Page 53 of Grace of a Wolf 2
Ron looks up with a blink, slamming his book closed. "Didn't we already tell you? We're all special."
"But…" I can't wrap my head around this. There's special, and then there'simpossible. "Shifters can only transform into one animal. That's how it works."
The kid shrugs, unimpressed by my crisis. "Says who? The rules people tell you are just the rules they know."
Owen pats Bun's head. "Turn back," he says, and I wonder how he doesn't scare her with the way he speaks. He sounds like he's going to murder us all if she doesn't do as he says.
But the toddler just quacks at him. She's now sporting not only the orange duck bill, but whiskers. She looks at me and quacks again, seeming delighted as her eyes crinkle up into happy little crescents.
"That's not..." My voice trails off. "That's not possible."
Sara plops down beside me, her small legs folded beneath her. Bun dives toward her head-first, sliding out of my arms with alarming ease, and my heart plummets, already envisioning her head splitting open when she hits the ground.
But the older girl catches her like this is a daily occurrence. Maybe it is.
Bun wiggles in Sara's lap, making her duck noises with glee as she flaps her arms.
Sara blows raspberries onto Bun's neck, dissolving the little girl into a peal of honking laughter.
Jer stands in front of me, arms across his chest and legs spread wide as he announces, "I can be five different animals."
The brown-haired girl groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "A mouse and a rat are basically the same thing. And a guinea pig isn't much better."
"They're different," he insists, glowering at her naysaying.
"Barely."
"I can still shift into more animals than you!"
"Please. At least mine aredifferent."
He sneers, with all the arrogance of a seven-year-old. Or however old he is. "Yeah, so different you can't even fly when you shift into a bird."
"Enough," Owen says, and Sara sticks her tongue out at Jer when he turns his back.
Bun moves with surprising insight and agility, rolling off Sara's lap and bolting toward my legs.
Jer launches himself at Sara with all the ferocity of a tiny predator. Tiny round ears pop out of his head.
They tumble across the floor, a tangle of child-sized limbs and high-pitched shouts.
"I'm gonna bite your ear off!" Sara shrieks.
Jer bellows. "Yeah? Then I'll make you bald!"
I stand frozen as Bun clings to my leg. My mind races through potential responses. Should I intervene? Let them work it out? The line between responsible adult and confused hostage is very, very fuzzy.
Back at the pack, I was never responsible for breaking up fights between kids. Even young, they're strong.
Before I can decide, Owen wades into the chaos like a superhero of questionable origin. One moment they're a tangled mess on the ground; the next, two kids have been hauled off the floor by the backs of their shirts, kicking and punching wildly as they dangle a foot off the ground.
It's… comical, really.
"I said, enough," the reticent man states, as impassively terrifying as ever.
"He started it!" Sara yells, her freckled face flushed with outrage.
Jer's indignation matches hers. "She stuck her tongue out at me!"
