Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 82: Grace: Strawberries (III)

"Here." I hand Owen his phone once he returns, and the absence of the device makes my fingers curl into fists. It’s like handing over my safety.

He accepts it with a nod, tucking it into his pocket. Bun wiggles in Owen’s arms, leaning toward me with grabby hands. Her eyes—wide and dark—fix on mine with intensity.

"Guh!" she demands, and I reach out without thinking.

Owen transfers her into my arms without comment. The weight of her settles against my chest, warm and solid.

I freeze.

The bunny ears I’d gently dried minutes ago have vanished. In their place are triangular, twitching appendages covered in fine black fur.

Cat ears. Definitely cat ears.

I blink hard, certain I’m hallucinating. My fingers tentatively reach up to touch one. It twitches beneath my touch—warm, soft, and undeniably real. Not a headband or costume piece, but flesh and bone and fur growing directly from her scalp.

A dizzy sensation washes over me. This isn’t possible.

"What the—" I cut myself off, glancing at the other children.

None of them seem remotely concerned. Sara and Jer are finished cleaning. Ron sits cross-legged on a woven mat, flipping through a dog-eared book with some cartoons on the cover.

Jer skips over, reaching up to stroke Bun’s new ears with familiarity.

"Are you a cat now?" he asks with a grin, unfazed by this new development.

Bun responds with a high-pitched "Meow!" which sounds uncannily authentic. Her eyes narrow in satisfaction as Jer scratches behind her ears.

My arms tighten around her instinctively. "But she was—"

"Ooh, be a duck next!" Sara interrupts, hovering at my elbow. "Ducky Bun is the best!"

Before I can process what’s happening, the cat ears melt away. Not falling off, not retracting—they simply disappear, sinking into her head. Bun’s entire face shifts next, her nose and upper lip extending outward, hardening and flattening into an unmistakable yellow duck bill.

"Quack!" she announces proudly, her voice muffled by her new anatomy.

My knees nearly buckle, but I hold myself upright by sheer force of will and the vague panic I might drop the baby. "What’s... how...?"

Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I’ve lived with wolf shifters for years, seen what transformation looks like.

But they can only transform into wolves. Not random other animals.

only be

This? It’s impossible.

He sounds bored. Maybe mildly irritated. "You know she gets stuck sometimes when

several times before words finally emerge.

slamming his book closed. "Didn’t we already tell you?

this. There’s special, and then there’s impossible. "Shifters can

by my crisis. "Says who? The

way he speaks. He sounds like he’s going to murder us all if she doesn’t do

him. She’s now sporting not only the orange duck bill, but whiskers. She looks

trails

sliding out of my arms with alarming ease, and my heart

girl catches her like this is a daily occurrence. Maybe it

duck noises with glee

neck, dissolving the little girl

stands in front of me, arms across his chest and legs spread wide as he announces, "I can

a rat are basically the same thing.

he insists, glowering at her

"Barely."

shift into more animals than

At least

seven-year-old. Or however old he is. "Yeah, so different you can’t even fly when you shift

Sara sticks her tongue out

with surprising insight and agility, suddenly rolling off Sara’s lap

himself at Sara with all the ferocity of a tiny

tumble across the floor, a tangle of child-sized limbs and

your ear

"Yeah? Then I’ll make

stand frozen as Bun clings to my leg. My mind races through potential responses. Should I intervene? Let them work it out? The line

at the pack, I was never responsible for breaking

on the ground; the next, two kids have been hauled off the floor by the backs of their shirts, kicking and punching

It’s... comical, really.

said, enough," the reticent man states, as impassively

it!" Sara yells, her

hers. "She stuck her

neither of them break. They keep up the glowers and occasional kicks in each

speaks, his voice low and matter-of-fact: "I was