Chapter 5

5

L ogan was sure things could not possibly get worse when he saw Tabby at his front door, but now he realized that was just a failure of his own imagination.

Franzi was in a blind panic, startled from sleep by the escalating fight, and she shifted out of instinct. The apartment was completely unknown. Logan was probably still a stranger to her. And Tabby was a newcomer, yelling and threatening him with a chair.

Tabby dropped the chair, right onto her own toes, and she bit back a cry as she hopped back into a half-filled bookshelf. Franzi leaped into the air.

Calm her down! Calm her! Calm her!

All of their careful childproofing had been for a short four-year-old with fingers, not a filly with long, breakable legs who tried to flee over the couch and out the window before ricocheting off the arm and into the motorcycle. It gave a clatter as the kickstand was knocked away and Logan was glad that he and Tabby had just tied it off to the wall because, while it might not have crushed her, it could have pinned a leg instead of just clipping her.

Franzi bolted from this new danger and tried to scramble behind the sagging easy chair that faced the couch. She was not quite four feet tall at the shoulder, and there was simply not enough space between the chair and the wall. She panicked as she couldn't find a place that felt safe.

Logan had to shut Tabby from his mind as she hissed colorful swearwords under her breath and gathered the chair back up as if she was a lion tamer. Logan ought to be panicking because Franzi had just exposed the secret of shifters in one fell swoop, but instinct was adamant that Tabby was not a danger, chair or not. The important thing now was getting Franzi soothed.

Logan's stallion wasn't helping at all, with his own animal panic. Calm her! Calm her!!

It would be easier if you weren't freaking out in my head , Logan pointed out.

Calm her!!

Logan knew that chasing Franzi would only make it worse so he went slowly and carefully to the center of the room, where he could sit, and she would have room to approach him.

She had her face stuffed behind the chair, but none of the rest of her would fit there, no matter how she struggled and kicked.

"Franzi," Logan called quietly. "It's okay. It's Uncle Logan and this is Tabby and no one is going to hurt you. You're okay. You're safe. Everything is fine."

The motorcycle, determined to make a liar out of him, fell the last few inches with a crash as the bungee cord slipped from the seat where it had been looped.

Tabby gave a squeak that turned into a hysterical laugh, and she put the chair down with a thump and sat awkwardly down on it herself as if her legs had given out.

Franzi stopped kicking, but stood shivering in fear, not offering to pull her head out from behind the chair. She was a young filly, all lanky legs and anxiously flicking tail, her mane pale against her honey hide. She had four white socks and a blaze down her nose.

"Did your dad teach you the lullaby our mom sang?" Logan asked, not sure how else to start. "Pickles in the jar, tell me who you are…can you see the moon, you will be there soon?"

He didn't remember all the verses, it had been too long. "Something something something in your head. Pickles in the beer, tell me what you hear…can you see…" Surely it hadn't been beer . Logan stumbled through. "No, can you be…?"

Franzi lay down, her head still behind the chair. Should Logan go to try to comfort her?

No.

Logan wasn't sure what was instinct and what was his stallion; it was sometimes hard to tell them apart, but right now they were aligned. If he moved now, he would spook the girl.

He started over again. "Pickles in the jar, tell me who you are. Can you see the moon? You will be there soon. Pickles in the…soup? Glass? Dang, I don't remember the next words."

Franzi finally pulled her head out and whinnied impatiently.

When she realized she couldn't speak, she shifted, hanging back in the protected space beside the chair. "Pickles in your cheek. Sing a song of sleep." She had shifted with her dress, an impressive feat considering her age and how panicked she had been .

"Oh, that's good," Logan said. "You know the song better than I do! Thank you, Franzi."

He was rewarded with the barest hint of a tear-stained smile.

Stanza by stanza she crept out a little further, until Logan could have reached out and picked her up. He still didn't, letting her come of her own will to finally crawl right into his lap and go limp in his arms. He wrapped her up and rocked her gently. "I won't let anything hurt you," he promised. "You're safe here. I'll protect you."

"Not SUPOZE to be a horsey," she whispered in anguish. "Sorry." It sounded like sowwy in her childish lisp.

"It's okay," Logan promised. "You're safe. It's okay here."

Franzi clung to him and sobbed in relief.

Logan didn't realize that his chest could feel like this as he comforted her. It was as if his heart behind his ribcage was too big to fit there, as if he was softer and somehow still stronger than he'd ever been. Franzi was so complicated and precious and it was impossible that Logan had only known her a day and could be so completely in love with her.

Herd, his stallion said with a nicker of joy. Our herd.

" That's how you did it," Tabby said abruptly. Logan had almost forgotten that she was there. She ought to be there, like Franzi was supposed to be in his lap with her warm, comfortable weight as her crying slowed.

The momentary serenity vanished. Tabby wasn't dumb, and now that she knew that shifters were possible…

"That pretentious lock of white hair and your supernatural gracefulness. That smart, smart horse. That was you , you sonuvabitch ."