Page 32 of Shifter’s Thunder

“I have it on the highest authority,” said Avelunne in a mock-solemn tone, “that in these modern times, tomorrow is the official day for showering deserving children with as many presents as they can carry. Tonight is for adults to give small gifts to other adults.” She reached under the table to pull out a wooden box and presented it to him.

He lifted the lid and moved aside a small piece of velvet to reveal a glass sculpture. When he held it up, he realized it was an elegant suncatcher with inner glowing wire, shaped as a thunderbird, with a wingspan twice as wide as his palm.

He turned it in the light. “It’s stunning. I love it. I’m guessing this is your work. How did you make it?”

She smiled. “I’m glad it pleases you. I traded pencil-drawn portraits for the glass and the spell-wire. I used dragon magic to heat and form the glass. It’s based on an old technique for making ceramics. Modern glass is tricky. It took a few mistakes to figure out how to cool the piece without shattering it.”

“This one is mine, and I am keeping it,” Tanner said. “But I bet this kind of thing would sell well in the tourist shops.” He kissed her.

He went to his woodworking shop and fetched the gift for her that he’d put together with expert advice. He set out the pads, papers, pens, paints, and brushes. He included a sturdy easel and a dragon-carryable travel bag so she could take art supplies anywhere. She explored them with delight and wonder. While she tested the weight and flexibility of a brush, Tanner installed a hook in the window casing to hang the suncatcher.

He admired the glowing bird, then admired the woman at his table. He couldn’t ever remember being this happy.

Christmas morning involved more stillness than Tanner expected. Avelunne wanted to test her new charcoal sticks, and she needed a subject. He agreed to model. The nudity part was easy. Sitting perfectly still on a stool for twenty minutes was torture. His nose itched. His left foot fell asleep. He wanted to be next to her rather than across the room. He wanted to see the sketch instead of the wall. Being a thunderbird meant constant motion and riding the wind. Being a model meant being a statue. He held the pose because the look of intense concentration on her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The peace shattered when his phone buzzed on the floor. Then his tablet pinged. Then the phone rang. Avelunne sighed and lowered her charcoal. Tanner checked the screen and swore softly.

Town Councilor Lin Wolcz had gone rogue. The cave dragon had issued unauthorized eviction notices to three refugee families in town housing. He gave them twelve hours to vacate the valley. On Christmas. After the great Snowmageddon event.

Guivre had convened an emergency remote session and fired him five minutes ago. Now the ex-councilman refused to leave his office. Duty had a fucking terrible sense of timing.

The Town Hall was empty and silent except for the shouting coming from Wolcz’s second-floor office. Shiloh leaned against the doorframe of the Council office and watched the show with a bored expression. Tanner walked past him and placed a cardboard box on the desk. Wolcz turned a shade of red that clashed with his iron-gray hair. The dragon ranted about rights and voters. Tanner didn’t engage. He picked up Wolcz’s full trash can and dumped the contents into a bespelled evidence bag.

“I thought you didn’t get involved in politics,” Wolcz sneered. He slammed a desk drawer shut. “Neutral town guardian, my ass. You’re just the town’s yappy little lapdog.”

“I don’t do politics.” Tanner gave him a benign smile. He sealed the bag and handed it to Shiloh. “I’m just taking care of the trash.”

Wolcz made a wet and ugly sound. He shoved his personal effects into the box Tanner provided. Tanner escorted him out and down the stairs, with Shiloh following. He kept his hands free, but his magic was ready to slam the dragon into the railing if he twitched wrong. If anyone deserved a one-way trip out of the valley, it was the asshole dragon stuffed into an expensive suit.

They reached the high-ceilinged atrium. Wolcz slowed and shouted, his voice booming off the marble walls. “Just thought you’d want to know that your much-vaunted sheriff is fucking the traitor moonwing dragon!”

Tanner clamped down on his instant rage with iron control. He merely raised a single eyebrow at the juvenile outburst. The idiot politician had to know they were the only three people in the building.

Shiloh’s laughter echoed louder than Wolcz’s outburst. “You tell ‘em, Captain Obvious.”

Wolcz pugnaciously jutted his chin forward as he stormed out the double doors and onto the sidewalk. Tanner watched him go until the heavy doors clicked shut. Some idiots could never get out of their own way.

Shiloh clapped him on the shoulder and told him to go home. Tanner didn’t argue.

He returned to the cabin and Avelunne. He gave her a blow-by-blow account because she deserved to know that Wolcz was reaping what he sowed. A moment later, his personal phone and Avelunne’s smartphone beeped with message indicators.

An official text from the Council announced Wolcz’s resignation, diplomatically thanked him for his service, and directed all complaints to the remaining members. Then another text came through for Avelunne.

She shook her head in confusion, then showed the screen to Tanner. “What does this mean?”

It was a message from Tiziri, the sand dragon. He didn’t realize she and Avelunne were friends.

LOL. Ding, dong, the witch is dead!

He laughed out loud. “It’s a quote from a famous movie from last century called ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ Munchkins sing it when the bad witch dies.”

“What? Humans made a singing movie about witches and wizards?”

He realized she had no references for anything he could describe. “Want to see it? I can probably get it from a streaming service.” While he was setting it up, he got a non-urgent text from the station, which he forwarded to Shiloh. This was more important.

They sat on the floor and watched a girl in red shoes follow a yellow brick road. Avelunne laughed at the Munchkins. She curled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. It was almost perfect.

But he felt it. In the quiet moments between scenes, a shadow passed through their telepathic bond. It was a flavor of sadness he couldn’t name. It felt like she was memorizing the moment rather than living in it. He tightened his arm around her. She squeezed back, but the distance remained, and he didn’t know what to do about it.