Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 122: Grace: Monster in Her Skin

The sky goes dark so fast I think I’m imagining it. One second, the kids are shrieking over hide-and-seek. The next—it’s like the sun gets yanked right out of the sky. Clouds roll in thick and gray, swallowing up the blue like it never existed.

Sara’s nose is pressed to the RV window, her breath fogging the glass. "What’s happening?"

She hasn’t moved since the thunder started.

Caine would probably be upset the blinds are open, but Fenris would know if someone’s out there watching us. It should be okay.

Jer bounces between couch cushions. "Maybe aliens. Maybe the apocalypse. Maybe the dinosaurs are reincarnating—"

"Maybe it’s just a storm, Jer," Ron cuts in. He definitely has less patience for the younger boy than he does Sara or Bun, probably because Jer never stops talking.

Every time I touch something, I get shocked. Static electricity is strong in the air, but none of the kids mention it. Maybe it’s just me.

Something about this storm feels... off, though. Wrong. Not like normal rain.

The older girl turns toward me, eyes wide as she asks, "Is it gonna lightning? I want to see lightning."

"Probably." I check the solar display, already worried. With the sun in hiding, it means the panels aren’t getting anything in, right?

The display flickers. Numbers drop. Then they spike. The overhead lights flicker and the air conditioner stops abruptly.

A second later, the lights are back, and so is our air.

"Oh, no. Is our power going to go out?" Jer asks, craning his neck to stare at the light above him like it’s going to give him answers.

"It shouldn’t... We have batteries, too." But everything flicked out for a second when it shouldn’t, which doesn’t really make me confident in my answer. The microwave clock reads 12:00, blinking obnoxiously to let me know it reset.

Rain hits the camper—not in drops, but in sheets, a solid wall of water slamming against the fiberglass encasing the camper.

The entire trailer shudders, before settling into a new rhythm of noise.

Sara squeals with delight, once again glued to the window. "I love rain! I love it so much. I hope it lightnings more!"

"Maybe we shouldn’t stand near the windows during a—" My warning dies as lightning forks across the sky, illuminating Sara’s face.

"Look!" she shrieks, bouncing on her toes on the couch even as her nose stays pressed against the glass. "It was a big one!"

Thunder reverberates, as if to agree.

Within seconds, we’re all crowded around the windows—even Ron, though he pretends it’s just to keep the little ones in check. Jer holds Bun reluctantly, her tiny fists gripping his shirt as she stares wide-eyed at the deluge.

voice, "this is perfect weather for a movie. I’ve got snacks all set

"Rabbit food," Jer mumbles.

have the same appeal as chips and

the TV and

come with alarming frequency. Sara flinches at one particularly loud boom. It shakes

yells. "That was a

Bun cries.

her face into nonchalance, like she

of lightning, closer this time. The camper lights dim completely before

each crash of thunder. Something about this storm feels... personal. Targeted. I shake my

stiffens in Jer’s arms, her crying suddenly

twitches once, twice. She sniffs the air hard, like she’s caught something none of

forward just

we hear sometimes when she’s being stubborn. It’s deep,

dilate until almost no iris remains, and something

for her, but I’m too

built for rending flesh, for hunting. They catch Jer across the cheek as he falls backward with a shocked yelp, blood

Shit.

Jer drops Bun

moves faster than any of

body ripples, bones cracking as dark fur erupts across his skin. His gorilla form is massive in the confined space of the camper, hunched and powerful, yet

isn’t Bun

shift mid-fight. But this? This is a baby

tiny features have distorted—jaw elongated, teeth bared in a snarl that belongs on a mountain lion. Her body’s half-shifted, enough to leave bloody pawprints

girl scrambles

stop!" I rush forward, trying

slices across my palm as Bun’s claws connect. I jerk back, blood welling from four perfect lines

black and feral, foam gathering at the

restrain her without hurting her,

only been seconds and already feels like

Jer behind me.

inside

Which is crazy.

the floor. The same baby who woke up in the middle of the night to crawl

"But—" Jer starts.

the front of the camper. "Lock

away as I turn

camper rocks, either from their wrestling or the wind. It’s hard to tell. The air conditioner dies with a pathetic whine, and the lights flicker out

locked in combat, and smell the blood dripping onto the floor. She’s going to kill Ron. A sweet little toddler is going to hurt the person