Page 34 of Shift Happens
Lucia laughed, the sound remarkably similar to her son’s. “You sound like Arnold and me. He’s always reorganizing my herb collection by medicinal properties while I prefer to arrange by energy alignment.”
I glanced at Arnold, trying to imagine the stern wolf shifter fussing over herb arrangements. He caught my look and actually smiled—a small but genuine expression that transformed his usually severe face.
“Organization provides structure,” he stated simply. “A place for everything.”
“Exactly,” I agreed, feeling an unexpected kinship with my potential father-in-law. “Thank you.”
More pack members arrived in small groups—some I recognized from the gathering, others new faces. Sadie came last, her presence immediately commanding attention despite her casual demeanor. All told, about fifteen shifters filled our small store, examining the surroundings with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness.
“Welcome everyone,” I began once they were settled. “Milo and I wanted to share this part of our world with you, just as you shared your full moon gathering with me.”
“Comics are more than just pictures and words,” Milo continued enthusiastically. “They’re stories that combine visual art and text to create something unique—something that speaks to the experience of being both one thing and another at the same time.”
I watched with pride as he guided his pack through selections we’d chosen specifically for them—Sandman for itsmythic qualities, Saga for its themes of finding family across differences, Moon Knight for its exploration of fractured identity. His passion for these stories shone through, and even the most skeptical pack members found themselves drawn in by his explanations.
“This character,” Arnold observed, studying a page from Saga, “he sacrifices much for love across boundaries.”
“Yes,” Milo nodded eagerly. “The entire series explores what people will risk for connection that transcends their inherited conflicts.”
“Much like you and Finn,” Lucia observed with a knowing smile.
Milo blushed slightly. “Well, our situation is less dramatic. No one’s trying to kill us for being together.”
“Give it time,” quipped a younger shifter, earning laughs from the group.
The evening flowed more smoothly than I’d anticipated. Pack members browsed freely, asking questions about characters and storylines, finding unexpected connections to their own experiences. Sadie spent considerable time examining our section on mythology and folklore, occasionally making notes in a small book she carried.
“Your mate has created something special here,” she commented when I brought her tea (werewolves, it turned out, had varied beverage preferences just like humans). “A sanctuary for imagination.”
“It was my sanctuary long before Milo crashed into it,” I admitted. “Now it’s something more—a shared space, a meeting point.”
She nodded approvingly. “The best territories are those that evolve with their inhabitants.” She gestured toward Milo, who was animatedly explaining Batman’s psychology to a clusterof younger shifters. “He has found his place between worlds. Thanks in no small part to you.”
“He’s done the same for me,” I said honestly. “I was comfortable before, but limited. He expanded my world.”
As the evening progressed, something shifted in the atmosphere—a warming, a relaxing of boundaries. Pack members who had entered cautiously now lounged comfortably among the bookshelves, arguing good-naturedly about character motivations and plot developments. The store, my carefully maintained domain, had absorbed this new energy without losing its essential character.
“I think it’s going well,” Milo whispered, appearing at my side as I restocked the snack table. “My father hasn’t growled once, and Sadie actually laughed at that Deadpool comic.”
“It’s perfect,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “Your two worlds meshing together beautifully.”
His smile was radiant. “Our worlds.”
Later, as the event wound down and pack members prepared to leave, Lucia approached us with a small wrapped package.
“A gift,” she explained, placing it in Milo’s hands. “For your den.”
Milo unwrapped it carefully to reveal a beautifully crafted dreamcatcher made with natural materials—feathers, wood, and what looked like wolf fur woven into the design.
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed, running a finger along the intricate webbing. “Is this…”
“Fur from your first shed,” she confirmed. “I’ve kept it all these years, waiting for the right moment. This seemed fitting—a new den, a new life, but with threads of your past woven through it.”
Milo’s eyes glistened as he hugged his mother tightly. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
Arnold cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable with the emotional display. “We should be going. The drive back is long.”
Lucia rolled her eyes affectionately. “Always practical, my mate.” She turned to me. “Thank you for opening your space to us. For sharing this part of Milo’s life.”
