Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139: Grace: Started Early

I turn to find the elderly couple from the nearby RV approaching with cheerful waves. The woman’s dressed like she’s out for a hike, with a huge, floppy hat on her head. The man’s wearing overalls splattered in oil and paint. Both of them walk with a spryness belying their apparent age; judging by their wrinkles and the whiteness of their hair, they’re pushing seventy.

Then again, I’ve never been great at guessing age. Once I thought someone was forty, and it turned out they were in their twenties. Another time I thought someone was sixty, and he was seventy-three.

Don’t get me started on kids. I’m notoriously bad at guessing them. I’ve already been guessing Bun at two and Jer at about eight, Sara around ten, and Ron at fifteen. I should probably ask them. As their de facto guardian of the moment, I should definitely know how old these kids are.

Behind me, I can practically feel Caine coiling with tension. Before he can do something regrettable—like growl at two senior citizens—I hustle forward to intercept.

"Hello!" I call, plastering on my best everything-is-normal smile. I hope I don’t look like a freaking lunatic. "What a strange storm, right?"

"Don’t," Caine warns under his breath. "You shouldn’t talk to strangers."

I shoot him a look over my shoulder and hiss, "They were here first. It’s not like they followed us." Then I plaster a welcoming smile back on my face as I greet our new neighbors.

I never expected to be the family with a bunch of kids at some sort of camping spot, but here I am, with four of them. And a wolf I have to somehow pass off as a dog.

... hopefully Fenris doesn’t eat them.

The couple stops a respectful distance away, their smiles unwavering. There’s something oddly symmetrical about them, their posture mirroring each other with uncanny precision. I’ve heard old couples start looking like each other over time.

Does that mean I’m going to look like Caine when I’m old...?

"Quite the electrical storm," the man says, his voice pleasantly weathered. "I think I finally understand what they mean by that term!" He chuckles, like he’s made a joke.

The woman nods, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you all lose power too? Our camper’s been on the fritz since it hit. Batteries are completely drained! We’re going to have to power up the generator."

"We had some issues," I admit, relaxing slightly. We’re all just normal people making normal conversation. Nothing strange here.

Movement at my feet draws my attention. The retriever—Sadie, if I remember correctly—has belly-crawled the last few feet to where I’m standing, her eyes fixed hopefully on my face. I bend down to pet her, running my fingers through her soft fur.

Caine growls again, the warning in his tone unmistakable.

I ignore him. Sadie’s fur is silky, warm from the sun, and she leans into my touch with a contented sigh. At least someone isn’t afraid to let me near them.

"She’s usually much more reserved with strangers," the woman says, sounding mildly surprised.

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