Page 18 of Found in Obscurity

So Kit was happy with who he was bonded with, except for one tiny detail. Well, not tiny, exactly.

Lorin didn’t seem to feel the same way about him. He didn’t seem to care about having Kit around. Or at least, he didn’t want to care. Tried his best not to.

They’d sat outside on the old swing for what had seemed like hours, and while for Kit, it had been comforting and soothing, Lorin had seemed to be fighting so many demons at once. Kit couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it, so he’d just curled as close as he could, hoping his presence would settle Lorin just like Lorin’s did for him. And he’d kept still, as hard as it was, sharing warmth and just existing together in silence.

Lorin’s hand had eventually drifted to his back, and Kit had had to suppress a flinch of surprise. Kit remembered the feeling of those long fingers burying themselves in his soft fluff, unconsciously running down his spine and tail, making him squirm with how nice it felt.

The small movement had been enough to alert Lorin’s brain to his actions though, and he’d snatched his hand away like he’d been burned, trying to scoot farther away on the wooden seat even though there was nowhere to go.

Kit had huffed, lifting his head and pressing them together more firmly.

Lorin needed to see and know that Kit would follow. Every time. He refused to be away from his mate now that he hadfinally found him. He didn’t want to waste a single second of their time together when it felt so good being close.

He was sure Lorin would soon see it too.

Kit was made for him. He was put on earth to be with him. To bond with him. To help him be everything he was destined to be. And while Lorin was maybe a bit reluctant about it, Kit was excited beyond words.

He’d help Lorin find himself, and then, hopefully, Lorin would do the same for Kit.

Pushing the memories aside, Kit dove back into the bag filled with packed things and dug around until he found a little ball of fabric tucked into a corner.

He pawed at it until it rolled out of the bag and across the worn wooden floor. Kit followed the ball with his eyes, his nose twitching before excitement took over and he dove for the thing as quickly as he could.

Packing, apparently, could be pretty fun. Even if you had zero clue where you were going.

Chapter five

Lorin

He was barely holdingthe tears in as he stared at the sight in front of him. The little fox’s weight on his lap helped somehow.

He felt almost grateful it had fought its way into his arms after he’d tried loading it into the back seat. The warmth of its fur and the gentle licks of its tongue against Lorin’s exposed wrist kept him grounded. More than he cared to admit.

Especially when he was sitting in his grandma’s car, staring through the window at something he hadn’t thought he’d ever see again.

“You kept it?” he asked, and she turned the car off, taking her hands off the steering wheel and nodding.

“Of course,” she said, voice terse. He knew it wasn’t because she was angry this time.

“You knew I’d come back?”

“Surprisingly, no. I had no idea if I’d ever see you again.”

“Then why…?”

“Because I’d lost everything that mattered,” she said. “My daughter, my grandson… This cabin was the last thing I had left that made it feel like parts of you both were still here. Even if you only spent a couple of years living here.”

He turned back to look at the cabin. His eyes were burning with the need to cry again, but he didn’t think he had the strength anymore.

Lorin had no real memory of the cabin. He’d been too young when his parents died, and once he was finally told what happened to them, the older he got, the harder it was to visit.

It was like a living, breathing gravestone.

Like his grandma’s house, the cabin had taken in his mother's magic. As a beaver shifter it had followed naturally that it would be built with his father’s own hands. It had become an extension of them. Even after death, it lingered.

Lorin stared at it now with a dry throat.

The dark wood that had been painted black melted into its surroundings, the point of its roof hugged by evergreens and bushes all the way around like it had grown alongside them in their shadow. The plants had taken hold of the porch supports, wrapping them up in their embrace. More climbed between the roof tiles, hanging over the crosshatched windows. None of the windows were the same shape. The one in the door was an oval, the central one which sat under the point of the roof between the beams was a cathedral-style half round. Only the smaller rectangular ones on the first floor were blocked by curtains, the others showing hints of blurry shapes just beyond through the darkness.