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Red…
“Feel any better?” Red’s mother asked as he slipped through the back door as quietly as he could manage. Of course, she had heard him. He was as heavy-footed as a Sheep.
“Yes. Pain-free sleep is an elixir.” The coffee she’d made smelled delicious. Its aroma drew him forward.
“And in this shape, how do you feel now?” His mother opened the cabinet and ran her fingers along the interior until she felt his favorite mug.
When she offered it to him, he smiled and took it. Red couldn’t bear to tell her that he would ever know a pain-free breath in his human form again. “I am still alive. Do I smell eggs? You couldn’t have been too worried if you made breakfast.”
“I know my boys. Food brings them back from the dead.” She patted the back of a chair and flipped her kitchen towel onto her shoulder. “Sit down, your eggs are getting cold.”
“You made grits? Are we celebrating something?” He sank into the seat and his back twinged.
“We are going up to Terry’s cabin. You need a full belly.” He shifted his plate to the left so he wouldn’t lose any eggs to the table as they slid off her spatula.
“Why?”
“It’s time we did something about the loss of Kennedy’s mother’s room. Its destruction wasn’t right.”
“There was a fire.” He scooped a bite of eggs onto his fork, and his stomach growled in anticipation. “A bad one.”
“Last time I checked, metal bars don’t burn.” The portions on her plate were tiny. She’d never been a big on breakfast. When his mother was the only one here, she didn’t cook in the morning. This spread was for him.
Red shifted his plate to the right so the grits she brought him hit their target. “Mayma, there is no way I can fix that barn.”
“How do you know? Have you gone up there?” She used her fingertips to measure the edge of her plate before she spooned grits next to her eggs. “They started Sunday. A few of your boys from work skipped church yesterday to go up to Terry’s place.”
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“What are you talking about?” He dunked his toast into the golden yellow of the yolk.
“I made a few calls. It’s not like you and Jeremiah are friendless.” She returned the pot to the stove and sat down.
Stunned, he watched the delicate way she lifted her spoon to stir the cream he’d put in her coffee. Bear women. It was useless to fight against one once she had decided something had to happen.
*
David…
“Tell me truthfully, is this some kind of hazing? Or am I being punished for something?”
“No, I don’t think so.” The girl was only thirteen, gangly and mostly elbows. Even so, she was quieter in the woods than David was. She was the leader of their team.
Before he’d joined the Wolves in their hunting, he’d thought of himself as a pretty good tracker. “Don’t your people have some engines I could tinker with? I’d be more useful doing that than this.”
When he’d been paired with Blossom, it had hurt his pride. Being put with their youngest tracking team member was embarrassing. Ansel had explained to him that this group was the only one he wouldn’t slow down. If they came upon something specific they needed to identify, they’d come get David.
The team leader put her hands on her hips and stared at him intently. “Are you all butt hurt because I put you with a girl?”
“Not so much the girl part.” He looked down at her. “How would you feel if they put you with the six-year-olds?”
She laughed then. “Oh yeah… I’d be mad.” She pointed to the ridge. “That’s the sign to gather. Let’s get going so we aren’t last again.” He hadn’t even seen it. Damn it. He followed her as she moved down the path as quick and light as a mongoose.
*
Terry…
While he waited in the front office, Terry awkwardly sat on a tiny chair made for a petite woman. Knees almost touching his chest, he picked up a magazine about pregnancy and flipped it open. Yoga poses for your second trimester. He arched a brow. One of them looked promising.
“Terry, she wants you to come back.” The nurse gestured to him from behind the counter.
He stood abruptly and dropped the magazine. Is the baby okay? Is she? As he scooped up the magazine, he grumbled, “Baby?”
“I think everything is fine. They are going to do an ultrasound, but your little fireball keeps lighting her up. She wanted you to come in.” Anxiously, Terry followed the nurse down the hall.
When he saw Kennedy’s smile, relief washed through him. She reached out her hand for his. “Will you sing to the werehampster? He is dancing around like my womb is a rager.”
Imagining tiny glow sticks, Terry placed his hands high on her belly, away from the bared area that had jelly on it. He glanced at the doctor, who rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him. “Go on. Calm your busy boy. Kennedy told me how often he likes to turn her when she is sleeping.”
“He?” Terry asked.
The Doctor nodded. “I think so. Who can say for sure as much as he likes to somersault. Get him still, and preferably not cross-legged and I might be able to tell you for sure.”
He couldn’t hide the smile that split his face. Their child was healthy and active. Boy or girl, a blessing. He leaned over close to the curve of her stomach and began to sing a bear lullaby. The flipping blur on the screen slowed, stilled, lazily kicked one impossibly tiny leg. His son.