Disclaimer: This is a story based on the characters and world created by the fabulous author Laurann Dohner in her New Species series. I own no part of it. It is a fan story and not written for profit.

If you like it, please let me know. I hope you enjoy...

HUNTER

Chapter One

Monica turned the house key and a relieved breath escaped her lips when the handle on the weathered wood twisted. One firm shove and the door opened with an expected squeak. She paused on the threshold to wait for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of her father's cabin. Slowly the familiar images came into focus. She took a couple of hesitant steps inside.

The living room and furnishings were just as she remembered from her last visit a year ago. As expected, the air smelled a bit stale with a lingering scent of Old Spice cologne, her father's favorite. It reminded her of happier times, before her parent's divorce, when she'd spend weeks at a time with them here. She loved the cabin and the land better than any other place her parents had ever lived, together or apart. But in her case, life had interfered – friends, high school, boyfriends, college, work, responsibilities. The list seemed endless now days.

Had it been so long? The sharp sting of guilt that cut into her heart was well deserved. She'd been so caught up in her own life she hadn't set aside enough time to see him before...

"What's done; is done," she mumbled, fighting tears. "He's gone. I'm here to fulfill his last request." It was the only thing she could do for him now.

Even at a subdued level her voice sounded too loud in the eerie quietness of the unoccupied room. She shivered and took a quick backward glance at her rented vehicle. She'd parked the four-door SUV near the front porch, but it still looked small and insignificant in the forest that surrounded what had become her father's private get-away.

She had to stop procrastinating, unpack the car and retrieve the box. Summer wasn't going to last forever and neither were her vacation days. At least her finances wouldn't suffer. Her job as payroll supervisor for the school district in her hometown paid fairly well. She had two months off and didn't plan to leave northern California and return to Florida until she'd completed two final tasks – scatter her father's ashes on the land he loved and decide what to do with the property afterward.

Several months ago, a local landowner had given him a standing contract if he should ever wish to sell the place. Monica was stunned by the amount of the cash offer – triple the fair market value. It was unheard of, but she'd seen the unusual man on TV and knew about the people he represented. Justice North wanted her father's land. She could understand why. It bordered the northern tip of the NSO's Reservation and would give them a buffer zone against their enemies. However, the property was hers now and she intended to spend the next few weeks reminiscing before she made any final decisions.

The sun would set soon so she hurried to unload her things. On her last trip from the car to the cabin a rustling sound came from the edge of the tree line. Instantly alert, she paused near the front steps and scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It wouldn't be the first time her instincts had warned her of danger. There were bears in the forest and her father had a habit of feeding some of the wildlife as if they were his pets. Perhaps she'd made too much noise and had attracted one of them.

Just beyond her vehicle at the very edge of the woods, a small movement drew her attention. A lower tree limb gently swayed. There was no breeze. Monica zeroed in on it and saw – nothing. After starring for several seconds, she shook her head then stepped up onto the porch.

"It was probably a bird or a squirrel," she muttered before heading into the cabin. The explanation sounded reassuring, even if she didn't quite believe it.

It took her four entire days to sort through her father's belongings. She placed the items into boxes labeled "give away, throw away or keep." Afterward, she cleaned every inch of the cabin. It took two days, but the results were spectacular as far as she was concerned. She rested her hands on her hips as she surveyed the interior. The place had never looked better or less cluttered. She'd taken all the boxes and stored them in one of the bedrooms. In time, she'd decide what to do with the furniture. Perhaps it would be best to just leave it and sell it all along with the cabin and the property.

Weary from her labor, she slumped into her father's office chair in one corner of the room. She resisted the temptation to prop her feet on top of the freshly polished desk. He'd always enjoyed sitting that way. She smiled at the memory and almost immediately another one popped into her head. There was a secret drawer located...

Monica pulled the lower right drawer completely open, reached behind it and located a smooth button. She pressed it and a tiny thrill of satisfaction shot through her when she heard a soft click.

She closed the first drawer. Just as she expected, another one had popped open just beneath it. Only this one was much smaller and shallower. She reached down and pulled it out all the way. To her surprise, it wasn't empty. A thin composition book labeled "notes" rested inside. It wasn't an expense looking diary. She would've been shocked to find anything of the sort, but she was still surprised by the discovery. For as long as she'd known him, her father hadn't ever kept any sort of journal.

Monica retrieved it and tossed it on the desk before she closed the drawer. She immediately opened the cover and pulled back when she recognized the distinctive writing style. Her father never wrote anything in cursive except his signature He printed everything. She glanced away from the notes for a few seconds and considered if she should just close the book. Was it really necessary for her to read his private notes? It might be important, a last request or something. I should at least read some of it, just in case.

Curiosity overcame her hesitation and she looked at the first page. A quick glance told her it wasn't a new will or anything else of legal importance. It appeared to be a daily record of his life. The first entry was for Monday. It was just like her father to neglect to put an exact date or year. Monica sighed in frustration as she read the first words:

Monday: The most amazing thing happened this evening. I was walking down to the river to try my luck at fishing and as soon as I started across the meadow I saw a man kneeling beside a fresh deer kill. He looked up, saw me and we stared at each other for a second before he jumped up and ran off. I said he was a man, but he didn't look like any man I've ever seen before. I knew right away he had to be one of those New Species guys, but he didn't look anything like Justice North. No way. This one had a tail. I got a glimpse. It had to be a little longer than his legs. I only had a chance to get a quick look, but he didn't seem to have the same facial features as most of them, except for his eyes. Definitely a cat, greenish-blue I think.

I believe I startled him, but he scared the heck out of me. Big buck-naked son-of-a-bitch! Well, after I rushed back to the cabin and settled down, I decided to do something really stupid. I jumped in the jeep and went back out there. The deer, a yearling buck, was still in the field. I think he'd shot it with an arrow and tracked it to where it fell. The blood trail led back to the Reservation fence where a tree had fallen and knocked down one section. It's in the area close to the river. Well, I figured it was his legit kill even if it was taken out of season, so I loaded it up and drove it over to the damaged fence. It took some effort, but I hoisted the deer up on top of the tree trunk and left it there. Before I left, I put one of those snack packs of cookies on it. I'll go back tomorrow morning to check and see if he found it. Hope so. Justice North impressed me when he and his men came by and made the offer on the place. Until I'm ready to sell I want to be a good neighbor. Just seems right.

Monica groaned. "What are you doing, Dad?" Too curious to see what had happened, she read on.

Tuesday: Guess my neighbor found his deer. When I checked this morning it was gone along with the cookies. He'd stuck the empty package on one of the broken fence barbs. Funny. He must have a sweet tooth like me. I'm heading into town for some supplies. Think I'll try my luck at some fishing when I get back.

Didn't have any luck catching a fish. One of those cans of tuna I bought will be pretty tasty tonight. No sign of my visitor either.

Wednesday: Peaceful day. Still can't catch a fish. Think I'm losing my touch.

Thursday: Same as Wednesday.

Friday: Found a surprise when I opened the back door this morning. There was a stringer of three large fish left on the porch. Looked fresh caught. Not caught in the normal way though. Each one had an arrow hole right behind the gills. Makes me think my neighbor's been watching me. Guess he felt sorry for me and left me a gift too. Drove over to the fence this evening and discovered it's been repaired. Those folks over there don't waste any time taking care of their stuff. Makes me think my neighbor must patrol that particular section. Just a guess, since they fixed it so soon. Left another pack of cookies stuck on the fence, just in case he passes by.

Saturday: Had some unwelcome visitors this afternoon. Two lawyer types said they represented a conservation group that wants to buy my place. I can just imagine what kind of group that must be. They made me a ridiculously low offer. I told them I wasn't interested in selling, but they got a little pushy in a salesman sort of way. I ordered them off the place and told them not to come back. Some of the stupid comments they made let me know they were from one of those hate groups that don't think New Species should be allowed to live. I checked the fence right before sunset. The cookies were gone, but my neighbor left a note. Nice handwriting too. It said, "I'm glad you sent them away. The cookies were good." Guess he's watching me. I wrote him a message on the back. Told him I was glad he liked the cookies and invited him over for some fried fish tomorrow evening. Will see what happens.

"Guess that explains all the frozen cookies in the freezer," Monica muttered.

Sunday: I had company this evening. His name is Hunter. Guess that's not too surprising since he likes to hunt. He's quiet, too. I was outside, frying the fish next to the fire pit when he seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was dark and I never heard him walk up. For such a big guy, he moves without making any noise. He was barefooted. I was real glad he was wearing some clothes this time. I tried my best not to stare at his tail. Think he has a gap in the back of his jeans for it. He's definitely one of the feline New Species - cat eyes and sharp teeth. He has claws that retract instead of fingernails, but his face is more human looking than Justice's and the others I've seen on TV. We introduced ourselves. He acted a bit skittish at first, as if he wasn't sure he could trust me or not. He knelt down on one knee and stayed at the edge of the firelight while I finished cooking. We visited a little. Mostly, I talked; he listened. By the time we finished eating, he seemed more at ease and even loosened up. He told me I was fishing all wrong. Ha. We laughed about that. The guy has a wicked looking smile. It'll take some getting used to. He didn't stay long, but he thanked me for the food and inviting him. Said it was better than eating it raw. I let him know I wanted to be a good neighbor and that he was welcome to visit any time. He didn't say if he would or not. Strange fellow. He had good manners though and I'm glad he didn't act like he wanted to kill me. I think our first visit went pretty well.

Monica slapped her palm against her forehead. "I should have visited more," she muttered.

Her father was lonely. It was the only sane reason she could think of that would make him take such a ridiculous chance. They'd both agreed that the New Species had been horribly mistreated and should be left alone to live out the rest of their lives in peace. It was little wonder they hated humans, but she'd heard that some humans worked for them and were treated very well. She automatically turned the page and continued to read, but couldn't banish an eerie feeling of dread that worked its way into her thoughts.

Monday: Drove to Sacramento to take care of some business. Got back to the cabin late. No sign of my neighbor.

Tuesday: Not feeling well. Stayed inside most of the day. Hunter showed up after I started a fire outside. I think he likes to hang around and stare into it. We talked some more and he actually joined in this time. He said he lives in what they call the Wild Zone on Reservation. It's where they put the ones who aren't tame enough to live close to others. He said he'd like to live near his kind, but some of them stare at him and avoid him because he's so different. He said there are a few more that are similar to him in the Wild Zone, but they're wilder. According to him, most of them were raised in the same facility, but he was treated a little different because he was always the calmest one. Apparently, the researchers did all kinds of awful things to them. He wouldn't say any more about it so I changed the subject. I showed him my daughter's picture, the one I took after her college graduation. He said she was very beautiful. Can't argue with him, since he's obviously got good taste. Ha.

"Good grief," Monica said with a groan. "I can't believe you showed him a picture of me. Please tell me you didn't drag out all the nude baby pictures." She sneered at the page then closed her eyes and shook her head. "I've lost it. I'm whining to my father in a notebook."

She heaved a frustrated sigh then opened her eyes to read more.

Before he left, he told me he'd catch some more fish and bring them to me Saturday if I'd like some. That sounded good to me. I promised to grill them and treat him to my famous fish tacos. He accepted. Hope he likes spicy food.

Wednesday: Feeling a bit puny today. Think I'll putter around the cabin and do some laundry.

Thursday: Same as Wednesday.

Friday: Feel much better today. Decided not to push it, so I drove down to my favorite spot along the river instead of walking. It was very peaceful there today. I tossed out a line and didn't even bait the hook.

Monica closed the book and pushed it aside. Everything she read only reminded her that she hadn't been there for her father during his last weeks. He'd driven to the hospital in Sacramento a few days before spring break and had died there two days after he'd been admitted. He'd kept his illness a secret from everyone. The shock of losing him so suddenly hadn't faded.

She'd gone through the first four stages of grief so many times she'd decided it would be an endless repeating pattern of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression without ever finding any semblance of acceptance. Her spring break was spent planning and attending his funeral. How she wished it could have been spent visiting with him.

Monica looked out the window and realized it was way past sunset. She couldn't see a thing in the darkness beyond the glass pane. There was no reason she could think of to turn on the porch light. It would only attract a horde of flying insects. A pang of hunger sent her speeding off to the kitchen to grab a sandwich. She quickly threw one together and wolfed it down. She poured a glass of wine before she returned to the desk and flipped the book open to the next entry.

Saturday: Hunter doesn't have a problem with his appetite or eating spicy food. Guess that means he liked my tacos. I enjoy his company. He talks a lot more now, but he prefers to listen to my stories, especially the ones about the times I spent here with my family. He doesn't understand the idea of divorce even after I tried to explain it. If I talk about Monica and how she liked to swim in the river as a little girl, he seems to really be interested. We both had a good laugh at the one where she was showing off in front of everyone to get a teenage boy's attention but instead of making a good impression, she slipped off the bank and fell into the river. Before Hunter left this evening I promised I'd introduce him to my daughter as soon as she comes to visit.

Sunday: Another bad day. I think I'll rest. Hunter dropped by but I couldn't talk to him for very long. I can tell he's worried about me. He's a good man.

Monica turned the page, but the rest were blank. Apparently, it was just as she'd feared. Her father had started the dairy just days before he'd gone to the hospital. She put the notebook away and shuffled off to bed to cry herself to sleep.