Spirit bears (aka Kermode bears -- Ursus americanus
kermodei) are a subspecies of the North American black bear with a rare
recessive gene that makes their fur white or cream. Spirit bears are found only
in the Great Bear Rainforest, the world’s largest intact temperate rainforest.
Estimated spirit bear population numbers no more than 400 individuals. The
First Nations communities who have lived in the region for thousands of years
call the spirit bear moskgm’ol, or “white bear,” and view the animal as
sacred.
Many thanks to BBC Wildlife for their Spirit
Bear Guide.
Ryland
I watched the woman looming above me through slitted eyes.
So far, she thought I was still out cold, and I intended to use that to my
advantage. I hadn’t seen a female with the poachers, but why else would she be
here? There was nothing on this island to attract a beautiful woman like her.
She pulled her shirt off, and then her undergarment. What
the hell did they call those things? It didn’t matter because now I had an
unobstructed view of her naked chest. Wow. Her breasts were small, a mere
handful each, but they were firm and pert, the nipples pointing upward with a
decidedly cheeky tilt to them. All in all, she had to be the cutest poacher I’d
ever seen.
The dog whined softly. Darn thing probably knew I was faking
it. Unfortunately, animals tended to be a lot smarter than the people they kept
company with.
He didn’t appear to be aggressive but looks could be
deceiving. He certainly wasn’t a small pup. Maybe part shepherd? Or Rottweiler,
given the coloring. I could only hope he wasn’t a trained attack dog.
Why on earth would the gang have brought a dog with them?
Poachers didn’t tend to be animal lovers. Maybe they used him to alert them to
people approaching. Hell, maybe the dog was the reason I’d got shot.
Suddenly he didn’t look so harmless.
The woman leaned toward me, that underwear thing in her hand
and I turned my full attention to her. Time to turn the tables on the cute
little thing.
I waited until she was leaning directly over top of me to
strike. Reaching out with my good arm, I grasped her wrist and twisted it,
neatly flipping her over on her back and landing myself straddling her hips.
Damn, that hurt.
I barely managed to school my face into a fierce grimace.
The dog rose to his feet, growling a warning. I turned my
head and growled back.
“Seriously? You’re sitting on top of me and growling at my
dog instead of letting me bandage your arm so it doesn’t get infected? What
kind of idiot are you?” The woman glared up at me with one eyebrow raised in
question. Apparently, I didn’t look as intimidating as I’d thought.
Ignoring her remarks about my IQ, I scowled down at her.
“Who are you, and what are you doing on this island?” I tried to sound as
menacing as possible, but I had the sinking feeling it was going to take a lot
more than a growly male to scare this woman.
“I could ask you the same question. I’ve never seen you here
before and I come here a lot.” She looked kind of cute, glaring up at me. Under
different circumstances I might even consider asking her out.
I gave my head a mental shake. Wow. Loss of blood was
starting to affect my decision making.
The dog let out a low whimper, settling back down on his
haunches. Cocking his head on an angle, he regarded me calmly. Apparently, he
had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt… at least for now.
“I’m the one on top here so I get to ask the questions.” I
felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who are you?”
She raised both brows, looking decidedly pissed. “Well,
right now I’m a prisoner of an idiot who will probably pass out from lack of
blood shortly. Unless, of course, he comes to his senses and hauls his carcass
off me so I can bandage his bloody arm.”
This was not going the way I intended at all. “That’s not
what I meant. What’s your name? Why are you here?” Maybe it would help my
concentration if I stopped staring at her luscious stream of silky dark hair.
“I don’t think I want to answer that. How about you tell me
your name and why you think it’s okay to manhandle a woman who was just trying
to help you.”
The dog let out an approving woof.
“I’m the victim. I’m bleeding. Remember?” I was starting to
feel like I was somehow at fault.
“Yes, and if you’d get off me, I’d be able to do something
about that. You might want to consider that I’m not the one who injured you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. How do I know you’re not going
to finish me off if I let go of you?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I just told you I wasn’t the one
who shot you. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it while you were
lying unconscious at my feet.”
She did have a point. I let go of her arms and clambered
awkwardly off her, favoring my injured arm.
“Okay, I get it. You’re probably not the one who attacked
me. Damn arm’s starting to bleed again, and it definitely needs a new bandage.
The last thing I need is to let it get infected.” I held my arm out for her
inspection.
The woman got to her feet, her body language stiff and
angry. She ignored me as she brushed herself off. Finally, she glanced at my
arm. “No thanks. I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”
Award winning author Anne Kane lives in the beautiful
Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue mutt(Merlin the Wonder Dog), a
slightly larger rescue dog (Lexi the Aussie Shepherd) a cantankerous Himalayan
cat, and too many fish to count. She has two handsome sons and seven adorable
grandchildren. She’s always been fascinated by science fiction and fantasy so
of course when she writes, she lets her imagination take over. The one thing
the reader can always count on is that the main characters will live happily
ever after, even if they have to defeat a few nasty aliens first.
When she's not busy writing the next great novel, she likes
to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her
guitar, sing and of course, read.
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