Conleth briefly considered the pros and cons of getting dragged across the ground in front of half the camp’s clients, versus half an hour in a boiling hot sauna with a naked Ragvald.
With a resigned sigh, he picked up the rope. “Fine. Just promise you won’t shift. It’s hard enough concealing your presence when youaren’tthe size of a bloody barn.”
“You have my sworn word.” Face splitting in a toothy grin, Ragvald took the opposite end of the rope. “I do not need the strength of my true form to best you. As we both know.”
“I am well aware of that fact.” He set his feet, bracing himself for the inevitable graceless faceplant. At least this time, he only had to endure the humiliation once. “Let’s get this over with. Moira, would you count us down?”
“Wait!”
Paige’s voice snapped like a whip. She strode forward, planting herself firmly in front of him.
“If you’re going to insist that we follow your traditions, Ragvald, then you have to follow ours as well.” She grabbed the rope in both hands. “And in our culture, tug-of-war is ateamgame.”
“Yeah!” Archie took up position in front of his sister. “Come on, everyone!”
Most of the other kids rushed forward, seizing the rope as well. Only Hetta hung back, gaze darting nervously between the pack and her father.
“Come on, Hetta!” Estelle called. “You might as well join in. It doesn’t matter if you shift, now that we all know your secret.”
“And you shouldn’t be embarrassed about your animal,” Finley added. “Did you know chickens are the closest living relative of Tyrannosaurus Rex? You’re basically a modern-day dinosaur.”
“You see?” Hetta’s dad said to her. “I told you your friends wouldn’t laugh. You don’t see anybody laughing atme, do you?”
Conleth blinked.
Paige stared at Hetta’s dad. “You’rea chicken shifter?”
“Surely am.” Hetta’s dad puffed out his chest. “And you can bet your sweet petunias that plenty of would-be alphas have found out the hard way that don’t make us pushovers. What we lack in size, we make up in pure cussedness. And not just the roosters, neither. You want to see raw aggression, you just try getting between a hen and her chicks.”
“Dad,” Hetta started. “I?—”
Her father was still in full flow. “Predator comes after a chicken, nine times out of ten, chicken’ll win. And we can see colors you can’t even imagine, and navigate by the sun, and?—”
“Dad!” Hetta interrupted, more loudly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not a chicken shifter.”
Her father pulled up short, brow wrinkling. “But honey, your egg donor was pure human. Got her genes tested and everything, to make sure nothing else would be in the mix. And there’s only chickens roosting inmyfamily tree.”
“That’s just it.” Hetta bit her lip. “I guess I’m…well, it’s easier to just show you.”
Her form shimmered.
And got bigger.
Alotbigger.
“Coooooooooooooooool,” breathed Archie, staring up at the T-Rex.
Nancy’s dad went rigid. Eyes rolling up, he toppled over, stiff as a board.
“Oh dear.” Nancy’s mom hastily caught him before he could hit the ground. She pillowed his head in her lap, fanning him with one hand. “No need to worry, everyone! Just a perfectly normal involuntary reaction. He’ll be fine in a minute or two, once the shock wears off.”
Hetta’s dad was too busy goggling at his daughter to notice anything else. “You’re a…dinosaur?”
The T-Rex looked bashful, or at least as much as was possible for an enormous prehistoric predator with razor-sharp teeth. It shimmered, shrinking back into Hetta’s slight form.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I was a freak, and you’d be ashamed of me.” She cast a shy, sidelong glance at Finley. “But maybe I’m actually a throwback. To an earlier branch of our family tree.”
“You’re adinosaur,” her dad repeated, wonderingly. His weathered face split into a delighted grin. “Oh, honey. It wouldn’t matter what kind of shifter you are. You make meproud just by being you. But I’m going to crow about this from the rooftops!”
