"What did you tell her?" I ask.
"That we'd think about it. Maya's still so young, and being around that many shifters—"
“We should go. Maya needs to know her pack. Needs to grow up understanding she's not alone, that there are others like her. Well, not exactly like her, but close enough." I bring Autumn a plate of eggs and toast. "And my mother hasn't shut up about wanting to see her granddaughter."
Autumn smiles. "She sends a new toy every week. We're running out of room."
"She's making up for lost time."
"I know. It's sweet." She takes a bite of toast. "Did you ever think, two years ago, that this would be your life? Pack gatherings and in-laws and middle-of-the-night diaper changes?"
"No. I thought I'd die alone on this mountain."
"And now?"
"Now I can't imagine any other life." I sit beside her, taking Maya when she reaches for me with chubby hands. "This is everything. You're everything."
Maya grabs my beard and tugs, and I laugh despite the sting.
"She's strong," Autumn observes. "Stronger than a regular six-month-old."
"The shifter genetics," I agree. "Dr. said to expect advanced development in some areas."
"Should we be worried?"
"We're always worried. Comes with being parents." I gently extract my beard from Maya's grip and offer her my finger instead. She latches on, gnawing with her gums. "But we'll handle it. Like you said, together."
Autumn leans her head on my shoulder, and we sit there in the morning light: our little family, nearly impossible but perfect and real.
The bear is content in a way it's never been. The rage that used to consume me is gone, replaced by purpose. By love. By the need to be better, stronger, not for my sake, but for theirs.
"What are you thinking about?" Autumn asks.
"How you saved me."
"I think it was mutual."
"No. I was drowning and you threw me a lifeline. Even when I tried to push you away, you held on."
"You would've done the same for me. You did do the same for me, during the storm."
"That's different."
"How?"
"That was just survival. What you did, choosing me, staying with me, building this life, that was courage."
She lifts her head to look at me. "You're worth it, Rhett. You always were. I just had to make you see it."
Maya chooses that moment to let out a massive yawn, her whole face scrunching up. We both laugh.
"Okay, little bear," I murmur, standing with her. "Back to sleep with you."
I carry her to the cradle and lay her down gently. She fusses for a moment, then settles, her tiny fist curling near her face.
Half-shifter, half-human. All ours.
The future is uncertain. There will be challenges ahead, like teaching Maya control, managing her shifting when it starts, protecting her from a world that doesn't understand what she is.
