Chapter One

Briar

I dropped the pile of firewood on the front porch. I still needed to grab a second load, and planned to stack it when I came back. The fall had been warmer than usual, but the briskness that said winter was nearly here had started to settle in. I was reaching the point where I needed to get wood every few days. In another month, it would be daily.

Last spring, I extended the roofline to cover my porch better, and so far it was doing a nice job of keeping things dry, even on days when the wind wasn’t in my favor.

What I really needed was a better plan for all the wood I chopped. Right now, it was put in a three sided shed that had seen much better days and the elements tended to seep in. The last thing I needed was wet wood when I was trying to keep my home warm. I’d looked up various plans for wood racks and sheds and, if the weather cooperated, was going to begin working on one of them next week. I’d thought of asking my brother to come and help, but he’d kind of been a jerk lately, so I pushed that thought aside.

I’d spent a long day chopping some fallen trees not too far from my cabin. They came down in a big storm earlier this year and I was glad they did. It was a lot easier than getting them down myself.

Unlike some shifters, I didn’t have intense strength in human form. I was a moose, not a predator. I could meander like a boss. I could stop and smell the roses—or eat them. But the actual strength it took to chop lumber? Mine was basically that of a human, and that was enough to get me by— it just made for really long days.

Once I had all the wood stacked on my porch, I went inside to see my answering machine flashing. I didn’t know why I kept that stupid thing. I had a cell phone, but I just couldn’t bring myself get rid of it. This place had once been my uncle’s, and he always had one. For whatever reason, it I guessed I felt like I should too.

When he moved to Florida to get away from the snow and the cold, I bought the place. I’d been wanting to come back to town after an attempt to live in the big city.

My uncle tried to flee Mother Nature, only to trade blizzards for hurricanes and freezing cold for sweltering heat.

After kicking off my boots, I pressed the message button. It was my brother, Martin. Of course.

“I know you’re home. You don’t ever go anywhere.”

True, I didn’t. But that’s because I liked it here. This was my home. It made me happy. I didn’t need to go gallivanting around to all the clubs looking for the next person to date like my brother did.

And sure, he found someone to marry him— three people, actually—one after another. His marriages crumbled each and every time. Why? Because he wasn’t looking for a mate. He was doing the human thing and having about as much luck as they did.

“Pick up the phone already.”

I listened to him go on for a full minute, trying to get me to answer the phone, then I called him back.

“About time.” He let out a sigh.

“That’s one way to greet your brother.” I plopped on the couch, not really wanting to deal with this conversation right now. I’d had a pretty good day, a very productive one, at least. “Did you think I was sitting here and listening to you talk on the machine, refusing to answer?”

“Come with me.” And ignoring my question it was. “I’m going to Sal’s. We’re gonna get our drink on and karaoke like a pop star.”

If a popstar had no talent, was drunk, and didn’t have their handler with them

Sal’s was a bar over an hour away—a hole-in-the-wall drinking spot, but it had karaoke. For whatever reason, my brother thought that was the ideal place to find a potential partner. Maybe it was for some people, but that wasn’t my thing.

“Go ahead without me, bro. I just did a bunch of firewood cutting. I need to get my fur on and walk around for a little bit and then get to bed.”

“You spend so much time in your moose form. Maybe if you spent less gallivanting in the woods and more checking out the local scene, you might find someone.”

“Or—hear me out, Brother—I like my life. I love this cabin. I love the woods. I love my beast.”

“And don’t you think you’d love it more with someone to share it with?”

I was so not getting into this with him. “If fate wants me to meet someone, I’ll meet someone. But I don’t want to go through all the wild dating rituals that you do, including but not limited to, karaoke, darts, pool, fantasy football, and whatever else you’ve tried to lure me in with over the past few years. I just don’t.”

“I thought I had you with the bingo.” He forced a chuckle. But, also, he was right—I did almost go to bingo. Not for the other people but because it sounded like it might be fun.

“I’m hanging up now. And for the record, just because you keep talking into the answering machine doesn’t mean I actually hear it. I have half a mind to get rid of that thing.” This was not the first, nor would it be the last time we had this conversation.

“No, you don’t. Don’t even pretend you do. You don’t like change, and that’s why the walls in the cabin are still the same color they were when Uncle James had it. And they’ll be the same color when you pass it on to somebody else. You don’t like change.”

“Exactly. So quit asking me to embrace change. Not gonna happen. I’m hanging up now.”

And this time, I really did.

Shucking my clothes, I went outside, fell back, and let my moose take over. It was my favorite time of night—just as dusk was starting to hit, the time when my moose loved to wander. And I did too.