Eventually my bear turns and carries her back toward the cabin.
He takes a different route this time, through a meadow where the snow lies smooth and unbroken. He runs in wide circles just to hear her laugh, kicks up powder with his paws, stops to sniff at a rabbit’s tracks and then pretends to sneeze when she teases him about it.
She’s happy. I can feel it in the way she holds on, relaxed and easy. I can hear it in her voice when she talks to him, calling him “big guy” and “softie” and “you ridiculous animal.”
No one has ever talked to my bear like this. Like he’s something to be adored instead of feared.
By the time the cabin comes into view, my bear is reluctant to stop. He wants to keep running, keep showing off, keep feeling her weight on his back and her fingers in his fur.
But I need to be human again. Need to hold her with hands instead of paws, speak to her with words instead of rumbles.
My bear slows and stops near the porch. She slides off his back, her legs a little unsteady, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the wind.
“That was incredible,” she breathes. “Tolin, that was... I don’t even have words.”
My bear presses close, breathing in her scent one last time. She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him. Actually hugs him, her face buried in his fur, her body pressed against him.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “Thank you, big guy.”
My bear makes a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a whine.
Then I pull him back and let the shift take me.
The change rolls through me again, my body reshaping, fur receding, bones reforming. I drop to my knees in the snow, naked and breathing hard. The shift always leaves me tired, wrung out, but it’s worth it. It was worth it.
She doesn’t panic. She grabs a blanket from the porch, one I keep there for exactly this reason, and rushes to my side.
“I’ve got you.” Her voice is steady as she wraps the blanket around my shoulders. “I’ve got you, Tolin. Just breathe.”
I lean into her, letting her take some of my weight. She’sso small compared to me, but she doesn’t buckle. Just holds me steady while I catch my breath.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for showing me.”
I look up at her, bare in every way that matters, her warmth drawing me in.
She’s looking at me like I’m something worth keeping. Like she sees the man and the bear and wants both of them.
“Come inside,” she says, tugging gently at the blanket. “Let me take care of you.”
I let her lead me into the cabin.
She sits me down by the hearth, brings me water, gathers my discarded clothes. She moves through my space like she belongs here, and my bear settles with a satisfied rumble.
We showed her. She didn’t run.
She accepted us. All of us.
Now we just have to make her stay.
17
IMANI
Ican’t stop fussing over him.
Water. Clothes. Another blanket. Stoking the fire until the cabin is almost too warm. Anything to keep my hands busy, to keep from thinking about what just happened.
He showed me his bear. Let me ride on his back through the forest like something out of a fairy tale. Trusted me with the most vulnerable part of himself.
