The Witch’s Shifter Sneak Peek

Chapter 1

Aurora

WHEN I STEP OUT OF the cottage, the first thing I smell is woodsmoke. It curls lazily from the cottage chimney, a light gray plume spiraling and twining up into the sky. My toes—still bare despite it being late September—press into the grass, which has started to crinkle and turn brown. It won’t be long now before the snow returns to us. We often have snow on or around Samhain, which is just one moon away. The thought makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. It’ll be my first chance to see Auntie since her passing, and everything needs to be perfect .

Clutching my wicker basket, I set off toward the henhouse. Lucy has two more hen friends—Marigold and Whisper—and all three of them are scratching about the big fenced enclosure Rowan and Alden built, waiting for me to let them out. I knew Lucy would appreciate some company, and it so happened that one of the villagers paid Alden for his work in chickens rather than eldertokens. He looked a bit flustered when he got home that day, one hen tucked under each arm. I still giggle when I think of it.

“Good morning, girls,” I say as I flip the latch on the gate and swing it open. Lucy and Marigold rush out amidst a puff of feathers, but Whisper, the quietest of the flock, takes her time and pauses at my feet. I reach down to stroke her silky white feathers, then smile as she joins the others in searching for early-morning worms. Their claws scratch about in the grass and leaves that’ve started to fall from the aspens dotting the tree line. The sound brings me a sense of peace as I breathe in the fresh cool air and place a hand on my stomach.

I’m almost five months pregnant now, and my stomach has started to show. The bump is still small, but it’s undoubtedly there, as are the back pains and leg cramps. But the morning sickness has finally stopped, and I’m feeling a bit more myself—even if I am a slightly slower and rounder version of myself.

Both Alden and Rowan are gone from the cottage, busy with their responsibilities in Faunwood. Alden is working on a repair at the Golden Lantern, our village’s small inn, and Rowan is on duty today—like he is almost every day. When Rowan is home, though, he tends to follow me around, keeping an eye on me like I might need him to catch me should I fall. The bigger my stomach gets, the more attentive he is, to the point where I’ve had to wave him away and send him off to do anything besides lurk over my shoulder. But I know he means well. It’s his child I’m carrying, after all.

With the hens happily scratching in the earth, I set off toward the forest. On my way past the garden, I spot Harrison asleep on a garden chair. He flicks his ears and opens an eye as I come to stand over him.

“Want to go on a walk with me?” I ask.

With a yawn and a stretch, he leaps down into the grass. “Sure.”

Together, we head for the trees. As soon as I step out of the morning sunlight and into the shade of the big pines, I shiver. In the summer, the forest’s shadows provide a respite from the heat, but now that autumn has settled over us, the cool air is chill enough to nip at my nose, making me grateful I opted for a long-sleeved dress.

“When will Selene arrive?” Harrison asks as we meander slowly through the forest.

I’m on the lookout for mushrooms this morning. It’s the perfect time of year for a creamy mushroom soup alongside a fresh loaf of crispy sourdough; just imagining all the flavors and smells makes my mouth water. Alden and Rowan will be so pleased to arrive home to such a wonderful meal.

“They’ll be here the week leading up to Samhain,” I say, eyes narrowed as I scan the bases of the pine trees for mushrooms. “Ooh, look!” With a skip to my step, I approach a fallen tree, and growing in a cluster along it is a trove of yellow-orange chanterelles. I kneel in the cool dew-covered undergrowth, not minding that my skirt gets a bit wet and dotted with leaves, and begin carefully plucking the mushrooms from the rich earth. Into my wicker basket they go.

“When is that?” Harrison asks. He’s watching a beetle lumber slowly through the fallen leaves, his tail twitching.

“One moon from now.” With a huff, I push to my feet, wincing slightly at the ache in my low back. “Plenty of time to prepare for her arrival.” Casting my gaze about the forest, I spot a beautiful hawks wing mushroom, and that, too, goes right into my basket.

“Will she be here long?” Harrison asks, traversing the forest behind me.

“A week at least,” I say, still slightly distracted as I continue my search for wild delicacies.

“Perhaps she’ll stay longer,” he says in a wistful tone.

His love for her makes me smile. “Perhaps.”

We continue our walk through the forest until my basket is full to the brim with chanterelles, hawks wings, and even some wild strawberries. Those won’t go into the soup, but perhaps I can make a sweet treat on the side.

I’m just standing from a patch of mushrooms when Harrison goes rigid. His tail points up, and his ears flick forward. I follow his gaze but don’t see anything.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I smell something.” He sniffs the cool air, which is heavy with the scent of decaying undergrowth and damp earth. “Something that shouldn’t be here.”

Those words make my stomach clench. “What do you mean?”

But Harrison doesn’t respond. The hair along his back slowly rises, filling me with dread.

Bears are common in this area, and I know wildcats make their home in the forest as well, but they don’t usually come around, opting for solitude instead. What could have Harrison so upset, then?

A moment later, I hear something moving through the brush. My fingers wrap tight about the handle of my basket, and I’m suddenly wishing I hadn’t wandered so far from the cottage. But nothing has ever threatened me in these woods before—not even when I was a child—so fear isn’t something I associate with the trees.

The low growl that rumbles out of Harrison’s throat has me almost ready to run. But the thing that steps from the shadows of the trees turns my veins to ice, freezing me to my spot.

I’ve never seen a wolf before, but I’m almost certain they’re not supposed to be that big. Even on all fours, the canine must be at least up to my shoulders. Its head is massive, and I imagine it could end me in one swift bite with those powerful jaws.

Harrison hisses, and the wolf growls in response, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates in my chest. But then its eyes find me, and they’re such a vibrant blue that for a moment I feel as though I’m being sucked into them, am getting lost in a world of sparkling sapphire, and I forget the fear.

The creature takes another step forward, snapping twigs beneath its paw. When it moves into a patch of dappled sunlight slipping through the trees overhead, I see for the first time that its midnight-black fur is matted along its shoulder and chest, like it’s coated in...

Blood.

It’s injured.

Another step, and this time I see that the wolf’s gait is troubled, hitched. It’s protecting itself, walking slowly. It continues toward me amidst Harrison’s violent hissing. I want to take a step back, to abandon my mushrooms and sprint from the trees as fast as my bare feet will carry me, but something prevents me from moving. The fear? Certainly. But there’s something else too, a curiosity, perhaps even a feeling of sympathy for the creature.

I want to help it.

The wolf pulls its lips back in a snarl, and once more, I see blood. It drips over its sharp white teeth, stark in contrast. Whatever happened to this animal, it’s probably lucky to be alive.

“Run, Aurora!” Harrison yells at me.

But I can’t. The wolf is holding my gaze, keeping me captive with that intense stare.

And despite the fear and panic coursing through me, I’m still standing there when the wolf lets out a pained whimper and collapses forward into the leaves.

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