5. Lorin

Chapter five

Lorin

H e was barely holding the tears in as he stared at the sight in front of him. The little fox's weight on his lap helped somehow.

He felt almost grateful it had fought its way into his arms after he'd tried loading it into the back seat. The warmth of its fur and the gentle licks of its tongue against Lorin's exposed wrist kept him grounded. More than he cared to admit.

Especially when he was sitting in his grandma's car, staring through the window at something he hadn't thought he'd ever see again.

"You kept it?" he asked, and she turned the car off, taking her hands off the steering wheel and nodding.

"Of course," she said, voice terse. He knew it wasn't because she was angry this time.

"You knew I'd come back?"

"Surprisingly, no. I had no idea if I'd ever see you again."

"Then why…?"

"Because I'd lost everything that mattered," she said. "My daughter, my grandson… This cabin was the last thing I had left that made it feel like parts of you both were still here. Even if you only spent a couple of years living here."

He turned back to look at the cabin. His eyes were burning with the need to cry again, but he didn't think he had the strength anymore.

Lorin had no real memory of the cabin. He'd been too young when his parents died, and once he was finally told what happened to them, the older he got, the harder it was to visit.

It was like a living, breathing gravestone.

Like his grandma's house, the cabin had taken in his mother's magic. As a beaver shifter it had followed naturally that it would be built with his father's own hands. It had become an extension of them. Even after death, it lingered.

Lorin stared at it now with a dry throat.

The dark wood that had been painted black melted into its surroundings, the point of its roof hugged by evergreens and bushes all the way around like it had grown alongside them in their shadow. The plants had taken hold of the porch supports, wrapping them up in their embrace. More climbed between the roof tiles, hanging over the crosshatched windows. None of the windows were the same shape. The one in the door was an oval, the central one which sat under the point of the roof between the beams was a cathedral-style half round. Only the smaller rectangular ones on the first floor were blocked by curtains, the others showing hints of blurry shapes just beyond through the darkness.

His mother's things. His father's things.

It was such a small home to hold so much.

"It's yours."

Lorin couldn't look at her. "It's not."

"It calls for you, not me," his grandma said, taking his hand and placing a large brass key between his numb fingers. "It's yours. It remembers you."

Lorin closed his fist around the key, feeling the faint hum even through his gloves. The feeling was like an excited hello.

The fox sniffed around his hand like it could feel it too, trying to poke its snout between his fingers to investigate.

Lorin closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before pushing the car door open.

The fox gave up its investigation and instead hopped out of the car, the arch of its body graceful, its tail flicking Lorin under the nose. He followed the fox on shaky legs, only getting as far as the very edge of the property before pausing.

The stone pathway leading up to the five stone steps was clear, green with age and slick with melted snow and rain. Soon it would build again, and the steadily dropping temperature would make sure all the surviving greenery was blanketed.

The fox roamed around, investigating, ears pricking with every sound. Lorin watched it dive out of sight before reappearing, pristine white fur dirty.

It often looked back at Lorin, as if making sure he was still there or coaxing him closer. Lorin couldn't properly tell, his head too clouded and heart too sore to be an accurate measure of anything.

The way the fox darted up the stone steps to paw at the door was a clear sign, though. It sat down and looked back, creating a perfect tableau of everything Lorin hadn't wanted in his life.

His familiar. His old house. Confronting ghosts and memories, no longer able to hide from them. Unable to wrap himself in the protective cloak of solitude. And yet there was a compulsion in him that urged his feet forward. Toward the fox. Toward his parents' house. Toward the secrets it held.

He put the key into the lock and turned the heavy bolt, taking a shuddering breath before turning the handle. The door swung inward without needing to be pushed, like the house couldn't wait. The fox slipped inside as soon as the gap was big enough, and Lorin frowned, feeling worry build as soon as it was out of sight.

He could hear the gentle tap of the fox's feet against the worn wooden floors, and he went after it, following the patter carefully. His heart urged him to look around, to take in everything he could and just hold it all inside.

But his mind forced him to keep his eyes forward. Focused.

There was an echo of a past him in the walls. There was an essence of him inside that cabin, and he knew, he could just feel that he was once happy there. Cared for and loved and protected. He'd had a home there.

He walked farther in on shaky legs, looking around the open space of the bottom floor. A small living room was crammed full of oversized, cushy furniture, a kitchen tucked at the other end of the room. Both the furniture and the cabinets in the kitchen were made of dark wood that almost matched the floors, but while the wood matched, nothing else seemed to.

The upholstery on the furniture ranged from dark, mossy green velvet on a large armchair, through a muted beige on a long sofa, to a very bright, loud floral pattern on a little love seat tucked into one corner. The kitchen cabinet doors matched the mismatch. They were all painted a different shade of green, yellow, or orange, making the entire place look like an extension of the woods seen through large windows at the back of the house.

The room seemed to take up most of the space on the bottom floor, with doors leading into what Lorin assumed were most likely a bathroom and a bedroom.

And finally there was a wooden spiral staircase leading to the top floor.

The fox was trotting down the stairs just as Lorin paid them attention, leaving tiny paw prints in the layer of dust on the floor like a signature, imprinting itself on something else Lorin now owned.

As if it wanted to make himself a part of every little bit of Lorin's life.

He felt a nudge against his calf and looked down to see the fox pushing its nose into it, nudging Lorin to take a step forward.

He didn't want to.

He didn't want to merge himself with the place. Every second spent inside made him feel like he was giving in. Like he was turning his back on what he had decided long ago and allowing the shadows of past him to become more solid than the him he had become over the years.

He didn't think he was ready for that to happen. Didn't know if he ever would be.

He'd just turned around, ready to head out, when he heard a car engine start and the rumble of it as it drove away from him. He rushed to the open door and found himself looking at the cloud of dust his grandma left in the wake of pushing her barely working car to the very limits as she hightailed it out of there. Leaving Lorin alone with his familiar in his childhood home.

His bag had been left by the half-fence separating the house from the rest of the woods, as well as a bag filled with groceries and another with some blankets and a pillow tucked inside. He walked out and picked it all up, carrying it inside and dropping it next to the door.

The door closed behind him on its own, like it was in cahoots with his grandma. It wanted him to stay now it had him.

Lorin shuffled straight to the armchair, placing his hands on the back and slumping down, heart racing.

What was he supposed to do? Live here? Give up his life in the city? His job? He had no friends to speak of, so it wasn't like anyone would be missing him in that area, but he still had ties there. He couldn't just cut everything out without a word because his witch heritage had come back to bite him in the ass. He didn't think that was a valid excuse to violate his lease and his work contract.

The fox knocked over a box with a crash and Lorin glanced over as it looked innocently back at him amid a mess of old shoes, its amber eyes shining in the low light. Lorin shook his head, feeling a tiny tickle of amusement that he squashed.

He had no choice. That was the answer.

It had always been the answer.

His whole life.

Now Lorin just had to deal with the outcome.

He had a familiar. His witch power was going to increase. Those were facts. While he could choose not to live up to his potential as a witch, the familiar was nonnegotiable. He was responsible for and actually had to take care of it. He couldn't rely on his grandma forever and pick his life back up in the city the same as before. She'd given him the grace of a few days to let it sink in. She'd kept the fox healthy while he'd tried his best not to look at it, despite the fox's pleas for notice and attention.

But now it was just them.

Lorin had to confront it instead of burying himself in distractions and running away.

He took a deep breath, figuring that he'd deal with things one at a time. He still had another week and a half of vacation time, but he didn't think just sending an email saying he needed more time would work. He needed to decide what to do about it if he was staying in Oak's Hollow. But he didn't have the bandwidth for it just then.

He'd work out what to do about his job, his apartment, and his belongings another day. Right now he had a disheveled cabin and a fox running amok inside it.

He reached for the nearest light switch to fully see what he was dealing with and was met with a hollow click.

No power.

Wonderful.

The fox came bounding over then, making ear-splitting sounds with its mouth hanging open in an excited grin. Lorin had forgotten how harsh foxes' voices actually were.

Lorin frowned down at it. "What's wrong? What do you want?"

It hopped around his ankles, clearly trying to communicate something. Lorin had no idea what.

"Stars, isn't it supposed to be easier than this?" he said to the dead air before looking down at the fox. "I'm a horrible witch. I'm not cut out for it, okay? I have no idea what you want from me."

The fox gave a huff and ran to the back of the cabin where a sliding door had been placed. Lorin frowned deeper and worked his way over, dodging the fallen shoes and a few more boxes of things his grandma must have collected before giving up and leaving the rest where they were.

The fox pawed at the curtain partially obscuring the view into the woods and Lorin located the lock before pulling both of them open at once. The fox hopped outside, looking back at him expectantly.

"Do you want some privacy? I can leave you to do your thing if you need to, like…go…"

If the fox could have rolled its eyes, Lorin was sure it would have. There was a distinct air of disdain vibrating around them suddenly.

"Am I supposed to follow?"

The fox disappeared around the corner of the cabin porch like that was the answer and Lorin sighed, following along until he rounded the corner and saw a generator against the wall. It was connected to what looked like solar panels on the roof that hadn't been visible from the front of the house. Next to it was a large barrel that had pipes going into the house, presumably for some source of water.

"Oh," Lorin said, utterly surprised. "Did you find this before we came in?"

The fox sat down and wrapped its tail around three paws, raising the other one to lick at. It was effectively the fox equivalent of examining its nails smugly.

A helpless smile curled the corners of Lorin's lips. "I guess you're pretty smart. Or it was just a coincidence…"

The fox made a noise like it was objecting.

Lorin tilted his head. Familiars were attuned to a witch's needs and were obviously different from wild animals, but they didn't actually understand full sentences. So why did it seem like this one did?

Lorin shook his head. Figured he'd have a weird familiar to go hand in hand with everything else in his life.

He turned to the generator and eventually figured out how to switch it on. There was no way he was staying here in the dark, and definitely not the cold when that set in properly. The bite was already in the air. More snow was coming.

They made their way back inside, shutting the door behind them, and Lorin tested the lights, watching them flick on with ease. Lorin felt a stupid sense of accomplishment before he realized that was really just the tip of the iceberg.

He scanned the room that was now illuminated.

The most obvious thing under the lights was the dust. Layers and layers of it, covering every visible spot. Lorin frowned at it, his pedantic tendencies coming out in full swing. He could not live like that. There was no way in hell.

He walked over to the cramped kitchen, opening up a few cabinets until he located one that was stocked with cleaning supplies.

They seemed brand new.

He snorted at the sight of them, knowing his grandmother's plans always ran deeper than she let on. She'd prepared the place for him. She'd set everything in motion on the off chance that he found his familiar. He didn't know if he wanted to thank her or hop into her car and run her over with it. But she'd probably see it coming anyway.

With a deep sigh he threw his jacket off, tossing it over the back of one of the wooden chairs sitting at the small dining table. He rolled his sleeves up and then looked at the gloves covering his hands.

He wasn't ready to not have them on. Not just yet.

He'd just settled for awkwardly cleaning with them on when something thumped him against the ankle. He looked down and found the fox trying to toss a pair of single use rubber gloves at his feet. Lorin widened his eyes, picking up the gloves and staying in his crouched position to look at the fox.

"How did you know?" he asked, feeling like an idiot because the fox wouldn't actually respond, now would it.

The fox came closer and stretched its neck up, licking his nose before trotting away, poking into everything it found along the way.

"I'll need to find you a name, you know?" Lorin said, as he stood up, replacing the gloves on his hands without looking down at his fingers. "I can't just call you the fox all the time."

He got a snort from behind the loveseat in response.

"I'll think of something," he said, picking up a pack of new sponges and a small bowl. He filled it with water and poured in some of the multi-surface liquid cleaner. It smelled of artificial apples, much better than the stench of disuse. He walked over to one corner of the kitchen and with the determination only a clear set goal in his mind could bring forward, he dove into cleaning the place.

He moved meticulously, changing the water the moment it got too dirty with the years of built-up grime settled onto the surfaces. The fox would visit with him often, in between sticking its nose wherever it could. Like a diligent little inspector, it would come to Lorin and nudge him a bit until he moved before sniffing at the newly cleaned surface.

"Jet?" Lorin would offer a name for its consideration.

The fox would turn and smack him with its tail on the way—a move Lorin took to mean no. The cycle repeated, over and over and over again.

"Mo?" Lorin suggested. The fox huffed before trotting away.

"Skip?" Lorin asked after witnessing the fox hopping over the pile of shoes expertly. That one earned him a god-awful screech. Okay then.

Surfaces and cabinets all clean and cleared, he moved on to the floors, finding a mop and a bucket in the tiny bathroom located behind one of the doors he had seen when he first walked in.

The bathroom would be his next project, he thought to himself, noticing the state it was in.

He pulled the mop behind him, allowing himself a snort at the sight of the fox chasing after the thing. It managed to get its tail dipped into the bucket of water and floor cleaner, hopping away and hissing at the bucket as if it had offended it to death.

Lorin caught himself smiling at the sight before he recovered himself. He threw himself into cleaning the living room as best as he could, opening the large windows to dry the wet surfaces and get some fresh air in.

The fox dashed back in through the back door, leaving tiny pawprints on the freshly cleaned floor, and Lorin frowned, pointing a finger at it.

"We're gonna have to teach you how to wipe your feet," he said. His eyes went wide when the fox actually trotted back and began doing a very strange but kinda cute shuffle on an old welcome mat in front of the back door. Lorin wasn't sure how effective it was, but he appreciated the effort anyway.

"That will do, thank you." Lorin cleaned up the pawprints with the mop again before leaning against it and throwing a glance at the fox. "Wiggles?"

He knew the name wouldn't go over well, but the outrage on that pointy snout still amused him.

He beat the sofa cushions one by one outside, arms aching, and stripped off what he could for washing. There wasn't a machine in the place, just a wooden tub the size of a bath outside with a metal washing board propped next to it. Something from out of ancient times.

The idea of using it was the tipping point. Tired and done for the day, Lorin took the supplies back to where he found them, turning more of the lights on as the daylight was slowly running out on them. He needed to figure out where they'd sleep and what to have for dinner. Curious, he walked over to the door closest to the bathroom, opening it slowly and poking his head inside.

The first thing that hit him was that same scent of dust and age caught between the cobwebs. And then his eyes focused. It was a tiny bedroom. A baby's room. HIS room. With sage green walls, a tiny wardrobe, and a white crib. There were little mushrooms, hedgehogs, and snails painted along the bottom of the walls, making the small room look like an extension of the woods outside. Like it was a part of nature. Like his parents had wanted to do everything they could to make sure he was tied to his roots.

He pushed the door farther open, feeling something brush against his ankle and watching as the fox rushed inside the box room, investigating everything in sight.

He walked in after it, each step measured and careful, like there was something dangerous inside. And there was.

His past was there. The very beginning of his life. The life his parents had probably planned and dreamed of together and hoped he'd get to have. The life that had been ripped away from him way too early.

He closed the door behind him, turning in place, then freezing when his eyes stopped on a framed photo hung on the wall just behind the door.

A family portrait.

His mother, dark-haired and dark-eyed just like Lorin, dressed in a flowy yellow dress and barefoot on the grass. She stood in the arms of a tall man with brown hair and pale brown eyes behind square spectacles that caught the sunlight. And held between them, a tiny baby boy. Dressed in a simple green onesie, smiling gummily at the camera, happy and safe in the arms of his parents. Arms he got to be in for such a short time.

An embrace that was stolen from him before he was old enough to remember what it felt like.

He could feel tears rushing back into his eyes. Could feel his chin tremble and his throat close. He walked back until he hit the side of the wardrobe, sliding down the smooth surface of it and sitting on the floor, still staring at the photo.

A sob found its way out of his mouth. Another chased it. And before Lorin could even think about controlling it, he was crying, staring at the little family that was no more, breaking down in front of it.

Something soft found its way into his lap.

Settled onto his bent legs. Licked at the tears and nuzzled his neck.

He felt sharp teeth prick his skin through the gloves and looked down, finding the fox tugging at the leather until it was off. It flicked its head until the glove was on the floor and then nuzzled its way under Lorin's palm. It shuffled around until Lorin's fingers were tucked inside the white fur and the warmth coming from the point of contact between them made Lorin gasp.

Like comfort rushing through his veins.

Like the safety he imagined his parents' arms had provided.

Like a promise that he'd never be alone.

Lorin dug his fingers deeper into the fur, lifting his legs until the fox was so close to his face he could bury his tears in its back.

He cried softly, and the white fluff dried the tears, never moving, never leaving.

Kit

Despite the rocky start filled with emotions, tears, and uncertainty, their day had shaped up to be one of the better ones Kit had had in a while. He'd spent so much time alone that just having someone around made a world of difference. But being with his own mate, the other half of him, just made everything so much better. So much more important and meaningful.

Kit was beside himself.

He wanted to make Lorin see just how good it would be now that they were together. He was determined to be the best mate and familiar to this witch. He'd show him just how important they'd be to each other.

Each smile on Lorin's face at his antics was like a brush of warm hands against his fur.

Each little chuckle he managed to pull out was like a tasty treat just for him.

He knew he was being a bit over-the-top, but it was who he was, and it made him happy to know that Lorin seemed to enjoy his personality. At least, Kit thought so, seeing as how Lorin tried to keep up a steady stream of conversation between them as he cleaned the small space.

He did not, however, appreciate being called every dumb name under the sun by his mate. Absolutely not. Wiggles? Skip? Mo?

No.

None of those suited him, and he already had a name. A name he quite liked. A name he hoped he'd find a way to relay to his mate so he'd know what to call him. So he'd know who Kit really was.

He didn't like the attempts to be renamed, but he'd take any idiotic name now if it meant having Lorin happy again. Or…not really happy, but not this broken, crying shell of a human Kit was trying to calm down.

He ached seeing him like that. It hurt more than Kit's own pain.

He tried pushing himself closer to Lorin, hiding his nose against his neck and letting all the tears Lorin had rush down into his fur. He'd soak them up. Hide them until they didn't exist anymore. He'd be the scaffolding for Lorin to build himself around again.

He'd be the family Lorin clearly didn't have anymore.

He dug his way farther into Lorin's arms and licked softly at the skin of his wrist as he vowed that he'd be everything Lorin needed him to be.