26. Epilogue
Epilogue
T wo months later . . .
Willa
“Now that we’ve killed over a hundred tarantu-scorps, this is a pretty peaceful planet,” I tell Bayne as we tramp through the woods.
“Yes, Love.”
Have I told you lately how happy I am? I ask, a close-lipped smile stretched across my face.
I believe you mentioned it before, during, and after we made love this morning.
Am I mistaken or is there a slightly smug look on his face?
We hear a noise to our right. I’m not sure I heard correctly, but one glance at Bayne’s ears which are pricked in that direction tells me something’s out there. I grab my laser pistol more tightly as he nocks an arrow, but we both stand down when we see a little squirrel-like animal scurry across the forest floor.
We go hunting first thing almost every morning. Well, first thing after we make love. I remember being envious of Dr. Drayke and his mate Nova for how well they worked together due to their psychic connection. I never thought how handy it would be in the sex department, but being able to silently tell your partner when you want it softer or harder or a little to the right ensures maximum bedroom pleasure.
I wink at Bayne and he squinches both eyes at me in response. I don’t know how a guy can be huge and masculine yet be adorable at the same time. Somehow, he pulls it off.
Our hunting trips have become fun for me. As long as I’m armed with a laser and not a bow and arrow, I feel confident when we hunt the tarantu-scorps. Actually, I feel more than confident, I feel competent—and proud that I’m pulling my weight.
It feels great to know we’re ridding our forest of the creatures. It was a lucky break that Fairea was getting bad intergalactic press about the deadly animals—it was affecting their tourism.
It turns out Zar was correct in surmising that the tarantu-scorps, well, it sounds like everyone in the galaxy calls them crindles , were not native to this planet and have been causing havoc since Khour brought them here a year ago. They had no natural predators and their population was expanding at an alarming rate.
The selfish asshole had them brought in for his hunting pleasure, not giving a damn that it upset the ecosystem for miles around.
The bounty we collect for every kill has been a bonus for our little band of friends at Sanctuary. We even collected credits for the ones we killed at the campsite after Callista forwarded satellite pictures to the Fairean authorities.
Every single one of us has worked our asses off over the last eight weeks—those that can. So’Lan is still recuperating in the infirmary, but thankfully he’s progressing every day. One day when Bayne was visiting him, he asked if So’Lan would like to meet WarDog.
When he explained that it was actually thanks to WarDog that Bayne had discovered him barely alive in that black cell and that it was his canine that had ended Khour, So’Lan readily agreed. Now he asks for Bayne to shift every time he’s there. Turns out that my big scary four-legged warrior has the heart of an emotional assistance animal. Well, I knew that, and I’m thrilled he’s now helping someone else find comfort and strength.
Before we moved down here, I spent countless hours talking to Star, who’s in charge of the hydroponic gardens on both ships. We poured over the Intergalactic Database and found some hearty fruits, vegetables, and legumes that will grow well here on Fairea. The timing couldn’t have been better because we arrived at the perfect season to plant our crops.
Not only am I having a blast cultivating crops that I hope will get us through next winter, but I’m also working on animal husbandry, too. My ultimate goal is to raise enough arlacks to sell at the local market. For now, we’ve bought enough to begin a herd as well as feed everyone in the compound. They’re as big as cows, but not quite as docile, and their favorite grasses just happen to cover our sizable south pasture.
Their meat is delicious, and their hides are strong and supple. Dawn said she met a male in the market when she takes in the extra eggs to sell, who works with leather. Sounds promising.
With Bayne’s support, I’ve decided to achieve my dream and work toward my veterinary degree. It’s a big step, and the program doesn’t start for several months, but I’ve already been accepted.
My dyslexia was always a handicap, but this program is taught mostly by vid on the Intergalactic Database. The tests aren’t timed, and with the use of the translator function, I’ll be able to keep up with all the other students. There’s a college nearby where twice a year an instructor will provide hands-on training. Although it won’t be easy, I know I can do it. The prospect is exciting.
The wild game Bayne brings in from his hunts supplements what we’re using from the arlacks . We feel a sense of accomplishment that we’re both an important part of our group. Although he prides himself on his hunting ability, he’s been invaluable tending the arlacks as well. It turns out WarDog is an amazing herder. His size intimidates the big animals and with me being able to mind link and communicate exactly what I need him to do we can move the growing herd quickly and efficiently. WarDog loves being able to contribute, and I enjoy watching him run to his heart’s content.
I’d initially worried about group dynamics, but natural leaders have stepped forward, and our community is progressing nicely, although not without squabbles and pitfalls. A few people seem to be pairing off, and there are a few who can barely stand to be in the same room as each other. I guess that’s to be expected in a group as large and diverse as ours.
The secret offworld trips that Naomi arranges have definitely piqued my interest. They return with scads of money, but I’m told information about them is on a need-to-know basis. They’ve also informed me I’m not on the need-to-know list. Those in the inner circle reassure me we’re safe, so I guess I can handle being in the dark, even though my curiosity threatens to kill me.
It was a great idea to stay on Fairea, Love. I tell Bayne. As much as I liked our friends on the vessels, I never would have been this happy on the ship. Digging in the dirt, helping birth ugly arlack babies, and watching my mate get to run on all-fours.
I’m happier to have a bow in my hand and my feet on the land , he admits.
And my paws, WarDog chimes in.
Since we’ve seen no arthropods and the forest is safe, Bayne will be shifting any minute. We have a routine. When he runs off on four legs, I stand with my back against a tree, my laser in my hand, and I watch him until his tail disappears as he lopes away.
The tiniest pang of sadness pierces me because I know what’s coming soon. I quit trying to hide my envy weeks ago, because when your mate can read your mind, keeping secrets is nigh unto impossible.
Although at first I wasn’t sure I wanted to be able to shift, now I long for it. We both gave up hoping about a month after our mating ceremony. We seldom mention it anymore, which probably isn’t healthy, but talking about it makes us both sad.
Bayne even offered not to shift because he knows it makes me hunger for something I’ll never have, but what kind of person would I be if I asked for such a thing?
So I try to take joy in watching WarDog’s enthusiastic play, and his unmuted happiness when he returns from a hard run.
I won’t be long, Love , Bayne says. Perhaps he sensed that my melancholy is sharper today than usual.
Take your time. I love to watch you having fun. At least that’s true.
He removes his clothes and folds them neatly in a pile at my feet, then swiftly shifts. WarDog laps at my hand, turns, and runs toward the sunny hillock about half a mile away.
My heart clenches in a potent combination of adoration and yearning. I love my two guys so deeply. I thank God every day that I found this depth of love.
Why did Bayne ever tell me I might be able to shift? Perhaps if he hadn’t dangled it in front of me I wouldn't want it so desperately. But, I scold myself, he didn’t dangle it to tease me. He was making certain I had informed consent before we mated.
I love you , I call in my mind, knowing they’re about to leave telepathic range. Good. I don’t want them hearing even a whisper of my morose longings.
I imagine what it would be like to run free like WarDog. What it would feel like to have four paws to press into the soft soil, or to smell every scent in the forest, or to run so fast my hair would whip in the breeze.
Then I feel an odd sensation deep in my belly, or is it my chest? It’s warm and tight and swirly. My brain fogs over and I feel weak in the knees. The disorientation lasts a moment, and I shake my head trying to dispatch my confusion.
Am I shifting?
Yes. I hear the voice clear as a bell in my head. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time.
You’re my inner canine? I hold my breath, hardly daring to believe.
Joy surges through me as I release a breath which becomes a squeal of excitement. How do I do this?
Easy , she says, just let me out .
Easy? Really? I shrug my shoulders and as I drop them, I relax and picture a door opening in my mind.
Yes. We’re connected. You have me now. We’ll always be together.
The door opens and she steps through.
I have just enough time to yank my tunic over my head before the shift slams into me in earnest.
When Bayne first told me about it, I had worried it would hurt. It should hurt when you consider the cataclysmic changes and strain it puts on the body.
My bones are morphing in size and shape, my internal organs are rearranging, and . . . holy shit, my teeth are elongating! But I just watch the changes. They aren't painful!
When it’s supposed to happen, it doesn’t hurt, my canine lovingly informs me.
She’s beautiful. Her fur is a warm caramel, and her tail and mane are a mix of caramel and the same color brown as my hair. Her luminous eyes are the same brown as mine. When I compliment her, her gaze dips to the ground. She’s a bit bashful. How cute.
I’m on all fours now. My vision is sharper, but colors are muted. My body feels large and powerful and strong. Amazing. I did it. I shifted. My canine barks in enthusiastic agreement, tail wagging with the same exuberance I’ve seen countless times on WarDog.
She can’t stand still for one more second. Her urge to run can’t be denied. It takes a few slow steps as I try to get the hang of all fours.
Stop directing me, she huffs good-naturedly. Just let go, I’ve got this.
Right. I let go. Then she’s loping, and in less than a minute she’s running, taking huge strides and barely panting with the effort.
Holy shit! This is magnificent! I’ll never shift back.
Yes , she agrees.
I realize that although she’s canine, she’s never had a body to run in before, either. I’ll just let her run and run until her body falls into a furry heap, and when she regains her strength we’ll run again.
The smells! She smells everything. Everything. Every varmint and critter from here to Sanctuary and back. I smell the decomposing leaves and . . . I even smell the sunshine. Smells that were gross to my human nose smell wonderful now. Well, if not wonderful, then they certainly smell exciting.
I smell WarDog. It’s as if he left a trail of neon blue smoke for me to track. It’s ridiculously obvious. Why did I never notice this before? She follows it easily and we see that WarDog does not like straight lines. He veers off, inspecting every nook and cranny of this forest. She follows his trail and discovers all the cool things he found along the way.
There he is. Standing on the hillock in the sun, his nose pointed in the air. I wouldn’t have understood yesterday, but now it’s obvious he’s smelling the sun. It’s pungent and reassuring at the same time.
All of a sudden, I’m not content to watch from afar. We both feel the urgent need to run to him. I don’t just want to be with him, it’s a desperate, urgent demand.
I realize that even though we share the same body in different forms, our thoughts and emotions are separate but shared. I had no idea just how this was for Bayne and WarDog. It’s amazing and intimate and confusing and comforting to know I will never again be alone. I’m slowly differentiating what I’m feeling and what is coming from my new and very special friend. That pressing, frantic, insistent desire is all hers.
I know the instant he senses her, and I watch as he turns his gaze in our direction. I’ve seen this look on his face a thousand times, but it’s so much more expressive when I’m looking through the eyes of my canine form. He loves us. But now it’s tinged with something else—desire.
He wants her. And she wants him. In my canine form, I think she desires WarDog as much as I desire Bayne.
This is the way it should be , Bayne assures me with the same feeling of wonder and surprise and delight that I am feeling
He runs to us. She holds back the urge to run and waits for him. He’s approaching so fast his fur is sleeked back by the breeze he’s creating.
Mate. Mine, he says.
Mate. Mine , she replies, unable to drag her eyes from her mate.
He’s running so fast he has to skid to a stop when he arrives in front of her.
He play-nips her mouth, and she play-nips right back until he runs back onto the sunny hillside, and she runs after him.
Your name? he asks, cocking his head.
Willa? she answers, not having a proper canine name.
Can I call you Beauty? It suits you.
Oh yes , she sighs with a huge canine smile.
It is a perfect name for her. It shouldn’t surprise me that WarDog is as loving and demonstrative as Bayne
Let’s let them have this time Bayne voices in my mind.
Yes, I agree . I pull back so Beauty can fully experience the wonder of her mate while Bayne and I share in their delight. Certainly, WarDog has done this for us so many times before. They circle and play and bark at each other. I always wondered what dog noises meant. Now I know.
Watching them and experiencing them vicariously, I’ve never felt so free in my life.
Then she smells his desire. He isn’t shy about sniffing her arousal either. She wants him. This will cement everything our relationship has been hurtling toward since the first moment we met in the cell on that slave ship. The three of us are in a relationship and this binds it more than any words can say. No, what am I saying? It’s the four of us now.
Love , mine, mate, WarDog says as he climbs onto her back, his forearms pulling her toward him, his sex at her ready opening. His huge mouth bites into her shoulder, holding her, marking her.
Beauty welcomes him inside her body and basks in the feeling of connection until their act is complete. In long swipes, he licks her face and the bite marks that will stay to match the ones I proudly bear on my shoulder.
Somehow, Bayne and I are naked on the soft, green grass, our limbs entwined.
You shifted , Love , he says with a sated smile.
I’d given up hope.
Me too. But here we are. Mated shifters.
Our kids will be, too? I ask.
Perhaps. Will it matter?
I pull him so tight I half expect to hear the sound of bones breaking. No. That’s just a detail. None of it matters. Nothing. So long as we’re together and we love each other.
You’re right. We have everything we need and everything we want, he says, his eyes luminous with love. Let’s go back to Sanctuary, we’ve got a herd to tend to. Do you have clothes? He asks as he eyes me up and down.
A tunic. I imagine my pants are shredded.
We’ll hide some clothes in the forest in case your next shift takes you by surprise.
I’m overcome by a bolt of love so strong it almost hurts as I realize this is my life. This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my days. I have a purpose, a herd to tend to and gardens to weed. I have a home, a family unrelated by blood, the freedom to be who we really are, and a sanctuary in which to live.
And, I sigh, I have a mate who loves me and always thinks of what he can do to make me happy as well as how to protect me.
Yes, Love . He throws his arms around me and tugs me close.
We send each other mental images of our inner animals. Both are passed out in postcoital bliss with canine smiles on their faces. WarDog gets his happy ever after, too.
Six months ago I never would have dreamed of anything more than the life I had. Somehow, life conspired to gift me with so much more.