Page 6 of The Omega's Beary Merry Christmas

Rudy always said my natural smile was terrifying to humans. He said I looked too much like my bear when I tried to be friendly.

So, I made it a habit not to interact with humans any more than necessary. From what I could see, they were destructive and usually unkind to anyone who wasn’t like them.

I waited until the car came all the way up the driveway until it forked—one way toward my cabin and the other right up to Rudy’s garage. The driver paused for a moment, looking at both cabins and then veered to the right. At least they had a sense of direction.

Hopefully that good sense would lead them to the key, and then they would leave me alone for the rest of this week.

But, knowing my brother, he’d told the human I was right next door anytime they needed something.Just knock on his door. Bert never goes anywhere.

Rudy owed me. Big-time.

I cleaned up after lunch, grumbling at every shutting of the door and boot step up the porch steps. But I soon heard a different sound outside. At first, I thought it was a wind chime or some other kind of music, but once I stepped outside the front door, I saw the source.

A little girl making snow angels and giggling like she had no care in the world. She flung her arms and legs out and then slid them back, creating the wings and skirt. Looked like it may havebeen her first time in the snow. I pursed my lips, trying to deny the smile that threatened to take hold. This must’ve been the human’s daughter.

Rudy said nothing about a kid, but one human or two—didn’t make a difference. They were both a danger to this sacred place we’d made.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as my bear took interest in the kid. Usually little humans were loud in a way that bothered my beast, but this one’s giggles and smiles made my chest warm despite being outside in the cold winter air.

When I bounced down the stairs of my porch, the sprite took notice and stopped her leg kicking to raise her head and look at me. “Who are you?” she asked and then sat up carefully, not disturbing her artwork. Snow covered her hair, and her cheeks were rosy.

“I’m Bert. Who are you?”

“My name is Natalie. Sometimes people call me Nat, but I don’t like that. There are bugs called gnats, and I don’t like bugs. Daddy says the bug’s name is spelled a different way, but I still don’t like it.” Her cheeks turned redder. She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot at the wordbug.

Hopefully, Rudy’s cabin didn’t have bugs in it.

“Do you live here?” she asked.

“I do. This is my cabin.”

“It’s a nice cabin,” she said, looking it over.

“What are you doing out here, Natalie?”

“I’m making snow angels and dancing in the snow, silly.”

Silly. No one called me silly and got away with it, but I chuckled at her boldness. I wasn’t a small man, and Rudy said my scowl scared the locals.

Silly.

“There’s no music,” I replied and sat down on my step. The young lady needed a hat or a scarf. Gloves even.

“I have music in my head, and the birds are chirping. Duh.”

This tiny human was something else. Had more attitude than there was snow out. “Why are you dancing out here when it’s warm inside? Don’t you want to go inside with your dad?” Warm and safe and away from danger. Humans thought wrongly that shifters were dangerous but, to me, the guest next door and the one twirling in the sunshine were more threatening than anything.

They threatened my safety. My freedom to shift as we pleased. And, in the last few seconds, the sweet silence I loved to revel in.

My bear rumbled at the sight of her. She stirred up his protective nature. Probably because she was so short.

Strange.

“Because if I dance, the fairies and the frolicking bears will come out and play with me.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “Bears don’t frolic,” I gruffed back. Frolicking seemed like a big word for someone so young. Huh. She was smart and cute.

No. No, I didn’t think humans were cute. Especially their offspring.

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