During the time Atlantis fell

  The world shimmered like memory but felt real beneath his paws. This forest wasn't one he knew, it smelled like home.

  David crashed through the bush, breath burning sweet in his chest. The wind tore through his fur, a wild exhale of pine and earth. Every stride was a dare—the rush of motion, the thud of paws sinking into springy mulch, the snap of twigs brushing his flanks. He wasn't thinking. He was being.

  Four legs drove him deeper into the woods, claws slicing the forest floor. Damp needles exploded behind him in sprays of scent and motion. His muscles coiled and uncoiled in rhythm with the land—like the forest welcomed him back.

  Then came the tree.

  He slammed into it spine-first. The jolt ricocheted through his ribs. Stars burst behind his eyes. The pine shivered, releasing a soft shower of needles that clung to his back like snowflakes.

  David groaned, staggering to his feet with the tree’s trunk for support. Saghani appeared at the edge of the bush, her silver bangs catching the light. Her lips twitched.

  "Den mate, are you okay?"

  He blinked hard. Her sparkling blue eyes betrayed a struggle not to laugh.

  Then he noticed—

  “You’re...you’re naked!”

  The concern on her face dissolved into amusement. "You've been with the two-legs so long their silly habits have rubbed off."

  Her form shimmered. In an instant, she wore a lacy white dress, bodice opaque, skirt pleated.

  David’s eyes widened. “How did you do that?”

  “I just copied you.”

  David blinked—confused. Then froze.

  A breeze traced up his legs. Fabric whispered.

  He looked down.

  His breath caught.

  Skirts.

  His skirts.

  He yelped and ducked behind the bush again.

  Saghani’s brows lifted. “Careful or you’ll tear it.”

  “I’m wearing a dress! I’m a dude! I’m not supposed to—”

  “But you put it on.”

  His cheeks burned. “Last time someone saw me like this, I lost a relationship. Men in dresses are freaks. It’s just unnatural.”

  Saghani lifted her skirts, revealing leather sandals strapped around her ankles. She crouched, bringing her eyes to his level.

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  “That’s ridiculous,” she said softly. “You’ve forgotten your wolfkin roots."

  He ducked lower. “Back home, someone’d attack me in the street.”

  Her eyes dimmed with pity. “You’re not some foolish two-leg. You’re Den Mother’s hand. Their foolish rules mean nothing to you. Or, at least they should.”

  She hissed, “They make great fuss over who wears what—yet wear the skins of other creatures without shame.”

  She extended a small hand. “You are not in the wrong. They are.”

  Her words lingered like pine sap on the skin. David swallowed hard and took her hand.

  The breeze tugged at his skirt. His heart thundered. But he stood.

  The underbrush rustled again—fast, this time.

  Three young wolfkin burst into the clearing, skidding on pine mulch.

  The black wolf shifted first. In a blink, he became a man—tall and lanky, olive-toned skin catching the light, short-cropped black hair slicked back from his brow.

  David exhaled. That face—undeniably familiar. Present. Real. His son. The one who he hoped to see this summer.

  “Father, are you okay? How did you not see that tree?”

  Even as he stepped closer, his form began to blur.

  Muscle gathered. Shoulders widened. The hair lengthened, darkened—now jet black with a streak of blue-grey down the center. The olive skin gave way to pale flesh, moon-touched and ageless.

  The man who stood before him was different. Older in some ways. Wilder.

  David blinked. A hollow ache stirred in his chest. His son—one he’d known a long time ago. And now, all he knew was that he missed him.

  A flash of white bounded through the brush. The smallest wolf—a silver-bright blur with silver-socked paws—skidded into the clearing.

  She shifted as she landed, becoming a young girl with white-silver hair braided in twin ropes, wildflowers tucked behind one ear. She collapsed onto the pine mulch, giggling.

  “I’m sure that offensive tree got what it deserved!”

  The sound hit David like light on water. It brought no clarity—only warmth. Deep, unreachable, and familial in a way that unraveled something quiet inside him. His little fur ball of energy.

  She laughed harder, rolling in the grass, utterly at peace.

  The silver wolf behind her was wiry and quick. She shifted next, revealing a girl with olive skin and thick red curls that ended at her shoulders. Her stance was solid, her green eyes bright with challenge.

  She crossed her arms and shot him a wry smile.

  “Take it easy on him, Kalen. He just hit a tree…”

  David’s breath hitched.

  He knew her—Aelyson. The judgment behind her grin. The weight of something left unsaid between them.

  Then her form shimmered again.

  She grew taller. Her features lengthened and thinned. The olive skin lightened to a pale, silvery hue. Her hair straightened and fell long down her back. Her green eyes softened into hazel.

  He didn’t remember her by name. Not truly. But something in him responded—familial, old, and unspoken.

  Then came the scent of lavender—sudden and soft. It brought with it a feeling of peace, of rest.

  The girl who had laughed now stood beside her older sister, "Is he okay Liora?" Worry marred the innocence on her face.

  The taller one said, gently, to the child. “Let him breathe.”

  David’s world tilted. The tree under his hand turned insubstantial. His chest clenched.

  A hoot echoed overhead.

  He looked up to see an owl drop out of the branches of the tree he'd offended.

  As it landed, its form shimmered and became a woman—blue-black hair streaked with starlight, emerald eyes aglow.

  On her shoulder, a raven perched. Its beady blue gaze locked with David’s, unsettlingly familiar—like looking into a version of himself that had chosen differently.

  The wolfkin bowed their heads.

  “Den Mother’s daughter,” Saghani said with reverence. “We are honored by your visit.”

  The woman smiled. “Greetings, Saghani. It pleases me to see you again.”

  David stared at the mysterious, yet strangely familiar woman, jaw slack. “You’re the woman I saw… burning at the stake. In my dreams.”

  Her green eyes turned to him.

  Pain flickered in her gaze. “Aye, m’chroi. ’Twas the beginning of my time with Mother.”

  She paused, scanning the gathered wolfkin—each pair of eyes bright with reverence and love.

  “This is your beginning…” Her voice trailed off into the wind.

  The forest spun—moonlight and sunlight threading through pine tar and needles, dissolving the edges of self.

  David sat up, gasping. The dream clung to him. He could still smell lavender.

  The beer on his nightstand was warm, flat. He didn’t care. He drained it.

  The taste grounded him. Bitter. Real.

  Lobo lifted his head from the floor, worry flickering in his golden eyes.

  A raven cried once in the distance.

  Lobo’s ears flicked toward the sound. Then he lay back down, still watching David.