I frowned. “So, the Ayaska think they were created by a devil?”
“Again, older than Christianity—or even the concept of a Judeo god. This founder was cruel, yes, but not a devil—or even a snake. Sadly, there isn’t much scholarship in this regard, only lore. But according to the journals of teachers who’ve come before me, there are some who believed this serpent to be a dragon.”
That only made me crinkle my eyes that much more. “So, the Ayaska believe that bear shifters were created by adragon?”
“Hey, I’ve heard crazier shit,” Boone said on the left side of me. “Once got called in for a wildfire started by a bunch of white farmers who were trying to get in touch with Lakshmi through the fire god Agni. In Iowa.”
It had been so long since I’d laughed, but a surprised chortle bubbled out of me.
“Come, man, surely you’re spinning a fantastical tale,” Zion accused as I giggled.
“I swear to God,” Boone said, raising his hand. “Actually, I swear to fucking Agni.”
That answer made both Zion and me fall out laughing.
“Every year, I direct a production where my students perform a pageant about the founding of the Ayaska, along with major moments from the tribe’s history, for our Christmas in July Festival,” Zion said when we’d gotten over our fit of laughter. “If you wish to learn more about the Ayaska, it’s a wonderful retrospective.”
I doubted I’d still be in contact with him come July, but this segued into Zion telling me how the Bear school year ran from March to November due to hibernation, and my little fifteen-minute walk turned into a little over two hours.
By the time we finally came back up the little gravel and dirt path to my widow’s cottage, the sun was setting, and I gasped when I saw the front of the cabin.
Not only had someone left enough wood on the porch to fire the stove for months—not the few weeks I figured I needed to get myself together before the girls’ wedding—but the front of the house had been completely transformed. The door had been repainted red, and all the roof moss and sickly looking green spots were gone from the A-frame’s face thanks to a coat of dark-brown stain. There was even a row of fairy lights hanging below the balcony that sat outside my loft window.
I’d only been gone for two hours! But it was like standing in front of a big reveal on one of those Fix-It TV shows, likeTiny Home One Day Makeover.
I easily guessed who’d done this, even before Zion told me, “Vik asks that you be careful not to get any paint on you as you enter through the freshly painted front door. He also cautions against touching the stain until late tomorrow morning.”
“That’s right,” Boone added. “Stains’re a bitch to get off your hands.”
All I could do was purse my lips as I looked up at the house. There was no more denying it.
Dammit…
I was going to have to make that Ravik guy cookies.
“Need anything before we leave you be?” Boone asked. Both he and Zion had stopped walking when I did.
“No,” I muttered, starting forward toward the house. “Thanks for the walk.” Which I was beginning to suspect they’d intentionally extended so Ravik could set up this surprise.
Dammit, I was going to have to make all of them cookies.
“Good night,” I threw over my shoulder, already making the mental calculations.
By the time I’d let myself into the house, I realized with a sinking feeling that there was only one kind of cookie I could make off the top of my head with what I had on hand.
And I cursed once again, because dammit…
I was going to have to make all of them sugar cookies.
That night, as I fell asleep with a plan to throw together three batches of cookies in the morning, I didn’t know whether to be grateful… or very, very scared.
It turned out to be the latter.
I closed my eyes…
…and woke up with a jerk, handcuffed to the bed in my apartment.
My stomach sank with the realization that Boone, Zion, Ravik, and the little A-frame widow’s cottage had all been a dream.
