Page 110 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Outside, the world was darker than I expected. No porch light, just the wash of moon and stars over the pasture. The grass was damp, dew soaking my feet in seconds. I didn’t care. I kept walking, through the yard, past the empty cattle pens, and up toward the ridge.

Halfway across the field, I stopped and looked back. Calder had woken up. I could feel it through the bond. He was coming to find me.

The ranch was just a black shape with a few squares of light, Calder’s truck and the old workhorse both asleep in their slots. Nothing moved. I was the only thing out here.

I pressed a hand to my chest. The buzzing was worse now, sharp and hungry. I stood for a minute, letting the cold sink in, and waited for it to go away. It didn’t.

Footsteps crunched behind me. I turned. Calder. Barefoot, jeans, no shirt, hair wild from the pillow. He’d followed me, even half-asleep.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up until we were close, but not touching. I could see the question on his face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said. My voice sounded weird, far away.

He nodded. “I know.”

I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t do it. “Something’s coming,” I said.

Calder reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His hand was warm. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think it is.”

He stepped closer, hands on my shoulders, steadying me.

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered. This was insane. I was going to turn into a wolf. How was this real life?

His smile was soft. “You already are,” he said. “Just don’t fight it.”

I tried to breathe. The world tilted. My vision blurred at the edges. Calder pulled me in, wrapped both arms around me, and held on.

The buzzing turned to a burn, then a roar. My bones ached. My hands shook. I buried my face in his chest and tried to make it stop, but it only got worse.

Calder dropped to his knees and took me with him, the grass soaking through my shirt, the whole world turning on its side. I clawed at his chest, then at the ground, and then the pain hit. Not like being shot, not sharp, but rolling. Deep and all over at once. My ribs bent. My fingers curled in on themselves, fingernails turning black, stretching into claws. My jaw unhinged, teeth lengthening. My throat closed. I tried to scream, but what came out was a growl.

Calder knelt beside me. “Let go,” he said, low and calm. “Let it happen.”

I did. I let the pain eat me alive. My body broke open, light and heat rushing out, skin stretching and splitting along every seam. Fur exploded over my arms, legs, everywhere. My skull caved in, then remade itself. My hands, no, my paws, dug into the dirt, the earth cool and real against my new self.

It hurt, but it wasn’t suffering. It was like being broken into the right shape. It was what I was made for.

The change ended with a snap, like a rubber band breaking. I collapsed forward, panting, saliva dripping off my tongue. I could see every blade of grass. I could smell every animal in the next field. My ears twitched at the sound of a mouse in the barn, a full hundred yards away.

I blinked, and Calder was next to me. No, not Calder, but his wolf. Massive, gold-furred, with a scar across one eye and a look that was all business. He nudged me with his nose, gently. I snorted, then nipped at his ear. He licked the side of my face, and I snapped at him, just to show I wasn’t scared.

He took off, bounding across the pasture. I hesitated, but the urge to run was too big. I chased.

The ground flew under me. My legs moved like they were born for this, muscles stretching and bunching, the world a blur of shapes and smells and light. We raced the edge of the creek, Calder staying just a little ahead, looking back to see if I’d keep up. I did. We shot through the trees, under the fence, over rocks slick with moss. I lost my footing once and tumbled but rolled back up and kept going. I was laughing. Not with a mouth, but with every part of my body.

The whole time, Calder was in my head. Not with words, but with flashes. His first shift, his mother’s voice, Midge teaching him to ride. Memories, not thoughts, passing between us like air. I sent back what I had. My mom’s laugh, the first time I drew something, and it looked right, the way Calder’s eyes went soft when he looked at me.

We ran until we hit the ridge, the top of the whole damn world. The wind bit through my fur, and I howled, just to see if I could. Calder answered. For a second, it was like the whole universe belonged to us.

We shifted back at the same time, which was messier than I expected but didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time. My skin crawled off, then on again, muscles liquefying and knitting back up. When it was over, I was shaking, sweat cooling fast on my skin. Calder pulled me close, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and held on like he might never get to again.

We lay there in the grass, hearts thundering, staring up at the endless sky. My body still buzzed, but it was a good feeling now, like the static after a lightning strike, or the high after a near miss.

I broke the silence. “I thought I was running to survive, but I was running to this.”

Calder kissed my forehead, my cheek, then my mouth. “You ran home,” he said, and he was right.