Page 278 of The Dryad Storm

And now, one week later, Xishlon has returned to the Eastern Realm.

Vo’s purple moonlight streams into the huge Forest clearing, anticipation and love quickening Valen’s heartbeat. A large crowd of family and friends are gathered around him, including the whole Eastern Gerwulf pack.

“You ready for this?” his close friend Konnor Volya asks from beside him.

A broad grin breaks out over Konnor’s deep-brown face, warm merriment in his crimson Lupine eyes. Valen grins back at Konnor, his strapping purple-and-black-haired friend a good head taller than him and as steady and warm as his horse-healer father, Andras. Konnor’s solid manner is always such a balm to Valen’s tempestuous emotions and even more tempestuous Mage magic, Valen’s Level Five fire power often casting his emotions into turmoil.

But in a few moments, he’ll be free of his Magelines and linked to a whole new power.

His pack.

And bonded to the Forest in a whole new way.

“I’m ready,” Valen assures Konnor, beaming back at him and his two other closest male friends, who are standing beside him on this momentous day—bookish and bespectacled Effrey and young Fyn’ir Za’nor. A penumbra of purple Strafeling mist surrounds Effrey’s straight-backed form, and purple-patterned Fyn’ir’s silver-green eyes are twinkling with his ever-present look of mischief, his Icaral wings pulled in tight behind him, his violet squirrel kindred hugging his arm.

Valen is bolstered by their presence, ready to be reborn as a wolf-shifter and take to the woods for his first run with his family and friends, as Lupine custom encourages.

Before taking Fern soundly to mate.

His eyes seek out Fern again, a thrill coursing through him as their gazes meet and they smile besottedly at each other. Fern’s good friends also bracket her—fiery, forest-hued Pyrgo, the purple-hued geomancer-Dryad Tibryl, Smaragdalfar sorceress Nil’ya, and artistic Ghor’li, along with geomancers Bloom’ilya and graceful Ee’vee, all of the young women regarding Fern and Valen with looks of open amusement. Valen’s attention slides back to Fern, his gaze wandering appreciatively over his love’s formfitting Xishlon tunic and pants, her lavender garb embroidered with Xishlon’s fabled purple blossoms, that lovely figure of hers never failing to set his blood and fire burning hotter.

Fern shifts slightly, cocking her hip enticingly and raising her bosom in bold invitation, and Valen has to look away, all too aware of his body’s overenthusiastic response to her sultry flirtation, a hot flush suffusing his neck as Pyrgo lets out a bark of a laugh.

“Easy now,” Fyn’ir teases, nostrils flaring, his wings pulling in tight. “I’m not sure my sister’s ready for you.”

Valen returns Fyn’ir’s ribald smile, knowing full well that both Fyn’ir and Pyrgo, along with all the shifters and power empaths here, can scent the desire practically leaping in the air between himself and Fern.

“If anyone can handle Lupine Valen, it’s Fern,” Effrey laughs as he pushes up his spectacles. “She’s managed to handle his out-of-control Level Five fire quite admirably.”

Fyn’ir’s grin widens, his squirrel on his head now, like a jaunty cap. “Of course, you’re right,” he agrees. “She’ll quickly bring Valen to heel.”

“I can’t wait to see your eyes change!” eight-year-old Kendra enthuses, breaking into his friends’ teasing.

Valen looks down to find his sister suddenly beside him and hugging his arm as she beams up at him with a warm, wide smile. Kendra confidently tosses her long raven-hued hair over her shoulder, one hand coming to her hip with rakish bravado, her stance dominant. Her ever-present twin, the equally raven-haired, green-hued, and ultraconfident Edwin, lopes up beside her, mirroring her cheerful grin, both twins strongly resembling their mother, Diana, in both facial features and unflappable charisma, their Dryad hue a mirror of their father, Rafe.

“We won’t just be your ’dopted brother and sister after this,” Edwin adds as Valen brings his hand to his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll be full packmates and look even more alike!”

“You don’t have to look alike to be family,” Diana good-naturedly chides.

And Valen knows this to be oh so very blessedly true.

He glances around at his huge extended family, their collective love washing over him, and his love for them heart-expandingly drawn to the surface by the Xishlon moon.

His aunt Aislinn and uncle Jarod approach, Uncle Jarod’s arm looped around her waist, the both of them Voloi University archivists.

“For you on your Change Day,” his aunt Aislinn enthuses as she hands him a slim violet tome.

Valen glances down at the book.Lupine Forest Dreamby Aislinn and Jarod Ulrich. He smiles—it’s their new book of poetry.

Touched, Valen embraces them both, shooting a smile as Aislinn and Jarod’s seven-year-old daughter, Daciana, peeks out from behind them. The black-haired, amber-eyed child smiles back at Valen, her arms wrapped around a slim stack of books as usual, the whimsical, gentle child always bringing “three book friends” with her everywhere she goes.

Daciana’s best friend, the equally bookish and bespectacled eight-year-old Fernyllia, hugs Daciana’s side, a book bag slung over her shoulder. Three branches are sheathed at Fernyllia’s hip, and her small owl kindred sits solemnly on her shoulder. Her black hair is woven into braids and secured with purple ribbon, her parents, university professor Jules Kristian and naval Dryad’kin Lucretia Quillen, hovering nearby.

Fernyllia’s glimmering green-hued face is turned expectantly toward Valen, the girls obviously curious about all his Change Day gifts. He can’t help but remember when Fernyllia and Daciana were tiny babes with comical tufts of black hair, and he finds himself unable to suppress a swell of delight to have grown up alongside so many of the children here.

“A joyous Change Day,” his aunt Elloren enthuses as she and his uncle Yvan step forward, and Elloren holds out their Change Day gift, tears brimming in her Forest green eyes.

Valen’s throat tightens as he accepts the violin case. Yvan and Elloren’s adopted ten-year-old son, Lukas, hugs Yvan’s side, the war orphan’s wings flapping. It’s a blessing to see Lukas so settled in here, the Icaral child originally a feral, uncontrollable, and heartbreakingly unnamed three-year-old when first brought to Elloren and Yvan.

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