Page 4 of Granny’s Christmas Shifters

Bear’s usually grumpy demeanor thaws slightly. “You did not.”

“I did. Saw it for sale in town and couldn’t resist.”

Bear lets out a deep, throaty chuckle that echoes through the empty forest. I swear the only time the man laughs these days is at Wolf’s usual nonsense. Mostly, he’s been locked in his room, or out in the forest, doing who knows what.

“You laugh now.” I set my ax down against the tree. “But we’re the talk of the town. Some men were bragging about coming out here to hunt. Lucky for us, I managed to discourage them. Told them the most exciting thing they’d find are angry landowners with shotguns.”

Wolf grins. “I should make sure mine is loaded then.”

I growl.

Wolf shakes his head, but his eyes maintain their usual twinkle. “I’m kidding, Dragon. Take it easy. I’ll take it down once the storm clears. And hang it on our cabin door. No one ever makes it out this far.”

“And with good reason,” Bear grumbles.

He’s right. The closest road is several miles east, and the only way to our cabin is on foot… unless you’re me.

I strip off my clothes, completely unbothered by the winter chill. “I’ll fly out and take the sign down before it causes any more trouble.”

I take a running start, shift, and take to the sky.

“Any excuse not to gather firewood,” Wolf grumbles.

I send down a puff of smoke in his general direction, and he yelps.

“Bring back some smoked meat,” Bear shouts after me.

It’s a fair exchange, and an easy one, despite the heavy snow. I know this forest like the back of my hands. Or, in my current form, feet… which I don’t know half as well as the forest. I glance down to examine my talons and nearly barrel head-first into a taller-than-average tree. That will teach me not to pay attention.

The fact that this flight is a break in routine leaves me feeling even more out of sorts. I only go into town once a month. A second trip in one day means something isn’t right.

I keep watch for human activity, but no one would be stupid enough to come out here in this weather. Good thing, too. Last thing I need is word of a monster sighting getting out. Next thing you know, they’ll be out here with torches and pitchforks, like in the old days.

They don’t frighten me. I could roast them where they stand, if I weren’t above killing innocents. But given the chance, they could become a real nuisance, and I can’t risk being forced to leave land that we’ve owned for centuries.

I stay vigilant as I touch down in front of the ‘Beware of Monsters’ sign. It’s got bright red writing and caricatures of poorly drawn, angry looking dragons. Wolf is a fucking asshole!

I shift and briefly wish I’d brought clothes. The snow stings my bare feet, and I grimace as I tear off the ice-covered metal sign.

I’m just about ready to shift back and head home when I spot something large lying diagonally across the forest path. Dinner?

I take a step closer, my feet sinking into snow that’s ankle-deep. Something sharp digs into the ball of my foot, but I ignore the inconvenience. I’m a shifter. A simple cut will take a few minutes at most to heal.

The animal up ahead is hard to make out in the storm. If it’s hurt, I’ll put it out of its misery, and roast it for the men.

I take another step, shiver, and gasp when I realize it’s actually a human.

“Are you all right?” I shout, then berate myself. “They’re unconscious, you dolt.”

I rush toward it, kneel in front of the body, and roll it onto its back. One look at the old lady’s pale, lifeless face, and I write her off as dead. Her wrinkled skin is damp, her eyes are closed, and her body is limp and unresponsive.

My dragon roars, and pain wells up deep in my soul.

There was a time when wars raged, hikers froze or starved in search of nearby towns, and folk came out here to die. I’ve seen many bodies over the centuries, yet this one hits me hard.

I reach out to check her pulse. Her skin is cold, her neck fragile, both a reminder that she’s likely dead. Except, by some miracle, she’s not. There’s a faint heartbeat, and I latch onto the hope that she’ll survive.

She’s ours! My dragon roars again.