A couple of hours later, Donovan loped along the creek in his polar bear form, thrilled to be able to do so again without the threat of being shot, at least from a hunter. Bagsby was another matter. Still, he doubted Bagsby would venture into the woods. He was a priss, never got his hands dirty, kind of guy. Fancy suits and perfect haircuts were more his style. Tromping through the hills of Wyoming in search of his victim just didn’t fit with Bagsby’s image. Thus, Donovan didn’t bother worrying. Enjoyment soared as he ran free.
The day was already getting hot and muggy. Thus, the adventure before it turned downright miserable. His thick fur and hide worked well in the frozen tundra of winter. In the heat of summer, not so much. He’d consider sheering down if he didn’t believe the local ba
