The trip into town was supposed to be a reprieve—a day of girlie fun and ruffles to offset the heavy lifting of pack logistics. I had the golf cart parked by the equipment shed and traded it for the Beast, because if I was going shopping for a Little, I needed the cargo space. GG sat on the bench seat behind me with Kyle, who was bouncing with excitement, while Amara sat tucked between them, her small hands gripping the comfy cushion back as she stared out the window at the world passing by.
The mall was a sensory overload for the cubs, but for me, it was a mission. I didn’t just stop at the flower girl dresses. We hit the children’s boutiques like a whirlwind. My credit cards and tone translated into a shopping spree that had the sales clerks scurrying. I watched Amara’s eyes go wide as I piled up soft cotton underwear, thick socks, and sturdy jeans. We found a set of pajamas so soft they felt like clouds, and then I saw it—a plush robe made of faux cat fur, complete with tiny ears on the hood.
“For the junior member of the cat-sitter club,” I whispered, wrapping it around her small shoulders. She didn’t say a word; she just buried her face in the soft fabric and breathed in the scent of something new and clean.
We took the Littles to the center court, where a giant, velvet-furred Easter Bunny sat surrounded by plastic eggs and tulips. Watching Kyle and Amara sit on that bench for their picture—Kyle with a protective arm around her, and Amara giving the camera a shy, tentative smile—made the inklings in my chest settle into a warm glow. We finished the afternoon with a lunch of chicken nuggets and french fries, the kind of greasy, glorious meal that makes every kid feel like a king.
But the glow didn’t last.
The second the Beast crossed the threshold back into the packlands and we transferred to the golf cart for the final leg to the outskirts, the air changed. The static felt cold. When we pulled up to the shack, the front door was hanging open, swaying slightly in the breeze.
“Rachael?” I called out, my voice sharp.
No answer. I hopped off the cart before it even came to a full stop. I found her in the small, cramped living area. She was on the floor, her skin a gray, waxen color that I recognized instantly from the darker days of my own past. Her breathing was shallow, ragged—the unmistakable sign of an overdose.
“GG, get the cubs back!” I shouted, dropping to my knees beside Rachael. “Call for an ambulance and get Stormy and Knight up here now!”
The next twenty minutes were a blur of adrenaline and desperation. I used every ounce of my caregiver training, tilt-lifting her chin and monitoring the fading pulse while GG stood on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around Kyle and Amara, whispering comforts I knew the cubs couldn’t truly hear over the sound of my heart pounding.
Stormy and Knight arrived like a thunderclap, their presence filling the small shack. Stormy didn’t ask questions; he saw the state of Rachael and the look in my eyes and immediately stepped in to help me keep her stable until the paramedics arrived. The silence between us from the night before was gone, replaced by a grim, shared focus.
We followed the ambulance to the hospital, a somber procession of pack vehicles. Once Rachael was admitted and the doctors took over, the reality of the situation settled into the sterile waiting room air. Rachael was alive, but she wasn’t coming home tonight. And Amara couldn’t go back to that shack.
“She’s coming with us,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument as I looked at Stormy.
He simply nodded, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “She’s a cub of the Moon Shadow, Veronica. She stays where the Luna stays.”
That night, the Beast felt smaller, but in a way that offered the only true safety I knew. We tucked Amara into the center of the large, comfy bed, sandwiched between Stormy’s radiating heat and my own steady presence. Smudgieand Emmy sensed the shift, curling up at the foot of the bed like silent sentinels.
As I watched Amara’s breathing finally even out into a deep, exhausted sleep, I felt Stormy’s arm drape over both of us, anchoring us to the mattress and to each other. The road was still out there, and the pack was full of shadows, but in the amber light of my dragon-green sanctuary, the flower girl was finally safe.