I moved my hand slowly, stroking along his neck, and he leaned into the touch. The bond hummed between us, and I felt his panic begin to ebb. Still there—God, still so present—but no longer the drowning flood it had been.
“I grew up around shifters,” I said quietly. “Before I ever came to Frosthaven. I was raised at an orphanage near Darian’s pack, and they were… close enough that I saw everything. I've seen first shifts. I've seen wolves learn to control their forms. It's not easy, but it's not impossible. And you're not alone in it.”
I swallowed.
His eyes met mine.
Still scared.
"I know you have questions. I know there's so much I should have told you before now. But right now, I need you to focus on one thing." I cupped his face in both hands—his massive, furred, impossible face—and held his gaze. "I need you to find your way back."
A whine. Low, uncertain.
"Your human form is still in there. It's not gone—it's just... underneath. Like the wolf was underneath before." I pressed my forehead to his. The bond sang at the contact. "Close your eyes. Focus on my voice. Remember what it feels like to have hands. To stand on two legs. To breathe with human lungs."
His eyes drifted shut.
"Think about something human. Something that anchors you to that form. A memory. A sensation. Something that's purely, specifically James."
His breathing changed. Slower. Deeper.
"That's it. Hold onto that. Let it pull you back."
I felt it start through the bond—a shift in his energy, something deep beginning to move. His body shuddered against my hands.
"You're doing so well. Keep going. I've got you."
The tremors intensified. I stepped back, giving him space, and watched as his form began to ripple.
It was faster than the first shift. Cleaner. Less violent. More like something settling back into place.
One moment there was fur and mass and heat in front of me—
The next, James was there. Human again. Fully clothed, knees hitting the snow as his body finished remembering its shape.
He swayed.
I was already moving.
The thermal blanket went around him first—emergency silver, designed to trap body heat. I wrapped him in everything I had, layer after layer, until he looked like a shivering cocoon.
“James. Can you hear me?”
His eyes opened. Glassy, unfocused, but present.
"L-Lumi?"
"I'm here." I pulled him against me, sharing what body heat I could through the layers. "I'm right here."
"What—" His voice cracked. "What happened to me?"
"You shifted. Do you remember? The bear, and then—"
"Fur." The word came out strangled. "I had fur. I was—I couldn't—" His breathing hitched, panic climbing again. "I couldn't find my hands, I couldn't—"
"Hey. Hey." I tightened my grip on him. "You're back. You're human. Feel that? Two hands, ten fingers. You found your way back."
He looked down at his hands like he'd never seen them before. Flexed his fingers. Touched his own face, his chest, his arms—confirming that everything was where it should be.
