Chapter 11

The patter of light rain on the roof was the first thing I heard when I woke. Forks had a way of making every morning sound the same, but it was oddly comforting.

I rolled out of bed, stretching until my joints gave a satisfying pop, and padded across my room to pull the curtains back. The yard below was slick with dew, mist curling through the trees beyond.

A faint shuffling in the hallway told me Bella was just getting up. I cracked my door open and stepped out at the same time she did, her hair sticking up in all directions.

"You look like you lost a fight with your pillow," I said, smirking.

She gave me a bleary glare. "At least I fought back."

"Sure you did," I said, brushing past her toward the bathroom. "Try not to fall asleep in the shower."

______

Charlie was already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and flipping through the paper. The smell of bacon filled the air, and I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my mouth.

"Morning, Dad," I said as I came up beside him.

He looked up and returned the smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Morning, kiddo. You're up early."

"Bella takes forever to get ready," I said, deliberately loud enough for her to hear as she came down the stairs.

She narrowed her eyes at me but ignored the jab, going straight for the fridge. "Do we have orange juice?"

"Second shelf," Charlie said, then nodded toward the frying pan. "Want some bacon, Aspen?"

"Always," I said, grabbing a plate and helping myself to a couple of strips. "Thanks, Dad."

It was simple, but moments like this - the smell of coffee, the sound of bacon sizzling, Charlie's quiet presence - made me feel more grounded than I liked to admit.

⸻

The drive to school was as uneventful as usual. Bella had the window cracked, letting in the damp morning air, and we fell into easy silence after a few minutes of light teasing. She fiddled with the radio, finally settling on a station that played something soft enough not to make my ears ache.

When we pulled into the lot, I glanced over at her. "Try not to trip over your own feet today."

She rolled her eyes. "Funny."

"Just looking out for you," I said with a smirk before hopping out of the truck.

⸻

Classes dragged by in that slow, steady way they did when nothing particularly interesting happened. I kept my head down, answered when I needed to, and otherwise let my mind drift. By the time the final bell rang, I was more than ready to get out into the woods.

Bella had plans with Angela again, so I walked home alone. The house was quiet when I got there, and it didn't take long for me to ditch my school clothes for something I could run in - loose black joggers, a long-sleeved shirt, and my usual battered sneakers.

The forest was damp, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and cedar. I shifted just inside the tree line, my body elongating and reshaping in an instant. Fur slid over skin, muscles coiled and strong. My paws sank into the mossy ground with barely a sound as I set off at a run.

⸻

It didn't take long for the familiar scent to hit me - warm, musky, layered with something earthy. Bear. More than one. And I knew exactly which family it was.

Slowing, I followed the scent until the trees began to thin. Ahead, in a small clearing, the Dorji family's cabin came into view. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, and in the open space out front, two small forms moved.

Tenzin was sitting near the edge of the grass, rolling a stick between his paws. Dawa, on the other hand, was doing her best impression of a tiny bowling ball, wobbling and stumbling toward a pile of leaves she clearly intended to conquer.

Her head lifted the moment she caught my scent. A little "huff" escaped her, and then she was charging toward me - or at least, charging as fast as her stubby legs could manage.

I crouched low as she barreled into me, her soft, round body pressing against my front paw. She let out a pleased rumble and immediately tried to climb onto my leg, her claws snagging harmlessly in my fur.

"Dawa!" Pema's voice called from the porch, but it lacked any real reprimand.

I lowered my head to nudge her gently with my nose, and she made a delighted sound, spinning in a clumsy circle before pressing herself against me again. I couldn't help it - I stretched out on my side, letting her scramble over me like I was some sort of living jungle gym.

She pawed at my ear, tumbled over my shoulder, and flopped onto the grass beside me, panting happily. Her fur was unbelievably soft, her warmth a steady pulse against the cool air.

⸻

After a few minutes, I shifted back to human, sitting cross-legged on the damp grass. Dawa hesitated for half a second at the change, then waddled over and plopped herself into my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Guess I've been claimed," I said as Pema and Dorji approached.

Dorji's mouth curved into a small smile. "She doesn't warm up to just anyone."

"I'm honored," I said, scratching gently behind Dawa's ear. She leaned into the touch with a happy grunt.

Pema's gaze softened. "It's good for her to have friends. The forest can be... lonely for cubs."

I nodded, understanding more than they probably realized. "I'll visit when I can. She's good company."

Tenzin peeked out from behind Pema's leg, his dark eyes curious but cautious. I gave him a small nod, not pushing. He ducked back out of sight, but I caught the faintest twitch of a smile before he did.

⸻

The conversation drifted to easy topics - how the cubs were adapting, how different the rain here was from the mountains, how Forks was quieter than anywhere they'd lived before. Dawa stayed in my lap the entire time, occasionally pawing at my jacket zipper or resting her head on my knee.

Eventually, I stood, and she let out a small noise of protest. "I'll be back," I promised, giving her one last scratch before stepping away.

Dorji inclined his head. "Our door's open to you."

I shifted again before leaving the clearing, glancing back once to see Dawa watching me, her little ears perked and her eyes following me until the trees swallowed me up.

⸻

By the time I reached home, the light was starting to fade, and the house smelled faintly of coffee and something sweet - maybe pie. I could still feel the lingering warmth of Dawa's small weight in my lap, and it stayed with me the rest of the evening.