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.

shifter can only

This? It’s impossible.

up from his book. He sounds bored. Maybe mildly irritated.

closes several times before words finally emerge.

blink, slamming his book closed. "Didn’t we already tell you? We’re all

can’t wrap my head around this. There’s special, and then there’s impossible. "Shifters can only transform into one animal.

The rules people tell you are just the rules

he doesn’t scare her with the way he speaks.

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

voice trails

my arms with alarming ease, and my

older girl catches her like this is

lap, making her duck noises

onto Bun’s neck, dissolving the little girl into a peal of honking

front of me, arms across his chest and legs spread wide as he announces,

"A mouse and a rat are basically the same thing. And a

different," he insists, glowering

"Barely."

still shift into more animals than

least mine are

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

her tongue out at Jer when he

and agility, suddenly rolling off Sara’s lap and bolting

of a tiny predator. Tiny round

across the floor, a tangle

your ear off!" Sara

bellows. "Yeah? Then I’ll make you

I intervene? Let them work it out? The line between responsible adult and confused hostage is

never responsible for breaking up fights between kids. Even

One moment they’re a tangled mess on the ground; the next, two kids have been hauled off the floor by the backs of their shirts, kicking and punching wildly as they

It’s... comical, really.

said, enough," the reticent man states,

her freckled face flushed with

matches hers. "She stuck

of them break. They keep up the glowers and occasional

builds until he finally speaks, his voice low and matter-of-fact: "I was going to order