Page 122 of Shifters Reckoning

“Mom…”

“You’re not going to undo any of it by getting weepy on me now, Emma Carter. I need you to walk out of here believing you’re coming back. I can’t believe it if you don’t.” Her thumbs grazed my cheekbones. “So here is what we’re going to do. We are not going to say goodbye. We’re going to say what we always say. Say it.”

“Love you, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you too.” The steadiness of her voice steadied me. “Send me a photo of the stars before you shove off for the night.”

“Will do,” I whispered. It was the promise I always made when I was camping alone in the woods.

Then I took a deep breath and went to find the others.

Phil was at the grill behind the mess hall in a canvas coat, flipping enough food to feed a marching army. He just did it, in the worst hours, when there was nothing else he could do.

“Evening, Multimorph.” He put a plate in my hands without asking and turned back to the grill. Eggs, bacon, and another one of Sophia’s cinnamon rolls. “Eat. You’re going to want it.”

“You’re feeding the whole camp.”

“Somebody’s got to.” He flipped a row of bacon with the focus of a man performing a sacrament.

I’d figured it out a couple weeks ago. Feeding people was how Phil prayed. He couldn’t fix the war, and he couldn’t heal the wounded. Winning the duel wasn’t an option for him, but he would make sure no souls marched south hungry. He poured himself into that the way I poured magic into a wound.

“You come back,” he said, not looking up. “There’s people here who’ll need feeding after, and I do better with a reason.”

I ate every bite, standing in the frost, and it was the best meal of my life. I told him so. Phil pretended not to hear me.

My phone buzzed while I was standing at the edge of camp, and I almost didn’t look.

But it was Shannon and Riley in a group thread that had apparently been going since dawn. I read through the texts.

Shannon: Okay, but who’s covering the Christmas Eve shift over there at Dr. Rod’s office? The Hendersons board their whole zoo over the holidays, and SOMEBODY has to medicate the parrot.

Riley: not it lol the parrot bites

Riley: also when’s the boss even reopening?? asking for me who misses the Christmas parrot

Shannon: She said after new year. Spring. Be patient.

Riley: I’ve been patient for like a decade

Riley: tell her we saved her the good stapler for desk

Shannon: We did not save her the good stapler, you lost the good stapler.

Riley: DETAILS

Shannon: Emma, hon, if you’re reading this, no pressure, whenever you’re back. The clinic’s not going anywhere. Neither are we.

This was the thing I folded into my chest like a steel plate—a world where the biggest problem was who medicated the Hendersons’ parrot, a world worth keeping exactly that ordinary, Riley’s terrible jokes and Shannon’s “hon” and a good stapler that was lost.

Me: DON’T lose my clinic keys the way you lost the stapler. Back before you know it. Save me the good stapler you don’t have.

Me:

I pointed my phone at the rising moon. No stars shone in the darkening sky, not with the moon so bright, so I sent my mom the lunar photo. Then I turned my phone off, and I went to find Logan.

My mate was waiting where he’d promised he would be, at the edge of the army assembling in front of the gate. He didn’t say anything, but he opened his arms, and I stepped into them. He put his forehead to mine.

Our bond did the rest.