Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 115: Grace: Hide and Seek, Peek-a-Boo

I fish my phone from my pocket and shoot Lyre a quick text.

[GRACE: Made it safe. Kids settled. Everything ok on your end?]

The three dots never appear. Not even a "delivered" notification.

Signal’s probably garbage out here. Or she’s napping. Could be dealing with her own crew of supernaturals with big personalities and bigger egos. Jack-Eye seems like he’d either be helpful or a handful.

Kind of like Jer, actually. Maybe they share initials for a reason.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I squint at the solar panel display again. The battery percentage has dipped slightly since Caine left, but we’re still at a respectable 94%. Not bad for an hour of AC use. And the trailer’s significantly cooler now.

Behind me, Ron’s taken over entertaining the kids. "Hey, Sara, wanna play a game with Bun?"

"What kind of game?"

"Hide-and-seek peek-a-boo, but with a twist. You shift into something small, and Bun has to find you. When she does, we all say peek-a-boo."

A pause. "That’s basically just regular hide and seek. And I can’t say peek-a-boo in hedgie form."

"So? She likes finding animals better than people, and she likes saying peek-a-boo. Come on, it’ll keep her occupied."

"Pa-buu!"

The camper jostles as they storm about, like we’re a ship at sea. Sturdy—Lyre made it perfectly clear the movement is very normal—but probably strange to them.

I’m barely listening, focused on deciphering the solar display, only to get distracted when my stomach grumbles. It’s later in the day, and we’ve only had breakfast.

It isn’t hard to make a giant plate of baby carrots, sliced cubes of cheddar, apples, and even grapes. Putting it out on the counter? Even easier. Getting the kids to eat it...?

Apparently, it’s quite hard.

"Snacks, guys!"

Ron glances up from where he’s crouched near the couch. "Thanks, Grace."

Jer appears out of nowhere, his head at my elbow. "I’m not hungry."

Bun? Ignores me. It’s mildly offensive. She was glued to me, but now she’s trying to cram her head under the couch and oblivious to my existence.

"That’s fine. It’s here if you want it." I scan the room. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on what. Like I’m forgetting something important.

Jer hovers as I head back to the kitchenette. "How does the water work in here?"

Great question. I’ve recently learned all about it, too. Okay, not all about it. But I do know there’s a button for the water pump and now I know it’s important to keep the "fresh water" tank filled.

"There’s a pump system," I answer, gesturing vaguely to the electric panel. "It’s connected to a fresh water tank, and it supplies water to all the plumbing lines in the camp."

"What about electricity? Is it all from the sun?"

"Right now, yes. We have a generator, and that’s why Caine’s getting gas."

"Why gas?"

"It uses gas to... run." I’m not super familiar with generators, either.

"What happens if it rains for a week?"

I blink. "I... don’t actually know. We’d probably use the generator more?" I wonder how much gas that would require.

His eyes light up. "What if there was a zombie apocalypse? Would we still have power?"

"As long as the sun rises, I guess." I lean against the counter, watching his mind work.

"What if dinosaurs came back? Could we outrun them in this RV?"

"Depends on the dinosaur," I reply, unable to hold back a smile.

His questions are like pinballs, bouncing all over the place. No idea where they come from—or why—but I answer them all as best as I can.

"Do you think the Lycan King could take on the King of Dinosaurs?"

"You mean the chicken’s great-grandpa?"

His jaw drops, dark eyes wide with horror. Ron snorts in the background. "Chickens aren’t dinosaurs!"

"Actually, birds evolved from dinosaurs. So technically, T-Rex is related to chickens."

My lips quirk as he splutters, gangly arms waving in the air.

"But the T-Rex is the King of Dinosaurs," he protests. "He would totally eat the Lycan King!"

I shake my head. "T-Rex isn’t the king. There’s no dinosaur monarchy."

"What’s a monarchy?" He squints at me, looking more suspicious than curious. Like maybe I’m lying to him.

I’m not—obviously—but I am messing around with his head a little. It’s more fun than I realized.

"A monarchy is what a king rules over. Like England. They have kings." I pause. "Well, a queen right now? Uh. No, maybe it’s a king. Both?" I don’t follow royalty, but I vaguely feel like maybe someone important over there died recently.

"Then who’s the dinosaur king?"

"Nature doesn’t work that way. But if you want my vote, I’d pick velociraptors over T-Rex any day." I’ve literally never thought about tiers of powerful dinosaurs before this very moment, so I just throw out one of the only other dinosaur names I can recall off hand.

Platypus... no, they’re not dinosaurs. What are the ones who—right. Pterodactyls. The ones with wings.

And there we go. The extent of my dinosaur knowledge. Chicken evolution and three whole dinosaur species.

I recognize more than three, to be fair.

"Like in Jurassic Park?" His eyes widen. "They were super smart."

"Exactly." Probably the only reason I remember their existence, too.

"But Caine’s super big. His arms are even bigger than Owen’s!"

"True." I watch as he slides onto the bench seat, grabbing a baby carrot while still debating dinosaur royalty in his head. His serious expression over something so ridiculous makes my heart squeeze with unexpected tenderness.

Something thuds against the camper, and there’s a high-pitched shriek. It has a very distinct outside sound, not something the kids did.

My heart high-jumps its way into my throat and my eyes immediately go to the door. It’s completely still.

Jer scoots closer. Ron straightens, instantly on alert as he looks at me. Only Bun continues crawling around the furniture, whispering "Pa-buu" to herself.

For one wild moment, I wish Caine were here. Just his presence—solid, watchful, impossible to startle—would be enough to make this less terrifying.

"What was that?" the younger boy whispers.

I force air into my lungs. Fenris is under the camper. It’s probably just him, shifting position or bumping against something.

"It’s okay," I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "Probably just Fenris. He’s the black wolf Caine left behind."

Ron moves to the window, lifting the blind to peer outside. "The golden retriever is running away. Maybe Fenris scared her off. Dogs are terrified of wolves."

"See? Nothing to worry about." I plaster on a reassuring smile, feeling my pulse gradually slow.

Jer picks up his carrot again, but his eyes keep darting to the window. "Do all Lycan Kings tame wolves?"

"Um—no. Fenris isn’t a tame wolf. He’s..." I grope for an explanation, but don’t have one. I’m not entirely certain how it work. "He’s just Caine’s partner."

"Huh. I want a wolf pet, too."

Grabbing a bottle of water, I guzzle it down like it’s going to wash away the unease still crawling over my skin. The camper’s quiet again. Bun and Ron continue to play together.

Everything’s normal.

Sweet, even.

Great, if you really think about it.

But it feels like the calm before a storm. Something’s coming.

Or my paranoia’s just a permanent resident in my head.

Something small and warm wraps around my leg and I nearly jump out of my skin. Glancing down alerts me to Bun’s enormous eyes. She’s wrapped around my leg with a wide grin.

Goddess. She scared the shit out of me.

"Hey, baby." I scoop her up one-handed, and her little warms wrap around my neck. Peppering the top of her head with kisses, I murmur, "You scared me, kiddo."

I glance around the camper, tallying heads absently. Jer at the table. Ron by the window. Bun in my arms. Wait.

Where’s Sara?

My heart stutters. I scan the dinette again, then the daybed, then peer behind the curtain to the queen bed in back. Nothing.

"Ron," I call, trying to keep my voice level. "Where’s Sara?"

Ron turns from the window, giving me a look like I’ve completely lost it. "She’s under the couch."

I stare at him blankly. "What?"

As if on cue, a small, spiky ball emerges from beneath the sofa. Tiny black eyes blink up at me from a pointed face.

Bun shrieks in my arms, pointing excitedly. "PA-BUU!"

The hedgehog rears up on its hind legs before rapidly morphing into Sara, who appears kneeling on the floor with a triumphant grin.

"Aren’t I the best hider?" she asks.

My heart starts beating again, the relief making me dizzy. "Yes," I manage weakly. "You’re the best, Sara."

I set Bun down gently, my hands shaking slightly as the adrenaline ebbs. Vaguely, I recall something about hide-and-seek peek-a-boo. Now it makes sense.

Mental note: I am so not cut out for watching shifter children.