They say a mother’s love is unconditional. While I personally have not had such a relationship with my own mother, I know it to be true for others.
I discovered what I consider to be the finest example of this on July 1. There were reports of a bear attacking some of the livestock near the northern border of town. Like everyone else, I took these reports seriously and went to investigate. Unlike my fellow townsmen, I traveled along the deep paths, searching the darker recesses of my property, as well as the islands in Blood Pond.
I found the bear and his mate. As well as their children.
The bear was a shifter, from a little-known tribe and one, to be perfectly honest, I thought had died out completely. His wife was none other than Charlene Coffin, who had left Cross nearly twenty years before.
The family had built a home on the smallest of my islands, close enough to shore so the husband could hunt, far enough so that they could see anyone coming for them. Their home was rough-hewn but well-made. Within it, Charlene and her husband were raising their twins, a boy, and a girl, neither of whom were weened. One of the children, the girl, shifted as she fed, and Charlene smiled at me.
“It’s why we don’t bother to clothe her when it’s time to eat,” she said. “The girl shifts whenever she’s at the teat.”
Post Script: The shifters live on the island still, and, damn them, occasionally take some of my sheep. Still, I’ve had worse neighbors.
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