Page 1 of Pack Witch
Chapter 1
Zinnia
THE MOUNTAIN PACKLANDS
If I’d learned one thing in my fifty years, it was that change was both painful and inevitable. But today, the change that swept through my half-open window and through my small cabin was welcome.
“No more sleeping indoors,” I announced to the room with a smile. “Spring cleaning starts today.” It was the end of April and well past time. Not only was my bedroom filled with every sort of animal the mountains of Colorado had to offer—making it nearly impossible to cross from my pine-log bed to the cast-iron stove without tripping over something alive—the smell was getting out of hand.
None of the current residents responded, except for the black bear sleeping in front of the fire, who groaned pitifully as if she’d only been wounded that day. I made my way around the basket of chipmunks that had lost their mother a few weeks too early, and sent a small surge of magic into their tiny bodies. Then I stroked the red-tailed hawk, Brigid, on her shoulder, pushing her toward the window. She flapped her wings, both of them strong enough to fly now, and exited without argument.
Finally, I reached the source of most of the musky odor that had seeped into everything. I nudged her with my foot. “Come on, Marta, it’s time to wake up.”
The bear let out a loud grumble and rolled over, holding up one foot. She and I had lived together through the winter, since I’d helped pull her paw from under a fallen tree in late November. Her injury had taxed my weak magic, but I was proud of how far she’d come.
“You’re well enough to sleep outside, you big, spoiled teddy bear. Go on.” I pushed a little magic into my command, but she only sneezed and shook her shaggy head at me.
I sighed and rounded Marta to look for my oldest friend, Urchin. The old garter snake was sleeping in her basket by the fire, as she had for the past fifteen years. She was almost as much of a hermit as I was. “How about you? Want to slither through the garden while I clean?”
She lifted her head, taking me in with her glossy black eye, followed by the clouded white one. She shifted restlessly in the basket, flicking her tongue to taste the air. I’d known her long enough to tell that she was disturbed.
Scooping her up, I wrapped her around my arm and crossed to the cabin door, looking out into the morning. I lived alone on a quiet patch of land surrounded by vast pine forests and granite cliffs, above a shallow stretch of river. From my doorway, I could make out the path that wound through early spring wildflowers, then aspens and ponderosa pines, on its way around the steep mountain.
What had my little friend on edge? I hadn’t made it past the door when something invisible answered my unspoken question.
A spear of agony thrust into my heart, followed by fire lighting up every nerve in my body. Flames consumed me.
My scream filled the cabin as pain swept through me, and all the other animals woke as well, adding their voices to the alarm.
Marta stood and roared in anger, her head moving from side to side as she looked for the attacker. The smaller animals rushed out the door and windows, seeking escape.
I wished I could do the same. I collapsed on the wooden floor, holding Urchin away from my torso to keep her safe. My skin burned like it was being shredded away by some invisible hand, my heart punctured by something. Was it a knife? An arrow?
As suddenly as it came, the pain fled, the flames extinguishing and the invisible wound closing up. I panted in shock, Marta’s roaring still echoing in my ears.
What was that? It had felt like… a heart attack? No shifter I’d ever known had experienced one, as far as I was aware.
I smiled grimly to think I might be the first, though I supposed calling myself a shifter was more of a habit than the truth. I waited for a few minutes to see if the pain would return, then pushed myself back to my feet, my joints creaking. I took shallow breaths, waiting to see if the worst was over.
After a few moments, I decided it must be. Marta nudged me and lumbered out the door, heading down the deer path that led to the river. Urchin settled, curling back up to sleep around my wrist.
Then the wind blew in again, and carried something else with it: yelling.
Oh no.I put Urchin down and gathered up the only weapons I allowed myself—my walking stick and my herb knife—before walking out to meet whoever it was.
“I’m too old… for this shit!” The complaint was as familiar as the voice, and I smiled.
“What shit, Ida?” I called. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her walking noisily through the forest that surrounded my home.
“Being attacked… by squirrels. And some hawk. And a damned raccoon! In my day, raccoons knew better… than to growl at a shifter.”
Attacked?I almost laughed aloud as the only friend I’d had in decades huffed and puffed across the clearing, hauling a large picnic basket in one hand, her gray bun mussed. It did look like she’d had her hair styled by the animals who’d run out of my cabin.
I fought back a laugh. Ida Becker was my only friend, and a dominant wolf shifter. Grandma of the Alpha of the Mountain pack, with enough power in her own old bones to challenge any Alpha other than him, if she’d wanted to. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from the raccoons, Ida.”
A few dozen feet away from me, she stopped and stared at me for a long moment, wheezing. Why would she be out of breath? Worried, I started to gather the magic in the chilly wind to me, in case she needed healing. Shifters could live to be a hundred and twenty, and she was only in her eighties…
Before I had enough power spooled to cure a hiccup, her sparkling eyes met mine, and she winked. “You can make it up to me with some of your homemade gin. Happy birthday to my favorite witch. You don’t look a day over fifty. Well, maybe a few days over. No more than a month.”
