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Bo

The clouds obscuring the moon have a weight to them, as if they might break open and spill their insides at any moment.

I would welcome a storm.

More cover for my swim.

Mor didn’t seem concerned though when I asked her about using the dock.

If there were any danger, I’m sure she would have warned me.

At least to keep her library safe from backlash.

The moment I have the thought, I’m guilty for the callous view.

Mor cares, and that’s been rare in my life.

My doubtful thoughts about her motivations stem more from my history than from anything she’s done to me.

I stand alone at the end of the dock, dressed in only a pair of jeans, and tell myself not to look behind me.

Not to stare at the cozy glow emitted from the windows of the house that used to so terrify me.

Now, after spending days wandering through the rooms, learning every scent, memorizing the floorboards that creak and the door hinges that squeak, I feel like I’ve met the house.

That I’ve apologized for my invasion and the building knows I’m seeking to right my wrongs.

And now I regret turning down an offer of a room under that roof.

The RV is nice enough, but everything about it is temporary.

Too similar to the flimsy mobile home that my father and I lived in.

The Victorian is like a tree, with thick roots dug into the ground.

Not long ago, I thought I wanted to be mobile.

To leave Folk Haven the moment I made enough money.

Now though, I want an invite inside.

An offer to stay.

I want a certain witch to look at me and see more than an employee.

More than a monster needing charity.

I let out a sigh and keep my gaze forward, fixed on the choppy waters of Lake Galen.

As chill droplets patter against my shoulders, I unzip my fly and push my pants down my legs.

Then I take a moment to fold them and set them back from the edge.

Not that the move will keep them dry if the rain keeps up.

Bracing for the chill, I leap into the lake.

Cold water swallows me, and I mutter curses that only come out as bubbles.

But the next moment, I tug on my beast form, and every sensation alters.

The once-frigid water is now pleasantly cool as it passes through my fur and over my scales.

The urge to return to the surface for a breath disappears as my lung capacity expands.

The webbing between my digits, which is useless on land, now helps to effortlessly propel me through the water.

I glide under the surface, hidden from all who might judge my appearance.

Able to pretend for a time that I am fully free and that there is no shame to my beast.

What would Mor think if she saw me like this?

She has , I remind myself.

This is the first way she ever saw me.

Frozen in stone as my most terrifying self.

And she helped me. She saved me.

Is that the reason I feel this constant draw to her?

That my mind is always on the library, wondering what small things I can do to make her life easier?

To make her smile.

No.

I don’t think it is all from being grateful, though I am.

I just … like Mor.

I like her so much.

I like how she’s passionate and loyal.

How she takes care of people in a brisk, no-nonsense manner.

How she can get so lost in a book that the world around her loses meaning.

How she was determined to build something and did.

How she’s fair, never treating me like I’m other.

How she smells like roses and has hair like fire.

But I doubt she’ll ever feel the same.

So, I tuck away the pain of never getting to hold her—one sting in a lifetime of emotional wounds—and I swim until the sky booms with thunder and flashes with lightning.