The Skunk, the Tibetan Fox and Their Wolf Omega by Lorelei M. Hart
Chapter Five
Dakota
San Diego was not Alaska.
But it was surprisingly easy to fall in love with.
I’d never considered myself a fan of the beach, never dreamed of living near the ocean, but while my other plans had been so drastically derailed, and I wouldn’t be in the Last Frontier anytime soon, I had started saving for a visit there someday. If my leg didn’t improve, and nobody seemed to think it would at this point, I wouldn’t be able to have the kind of adventure I’d envisioned anyway. But there were many ways to experience the largest state, and I would tailor my future experience to my abilities.
The empty five-gallon water jug, for now, stood in the corner in the beach-adjacent cottage I rented from my boss. It was not directly on the sand, of course. Even if he’d owned something like that, I’d have had to sell a kidney to an organ trafficker to stay there a month. But one block away was still pretty spectacular real estate. The glorified studio was not nearly as tiny as he had suggested and even had a small eat-in kitchen area. It provided plenty of space for my needs, and even with my limited knowledge of such things, I knew he was giving it to me at a greatly reduced rate.
I could walk to work, too. Without too much discomfort. I had full responsibility for the kiosk and the items we rented out to tourists and locals alike. Tandem bikes were a really popular item, as were the electric scooters and even roller skates. Transportation items. We also had umbrellas and sand chairs and Boogie Boards as well as an assortment of things like sunglasses and energy bars and cold drinks in a cooler. Like the cottage, it was big for what it was and stayed busy from the moment I opened at nine until I closed just before sunset.
Most of the customers wanted to chat with me, expecting me to be local and have lots of information. At first, I wasn’t sure whether to fake it for the sake of business, but I’ve never been good at lying—it always comes back to bite me in the tail—so I admitted to my limited knowledge and found that most people then were excited to share the newness of the place with me.
It helped. A lot. Isolation closed in after I shut down every night. Despite my desire for independence and my failed attempt at a solo adventure, I’d grown up in a close family, our den warm and loving. The skulk we belonged to was the kind of community I imagined everyone wanted. My quirky independent streak puzzled just about the entire fox population. Especially after my injury, it was assumed I’d stay close to home where they could all help me. That help, the over-the-top kindness that I’d always found wonderful when directed toward others, did not feel as good when it was pointed at me.
I didn’t want to be a burden, someone who always had to be thought of. Don’t forget to invite Dakota to the gathering. Make sure Dakota doesn’t get left behind—he can’t move as fast as he used to. Poor Dakota; he showed such promise.
I’d overheard the comments, and while nobody said a single thing meant to be anything but nice, it made me want to scream and tear out my fur. No. I was not some aged grandfather who needed to be “included” or waited for. I couldn’t stay and be the object of pity.
But while the memories of these things clung to me when I was alone, during the day, in the bright sunshine, with all the people who were spending their vacation on the sandy beach, that cloud dissipated.
“Dakota, when did you last take a swim?”
I startled from my mental fog at my boss’s question. “Uh, why?”
“Because it’s a beautiful day and you’re sitting in front of a display of Boogie Boards.”
“I’m on duty, boss, and there’s only one left.” I shrugged. “Can’t neglect the kiosk for fun.”
He gave my work ensemble—a T-shirt and trunks—a nod. “I’ll bet you can’t even share your personal experiences with the equipment with the customers.”
“No…I don’t suppose I can.” The sand glowed warm, ready to toast toes, and the waves beckoned. “But I don’t want to shut down the stand. We’re too busy.” Not that I’d had a customer in the few minutes we were talking, but that was a fluke.
“Son, do you think I’m too old to manage that computer whosamajigee thing?” The older man, a red fox shifter, shook his head at me after using such a technical term. “Go for a swim. Take a Boogie Board and don’t come back for at least an hour.”
“I didn’t bring a towel.” I don’t know why I was still arguing, maybe just to be cantankerous. I really didn’t like being told what to do. Work things, yes, but he didn’t really think I needed to be able to describe my personal wave riding to rent a Boogie Board.
“Take this.” He yanked a rolled-up towel out of a section to the left of the Boogie Board display.
“But that’s not a rental, it’s a—”
“Son?” The boss, Arvin, although I always thought of him as the boss, had clearly reached the end of his patience with me. As he probably should have. “If you aren’t out on those waves having a great time in two minutes, you’re fired.”
I gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious, but nothing about his furrowed brow and tight lips indicated it was a joke. “Y-yes, sir.” I snatched the towel from his hands and the turquoise Boogie Board with a dangling leash and darted as fast as my bum leg allowed, out of the kiosk and across the sand, his laughter following me. Maybe he had been joking, but I couldn’t take the chance. I dropped my towel and launched into the water, gasping as a wavelet splashed salty water into my open mouth.
He never even asked if I could swim.
Fortunately, I could.
The cool Pacific rose to my shoulder as I hop-stepped out, copying those around me and holding my board over the breakers. I’d never swum in the ocean before, only lakes and rivers, but it felt natural, the salty liquid seeming to support my weight in a way I’d never experienced before. My stride was bouncy, and I moved without the lingering ache that always seemed to accompany me. I’d grown used to it and rarely gave it a thought, but I noticed when it was gone.
As the water rose over my chest, I climbed halfway onto the board and paddled out to where I could see all the others turn and face the shore. It seemed very far away, and I wasn’t sure how deep the water was here.
Were there sharks?
My heart rate climbed at movement nearby and what looked like a fin. Oh hell. My first time in the Pacific would be my last as I became a snack for a Great White. Nobody else reacted in any way I could see, so I cried out a warning. “Look out, over there!”
Instead of leaving, or alarm, a cheer rose. “Dolphins!” someone yelled. “Oh, this is great. I never get to see them.”
And then, there wasn’t one fin, but many, and the water churned around me and the other boarders as dolphins, dozens at least, decided to make this particular spot their playground. The fear that had accompanied my mistaken shark sighting changed to clinging to the board while the most amazing and beautiful scene played out around me. They dove and splashed and sprayed. One moved close to me and seemed to hesitate, its shiny silvery-gray skin gleaming in the sunlight. Any remaining panic or even worry disappeared. I reached out a hand and accepted the gift the dolphin offered. I touched his skin, feeling the smooth, rubbery texture. Nothing like a fish, although some intelligent part of me reminded me they were mammals.
“Ohhh.” Nobody else was talking at this point, all of them watching me, envy and wonder in their eyes. “He’s so…ohhh.”
I would never forget this moment, not even when a wink from the creature let me know he was not just a regular dolphin and had chosen me, a shifter, on purpose for this honor. But animal or person, it was a huge honor.
“Thank you, friend,” I murmured. “I am grateful and so glad to meet you. Will I see you again?”
He bobbed his head and squeed which probably meant, “I am here all the time. Where have you been?”
And then, before I could process anything else, a wave came from nowhere and lifted me high into the sky and higher and higher, then I teetered on the foamy edge and plummeted toward the beach.
My lack of experience came into play when I lost my grip and the board was swept away from me while I tumbled head over heels, and every panic I’d ever experienced paled in comparison to the knowledge I’d soon break my neck and drown. The only question was which one would kill me first.