Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 142: Grace: Acting Weird

Caine’s acting weird. Too polite, too friendly, too... everything not-Caine. He’s smiling—not smirking, actually smiling—at the middle children as they dance around the campfire.

The elderly couple, Archie and Doris (we finally introduced each other by name), poke at the massive fire they’ve built in their stone-ringed pit. A smoker sits off to the side, ribs already going inside. Apparently they’ve been going all day.

The smell of them makes my stomach growl, but something about this whole setup just feels... strange.

"This is my brat-dance!" Jer announces, performing some chaotic bounce and wiggle; it looks like he’s being electrocuted. Or having a seizure. Or both.

Sara rolls her eyes. "It’s called the floss, dummy. And you’re doing it wrong." She demonstrates with quick, precise arm movements, though her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "See? Arms straight."

"I’m not a dummy. I just made it better!"

Archie chuckles and shuffles over to join them. "Let me try," he says, swinging his arms with creaky enthusiasm.

As terrible as it sounds, he makes the dance look like some painful physiotherapy exercise.

It would be charming—sweet, even—if not for how unsettled I feel. I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong exactly, and there’s absolutely no reason to suspect these two sweet old neighbors.

Which means it must be Caine and his bizarre level of friendliness.

"Bun, no!" The man in question bolts after the toddler, who’s wandered dangerously close to the fire for the third time in five minutes. He moves with calculated speed, scooping her up and redirecting her away from the flames.

"No!" Bun shrieks, squirming in his arms.

"No." His voice is firm, but gentle.

He sets her down several feet from the fire pit, and like a heat-seeking missile, she immediately pivots and toddles back toward danger. Caine follows, shadows her movements, redirects again. It’s a dance they’ve been performing since we arrived, and despite his obvious frustration, he hasn’t snapped once.

Bun breaks free from his watchful eye for just a second—long enough to hurl her sippy cup directly into the fire pit.

The plastic immediately starts to melt and smoke. Bun’s face crumples, and she stands in the dirt and wails, face to the sky, like the world’s just ended.

Because she threw her own cup into the fire.

it, but seeing it in action is

with a stick, and grunts, "It’s fine." As if retrieving melting plastic

tiny body heaving with the dubious injustice of losing her cup. Sadie ambles over and sniffs curiously at

transform into hiccupping

better," Caine murmurs,

and what has he done with the Lycan King? My heart can’t take it. It’s going to

Jer yells, waving his arms frantically. "Come on, just try

seems to have developed an

on the other hand, goes absolutely pale, her arms freezing mid-floss as she stares at Jer like he’s just committed suicide. Ron frowns at her, giving the faintest shake

happy family, but Sara keeps acting like Caine’s about to eat

Caine on the shoulder—actually touches him without permission!—and announces, "It’s more fun than I expected," even if he’s

listening to

with obvious reluctance, Caine lets Archie push him over to the dance group. Jer’s delighted as he chatters instructions, demonstrating

floss. His powerful arms move stiffly, his

quickly masking it with a cough when Caine glances

to her mouth, but she can’t look away,

attention to the camper. Fenris has cornered Sadie underneath it, his massive form blocking her escape. Bun yanks on his ear, but even so his stance radiates smug wolf superiority as Sadie yelps again and

outclassed by the supernatural wolf,

Though, if she did,

things that don’t make sense is getting longer by

and bratwursts. The meat glistens in the firelight, and I squint. It looks like there are diced onions

mixed in," she tells me, smiling wide.

not onions. Even

the blazing inferno Archie’s built. "Er... I’ve cooked hot dogs

we supposed to cook anything over this, though? It’s absolutely roaring. We’ll have charcoal on

"Oh no, dear. We have to wait for it to burn down to embers. That’s

as I realize what she

temperamental Lycan King and a toddler who now lacks a sippy cup

toddles toward the tray of raw meat, reaching for it with gleeful

grab her tiny wrist, pulling her