Page 4 of The Witch's Shifter
The innkeeper, Margaret Bluewren, has hired me to make all sorts of repairs and renovations, and today is trim day. I’ve got to remove all the old trim first, then replace it with fresh wood before finishing up with a coat of paint. The trim alone will take me a few days, and then I’ve got to focus on window frame repairs and replacing any wood that’s been water damaged over the years. She’s got enough on her to-do list to keep me busy all week, if not longer.
I’m just about to head back into the inn when I catch sight of something white in my peripheral vision. Turning, I’m surprised to find a white cat sprinting down Hillock Lane.
Not, not just a white cat.Harrison.
I look around for Aurora, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Harrison isn’t a fan of people, and he never comes into town alone. So, why is he here now?
My stomach drops.
When Harrison reaches me, his fur is puffed up, and he’s panting like he ran the entire way here.
“What is it?” I ask as I drop to one knee. He lets out a string of meows, barely catches his breath, and then starts running back the way he came, pausing once to look over his shoulder at me.
I’ve never wanted so badly to be able to speak cat.
My tool belt will just weigh me down, so I quickly unclip it and sling it into the dirt at the base of the inn’s porch stairs. Mrs. Bluewren is just stepping out the front door as I take my first few steps away from the Golden Lantern.
“Is everything all right?” she asks, a cup of tea steaming in her hands.
“Don’t know!” I call over my shoulder. “Sorry, but I have to go!” Then I leave her standing there with a puzzled expression as I jog after Harrison.
I’m just passing Lydia’s mercantile when the door opens and a gleaming suit of armor steps out onto the street. Rowan has his helmet tucked under one arm, and he’s smiling at something Lydia is saying. Until he sees me.
His expression turns concerned.
“What happened?” he yells.
“I think it’s Aurora!” I yell back, not stopping to talk. But I don’t need to.
There’s a clink of metal as he drops his helmet upon the cobbles, and then he catches up to me easily, matching my stridedespite the metal weighing him down. I’mshockedthat he can move that fast in a full suit of armor. He’s a lot stronger than I’ve probably ever given him credit for. Won’t make that mistake again.
“How can you do that?” I ask, our boots striking the earth as we run side by side. Each of his footsteps is accompanied by a clanging of metal.
He casts me a quick look. “Years of training.”
Harrison is waiting for us near the guardhouse, and as soon as we catch up, he sprints off again. Villagers cast us worried looks as we run by, but we don’t stop to explain.
What could’ve happened to Aurora? Does it have anything to do with the baby?
The child isn’t mine, but somehow, I’ve come to feel a connection to the life growing inside Aurora’s belly, and the thought that something could’ve happened makes my stomach twist.
Stealing a glance at Rowan, I find his forehead furrowed, his green eyes narrowed. He must be wondering the same thing.
Please don’t let it be that, I pray, though I’m not sure to which deity. Any who’ll listen, I suppose.Just let her be okay.
WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE cottage, Harrison surprises me by veering to the south and past the garden instead of going inside. I’m breathing hard, and so is Rowan, but neither of us slows down. We crash through the undergrowth, feet loud in the crinkly dried leaves. It’s harder to follow Harrison now; he disappears so easily into the brush that I have to stay wholly focused on him as I run.
Finally, I see a flash of pale color through the trees—I remember that Aurora was wearing a cream-colored dress when I left the cottage this morning.
“Aurora!” Rowan calls out, pushing ahead of me. His armor clinks as he runs past, and I finally allow my burning legs to slow.
As I approach, my gaze goes from Aurora, who’s seated upon a log, to a form crumpled in the leaves. Rowan is just seeing it as well, and he immediately steps in front of Aurora, blocking her from what I’m now realizing is a man. A naked man. And he’s not moving.
I’m so shocked by the image, I’m not even sure what to think.
At my feet, Harrison lets out a distressed meow. She must’ve sent him to find us.
“It’s okay,” Aurora says, standing from the log where she was waiting for us. “He’s injured.” She meets my eyes and gestures to the man, who still doesn’t wake.
