sprung for the insurance. I won’t be able to drive this through the winding path in the forest.
“Yeah, it might be best if you send someone. I can call the insurance company in the morning.”
“Great. I’ll send someone out to you and they’ll get you where you’re going if you’ll just wait in the safety of your vehicle. Make sure to turn on your blinkers, if you haven’t already, to alert any other drivers of your position.”
I jump back into the car, flip the switch to turn on my emergency lights, and rummage around for something to wipe the raindrops from my glasses but I freeze. Where am I headed?
On one hand, this has been an inauspicious start to a writing retreat. Maybe it’s an omen. A message from the universe that I’m meant to turn back, crawl back home, and give up.
But as the rainfall starts to slow, a fine mist rolls over the forest ground and spills onto the road. I lift my gaze and take in the breathtaking view of the dominating trees lining the streets, their branches thickening across the base of the mountain. Before me, a single road winds forward.
To my right, there’s a road sign and my answer.
Welcome to Fable Forest.
A gust of wind rattles my car, and I get the sense that it would be a huge mistake to turn back now. No. I’m too close to the end, and I want to move forward. Into the deep, into the dark.
Into the mysterious unknown magic that awaits.
“I booked a weeklong stay at Wilderwood Lodges and Campgrounds.” To connect with the wild and find inspiration. To escape the daily pressures of everyone breathing down my neck and asking where’s the last book and when is it coming out. To refill my bone-dry creativity well.
Because I have to.
Something inside me is drawing me here, luring me ever closer and calling me to press on.
Toward whatever waits for me.
Two nights into my stay at Wilderwood Camp, and I know three things.
First, this place is exactly as I’d pictured it. It’s easy to see how Bruno would’ve carved out a space for himself in these woods and feel so at ease under the heavy-laden boughs and the star-filled sky. It’s even affected me, giving me a calm, soothing vibe and a clear head.
Secondly, there’s something magical about being disconnected. Without the distraction of internet access and cell service, I feel more in touch with myself. Already, I’ve been able to immerse myself in the business of putting word after word down on the page, which feels good after suffering through several false starts.
