Page 26 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

Rune

I’m up with the sun the next morning, unable to sleep. My family will arrive today!

I walk through the house one last time, seeing all the new touches that make it livable, from the food waiting in the kitchen to the supplies in the bathrooms and the linen-covered beds.

Pride fills my chest. I have made a home for my pack, one where pups can learn what it means to walk the world on two legs.

And I have Autumn to thank for it all.

I skip breakfast, eager to bring everyone back here for their first meal in fae form.

Shadow appears out of thin air as I step outside, standing on my front porch. With nothing like human phones in Faerie, the werepanther’s ability to walk the shadow roads makes him the quickest way to communicate across long distances.

“Are they coming as planned?” I ask.

“They are.” His wide grin shows far too many teeth. “In fact, they’re about to step through the door.”

“What? No.” I wanted to be there to greet them. I try to shove past him.

He places a hand on my chest.

I’m fast, but there’s no way I’ll get there before they step through the door, and any delay is completely unacceptable. A growl rumbles in my chest, irritation filling me. “Out of the way, cat. I need to get to them. I—”

“Calm yourself, hound. I’ll take you on the shadow roads.”

I stop shoving forward. “You’d do that?” He’s taken me on the secret roads before, but only for more serious reasons, such as when we battled foes in Faerie.

“Of course.” His green eyes glitter with mirth as he grabs my elbow. “Take a deep breath.”

We step forward, and the world disappears, the colors of the trees fading, the birdsong falling silent, the scents of pine and dried leaves dying away.

All that’s left is gray nothingness with a faint path barely visible under our feet.

How the hell the cat sith find their way through the mist is a mystery.

Shadow shows no such hesitation, pulling me along.

We run, and in only a dozen steps, the world snaps back into clarity around me, delighting all my numbed senses.

Wind stirs the colorful trees, carrying the scent of water from the nearby falls.

Crystal Rock stands before us, the dark stone decorated with crystals that hint at the one buried at its base—the bespelled crystal that holds the door to Faerie.

Magic shivers through the clearing, and the air shimmers in front of the rock. Shadow got me here just in the nick of time.

I meet his gaze and tip my head. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He steps to the side, fading from sight, his smile the last thing to disappear.

Then my sister steps through the door, a wolf far larger than any found on Earth, with deep-black fur and golden eyes, so like mine. “Rune!”

“Riselda!” I throw my arms around her, breathing in my twin’s familiar scent. My magic rages in my chest, a wild thing clawing at the cage of my ribs. The desire to shift, to be a wolf, is too great. I pull back, barely able to fight it down…

Two small bundles of fur step through the door and hurl themselves at me. “Uncle Rune!” “Uncle Rune!” Astrid and Agnar hit my chest, their paws too big for their small bodies.

I let out an exaggerated “oof” and fall onto my back as if they were strong enough to tip me over. “You got me.”

They stand on my chest, tiny tails wagging so hard their butts wiggle back and forth. Flat little pup faces grin down at me, golden eyes blazing with delight.

“I did it!” Astrid declares. “I knocked you over!”

“No, it was me!” Agnar protests.

“It was both of you.” I put my hands to good use, scratching all around their ears as they lick my chin in little kisses. Goddess, I’ve missed them!

“Ohhh.” Astrid hunkers down on my chest and squirms closer. “That feels so good.”

“I like hands,” Agnar says, his eyes slitting closed as I scratch some more. “Hands are good.”

“Are you ready to have some of your own?” Riselda asks, concern lacing her tone. She’s trying to hide it, but I know my sister well.

I shoot her a questioning look. When I left Faerie over a month ago, the pups hadn’t been able to shift. I hoped things had improved.

Her small headshake says it all. Still no luck.

Well, this is why I came to Earth in the first place, to establish a home where the pups of the pack could be immersed in bipedal life.

We’re starting with my niece and nephew to test out the theory, and because we hope their familiarity with me will cushion the shock of adapting to such a different world.

“You first, Momma!” The pups jump down, allowing me to sit up.

Magic hums in the air as Riselda’s wolf disappears to be replaced by her werewolf form.

She stands over six-feet tall, her deep black fur gleaming with health.

Alpha of our pack, my sister is a formidable fighter, but you wouldn’t guess it when you see her lean over and tickle her pups’ bellies with her clawed fingers.

They giggle and squirm, rolling on the leaf-covered ground with yips of pure joy.

“Okay, your turn,” Riselda says.

They leap to standing, their little faces screwing up with concentration as they strain. Tiny bursts of magic come from them, but nothing happens, and their ears droop.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ve got plenty of time for that later. Who’s ready to try cooked food for breakfast?”

Their chorus of “ewws” makes me laugh. “You only say that because you haven’t tried pastries.”

I shift to my werewolf form as well, making them gasp.

“Uncle, where’s your tail?” Astrid asks.

Agnar runs rings around me, yipping in confusion.

“It’s trapped in my human pants.” I reach back and pull the end of it up out of the waistband. It’s less comfortable like this instead of running down the length of my thigh, but I don’t want them to worry.

My sister tugs on my tail. “We need to make changes to the clothes so they’ll accommodate our tails better.”

I grunt. I’ve been so focused on fitting in I never thought to alter human clothes.

After taking off my boots, I tie the laces together and drape them around my neck.

Then I lope into the woods, skirting around town to head for the house, my clawed feet digging into the soft mulch of fallen leaves.

A fierce joy fills me. It’s good to run like this, my family by my side, a little pack together once again.

As we near the house, the wind shifts, blowing directly from the south. The smell of goat scents the air.

“What is that?” Astrid darts forward.

Agnar’s nose lifts, and he takes several audible breaths before charging after her.

“Wait! Don’t!”

But the pups put on a spurt of speed, cutting under rhododendrons and other bushes their mother and I have to go around.

In no time at all, we break out of the trees to find the pups standing with their front paws up on a fence, yipping at the goats in the field beyond.

“Stop that,” I call out. “Those are Autumn’s goats. I promised we wouldn’t touch them.”

“But they smell like breakfast,” Agnar whines.

“Domesticated animals aren’t food for a cu sith. There’s no skill in hunting them,” I say. “In fact, watch this.”

I shift into my fae form and vault the fence. The goats immediately run over, snuffling at my hands and clothes, looking for treats.

“Hey!” A cry rings across the field, and I look up to see Autumn waving as she trots toward me, Babybelle at her side.

She comes to a halt a few feet away, her cheeks flushed pink from the run.

My fire wears none of her usual jewelry, and her shirt and jeans are plain work clothes.

Yet she looks as lovely as ever. “I heard the goats giving warning cries.”

“My niece and nephew got excited by the scent of the animals.”

Autumn lifts an eyebrow. “Excited? That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not going to be a problem.” I frown. “I gave my word.”

“Yeah, well, I know how rotten little ones can be.” She gestures toward the mini-goat, who goes bounding toward the fence, letting out a series of bleats. Autumn runs after her, yelling as she passes me, “See what I mean?”

I dash past her and vault the fence, spinning and crouching, ready to snatch my niece and nephew away from the goat.

Shock freezes me in place, my arms outstretched. The pups aren’t threatening Babybelle. “What are you doing?”

Astrid and Agnar have stuck their short muzzles through the holes in the fence so they can lick the mini-goat. Babybelle’s bouncing up and down, bleating and trying to butt her head against them with affection.

“Yes, you can play together if Rune says it’s okay.” Autumn throws me a questioning glance.

“Wait, the goat can talk?” Astrid asks.

Agnar protests, “But I can’t understand her!”

“The goat isn’t fae,” Riselda says. “It’s like at home in Alarria. We can talk to the unicorns, since they’re fae, but we can’t talk to the deer, because they’re animals.”

“But the woman talked to her!”

“I did,” Autumn agrees. “That’s because Babybelle is no longer a normal animal. I’m a witch, and she’s my familiar.”

Astrid says, “Ohhh,” at the same time Agnar admits, “I don’t know what that means.” He glances at his sister. “What does it mean?”

She shrugs.

Babybelle hops and bleats some more.

“She says to tell you she’s the most special animal in all the world, because she’s the only one who’s bonded to me.” Autumn smiles at her familiar, the expression so fond I’m transfixed by it.

I want her to look at me with eyes so full of love.

“I’m Riselda, Rune’s sister.” She steps closer to Autumn and waves at her werewolf form. “I’d change into a woman, but my brother tells me humans don’t like nudity.”

“Except when they do,” I growl, thinking of the people on the television show wearing something called bikinis, which had been so small, they might as well have been naked. “It’s very confusing.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Autumn says.

“I’m going to make them their first cooked breakfast,” I say. “Would you like to come over?”

Autumn’s smile dies, and the worry I first saw yesterday evening flickers through her eyes. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to make extra batches of soap this week so that I can take time off for all the fall festival activities we have coming up.”

“I told you I’d help with that.” I frown. “We’re doing them together.”

“That will be great, but it doesn’t change the fact that the maze will be open for multiple hours each day, and I have to fulfill my duty to the family business first.” Her eyes move past me to the others. “It was nice to meet you all. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

She picks up a protesting Babybelle, the little goat kicking, trying to get back to the pups.

As my fire walks away, I leap the fence and catch up to her, a moth pulled to her flame. “We’re in this together. Tell me what you need.” I want to wipe her worry away.

“Most of the things for the pumpkin carving contest should be good to go, since the town does the same thing every year. But here’s what you can check on.” She gives me a list of things to confirm, then says, “I also have something I’d like to add to the event.”

“Anything you want,” I say, meaning the words with all my being. “Anything at all.” And indeed, I agree to everything, liking her suggestion.

“I’ll see you Thursday. If you come over to the farm in the morning, we can make sure we’ve got plenty of time to get everything ready.”

I almost protest that Thursday is three days away. I don’t want to go that long without seeing her. But she has her work, and I have my family. “Until Thursday.”

Back at the fence, I distract the whining pups with a game of chase, racing them all the way to my house.

My niece and nephew tumble through the door, dashing around and competing to be the first to see each room. They sniff at the toys Autumn picked out for them and leap onto their beds, amazed at how soft the mattresses are.

Riselda calls them to her and shifts all the way to fae, trying to set an example. She’s tall and well-muscled, with tan skin and dark brown hair like mine. My sister’s features are strong, and her smile is wide as she rubs at the pups’ tummies. “You’re so soft.” She stares at her hand, fascinated.

“Skin is very sensitive. That might be part of why humans have such odd nudity taboos.” I hand her a set of the clothes Autumn helped me pick out, sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, everything big and stretchy since I didn’t know sizes.

I have some for the pups as well, so we’ll be ready when they finally shift.

In the kitchen, I show off my rudimentary cooking skills, making instant oatmeal with sliced banana and frying bacon, which the pups fall on hungrily, enjoying the crunch and salt.

As soon as everyone’s eaten, I take them into the living room and turn on the television, setting it to one of the children’s cartoon channels.

The pups go wild, yipping with excitement and asking all about how it works.

Unable to explain, I call it human magic.

And it does indeed seem like magic, as they fall silent and settle onto the couch, wolf eyes latched onto the screen.

When one of the characters does a complicated trick using their hands, the pups cheer.

Television might end up doing more than entertaining them and showing them how humans live—it might also make them more willing to shift once they see more of what hands can do.

Riselda pulls me into the hall. “Thank you again for doing this. I know I asked a lot of you to isolate yourself from the pack for so long.”

“The pups will live as cu sith were always meant to, knowing all of their shifted forms,” I say. “It will be worth it.”

I don’t admit I’ve found a more selfish reason to be on Earth, that I may never go back to Faerie.

Not if I get my third wish, and find my fated mate.