Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Grace: Reassurance

Jer’s knuckles are white against my hand as we trudge back toward our camper. His fingers tremble, but his breathing has evened out.

Ron and Sara stand under the awning. Bun toddles between their legs, rabbit ears twitching above her dark curls. She doesn’t even notice us; something on the ground appears to be fascinating her.

"Can I... can I go to them now?"

I release the boy’s hand and nudge him forward. "Yeah. Just stay where I can see you."

He bolts toward the others, his shoulders already loosening with every step away from Archie and Doris. Away from what he saw. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to trap the cold spreading there.

Dead bodies, but not really dead?

It’s surreal.

The words spin through my head, refusing to settle into anything making sense. I press my palm against my forehead, willing the pressure to ease. One more supernatural mystery I don’t understand, dropped onto me when I’m already drowning.

"What happened?" Sara’s voice cuts through my spiral as she approaches, her curious eyes flickering between me and Jer. "Why was he screaming?"

I glance back at the other camper, where Lyre, Owen, and Caine are still inside with... whatever those bodies are. Not human, I guess.

Not anymore, at least.

Or ever?

"He was just startled. Come on, kids. Let’s finish getting everything ready."

"Are we really taking the dog with us?"

I blink and turn around, only to find Sadie, tail wagging low and golden fur catching the morning light. She’s giving us her cute dog smile, which is basically an arrow of guilt straight into my heart.

My head’s hurting again. "I don’t know yet."

Sadie sits, looking up at me with devoted puppy eyes as her entire body vibrates with golden retriever joy. No. I can’t get a soft spot for a dog. I’m already swamped in four kids.

gaze away, I call out, "We have a

to Jer. "What did

snaps, his small shoulders hunching defensively as he stomps toward the

"But you were screaming—"

leave me ALONE!" he shrieks, high enough and loud enough

play with Bun outside," he says to Jer, his voice low and steady.

protest—it’s clear from her expression she’s outraged Jer’s getting some sort of special treatment—but Ron clamps

I want

as they pass me, just loud

room? We were

heavily and cross to where Jer’s standing and gently pat at his dark curls, noticing how they spring back under my touch. He doesn’t flinch away, which feels like a small victory when his

hands and knees in the dirt. The toddler’s completely captivated by a line of ants marching in

ask him, keeping my voice soft enough Sara can’t overhear from where

still tracking Bun’s movements.

mid-stroke. The casual way he says

fingers find

like he’s desperate for

whisper, praying for him

head, finally

more blood

Or not.

Fuck.

is not what I

It’s a

it, to keep the

one shoulder, his gaze returning to the ant-entranced Bun. "It happens sometimes. Fiddleback isn’t a

an answer, but

heart pounds against my ribs so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it. I want to pull him into a fierce

"Jer, I’m so sorry."

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