Young Adult Fiction
Justin looked over at me. Then he looked at the baby. But he turned and started up the old river road. "You said you just wanted to see her," he said.
"So I lied."
"Evie, you can't just take someone else's kid."
"I didn't steal someone else's kid, Justin," I said. "She's mine and I'm keeping her."
She drops the rifle to her shoulder. "Like I'd let you run around the forest with a loaded gun." She aims the rifle at the ground, and it occurs to me she's going to fire it. She thinks it is unloaded because that's how she keeps the gun, but I'm thinking about the cartridge I loaded, and I can't get the words out in time. She squeezes the trigger.
I didn't dare move, my four legs as uncertain and untried as a newborn's... The triumph of what I had done thrilled through my blood, and the terror of it too. It had happened without my effort or will. What if I could not change back? Panic rose up in my breast, and I might have tried to claw my way out of my new skin if not for the fawn. He nuzzled beside me, nosing my flank as though checking for milk and then backing up awkwardly to find and lick my muzzle. The wonder of it pushed away the fear, and once I stopped being afraid, I understood that returning to my own form would be as simple as willing it.
I felt strong. And angry. Angrier than I've ever been. His bare, wet chest collided with my palms, and I shoved him—hard. He staggered and fell backward.
