Page 2 of Sobek’s Joy

“Rose, wait.” The older boy tried to grab the girl’s arm, but she’d already launched herself toward the water, claws - actual panther claws - extended from her fingertips. The boy followed, and Sobek caught the unmistakable glint of fur sprouting along his forearms. Wolf fur?

All three children were shifters. All three appeared to be already showing their shifter traits, and yet none of them could have been older than five.

Which was impossible. Shifters didn’t fully manifest until adolescence, and even partial shifts required years of training and control that young children simply didn’t possess. Yet they were in Sobek’s rented quiet space, soaking wet and covered in the telltale signs of an imminent shift.

The crocodile hatchling, Tim, spotted Sobek and froze. His eyes went wide, scales spreading up his neck in what looked like panic. Sobek did the only thing he could think of. He needed to herd them out of the freaking water.

He pushed through the water, creating a wake that in turn pushed the boy toward shore. The child squeaked - an oddly crocodilian sound - and paddled frantically in the right direction, at least. When the wolf pup tried to dive deeper, Sobek’s tail swept beneath him, gently but firmly redirecting him toward solid ground. The panther cub attempted to slash at him with her claws, her tiny face scrunched in concentration, but he simply moved out of reach and nudged her along with the others.

Within minutes, all three children stood dripping on the bank, huddled together like a mismatched set of nesting dolls. That was an interesting moment - three children facing off against the biggest of all crocodiles. But then, as if they had heard a signal, the kids all tilted their heads, and as quickly as they arrived, they disappeared in a mass of muddy clothes and running feet until only the churned mud and small footprints remained.

Humph. They’re not your problem. The words echoed in his mind as Sobek sank back into the water, letting the coolness close over his head once more. Whatever situation those children found themselves in, whatever strange magic allowed them to show signs of their shifter sides so young, it had nothing to do with him. It was his pond for as long as he paid the rent, and he’d come for solitude, not to entangle himself in someone else’s crisis.

Clearly, the Fates were bored and looking for a laugh. They definitely had a twisted sense of humor, dropping shifter children - including a very rare crocodile hatchling - into his path as though they were his concern. They’re probably testing me. Perhaps they have it in their heads that I’ll investigate or get myself involved in mortal matters. I’m not falling for your trap, ladies. I know the non-interference law the same as the rest of my kin. It’s not happening.

Sobek settled back into the silt, willing his muscles to relax. The fish returned, darting around him with increasing confidence. The water lilies swayed in an invisible current. Everything returned to the peaceful stillness he’d sought when he’d left Horus’s dramatic wailing behind.

Except his mind refused to be quiet. He kept seeing the scales on Tim’s arm and neck. The kid was clearly a crocodile hatchling, but Sobek couldn’t remember the last time he’d even heard of one being born. Sometime in the eighteen hundreds, perhaps?

It was definitely more than a hundred years ago. Crocodiles, especially shifters, were hellishly long-lived and didn’t reproduce easily because of it. When young were born, the parents guarded them until they reached maturity. Sobek had never heard of a situation where a hatchling would be allowed to wander in a remote area alone, especially with other shifter types.

Which meant the boy either had no parents, or...It’s. Not. Your. Problem.

The modern world had grated on Sobek’s nerves for decades. Everything was too loud, too fast, and too full of complications he wanted no part of. Other gods seemed to get along fine with their little businesses and using apps and social media. Sobek preferred antiques, traveling, and most of all, his solitude. He’d existed for a very long time without needing anyone else, and he wasn’t about to start changing his ways now.

Certainly not because three waterlogged children had stumbled into his pond. Even if one of them was a crocodile hatchling who shouldn’t be running around with only other little ones for company, and even if all three children were showing signs they were already struggling with shifting when they were far too young to even be thinking about it.

Definitely not my problem. Sobek closed his eyes and forced himself to sink deeper into the meditative state he’d perfected over the years. The water embraced him. Time slowed. His heartbeat dropped to the bare minimum needed to sustain his form, and he was finally at peace…mostly. Tim? Who calls their hatchling Tim?

Chapter Two

“Rose, sweet pea, if you could put your pants on, that would be absolutely fabulous.” Rudy crouched down, holding out the tiny purple leggings with the sparkly hearts on them. Rose giggled, shook her head, and sprinted past him wearing nothing but her ladybug underwear and one sock. “Or we could just do laundry day in our undies. That’s cool too.”

“I can’t find my dinosaur shirt.” Jack’s voice echoed from somewhere upstairs, accompanied by the unmistakable thud of drawers being yanked open and clothes hitting the floor.

“It’s in the wash, baby,” Rudy called back, abandoning the leggings on the kitchen table where they immediately got knocked onto the floor by Timothy, who’d climbed up to reach the cereal box. “Tim, buddy, let me get that for you before you…”

The box tipped, and cheerios rained down like sugary hail.

“…do that.” Rudy sighed, grabbed the broom, and started sweeping. Timothy slid off the chair and landed with a soft oomph, then immediately began collecting the cereal pieces and eating them off the floor. “At least you’re helping clean up. Sort of.” A little bit of dust never hurt anyone.

It was a typical Tuesday, in other words. Or it could be Wednesday. Rudy had genuinely lost track somewhere between Monday’s finger painting disaster and yesterday’s incident with the garden hose that had somehow ended up threaded through the upstairs bathroom window. Time didn’t really work the same way when he had three kids under the age of six who seemed to operate on pure chaos energy and occasional bursts of weirdness that Rudy absolutely refused to overthink.

“Found it.” Jack clattered down the stairs wearing the dinosaur shirt - which had definitely not been in the wash and probably should’ve been - plus mismatched socks and his favorite shorts that were getting too small, but he refused to stop wearing. “Can we have pancakes?”

“We had pancakes yesterday.”

“Can we have pancakes again?”

Rudy looked at the cereal currently coating his kitchen floor, the half-naked toddler who’d vanished into the living room, and Timothy, who was happily munching cheerios while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You know what? Pancakes sound perfect.”

The thing was, Rudy genuinely loved his life. The mess, the noise, the constant demand for snacks and attention, and the occasional arbitration of disputes that made no logical sense. When he’d won a small amount on a lottery ticket three years ago - which still felt like the universe’s wildest joke - he’d immediately quit his soul-sucking retail job and bought his rambling disaster of a house with its questionable plumbing and doors that didn’t quite hang right. The plan had been to fix it up, flip it, and maybe make enough money to buy something smaller and actually nice. The sort of thing an adult with a few dollars in the bank would do.

But he’d barely been in the house for three days when he’d found Rose, abandoned outside a gas station, barely old enough to walk. Then, Jack, terrified and all alone in the woods behind the house, about six months later. Then Timothy, sitting by the pond over on the neighbor’s yard - with the house clearly empty - looking lost, silent, and so small… That was a year after Jack.

So the house stayed a disaster, Rudy stayed exactly where he was and nobody ever came looking for the kids. Over the next three years, somehow, impossibly, his life had become a beautiful, chaotic thing he wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Okay, pancakes coming up.” He stepped over Timothy, grabbed the mixing bowl, and started pulling ingredients from the cupboard. “Jack, can you make sure Rose has clothes on? Any clothes. I’m not picky at this point.”