Bear Naked: Bear Naked, #1

By R. J. Eliason

"I like to look my prey in the eye when I kill it."

The words filled Amanda with fear and anger. But later they would fill her with foreboding. Who was the man? Why did he want to kill her? Who were the others that he mentioned? 

Amanda Burnson was a normal teenager, if you counted living in a cabin on the edge of town with your Neo-pagan uncle and being friends with two gender queer youths as normal. She definitely wasn't involved in anything that caused scary looking men to want to kill you. 

Her uncle seems to know something, but he's got his hands full helping the local DNR with a wild wolf. Her new boyfriend, Connor, also seems to know something, but he won't say what and she already has a different suspicion about him and his friends, like that they are werewolves. But that's crazy, isn't it? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. J. Eliason
• Release date: Jan 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215495162

R. J. Eliason

R. J. Eliason writes immersive science fiction and fantasy stories that feature diverse characters. Her writing spans many sub-genres from alien contact, apocalyptic stories and epic fantasy. She also writes in a wide variety of formats, from full length novels to an ongoing serialized adventure. Her writing can be found in digital and print formats anywhere online that books are sold. Or check out her website at rj.eliason.com and sign up for a free book. 

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

AMANDA HIT THE alarm clock harder than was necessary and stumbled up out of her tiny single bed. She stretched, being careful not to bump her head on the steep dormer ceiling of her bedroom. Her back ached. I am an old woman, she thought with a scowl. An old woman of sixteen. She glared down at the too-soft mattress that she blamed for her aching back.

I will get used to it. She would too. This happened every spring and every fall. Amanda Burnson spent most of the summer traveling with her Uncle Darren, going to every Renaissance faire, pagan festival, and craft show in the upper Midwest. She and her younger brother Hunter would bunk up in the back of Uncle Darren’s truck or pitch a tent. The first week of sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag would make her back ache, and then she would adjust.

In the fall they came home to Dubuque, Iowa, and to the little cabin on the edge of town that Uncle Darren owned. The first few nights on a soft bed would be almost as hard on her back as the ground had been. Then she would adjust.

She stumbled out of her bedroom and started down the narrow stairway, nearly slipping. She braced herself against the wall to keep from falling and found her footing again. Navigating stairs while half awake was just another adjustment she would have to make.

Downstairs she let herself into their tiny bathroom and pulled the hook-and-eye lock together. She pulled the faded nightgown over her head and opened her eyes long enough to inspect herself in the mirror. She was greeted by a mass of curly, black hair and a pale round face. It frowned at her.

She squinted at the upper left corner of her mouth. Was there a dark hair sprouting there? Gods, that’s supposed to be old women! Sixteen-year-old girls don’t sprout mustache hair. She found a pair of tweezers in the medicine cabinet and savagely plucked the offending hair. The stinging pain shot through her lip and woke her up. She glared at the reflection. It serves you right, she told her body. You sprout more hair and I will do it again.

A sports bra and a pair of white cotton granny panties joined the nightgown on the floor of the bathroom. She had sexier underwear, but wearing anything much fancier seemed a pointless gesture with her excess body weight. Maybe after she lost . . . oh, forty pounds or so. That might be possible now, she encouraged herself. The summer faire lifestyle featured way too many turkey legs and too much fried foods to think she would be able to lose any weight. But now that they were home and school was starting, she could watch what she ate, and she could lose the weight.

She carefully removed her leather necklace and hung it on a hook next to the towel. Dangling from the end of the necklace was an oval of elk horn bearing a crudely carved rune. It was a protective sign carved by her father and enchanted by her mother. It hadn’t protected either of her parents, but then again, it wasn’t meant for them. Amanda and Hunter had escaped the house fire. Her parents died in it. Maybe they should have made runes for each other instead.

The shower ran cold, but it was August, and in Iowa this time of year, it was already hot and sticky even this early in the morning. She quickly washed her hair, trying to bring some semblance of order to the thick, black mass. She wasn’t sure if she was succeeding.

She got out of the shower and started drying off with a ragged old towel. When she was reasonably dry, she dug through the medicine cabinet again, looking for the new deodorant she had bought yesterday. She sniffed the top of the stick and then her underarm. She caught an acrid smell and scowled. She looked at the shower. Did she have time to get back in? She didn’t know. She found a washcloth, ran the tap, and scrubbed both pits with soap and water. When she was done, she raised her right arm and sniffed again. Better. She scowled at the thick, black hair under her armpits. She would have to shave her underarms again soon, but not this morning. She smeared the deodorant under her arms and hoped it would last the day. So far she had yet to find a brand that completely cut through the odor her body insisted on producing, along with the copious amounts of hair it seemed to want to grow everywhere.

She found her brush, wrapped her towel around herself, and left the bathroom. Hunter! she yelled up the staircase, time to get up!

Hunter didn’t respond, but Uncle Darren groaned in the downstairs bedroom. Some parents get up and see their kids off to school you know, she shouted in at him.

Yeah, yeah, he responded grumpily. Your point is? Despite the grumpy voice she heard the floorboards creak under his weight and his bedroom door open. He padded across the living /dining room and came into view.

Darren Burnson was six foot five inches tall. His blond hair was laced with gray. The hair on his head reached halfway down his back, and his beard reached to his hairy chest. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers. He regarded her sleepily.

You look like a Wookie, she told him.

He threw his head back and began to make Wookie noises while tossing his hands about.

Dork, she said and went up the stairs. She banged on the closed door beside hers and yelled at Hunter again.

Yeah, yeah, he said, echoing his uncle. I’m awake.

She went into her room and shut the door. She brushed her hair until she had most of the tangles out and then, worrying about the time, quickly got dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt.

When she went back downstairs, Hunter was just coming out of the bathroom. You can’t wear chainmail to school, said their uncle in a serious tone. Uncle Darren had a barter arrangement with several Renaissance outfitters and the chainmail shirt had been Hunter’s end-of-summer gift. He had worn it for three straight days.

Aww, why not? Hunter said. He turned and started up the stairs.

No Ren clothes period, Amanda called after him. Regular clothes only. The last thing she needed was for him to show up to his first day of middle school in some Renaissance costume and get pegged a weirdo. Hunter had no clue how cruel middle school kids could be, and Amanda did not want to spend the next three years constantly defending her kid brother from bullies. I do enough of that for Jay, she thought.

Hunter stomped up the stairs to his room, and Amanda went into the dining room. To her right she could hear Uncle Darren shuffling around the tiny kitchen at the back of the house. She looked in as he set a cast-iron skillet on the stove and fired it up. Bacon and eggs, he said cheerfully. Breakfast of champions. About half a package of bacon went into the skillet. Amanda rolled her eyes. She would start her new diet at school, she decided.

She sat at the dining room table and pulled the brush through her hair again, trying to get the last of the tangles out. Her uncle came in with a cutting board laden with whole-wheat bread that he had baked in the mud oven in front of their house. He sat the loaf and a mason jar filled with honey in front of her and went back into the kitchen.

By the time Hunter was dressed and back, Uncle Darren had bacon and fried eggs on the table. Hunter found his seat and started shoveling bacon on his plate greedily. Save some for your sister, Uncle Darren told him.

How does he eat so much and stay so thin? Amanda groused to herself. Hunter was a short, scrawny kid, but he shared Amanda’s bushy, dark hair and round face. She knew how he stayed so thin, she thought while watching him eat: he was constantly active. He loved anything to do with the outdoors and rarely sat still for more than a few minutes. In fact, his foot quickly started banging out a rhythm against the table leg as he stuffed bacon into his mouth.

Slow down. You are going to choke, she warned him.

You don’t have to baby me, he grumbled.

Yeah I do, she said and ruffled his hair. They shared a look, but neither spoke for some time. When they had both eaten she said, Anyway we need to get going. The middle school isn’t too far out of my way. I will walk you there before heading to the high school.

Hunter dutifully crammed one last bite of fried egg into his mouth and followed her into the living room. She stepped out on their front porch and looked around. Home for the Burnsons was a century-old farmhouse that had once been in the country outside of Dubuque, but the city had grown to their doorstep. Only a steep bluff behind the house prevented the city from completely encompassing them. It left their house wedged in behind the town. The street leading to their house ended at a T with the last crossroad. Access to the Burnson’s house was via an access road that led to a narrow alleyway behind the final set of houses. Many people didn't even realize it was there.

From the porch, they could look out and see the tops of houses and city buildings farther down toward the Mississippi River. Behind the house was nothing but deep woods. She could see the stack of firewood just to the side of the porch and a hint of the earthen stove beyond that. The house itself looked much as it had a century ago when it had been built.

C’mon squirt, she said to Hunter and held her hand out for him. He took it, and they went down into the city of Dubuque.

A few blocks from home, she saw a man coming toward them down the street. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties with a stooped posture. He was dressed in tan dress slacks and a green paisley button-down shirt that looked like it came off the very back of the rack at the cheapest thrift store in town. He was carrying some sort of case, and his eyes shifted back and forth from house to house as he shuffled down the street.

Amanda felt a nervous pit open in her stomach as the man got closer. He gave off a sleazy sort of impression. Is he some sort of door-to-door salesman? Do they still have those?

His eyes slid over her, and she shivered. She gripped Hunter’s hand tighter and moved slightly to the side as they passed. She wished she could have crossed the street, but that would have been rude. Besides, it was broad daylight. What could happen?

After they’d passed each other, she heard him sniff the air loudly. Stopping and turning, she discovered he had stopped and turned as well. Their eyes met for a split second, and then she turned away quickly. She gripped Hunter’s hand even tighter and hurried on.

Amanda had managed to shake off the bad vibe by the time they got to the middle school. She gave Hunter one last admonishment to behave and asked if he remembered where his home room was.

Of course, he assured her and made for the middle school building without a backward glance.

Amanda! a voice called out in a high sing-song pitch. She looked back to see Jay Toumi approaching. He was about her height but scrawny. He had bright-blond hair that he wore shaggy. He was wearing skin-tight blue jeans and a black-and-white t-shirt that flared slightly at the bottom.

He was coming toward her skipping, hand in hand with someone Amanda had never seen before. She remembered now that Jay had mentioned that he had met a new friend over the summer.

The friend—Amanda couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl yet, and she couldn’t remember from what Jay had told her—was about Jay’s height with hair cropped short and dyed bright purple. The friend was wearing overalls and a faded t-shirt. Boy? Girl? Amanda scrunched up her face, trying to guess.

In a moment Jay was there. He dropped his friend’s hand and wrapped his arms around Amanda. Amanda, he said again, my bestie!

She returned the hug and said quietly in his ear, I think that’s a girl’s t-shirt.

I can wear whatever I want, Jay replied primly.

Of course you can, she replied with a smile. And I will spend half the year arguing with every bully in the school on your behalf, again. Still Jay couldn’t help who he was, and they had been best friends for many years. And who is this? she said out loud.

The other person held out a hand and said something quickly and in a strange accent that Amanda couldn’t quite follow. Umm, was that Courtney or Corey? she asked as she returned the handshake.

Yes, the friend replied brightly.

Oh, you are awful, Jay said with a laugh. It’s Corey.

Amanda looked Corey over. Close up, she could tell that Corey had sizable breasts, but she kept that observation to herself. After all, she knew Jay had been talking to transgender people online and was considering coming out as such himself. She assumed Corey must be a female-to-male transgender. It seemed odd that Jay had found another trans person in Dubuque, though. It was a small, fairly conservative city. Besides she thought she knew every kid their age by sight at least.

Now of course Corey is genderqueer, Jay went on, so if Corey is wearing girl’s clothes then he’s Courtney.

And she? Amanda said.

Yeah, Courtney’s genderqueer too, Corey said with a mischievous grin.

Are you from around here? Amanda asked.

Jay answered for Corey. That’s the best part yet, he said happily. Corey’s parents just moved down from northern Michigan. Mom and Dad are letting them build a cabin on our property so they can get settled. Jay’s parents were neo-pagans and organic farmers that had acreage on the edge of town.

Now I will have two people to defend from the bullies, Amanda thought as she looked at Corey. But as Jay’s hand slid into Corey’s again and a sly smile played across his face, she couldn’t help but think that it was worth it to see her best friend finally have someone else who understood him. As the three of them turned to walk to school, a pang of jealousy shot through her. Even Jay had managed to find someone. Where did that leave Amanda? The loveless wonder, the ultimate outsider. She scowled and pushed the thought down.

Hempstead High School was just a few blocks away. As they approached, a school bus slid by them, kids yelling out the window at them. Amanda and Jay both lived far enough from the school to qualify to ride the bus, barely. Looking at the yellow prison of screaming kids, she shuddered. No thank you.

They stopped about a block away and looked at the school. It was nearly time, and they couldn’t pause for long.

Hempstead High, home of the Mustangs, Jay said. His face was looking pale now, fear showing briefly in his eyes. He swallowed and said with bravado, Go Hoof Prints!

Let’s hope there aren’t too many on our backs when it’s over, Amanda grumbled.

Is it that bad? Corey asked.

Jay just shrugged. Naw, he said, I mean there are a lot of rednecks. They say stuff about people like me, but it usually doesn’t go beyond talk. He leaned in and whispered, loud enough for Amanda to hear. If it does, Amanda beats them up. He gave an impish smile and giggled.

She hit him on the shoulder, not hard. Shut up, she said. It was true. She always seemed to be the one who had to stand up for Jay. In elementary school, she had faced down and beat up the bullies more than once.

It was one more strike on a long list of things that made her undateable. If it wasn’t bad enough that she was overweight, hairy, and had a pungent sweat that no deodorant could contain, who wanted to date the girl that routinely threw you into a mud puddle in elementary school?

It will be better this year, Jay said suddenly.

You think? Amanda replied sarcastically.

I am here, Corey said, taking his hand.

It might be different for you, Amanda thought sourly, but I think it will be twice the trouble for me.

Jay looked at her and, as if guessing her thoughts, blushed and looked away. Well, let’s go.

As they mounted the stairs, a boy ran by and said to Jay, Why don’t you go home and cry, little emo boy?

Jay put his hands up to the side of his eyes and made an exaggerated crying gesture. Oh wah, I have to be myself in a school full of posers and fakes, wah, wah. He mock-cried and then stuck his tongue out at the retreating back. Corey chuckled. A few onlookers chuckled as well, and a few scowled.

The morning went well enough. Most of it was taken up with an assembly. Principal Higgs droned on for over forty-five minutes about the importance of school and treating each other with respect. As if a lecture will help, Amanda thought.

She felt someone bump her on the back and turned to see Jenny Davidson leaning forward conspiratorially between her and Jay. Jenny was dressed in a black cami with far too much cleavage. About a half dozen silver pendants hung at her neck, and she wore several bracelets.

Jenny had a book in her hand and was extending it discreetly to Amanda. The book was A Green Witch’s Guide to Wicca. Amanda exchanged a look with Jay that said poser. He snorted. Moments later, her phone vibrated.

Goth girl takes up witchcraft. Jay had texted to Amanda. That will shock everyone, I am sure.

I just thought you might find it interesting, since you are pagan and all, Jenny said to Amanda.

Umm, yeah, it looks cool. Amanda said, not wanting to be rude. She wished she hadn’t been so open about her family’s beliefs before. Not that she had much choice. She had gotten into a near-screaming match with her PE teacher last year over the runic necklace she wore. He thought it was a symbol of evil or something, and before she knew it she was angrily lecturing him about earth-based religions, land spirits, and the old faith. That time, it was Jay who had saved her.

It’s the only thing she has left from her parents, he had said quietly to the teacher. Don’t make her take it off.

The teacher dropped the subject, but she caught him scowling in her direction for the rest of the year. He went to some real conservative church, she later found out, and he believed her parents were into some sort of dark, Satan-worship cult or something.

Amanda knew many people who described themselves as witches. They worshipped the old gods in private and took the Craft, as they called it, every bit as serious as Christians took their religion. They were good people, ethical people who would never break the ‘rede’: as long as it harm none.

And she knew plenty of young people like Jenny. Girls who thought it was neat and rebellious to call themselves witches. They played at doing spells and wishing for things.

But for Amanda, being pagan mostly meant traveling a lot. It also meant you celebrated the solstices and the changing of the seasons instead of traditional