"I don't understand." His voice was small. Lost. "I don't understand any of this."
"I know. And I'm going to explain everything, I promise. But first, I need to check your wound."
"My—" He blinked, like he'd forgotten about the bear entirely. "Oh."
The gash on his side had partially closed—shifter healing already kicking in—but it was still open enough to need attention. I guided him down onto the emergency bivvy and unwrapped the layers enough to access the wound.
"This is going to sting."
He barely flinched when I cleaned it. Shock, probably. His body was so flooded with adrenaline and confusion that a little antiseptic wasn't even registering.
"Shifters heal faster than humans," I explained as I worked. "Not instant, not like the movies, but faster. This would need stitches on a normal person. On you, it'll probably close within a day or two. I'm going to bandage it anyway, keep it clean."
"How do you know all this?"
"I told you. I grew up around shifters."
"But you're not—" He stopped. Frowned. "Are you?"
"Not sure exactly what I am, probably human." Mostly. The visions were something else, but that was a conversation for another time. "But I've been around wolves my whole life. How to recognize a shift, how to help someone through it, what a new wolf needs."
I finished the bandage and sat back on my heels. James was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read—wonder and fear and something softer underneath.
"You knew," he said slowly. "Before today. You knew I might be..."
"I suspected." No point in lying now. "The bond between us—the pull you've been feeling—it's called a mate bond. It onlyforms between shifters, or between a shifter and someone who carries the gene. When I felt it with you, I knew there was a chance."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What was I supposed to say?" I met his eyes. "Hey, James, fun fact, you might be a werewolf? You didn't even know supernatural creatures existed. How was I supposed to explain something like that?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was weak, exhausted, slightly hysterical—but it was a laugh.
"Fair point."
I let out a breath. "How are you feeling? Honestly."
"Like I got hit by a truck, turned inside out, and put back together wrong." He paused. "But also... weirdly okay? Like something that was stuck finally came loose."
I nodded. "That's normal. A lot of latents describe their first shift that way. Like their body finally makes sense."
"It doesn't make sense." He looked at his hands again. "None of this makes sense."
"It will. With time."
The wind picked up, driving ice crystals against us. I glanced at the sky—clouds building, temperature dropping. We needed to move. Find shelter. Get James somewhere warm and safe where he could rest and process.
But when I looked back at him, he was staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"The bond," he said. "The mate thing. What does that mean?"
"It means we're connected. Drawn to each other on a level that goes beyond normal attraction." I chose my words carefully. "It doesn't force anything. It's not... you still have choices. We both do. But the pull, the hum you've been feeling—that's not going away. It's part of us now."
"Part of us," he repeated softly.
"Yeah."
He reached out and took my hand. His grip was weak, his fingers still trembling, but the bond flared at the contact—warm and bright and certain.
