Page 18 of The Healer and the Wolf: Part One

“A shifter?”

“Yes.”

She waited for more, then cleared her throat. “What is that?”

“Shifters can move between an animal and human form. I’m a wolf shifter.”

“You say that like there are different kinds.”

“There are.”

She swallowed hard, and I studied her to see if I had said something wrong. She still smelled of anxiety and worry, which I hated, but none of it ever reached those gorgeous eyes of hers. They were just filled with kindness and curiosity, and I kind of wanted them to never look away.

“So, you’re a shifter but someone forced you to be a wolf?”

“They took away my human form,” I said slowly, closing my eyes and looking deeper at the mess of memories. “Locked me as a wolf. We’re two parts of a whole. We’re not meant to be just one or the other.”

The more I spoke, the more I began to understand how torturous the situation I’d endured was. I was a shifter. A man and a wolf. Two parts working in harmony to be a complete being. We were nature and humanity, bound together to bolster each other’s weaknesses and celebrate each other’s strengths.

Half of myself had been stolen from me.

But why?

Who would want to hurt me in that way?

As she continued to ask simple questions, the largest not-fox-not-wolf came in and sat by the door of the?—

Wait.

Cat.

It was a cat.

I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten what cats were. Andromeda used to have the fattest, most orange cat when I was a tee?—

Who was Andromeda?

Too many questions. I couldn’t linger on all of them. The two other cats joined the first. As if it could hear my thoughts about the old, mystery cat in my memories, the orange cat approached me.

I ignored him, at least outwardly, and let him sniff me. I had the faintest memory that cats much preferred to approach on their own terms rather than have people aggressively greet them.

And my strategy turned out to be pretty sound, because by the time I was done eating, one cat was beside me on the table, one was a few feet from the chair, and finally, one hopped into my lap.

It felt like a badge of honor, and I tried not to preen. I felt useless, stupid, and more than a little confused, but at least the woman’s pack was accepting me.

Wait, pack.

I did have a pack; I remembered that now.

But where were they? Why was I separated from them, and how had I been stuck as a wolf?

“My cats are usually pretty picky,” she remarked as if she were trying to inflate my ego. Oh, they were, were they? “In your lap is Fork. He’s my chaos gremlin. On the table is Goober; you’ve met him before. And by your chair is Mudpie. She’s my oldest.” The woman seemed to consider something before continuing. “Oh, and I’m Vanessa.”

Vanessa.

What a beautiful name. It was fitting for someone like her. While I had found it difficult to look straight at her at first, now I found myself wanting to stare at every feature of her face until I could paint it with my eyes closed. Not that I knew how to paint.

Did I?

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