Page 24 of Grizzly's Grump
"No, we don't have any magical powers. We don’t cast spells. We are the spell. What you might see as magical, we see as just part of who we are."
Her brow creases. "Like in those werewolf books?"
"Not exactly. It’s not folklore or fantasy—it’s legacy. And it’s real."
She laughs, but it’s shaky. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of werewolf?"
"Not a wolf," I say, the words rougher than I intend. Tension pulls at the base of my skull. My bear stirs restlessly, pacing just beneath awareness. "But close."
"Then what are you?"
I stare at her. Let the answer hang, not because I don’t know, but because saying it aloud feels like crossing a line we can’t walk back from.
She goes still, and her eyes widen. "Oh, my god. You’re serious."
I nod. "My brothers too. All of us. And it’s not just us. The whole damn town—every family line, every business, every tree—it’s tied to the ley lines."
She stands up and takes a step back. "So what, you’re some kind of secret society of... animals?"
"We’re not animals," I snap. "We’re more than that. We remember who we are, no matter what form we take. We protect the land, and it protects us. But lately... things have been goingwrong. The lines are shifting. Energy is flaring when it shouldn’t. And you..."
"Me?"
"You walked straight into it. Sensitive, unshielded, blazing like a torch in the dark, and the lines reached back."
She wraps her arms around herself, shaking her head. "This is insane. This can’t be real."
I step closer. "It’s real. And you deserve to see it."
"What are you?—"
Before she can finish, I stand and move to the middle of the room. The firelight catches the motion, throwing jagged shadows across the stone walls. My pulse kicks hard, breath stalling in my chest as the shift wells up fast and undeniable. I meet her eyes one last time before the mist begins to drift upward in slow, spiraling tendrils.
Her eyes narrow.
"Don’t freak out."
She opens her mouth to reply... but the mist gets there first.
It curls up from the stone floor, too swift, too purposeful, glowing with shards of color that pulse like trapped lightning. Thunder growls low and distant, and a flicker of static dances across the ceiling beams. Her eyes go wide as the fog closes in and swallows me whole.
In the stillness that follows, I let go.
The mist rolls in thick and fast, curling around my body with a hiss of pressure and heat. It tightens—dense and pulsing with energy—until all else fades. In the suspended breath between forms, the transformation begins. No pain, just power. The shift comes easily, like a second skin peeling back to reveal what’s always been underneath. Limbs stretch and reshape, fur sweeping across skin in a seamless wave, coarse and soft all at once. Fingers retract, nails darken into curved claws. My spinerealigns with fluid precision, responding to something ancient, primal.
The air shimmers with her presence, charged by the fire’s warmth and the living current of the land. My senses flare open: the crisp sting of pine, the heat radiating behind me, the subtle churn of her heartbeat anchoring me. The man dissolves—quietly, wholly—and the bear takes his place.
And then the fog clears.
Cilla stares at me. Frozen.
I pad forward slowly. No threat. No growl. Just... me.
She doesn’t scream. Her eyes widen, locking onto mine. Then she turns and bolts for the door, shoving it open and letting it slam behind her.
She’s gone. I don’t move. My breath comes hard. The weight of her absence lands like a punch to the gut. I reach out. There’s nothing but mist.
The bear’s still braced to follow her, but she’s already vanished into the night like a ghost I can’t hold. She ran. From me. From the truth, and everything I’ve tried to keep buried just clawed its way to the surface.
