Page 18

Mulder

Madeline came running outside wearing a cat-eared headband and her birthday dress, which was complete with a tutu, of course. She was never without one of those. Even though she’d just turned ten, and most of her friends had long outgrown their whole fairy-princess, fluffy-skirt phase—she never had, and I suspected she never would. If they made her happy, I’d continue to supply her with them. Not that she needed me to, not with Grandpa Swale around.

Kenny had a strong suspicion that she was about to shift soon. It was a little bit young for cats, but not terribly so. I’d scented her fur a few times this week as well. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her birthday party to be her first shift or not, but it really wasn’t up to me anyway. It would happen when it happened.

For a long time, I didn’t know if she was going to take after her father or me. Either way, she was exactly perfect and who she was meant to be. But lately, she’d been talking more and more about getting her cat, and I was glad when she started showing signs she was nearly ready. Thinking she was going to shift, never to be able to, would break her heart.

We were having a small party. And by small, I meant in the backyard as opposed to a large venue—not in the number of guests. We had a bunch of people from work, Karma and her mate, Warren, and even Zoe drove by for the celebration. And because Grandpa Swale was Grandpa Swale, there were tutus galore.

Everybody who came in was redirected to a table to pick out their own. I didn’t think that would go well—most adults weren’t really good about things like that—but I guess when the pack beta tells you to go to the table the alpha was at to help find your tutu, you do it with a smile. And it had our sweet girl overjoyed.

Her siblings were already outside, her sisters trying to talk Aunt Zoe into giving them cake well before cake time. Zoe stood firm, telling them it wasn’t time. If they had been smart about things, they would’ve gone to Grandpa Swale. He wasn’t one for denying them anything.

“Hey.” My mate came up behind me and kissed my mate mark. “Everything looks wonderful.”

He rested his hand on my middle. This pregnancy was different than the last—I was already showing, only a month and a half in. We’d thought we were done having children after having our first litter. Those first couple of years had been intense, to say the least. We were outnumbered in everything, but even so, it was a wonderful time, and I was glad that we were able to savor it. Our work had been great about giving us the time we needed, and our friends and coworkers had offered support that made all the difference.

But then, as they went to kindergarten, Madeline asked when her brothers were coming. I said they weren’t. And she said okay—but not like she believed me.

Well, once again, she was right. This time, I didn’t ask her how many, and I was glad she didn’t tell me. Because if we were having another litter, I was already tired. We’d figure it out when it came. There was no denying I was carrying more than one, though. If I was showing this much already…probably more than two.

“You don’t have your tutu on,” he teased and nipped my ear. “Is it too small?”

I had a special one the same exact color as Madeline’s. And it was too small, yeah. But for a good reason.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Jayne’s working on opening it up so it’ll fit me.”

A few minutes later, Jayne came out with it. It was no professional job—no one would look at it and think a tailor had done it. There was a rubber band involved, along with a bread tie. But it worked, and I slipped it on.

“It’s officially party time,” I said and twirled. That was a mistake and if my mate hadn’t been there to steady me on my feet, I’d probably have fallen.

Madeline flitted from person to person, thanking them for coming and asking them to be part of her fairy dance, which she’d created just for the event. It was adorable watching them all trying to learn her little dance, the song playing over and over again as they eventually got the routine down—or at least close enough.

I nearly toppled over the first time around and offered to be the camera person instead. I was fairly confident not everyone there loved the idea of being caught on film now—but they would, when they had it later to look back on. It wasn’t like I was posting it on social media or anything.

They stayed for hours. And when it was time for everybody to leave, all the cake was gone, all the presents opened, and our youngest were sitting on the porch, working hard at not falling asleep.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a long day. How about we take you up to bed?” I could sure use some sleep. This was the exhaustion stage of pregnancy.

“No,” our Buddy said. “We can’t. Madeline said we get to meet her cat today.”

That was news to me. I knew it was coming but not that she had a set time in mind. “Yeah?”

“She’s coming tonight,” Madeline announced proudly.

“Are you sure?” I asked. I wouldn’t be surprised, but it wasn’t something you knew ahead of time. At least not normally.

“I saw it in a dream. Why do you think I’m wearing these cat ears? They hurt. But in my dream, I had them on when I started to shift.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her—not as I was looking down at her four beautiful sisters.

“Do you want me to shift and see if that helps?” Kenny asked.

She nodded. “But take your tutu, Papa. Maybe your wolf can wear it.”

He still put that thing on for her, even after all these years. It was so adorable.

I sat down with the others, not really comfortable shifting anymore, and watched as he took his wolf form and stepped into the tutu she held for him. The two of them ran around one another until she stopped, flung her ears off, and kicked off her shoes.

It was happening.

She was shifting.

She didn’t manage to get her clothes off before she took her fur, and I ran over to help her get out of the pile of clothing she was tangled in.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” I whispered. “You look just like I did when I was your age.”

She was not a teeny tiny kitten, but pretty close, and she had the longest whiskers—plus extra toes.

When I was little, I was told that extra toes meant you had a gift, one extra toe for every unique talent. I already knew what hers was. She could see things—not everything, and not enough to have it negatively impact her life with worry—but more than once over the years, she did things ahead of time, things she shouldn’t have known.

She jumped onto Kenny’s back, and he walked around with her. It was ridiculously adorable, and you could hear her purring across the yard.

Her brother and sisters ran up to her. “Can we, like, pet her?” Kemi asked.

“Not now. But if she comes up to you and rubs against you, you can.”

Petting was something very personal. I didn’t mind when the kids petted me, but I knew many a cat who hated it.

Everyone ran around for a while, and then she shifted back.

“This needs to be a book,” Madeline insisted.

I’d been adding to the books since we moved here. I had one about the night I met Kenny. Another about when she became a member of the pack, Kindergarten graduation, and a lot of other major and minor events alike. And she was right—today was book-worthy.

“Oh, absolutely.” I hugged her tight. “We can start working on that tomorrow—if you go right to bed.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“It is. But barely. Look at the moon—it’s pretty high. And besides, you have to be a good role model. Look at your siblings.” Kenny pointed to the others who were no longer asleep. They had gotten their second wind—not acting very tired at all.

“Fine,” she sighed. “It’s bedtime. But tomorrow we can work on the book. I want to be able to show it to my kids one day.”

And off she ran inside. Kenny followed her, taking the others with him. He came out about a half hour later with a cup of tea for me.

“She’s growing up. They all are.” Kenny sat beside me.

“Pretty soon, we’re gonna have even more. Our bookshelf is gonna be full at the rate we’re going.”

“It is,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”