Chapter 10

The rain had been steady all morning, the kind that soaked into the moss and made the air feel heavier than it really was. Bella had gone into town with Angela for a school project, leaving me free to stretch my legs.

The woods behind the house were calling.

I shifted just inside the tree line, denim and leather giving way to fur and sinew. My panthera form hit the ground silent and sure, claws sinking into the damp loam. The cold didn't bother me. If anything, it sharpened everything — the scent of cedar and wet bark, the faint metallic tang of rain-soaked soil.

I set off at a run, weaving between the trees. Birds scattered ahead of me, a startled rabbit bolting from under a fallen log. This part of the forest was familiar, but I wanted to push deeper, where the scents weren't ones I recognized.

That's when I caught it — not deer, not wolf, not vampire. Musky, heavy, edged with something wild but not hostile. I slowed, nose lifting to sort through the layers. Bears. Multiple.

And they weren't moving away.

I padded forward, keeping my steps light. The scent grew stronger, threaded with the faint warmth of smoke and cooked food. They were settled, not wandering. A clearing opened up ahead, and I stopped in the shadows, letting my eyes adjust.

The cabin sat low to the ground, built from rough-hewn logs. Smoke curled from a stone chimney. A stack of split firewood leaned against the side, covered with a tarp.

And in the open space out front, two small shapes tumbled across the grass.

Bear cubs. Shifters, if the scent was right. The boy was a lighter brown, bigger and steadier on his paws. The girl — gods, she looked like a round black puffball — wobbled as she walked, her steps wide and clumsy, like a drunk toddler learning to dance.

The boy noticed me first, freezing mid-step. His sister stumbled into him, then followed his gaze. Her tiny round ears perked up, and she let out a little huff before waddling straight toward me.

I stayed still, crouched low so I didn't tower over her. Her fur was thick, glossy, already beading with raindrops. She bumped her nose against my front paw, sniffing hard, and made a pleased rumble.

From the cabin, the door creaked open. A man stepped out — tall, broad, his dark hair tied back at the nape. His eyes, deep brown with gold flecks, locked on me instantly.

Behind him, a woman appeared, her presence softer but no less alert.

The man's voice carried across the clearing. "We don't see many of your kind out here."

I shifted back to human, clothes reforming over my skin in the blink between forms. The little cub startled at the change but didn't run — instead, she pressed herself against my boot.

"Didn't plan on intruding," I said, hands loose at my sides. "Just passing through."

The man studied me for a moment, then inclined his head. "I'm Tenzin Dorji. This is my wife, Maya. And those are our cubs, Dawa and Pema."

I nodded toward the little one glued to my foot. "She's got no fear."

Maya smiled faintly. "She's curious. It gets her into trouble."

"I can see that," I said, crouching to run a hand gently over Dawa's back. Her fur was unbelievably soft, and she made a pleased chuff, settling right at my feet like she'd decided I belonged to her.

Tenzin stepped closer, not threatening but purposeful. "We've only been here a few months. Forks is... quieter than where we came from."

Maya's gaze softened. "Our kind is hunted in the mountains. We wanted somewhere the cubs could grow without looking over their shoulders."

I nodded slowly. "You picked a good spot. Most people here don't go deep enough into the forest to notice anyone."

Pema crept closer, curiosity winning out over caution. He sniffed at my jacket, then retreated halfway behind his mother's leg.

"Do you live nearby?" Maya asked.

"Close enough," I said. "Far enough that I didn't expect to find anyone else out here."

Tenzin gave a small smile. "We keep to ourselves. Go into town when we need to work or shop, but otherwise... the forest is home."

Dawa nosed at my boot again, then let out a tiny, impatient grunt. I glanced down at her. "You're pushy for someone so small."

"She likes you," Maya said, sounding faintly surprised.

I shrugged. "I like her too."

⸻

We talked for a while, mostly small things — weather, the way the rain here was different than in the mountains, how the cubs had just started shifting a few weeks ago. Tenzin said bears shift earlier than most other shifters, usually before they can even read. It made training a lot messier.

Every so often, Dawa would nudge at me until I crouched again so she could press her head into my hands. Pema stayed a step back but kept watching me with wide, intelligent eyes.

Eventually, I straightened. "I should head back before it gets dark."

"You're welcome here anytime," Tenzin said. "The cubs could use... safe company."

I nodded, glancing down at Dawa, who was still plastered to my side. "I'll take you up on that."

When I stepped away, she tried to follow, making a small noise of protest until Maya scooped her up.

I shifted again before leaving the clearing. Dawa's little face peeked over her mother's shoulder, eyes following me until the trees swallowed me up.

⸻

By the time I reached the edge of my property, the air smelled of woodsmoke and rain, and something else — the faint, surprising warmth of having made a connection I didn't expect.

I had a feeling that little black fluffball wasn't going to let me disappear from her world now.