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“Like a talent?”

“Aye. Do ye know what yers is yet? Many shifters have them.”

I shrugged, not ready to discuss what I wasn’t certain should or could be shared.

He led me to the largest mound in the center and stopped beside an opening with steps into the earthen depths. “The council’s waiting inside. I called an emergency meeting. My brother confirmed, but he’s busy at the moment, and they’re all pretty pissed about having an unexpected summoning.” He winked at me and gestured me ahead of him. “Good luck.”

On either side of the tunnel, antique oil lamps hung, like something they’d dug out of a mining camp, and I peered at the closest one—interested, but maybe also stalling to get my thoughts together.

He flicked the base of the lamp I studied. “The council doesn’t like changing tradition, but oil lamps were dangerous. After the last den fire, they switched to imitations, so these are solar, delivered via next day Prime on Amazon.” He chuckled. “Don’t let the dens fool ye. We like modern things too. Some of the older shifters prefer primitive dens, but most of the dens have been finished out like most modern homes.”

“Oh.”

I continued down a dozen steps which ended in alarge room. A long table set at one end with six older shifters seated on the other side. The table had been made of one long piece of tree, thick and rough-hewn, polished by the patina of time, supported by sawed-off trunks from trees that had to have been hundreds of years old. It had probably been there for as long as the pack had been around. After Six-Mile’s more human-like dwellings, earth-houses hadn’t been what I’d expected when Jasper brought me here.

The sour-faced council said nothing as I came to a stop in the middle of the room. They stared at me as though they were waiting for something incredible to happen.

Jasper took a seat on one of the logs to the side of the den.

“Why is your hair that way?” one of the older members asked, her mouth twisted in a look of disgust.

“My hair?” My hand tugged on the strands. “I didn’t have time to clean up before Jasper brought me here.”

“No, no, the colors. Is that a side effect of… of… what you say you are?”

My humorless laugh cut through the uncomfortable silence. “No, my hairdresser did that.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. Clearly, colorful hair wasn’t something she liked, and she shot Jasper a dark look when he snickered.

One of the older male members stood and gestured to me. “Make your case.”

I stepped forward, and my mind blanked. How could I convince these jerks to let me stay? No, not jerks.They were protecting their family, and I had to respect that.

Clearing my throat didn’t bring a rush of clarity, but I began anyway. “Honored council members, my name is Emma Carter, and I am the multimorph emerged.”

The cranky woman scoffed. “Can you shift now?”

“I’m still learning how to do that. It tends to work best when I’m attacked.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough,” I said, unwilling to give an exact number. What did my age have to do with anything?

“Too old,” she said. “You want us to believe you are the multimorph? The strongest among us? You’re too old to have strong magic.”

“Age has nothing to do with it,” I said. “In these last few days, I’ve been a fox, a bear, and a mountain lion. If I could get some food and some sleep, I could probably show you tomorrow or the next day.”

She scoffed, and the old man glanced at her as though warning her to let me talk. “Oh, hush, Beauregard. If Flynn doesn’t like my comments, he can tell me himself, and I’ll wallop him behind his ears.”

Beauregard chuckled. “I believe you would.”

She turned her criticism to me. “Do you have any witnesses to your multimorph?”

Jasper stood and stepped forward with his hand raised. “I’ve witnessed it. That’s the only reason I brought her here. Isn’t the multimorph someone ye wanted to meet before ye died, Giselda?”

Beauregard chuckled, each chuff like a rumbling drum.

Giselda’s mouth pinched as though she’d eaten something sour. “I don’t recall ever mentioning that desire to you.”