47. Claire: Practice

47. Claire: Practice
CLAIRE

I manage to make it through the rest of my shift at the library, though it feels like time has slowed to a crawl. Each tick of the clock echoes like a drumbeat in my skull. I shelve books, answer questions, and smile through interactions on autopilot—but my mind refuses to stay present. No matter how many times I try to focus, my thoughts keep looping back to the black mark etched into my skin.

Vivian stays tucked in the corner of the reading room, supposedly working on her laptop, but I can feel the sharp edge of her presence. Her posture is casual—one leg folded beneath her, slouched slightly—but there’s nothing relaxed about the way her eyes sweep the room. She watches every patron who walks in, every stranger who lingers too long, her attention a constant, invisible pressure in the background.

I don’t know if it’s her tension rubbing off on me or my own nerves boiling over, but by the time closing rolls around, I feel like I’m vibrating beneath my skin. Every sound—the squeak of a chair, the clink of a book cart, the wind tapping against the window—hits my senses a little too sharply. Worry gnaws at me from the inside out, hollowing me with questions I still don’t have answers to.

As I turn off the lights and grab my bag from beneath the desk, Vivian does a quick sweep through the aisles—quiet, methodical, every step calculated. She meets me at the front door just as I’m locking it behind us.

“Nik’s following up on a lead,” she says, keys swinging from her fingers. “He’s running a little late, so he asked me to drive you back to his place. He’ll meet us there once he’s done.”

“Oh.” The word slips out too quickly, and I immediately regret how much emotion manages to pack itself into that single syllable. Relief rises in my chest, but so does something else—something harder to name. Disappointment, maybe. Longing, definitely.

I shove both feelings down where they can’t get in the way. I shouldn’t want anything from Nik. Not comfort. Not proximity. And certainly not the way his presence makes the air feel safer—like I can exhale again.

Whatever that is, I blame it on spending Heat together in the cabin. On the intensity of those few days we were together. On the way survival has a funny way of tying people together when everything else is falling apart.

Vivian raises an eyebrow, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. 

“What?” I ask, instantly on edge.

“I think I know exactly what you need,” she tells me, slipping on her coat.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

She opens the passenger door for me like it’s some kind of grand reveal. “We’re going to work on your Shifting.”

I blink. “What? Now?”

“Yep. Whenever I start feeling too much—stress, anxiety, restlessness—Shifting’s the only thing that cuts through it. You’ve got too much energy bottled up, and it’s making you twitchy.” She nods toward the car. “So we’re going to let some of it out.”

I hesitate, but there’s a strange sort of relief tugging at my chest at the suggestion. And excitement. Like something inside me has been quietly begging to move, to release, to be.

“All right,” I say finally, sliding into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”



An hour later, Vivian and I stand in Nik’s back yard— though I’m not sure if it could technically be considered a yard.  The space behind his house is more an extension of the surrounding forest than anything else. The space is lush and practically overgrown with lush greenery and wildflowers and like everything else about Nik’s house I’m finding I love it.

It’s peaceful here. Easy.

If only Shifting was as easy.

“Let’s try this again,” Vivian says, her voice steady and reassuring. “Focus on finding that calm center within you. Remember, shifting is about embracing that part of yourself that’s wild and free.”

For the past forty minutes, Vivian has been trying to walk me through what I need to do in order to Shift back into my wolf with no success. Sweat prickles along my forehead and the back of my neck and a headache blossoms at the back of my skull. Needless to say, this hasn’t exactly panned out to be nearly as relaxing or therapeutic as I was promised.

Pushing aside my frustration, I take a deep breath, trying to do as I’ve been instructed to do. Closing my eyes, I attempt to quiet the chaos in my mind. I search around, trying to find that same latent power that I’d felt thrumming just beneath my skin just a few days ago at the cabin.

It doesn’t feel like it’s there.

Whatever that had been…that spark of power seems to be gone now.

Vivian’s voice breaks through my concentration, still managing to be calm and encouraging. “Picture your wolf form in your mind. Imagine the feeling of your paws on the ground, the wind in your fur. Let that image guide you.”

I try to follow her instructions, picturing how it felt to be in my wolf form in vivid detail. I imagine the sleekness of my fur, the strength in my limbs, the sharpness of my senses. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to hold onto the image.

I groan dramatically, flopping back onto the rough wild looking grass that’s spattered around Nik’s house.

“I’m beginning to think that the last time I Shifted was a fluke,” I admit, frustration creeping into my voice. 

Vivian drops down onto the ground beside me, “It wasn’t a fluke. There’s no such thing when it comes to Shifting. Either you have the ability or you don’t. And you most definitely do.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ll get there. It might just take some time.”

“And how long does it usually take for someone to figure out the transition after their first Shift?”

I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that question: None. It usually doesn’t take any time at all. It’s supposed to come naturally after the first.

Vivian easily maneuvers the question, “It’s different for everyone. No two Shifters are exactly the same.”

I groan again, laughing despite my frustration, scrubbing my hands over my face, “Don’t try to trick me into feeling better about this.”

“There’s no trickery going on here,” she snorts, “You’ll get there—”

A rustling sound crackles from the bushes at the edge of the woods. Beside me, Vivian tenses, but quickly relaxes a moment later. 

I turn my head to the tree line just as a massive white wolf emerges from the forest. I recognize him instantly as the same massive white wolf that I’d run through the mountains with just a few days ago. I’d recognize him anywhere. 

Nik.