grief. It whispered out of my mind as though the wind caught it.
“You’re different,” he said softly, and the words, though whispered close to my ear, seemed to shiver along the wind too. “I don’t know your name, but I will the second you shift back. So, for the moment, I’m going to call you Silver.
“You don’t know this, but silver and gold wolves are very rare. Werewolves, shifters, have been around for thousands of years, as long as humans, and we’ve shared terrain with you. Some humans know of us, some don’t. But the ones who do, have kept our secrets safe, just as we protect them and our territory.
“It’s to my dying shame that this happened to you last night. I will find out who’s responsible for turning you against your will even if…”
As he released a sigh, I tensed, wanting to know ‘even if’ what?
He scratched my ear again, distracting both of us until he built up the courage to mutter, “Even if it was Mother-blessed.”
Mother-blessed? What the hell did that mean?
His mother? Whose mother?
The no pain thing was beyond epic, but not being able to talk sucked. Fuck.
I pulled back, looking him square in the eye. Or at least, trying to. I had to tilt my head this way and that to get a good picture of him because in this form, my vision was odd. I saw different stuff, the colors weren’t the same too which…
Crap!
If the colors were different, then how could I read his aura?
Blue might have been murderous, and green might have been passion for all I could discern in this skin!
He surged to his feet, even as he kept his hand on my head. The connection felt good, and I peered up at him when as he stated, “You need to learn to walk.”
My tongue lolled out at that.
Walking couldn’t be too hard, could it?
“The first instinct, when you shift that initial time, is to go and eat. But once you awaken from the stupor, it’s like being a pup. So I’m going to assume that your stasis has been on fast forward for a little while. Let’s get you started so we can go home.”
Home?
I hadn’t had a home for a long time, and the way he said it, it wasn’t like he was saying it was his home solely. Like it was my place too.
The yearning inside me made me release a keening sound that drew his attention. He tilted his head to the side and studied me, but I didn’t think there was much he could read in that form. Somehow, I was able to communicate the things I’d kept buried away inside me for over a decade in this shape, but he couldn’t translate them.
Wasn’t that bittersweet?
He released a breath, closed his eyes, and within seconds, he was like me again. Walking on four legs rather than two.
When his nose ran down my back, along my side, scenting me, I didn’t stop him. It felt good. And since he was a wolf, it didn’t feel weird, because I knew this was how creatures like this interacted. His nose ran over my hindlegs, and when he sniffed up my tail, only then did I yip at him to back off.
As he returned to face me, his tongue dangling, I’d swear that I saw amusement in his eyes. It was like he’d known I’d yell at him for that. Shakily, on legs that felt as fragile as saplings, I attempted to take a step forward.
My body heaved with the effort of staying upright, of not falling over, and when the male wolf nudged me, eagerly helping me along, a warmth blossomed inside me.
I wasn’t alone.
Even the grief that had weltered deep in my being from out of nowhere, while a negative emotion, was further proof that somehow, I’d been merged into a collective.
I wasn’t an individual anymore.
Maybe another person wouldn’t have been happy about that. Maybe they’d mourn the loss of their independence, but they weren’t me.
With my background.
With my history.
Each paw connected with the soft ground, and I felt the earth in a way I wouldn’t have ordinarily. I liked walking barefoot. In truth, it was my favorite way to move around. But standing here, now, feeling the loam squish between the pads of my paws, smelling the scents blossoming from the pressure of my weight atop the soil burst into being…it was magnificent.