Page 1 of The Witch's Shifter
Chapter 1
Aurora
WHEN I STEP OUT OF the cottage, the first thing I smell is woodsmoke. It curls lazily from the cottage chimney, a light gray plume spiraling and twining up into the sky. My toes—still bare despite it being late September—press into the grass, which has started to crinkle and turn brown. It won’t be long now before the snow returns to us. We often have snow on or around Samhain, which is just one moon away. The thought makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. It’ll be my first chance to see Auntie since her passing, and everything needs to beperfect.
Clutching my wicker basket, I set off toward the henhouse. Lucy has two more hen friends—Marigold and Whisper—and all three of them are scratching about the big fenced enclosure Rowan and Alden built, waiting for me to let them out. I knew Lucy would appreciate some company, and it so happened that one of the villagers paid Alden for his work in chickens rather than eldertokens. He looked a bit flustered when he got home that day, one hen tucked under each arm and feathers all over his tunic. I still giggle when I think of it.
“Good morning, girls,” I say as I flip the latch on the gate and swing it open.
Lucy and Marigold, who’s a brilliant yellow-gold color with bright intelligent eyes, rush out amidst a puff of soft feathers, but Whisper, the quietest of the flock, takes her time and pauses at my feet. I reach down to stroke her silky white feathers, then smile as she joins the others in searching for early-morning worms. Their claws scratch about in the grass and leaves that’ve started to fall from the aspens dotting the tree line. The sound brings me a sense of peace as I breathe in the fresh cool air and place a hand on my stomach.
I’m almost five months pregnant now, and my stomach has started to show. The bump is still small, but it’s undoubtedly there, as are the back pains and leg cramps. But the morning sickness has finally stopped, and I’m feeling a bit more like myself—just a slightly rounder version.
Both Alden and Rowan are gone from the cottage today, busy with their responsibilities in Faunwood. Alden is working on renovations at the Golden Lantern, our village’s small inn, and Rowan is on duty today—like he is almost every day. When Rowan is home, though, he tends to follow me around, keeping an eye on me like I might need him to catch me should I fall. The bigger my stomach gets, the more attentive he is, to the point where I’ve had to wave him away and send him off to doanythingbesides lurk over my shoulder. But I know he means well. It’s his child I’m carrying, after all.
With the hens happily scratching in the earth, I set off toward the forest. On my way past the garden, I spot Harrison asleep on a garden chair. He flicks his ears and opens an eye as I come to stand over him.
“Want to go on a walk with me?” I ask.
With a yawn and a stretch, he leaps down into the grass. “Sure.”
Together, we head for the trees. As soon as I step out of the morning sunlight and into the shade of the big pines, I shiver. In the summer, the forest’s shadows provide a respite from the heat, but now that autumn has settled over us, the cool air is chill enough to nip at my nose, making me grateful I opted for a long-sleeved dress.
“When will Selene arrive?” Harrison asks as we meander slowly through the forest, stepping into and out of the shafts of light that sneak through the trees overhead.
I’m on the lookout for mushrooms this morning. It’s the perfect time of year for a creamy mushroom soup alongside a fresh loaf of crispy sourdough; just imagining all the flavors and smells makes my mouth water. Alden and Rowan will be so pleased to arrive home to such a wonderful meal.
“They’ll be here the week leading up to Samhain,” I say, eyes narrowed as I scan the bases of the pine trees for mushrooms. Though Selene won’t be the only one visiting us, she’s the only one Harrison truly cares about. “Ooh, look!” With a skip to my step, I approach a fallen tree, and growing in a cluster along it is a trove of yellow-orange chanterelles.
I kneel in the cool dew-covered undergrowth, not minding that my skirt gets a bit wet and dotted with leaves, and begin carefully plucking the mushrooms from the rich earth. Into my wicker basket they go.
“When is that?” Harrison asks. He’s watching a purple-black beetle lumber slowly through the fallen leaves, his tail twitching. When it disappears beneath a golden leaf, Harrison loses interest and takes to rolling around in the dirt instead.
“One moon from now.” With a huff, I push to my feet, wincing slightly at the ache in my low back. Perhaps Rowan will be willing to massage the pain out for me when he gets home tonight. “Plenty of time to prepare for her arrival.”
Casting my gaze about the forest, I spot a cluster of beautiful hawk’s wing mushrooms hiding in the shade beneath a spruce tree, and those, too, go right into my basket.
The forest is full of abundance if only you know where to look. I think that can be said of life too; there are treasures to be found even in the darkest spots.
“Will she be here long?” Harrison asks, traversing the forest behind me.
“A week at least,” I say, still slightly distracted as I resume my search for wild delicacies.
“Maybe she’ll stay longer,” he says in a wistful tone.
His love for her makes me smile. “Maybe.”
We continue our walk through the forest until my basket is full to the brim with mushrooms, rose hips, and even some wild strawberries. Those won’t go into the soup, but perhaps I can make a sweet treat on the side.
I’m just standing from a patch of mushrooms when Harrison goes rigid beside me. His tail points up, and his ears flick forward. I follow his gaze but don’t see anything.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I smell something.” He sniffs the cool air, which is heavy with the scent of decaying undergrowth and damp earth. “Something that shouldn’t be here.”
Those words make my stomach clench. “What do you mean?”
But Harrison doesn’t respond. The hair along his back slowly rises, filling me with dread.
