by Hattie Hunt
As they stood in the kitchen, staring at the empty fridge, Emma wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck and kissed him. “I have to go take care of… things. How about you go to the store and then we can make food when I get back.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “It is entirely possible I will waste away by then.”
“I am pretty sure you will be fine. Or, you could take Bones out for a while. I am sure he could find something to eat.”
Mason crinkled his nose in disgust and closed the fridge. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? We could get food on the way.”
“Yes. I need to do this by myself.” Emma placed her hands on his bare chest. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”
“I have experience with bears now. I could be your backup.”
“Mason. If you get yourself beat up again, I will break your other leg.”
“Technically, I beat them up.”
“If you say so.”
“Ask Toot.”
“Nah. That’s alright.”
Mason slapped her on the butt as she moved away to retrieve her pants from the door and she shot a scandalized look over her shoulder.
“Just making sure you are still real.” He winked and adjusted his glasses.
Emma pulled on her pants, drawing Mal forward just enough to influence her voice with a growl. “Very real.”
Epilogue
Mason nodded his thanks to Sam, who drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the golf cart at Troutdale Springs. Mason and Emma had spent two weeks planning this, and they had bribed—well, offered to tip generously with a box of Emma’s baked goods—Sam to help them smuggle his mom and dad out of Troutdale Springs after hours. It wasn’t that the residents weren’t allowed to leave, but there were a lot more questions involved than they cared to answer. And they weren’t asking a lot of Sam, really. He just had to drive them to the service entrance at the back of the property. Which was where the golf carts were kept anyway.
No big deal. Still, Mason’s insides were swirling as Emma stepped up beside him, placing her hand in his with a kiss to his cheek. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
She pulled him to the Covey’s front door. “Everything will be fine.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“Yes.” Emma reached up and rang the doorbell.
The door cracked open, Susan Covey’s eye peeking through the crack. “Is there anyone out there?”
“Just Sam, Mom. Let us in.”
All the lights were off, and Susan wore all black. Of course, she did. She was probably playing the part of a secret agent or a ninja, no different than when she wore her anchor scarf during nautical month. Mason heard Emma snort a laugh and then cough into her sleeve behind him to cover it up. She had read his thoughts.
He still hadn’t gotten quite used to that. Not that it happened all the time, but he tended to think loudly, and with Mal and Bones trading snark all day, it wasn’t surprising she knew what he was thinking half the time.
A lamp in the bedroom lit up a small corner of the living room. Mason had expressed concern about shifting at night because rats couldn’t see well in the dark. Emma countered with the idea of doing it during a full moon. Mason couldn’t really argue with it.
His mom flitted back and forth between the couch and the counter, moving her black purse from one to the other and then dropping it onto the floor in a bundle of nervous energy.
Robert moved out of the bedroom, causing the dim light to flicker. He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, and she squeaked and then smacked him on the arm. “Dammit, Rob. You scared me half to death.”
“You scared yourself, my dear. Stop stalling. And leave your damned purse here.” He turned in to Emma, who hovered just behind Mason. “Good to see you, Miss Emma.”
She tucked her cheek into Mason’s shoulder. “You too, Robert.”
It took another five minutes to get Susan out of the house, and Sam ushered the group into the cart with a glance over each shoulder. When he dropped them at the back gate, he leaned into Mason. “Please don’t take too long. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“We only need an hour. I promise we will be back soon.”
Sam huffed and backed the golf cart into a vacant spot before pulling out his cell phone. He looked up, the phone illuminating his face. “You could take me with you.”
“Not tonight, Sam,” Emma said, hand on the gate latch.
As per the plan, Emma took the lead, her hand in Mason’s, followed by Susan and finally Robert. They moved along through the dark in a rope of arms, warning of obstacles and dips in the trail.
By the time they made it to the trees, their eyes had adjusted to the dark, and things moved a little faster. They really didn’t have far to go, and Emma drew them to a stop shortly after.
“This is the place. How are the two of you feeling about this?” She directed the question to Susan and Robert, who were both shifting their weight from one foot to the other, hands still clasped tightly together.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Susan’s voice quivered.
Emma put a hand on her arm. “Have you been communicating with your spirit animal the way we talked about?”
“Yes.”
“Then everything will be fine.”
Mason clasped his mom’s hand to his elbow. “Come on. I will show you where you can undress. Though I suppose you probably don’t destroy your clothes when you shift, since you get so small. Speaking of, I promise I won’t let Mal eat you for dinner.”
“Mason!”
“Sorry.”
Robert disappeared into the bushes behinds Susan and Mason returned to Emma. They undressed quickly, and before they could shift, Emma put a hand on his wrist. “What do you call a family of porcupines?”
“A prickle.”
She snorted. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“And a group of rats is called a pack?”
He nodded.
“So, we have a clan, a pack, and a prickle. I like it.”
“Like what?”
“I’m trying to decide what to call our group. Clan and pack are too… traditional. And we definitely aren’t that. I kind of like prickle. I can be a prickle-bear. And your parents can be prickle-rats. It is perfect.”
Mason pulled Emma in, wrapping her in his arms. “And what am I?”
Emma kissed him on the lips and spun out of his arms, her body morphing from human to bear in a long fluid movement. “Quill Boy.”
About the Author
Hattie Hunt is the collaboration between two authors, S.M. Blooding and Alivia Patton.
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Alivia Patton lives in a castle with her knight in shining armor. Assuming there are castles in Montana and her husband slays dragons while she isn’t looking. Citing a decided lack of medieval grandeur in Montana, Alivia spends her time dreaming of adventures in the Welsh countryside while wearing an epic cape that blows just right on the cliffside winds. Or, writing books while playing keyboard Jenga with three cats and the dog. Her husband does, occasionally, slay dragons.
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S.M. Blooding lives in beautiful Montana with her Darling Dork, his two part-time girls, and their cat, Tesla. She enjoys writing and creating with her wonderful husband and dreaming about Alaska. She’s dated vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, weapons smugglers, U.S. Government assassins, and slingshot terrorists. No. She is not kidding. She even married one of them.
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