"Hey," she whispers.
"Hey yourself." I brush hair from her face. "How do you feel?"
"Strange." She sits up slowly, testing her body. "Everything feels sharper. Stronger. Like I upgraded to a newer model of myself."
"That's the bear. She's integrated now, part of you." I watch her carefully for signs of distress, but all I see is wonder. "The ley lines amplified the transformation. Made it faster, more intense."
"I remember." She touches her chest, right where the mate bond pulses. "I remember all of it. The pain, the change, the—" Her cheeks flush. "Everything."
Heat flares between us at the memory. What we did during her transformation, how we sealed the mate bond completely. My body responds immediately, wanting her again.
"Later," she says, reading the desire in my eyes. "Right now I want to—" She pauses. "I want to see her. The bear. Is that weird?"
"Not weird at all." I slide out of bed, offering her my hand. "Most new shifters are desperate to shift once the transformation completes. It's instinct."
She takes my hand, and I help her stand. She's steady on her feet, stronger than she realizes. The ley line energy has settled into her bones, making her more resilient than a typical turned shifter.
"Will it hurt?" she asks.
"No. Shifting never hurts for us. It's natural, easy. Like breathing." I lead her outside, onto the cabin's small porch. The forest spreads before us, morning mist curling between the trees. "Just let her come. Don't fight it, don't force it. Let the bear rise."
Maren closes her eyes. I watch her reach inward, searching for that new part of herself. I can feel her bear stir, responding to her call. Eager. Ready.
The silvery mist begins to rise around her feet.
It swirls upward, shimmering with threads of gold—the mate bond visible in the transformation. The mist thickens, obscuring her human form, and our connection amplifies everything she experiences. The shift flowing through her body like water, reshaping without pain. I can feel her senses exploding outward in a cascade of new information.
The scent of pine and earth must be intensifying a thousandfold. Now, she can smell everything—the sap running through the trees, the deer that passed through an hour ago, my scent marking her as mine. Sounds will sharpen until she hears individual needles brushing against each other in the breeze, a squirrel chattering half a mile away, the ley lines humming beneath the forest floor.
The mist clears, and she stands before me. A grizzly bear, magnificent and perfect. Smaller than my bear, more compact, but no less powerful. Her fur is russet-colored where mine is dark brown, catching the morning light like burnished copper. Her eyes—amber-edged and intelligent—fix on me with recognition.
She's beautiful. Wonder and pride surge through me—the bond carrying her first conscious thoughts as a bear: Strong. Free. Home. Mine.
She takes a tentative step forward, testing her new body. Her paws—massive and clawed—sink slightly into the soft earth. She looks down at them, then back at me, and if a bear could smile, she would be.
My bear surges forward, demanding I shift too. Demanding we run with her, claim her properly in both forms. I don't resist.
The mist rises around me, quick and familiar. The shift takes less than a heartbeat—human to bear, seamless and natural. When I stand on four legs beside her, she huffs softly. Recognition. Mate.
We run.
Through the forest, between ancient redwoods, over fallen logs and streams swollen with snowmelt. She's fast, her bear instincts already guiding her movements despite this being her first run. The ley lines pulse beneath our paws, feeding energy into every stride. I let her set the pace, following as she discovers what her body can do.
She weaves between trees with grace I didn't expect from a new shifter, her smaller size giving her an advantage in tight spaces. When we reach a fallen redwood blocking our path, she doesn't hesitate—she launches herself over it in a powerful leap, landing on the other side with perfect balance.
Exhilaration crashes through me—hers, not mine—as she discovers her strength. The absolute freedom of running wild inthis form. The rightness of the forest accepting her as one of its own. The ley lines singing welcome with every step.
We splash through a creek, icy water shocking against heated fur. She stops to drink, lapping at the current, and I join her. The water tastes different in bear form—richer, more complex. I can taste the minerals from deep underground, the snowmelt from high peaks, the trace of fish that swam through yesterday.
She looks at me, water dripping from her muzzle, and huffs again. This time it's clearly amusement. Joy. Pure happiness at existing in this moment.
My bear rumbles in response. Pride swells through me—not just my own, but the bear's primal satisfaction. Our mate is strong. Perfect. Everything we needed her to be.
She playfully swipes at me with one massive paw, claws carefully sheathed. An invitation. A challenge.
I chase her deeper into the forest, letting her lead. She's learning her strength with every bound, testing her limits. She scrambles up a rocky outcropping that would be difficult for a human, her claws finding purchase in stone. At the top, she pauses, surveying the forest spread before us.
The mate bond carries her vision to me: Redwood Rise below us, the town nestled between ancient trees. Smoke rising from chimneys. The ley lines visible as faint golden threads weaving through everything. The forest alive with magic she can finally perceive.
