“I hope we’re not going to have to go that far for a couple of kids with firecrackers,” Misty grumbled, and started forward. As they closed in, she could see it was two boys, and she had a hunch as to which two.
She kept her footsteps quiet until they were almost on top of them, and then paused just outside the clearing they were in, took a breath, and barked, “What the hell do you kids think you’re doing?”
They froze for a second, long enough for her to step out with Ty behind her.
She could see the moment when they decided to run. Zeke looked at Ryder, then at the forest behind him, and he started to shiver, ready to blur and change. Misty took a step forward, knowing that it would be too late—she couldn’t compel them to stay, not in human form or in deer form, and then it would just be another round of calling their moms and getting yelled at for accusing their precious babies—
A growl sounded behind her.
Zeke stilled.
Ty paced out around her legs, prowling around the edge of the clearing, a fully-grown, fluidly dangerous jaguar. And an unknown quantity to the boys; they would have no idea who he even was.
Zeke let out his breath, remaining human. Then he summoned up the sneer that Misty, unfortunately, was coming to know very well. “Who’s the kitty?” he asked, chin up. He was a gangly kid, with a sharp face and a naturally sullen set to his mouth. Or at least, Misty assumed it was natural; he could’ve just always been projecting dissatisfaction. He was certainly never happy to see her.
“A friend of mine,” Misty said mildly. “You know you two are risking starting a forest fire. This close to the town, you’re putting everyone’s lives in danger.”
Zeke rolled his eyes. “So what?”
“So what?” Misty could feel anger rising in her chest. Her doe was already infuriated at the idea of flames engulfing her beloved forest. “You grew up here. You know what it’s like when there’s a fire.”
“It’s November,” Ryder put in. He was more heavyset than Zeke, with flat blue eyes and a habit of hunching his shoulders as though he was digging in for the long haul. “It’s been raining for a month. You must be pretty dumb if you think there’s gonna be a forest fire ‘cause of a couple of firecrackers.”
“Listen, you little—” Ty appeared at her side, and Misty took a deep breath. Swearing at them wasn’t going to help anything. “You want to take a ride to the station?” she asked, slightly more calmly.
“So you can arrest us like you arrested our dads?” Zeke growled. “This is police harassment.”
“You don’t even know what that means—”
There was a shiver next to her, and Ty blurred back into his human form. Both Zeke and Ryder took an abrupt step back. Misty was aware, suddenly, of how Ty towered over her, large and muscular and much more intimidating than either of the teenagers.
“You guys don’t have anything better to do than hang out in the woods pretending to blow stuff up?” Ty asked, his voice calm and conversational.
“Who the hell are you?” Zeke asked. He was scared, Misty could tell, but was covering it with an extra layer of bravado.
Ty stepped forward—they both flinched back—and held out his hand. “Tyrone Neal, formerly a sergeant in the Marine Corps. Friend of the sheriff’s. And you? What’s your name?”
“Uh—Zeke. Sir.”
Misty watched the transformation happening in front of her with disbelief. Zeke was morphi
ng from a mutinous brat into a respectful young man before her eyes.
“Ryder,” Ryder mumbled when Ty looked at him.
“Well, Zeke and Ryder, how about you hand over your explosives?”
Misty had no idea how he was doing it. Ty seemed simultaneously friendly, like he was really on the kids’ side, and forbidding—like that might change at any minute.
And it was working. Zeke scuffed his foot, but dropped his eyes, and after a second, handed over the remaining firecrackers. Misty noted with unamused eyes that they were heavy-duty, the kind that could do serious injury if they weren’t taking care, and the kind that was illegal to have without a permit.
Misty debated the pros and cons of reading them a lecture on safety—they wouldn’t listen—or taking them into the station—she doubted it would have an effect, particularly since she’d dropped them both off at their parents’ place just this morning with an admonishment to stay out of trouble.
Ty seemed to be having some luck with the friendly approach. Misty couldn’t quite bring herself to sound friendly to these two idiots, but she let go of as much of her anger as she could and said, “All right, now get.”
They blinked at her, momentarily disbelieving. Misty guessed it was a surprise—these two had been in her Jeep ten or fifteen times in the last month.
“You heard me,” she repeated. “Get gone.”