by Zoe Chant
Some of the tension eased from Rufus’s shoulders, but his mental tone was still tinged with worry. *What if the other kids don’t like me? I won’t even be able to talk to a lot of them.*
“There are other ways to communicate. And remember, people have to learn to adapt to your needs, too. If there are any problems, you can always talk to me.” A distant memory tickled the back of Zephyr’s mind, and he added, “Though watch out for a kid named Archie. It might take him a while to learn how we do things around here.”
Rufus shot him an odd look, and Zephyr could sense the questions piling up behind those shadowed eyes. Fortunately, Rufus didn’t get a chance to quiz him further. A low, steady stream of cursing interrupted their conversation.
“Shit, shit, shit.” A woman darted out of the closest of the long, low log cabins, her chest heaving for breath. She raked a hand through her short blonde hair. “Oh, shit. Rory is going to kill me.”
“Lost something?” Zephyr said dryly, from behind her.
She whirled round, letting out a relieved gasp as her dark brown eyes fell on his small companion. “Rufus! Oh, thank fu—uh, fudge. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Rufus shrank in on himself, his chin dropping to his chest. *Sorry, Aunt Lola.*
“He was fine,” Zephyr said to Rory’s sister. “The kids just got a little overexcited, that’s all. But what are you doing here? I thought you had to get back to Alaska for pre-season training.”
“I do,” the smokejumper replied. “But Leonie wanted to take one last flight, so I said I’d watch Rufus for her. I swear I only took my eyes off him for a second. Please don’t tell her I lost him.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Zephyr said, hiding a smile. He looked up as a shadow swept over them all. “Looks like we got here just in time.”
The griffin spiraled down from the sky in a graceful curve. As its gleaming claws touched the grass, its sleek form blurred, shifting.
“Oh, that was wonderful!” Leonie’s cheeks were pink with exertion. She was shorter than her twin, and curvier; soft and rounded where Lola was all hard muscle. Her bright gold eyes sparkled. “The dawn light on the mountains is so beautiful. I’m sorry I took so long, Lola.”
“Noooooo problem,” Lola said, rather too fervently. “I’m glad you didn’t rush. Are you sure you don’t want to keep the eagle over the summer?”
“No, you need to be able to fly more than I do.” Despite her words, Zephyr detected the faintest hint of wistfulness in Leonie’s tone. “Hi, Zephyr. You’re here early.”
“Not as early as I might have been,” Zephyr said, carefully not looking at Rufus. “There’s a lot to do to get ready for the summer group. Oh, Beth and the other hotshot kids are coming over. I said they could help set up. Can you find jobs to keep them out of mischief?”
“Probably not,” Lola muttered. “If that includes Estelle.”
Leonie laughed. “I’ll manage. Lola, you’d better head off or you’ll miss your plane. Are you sure you don’t want to take the lion with you too? I worry about you, out there in the wilderness. I’d feel better knowing that you could shift into the griffin in a pinch.”
“Hey, I just jump out of planes into burning forests.” Lola hugged her sister. “You have to wrangle a whole bunch of shifter kids. You’re the one with the dangerous job.”
As always, nothing visible occurred. But the back of Zephyr’s neck prickled, like a cold breeze had just swept round him. There was a fleeting sense of something moving between the twins, flowing unseen from one soul to another.
When they broke apart, Lola’s eyes had lightened from warm brown to raptor yellow. Leonie’s were now a deep, leonine amber.
Lola kissed Leonie’s cheek. “Have a good summer. Bye, Rufus. See you after fire season.”
She shifted, launching herself into the sky. The enormous eagle circled over their heads once, letting out a piercing call of farewell, before soaring away.
“Come on, Rufus,” Leonie said to her nephew. “You can help me check the boats. Zephyr, if you’re heading to the office, you might want to make it fast. Alder’s looking for you.”
Zephyr grimaced. “Thanks for the warning.”
He headed for the center of the campsite, where the cabin that housed the office and admin facilities stood. Despite doing his best to stick to cover—edging around cabins, keeping the buildings between himself and the edge of the forest—he only made it halfway across camp before an imperious voice speared through his mind.
*Slight Breeze!*
Zephyr sighed, and turned around. “Hello, Alder.”
Lifting his head, Alder looked down his nose at him. This was undeniably effective, given the length of the nose involved. It was quite something, to be disdained by a unicorn.
*I understand you are limited by your small primate brain, but it would be polite to at least try to stretch yourself to remembering my full name.* The syllables crystallized in Zephyr’s head like snowflakes, icy and precise. *I am Alder-in-Winter.*
“I was about to say that,” Zephyr said, who hadn’t. “Was there something I could do for you?”
Alder-in-Winter sniffed, black-rimmed nostrils flaring. He was big for a wild unicorn, closer in size to an elk than a deer. Zephyr could have ridden the stallion, if he’d had a death wish.
*I understand that yet again you intend to host a pack of children here.* The gray unicorn’s tone left no question as to what he thought about that idea. *I demand to know what steps you will take to ensure that no humans will trespass into our lands.*
“For a start, the summer camp is only open to shifter children. There won’t be any mundane humans here. And secondly, what does it matter? Even if someone did manage to catch a glimpse of your people, they’d only see a group of deer. Or has something happened to your protective glamours?”
*Our powers are as strong as ever,* Alder-in-Winter replied stiffly. *But that does not mean that we can allow outsiders to trample through our territory. As the voice of the herd, it is my duty to protect our privacy.*
Not for the first time, Zephyr wished the herd had chosen a different spokesperson. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much choice. Unicorns didn’t use language as humans understood it, and the vast majority of them couldn’t manage to send more than vague telepathic imagery and emotional impressions. Alder, with his pale silver eyes, was the only one of his kind with the power of universal communication. He could ‘speak’ to any species—albeit with the occasional hiccup in translation, such as his overly literal rendition of Zephyr’s name.
Ironically, he was also the most closed-minded unicorn Zephyr had ever met. Even after all these years living on Thunder Mountain, he was a staunch traditionalist. While most of the herd welcomed occasional contact with the local shifters, Alder-in-Winter still clung to a policy of complete isolation.
“You have my word that the Cub Campers and staff will respect the boundaries, and won’t stray into your territory,” he said. “Was that all?”
Alder-in-Winter’s long black tail flicked from side to side. *The border must be respected on both sides. By everyone. I trust that this year, you will send back any… strays.*
Now Zephyr understood the reason for this meeting. “Alder—”
*Alder-in-Winter.*
“In-Winter,” Zephyr completed, clinging to patience by his fingernails. “I can promise to keep my campers away from the herd, but Camp Thunderbird is a place for all special kids. If unicorn youngsters want to join in and make friends, I’m not going to turn them away.”
Alder stamped a hoof. *It is dangerous! I cannot allow our colts and fillies to be seduced by exposure to decadent human ways!*
“With all due respect, Alder-in-Winter, that’s not up to you. Sunrise and Petrichor are perfectly happy for Flash and Leaf to take part in summer camp, and so are the parents of the other kids. Unless you’re setting policy for the whole herd now?”
*I am only the voice of the herd, not its leader,* Alder-
in-Winter said grudgingly. *But I had hoped that you would support me in this. You spend much time passing on your own stories and traditions to your younger generations. Surely you can understand that we must do the same. We are the last of our kind. If we do not hold fast to our ancestral traditions, who are we?*
“I do sympathize, Alder-in-Winter. Really. But I don’t think trying to keep your youngsters in ignorance of the wider world is going to solve anything.”
Alder-in-Winter’s ears flattened. *Your opinion is neither required nor wanted. Keep your younglings to your side of the mountain, Slight Breeze. I will strive to do the same.*
The gray stallion cantered away, silver horn gleaming. Zephyr let out his breath. He could only hope Alder never discovered Flash’s cellphone. Or her TikTok account.
Shaking his head, he ducked into the office—and stopped in surprise. “What are you doing here so early?”
From the other side of the desk, Conleth shot him an incredulous look. Despite the early hour, he was impeccably dressed in a dark business suit, complete with a forest-green silk tie the exact same shade as his eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read your email yet.”
“Conleth, it’s seven o’clock on Monday morning.”
Conleth continued to stare at him, as though Zephyr had made a totally random observation that had no bearing on the current situation whatsoever. “And?”
“And some of us actually enjoy weekends where we don’t look at our work phones.”
Rolling his eyes, Conleth went back to his laptop. “Well, it’s a good thing some of us take this business seriously. We have a crisis.”
“We always have a crisis.” Zephyr hooked a chair over, sitting down opposite the pegasus shifter. “What is it this time?”
“Mort called. He has to pull out. Can’t do this summer.”
Zephyr hissed through his teeth. That was a crisis, and a sizeable one. “Then we’re short-handed.”
“To be accurate, we’re up shit creek in a deflating raft with no paddles.” Conleth kept his eyes fixed on his screen, never pausing his rapid typing. “Without Mort, we’re above the legal limit on the number of kids per supervising adult. We’d have to cancel some of the bookings, starting with the charity cases.”
“Not an option,” Zephyr said firmly. “Any chance we can persuade Mort to change his mind?”
“About the same chance as staging a delightful ice-skating contest in Hell, I’d say. He didn’t want to talk about it, but reading between the lines, I’m guessing his animal is playing up.”
Zephyr winced. “I suppose we can’t really put an out of control wendigo in charge of kids.”
“Not unless you want to rebrand the summer camp as a ski resort. And unseasonal blizzards would be the least of our worries.”
“Agreed. So we have to find someone else. Lupa?”
“Already tried. Pregnant.”
“What, again?”
“Twins, apparently.” There was a slight edge to Conleth’s voice, which might have been envy. “At this rate, she and her mate will be able to field an entire baseball team.”
“That’ll please Fenrir. What about Moira’s friend, you know, the sea lioness? She helped us out the first year.”
“Seija? Not a chance. Runs a lifeboat crew these days. You won’t be able to tempt her away.”
Zephyr tried to think of other shifters who might be able to help. It was a short list, and he came to the end all too soon.
“Have you looped Moira in on this yet?” he asked. “Perhaps she can order an extra knight to help out. She did manage to fill our other last minute vacancy, after all.”
“Ah.” Conleth shot him an indecipherable look. “Yes. About that.”
Zephyr let out a groan, slumping. “Moira told me only last week that she’d found a volunteer. Don’t tell me we’re down another counselor.”
“Technically, no.” Conleth picked up his phone, thumbing a rapid message while still typing on his laptop with the other hand. “She brought him in last night. He’s… well, I think you’d better see for yourself.”
Zephyr had some idea what to expect, since Moira had brought quite a few sea dragons to Cub Camp over the years. After Joe’s misadventures, the Sea Council had been understandably nervous about yet another member of the royal family gallivanting around on land without proper security. They couldn’t actually forbid Moira from working as a camp counselor—especially not since the venture had her mother’s full approval—but they had expressed a ‘strong recommendation’ that she should be ‘appropriately accompanied’ at all times.
Moira, ever the dutiful sea dragon princess, had thus been shadowed by a succession of bodyguards, none of whom had ever lasted more than a single summer. No doubt her latest recruit would be yet another tall, serious young knight with exquisitely polite manners and an air of stoic martyrdom.
The man who burst into the room was precisely one of those things.
“Shield-brother!” The vast, wild-haired man flung his arms open wide, beaming at Zephyr as though he were a long-lost relative. “Surely the sea smiles on our meeting! You are the jarl of this fine steading, yes?”
Caught off guard, Zephyr could only gape at the man. From his fur-trimmed boots to his braided red beard, he was, to all appearances, an actual Viking. He wore leather leggings and an undyed, sleeveless tunic clasped with a broad belt of linked gold disks. Bracers protected his tattooed forearms, and a twisted golden torc shaped like a serpent encircled his thick neck. All he needed to complete the look was an ax and an expression of murderous rage.
“Er, yes.” Zephyr recovered his manners enough to rise and offer his hand. “At least, I’m in charge of Camp Thunderbird. Zephyr Frazer-Swanmay. Please to meet you, uh—”
“Ragvald Ragnarsson, of Eastveld Steading and Clan Fyrgard!” Ragvald ignored Zephyr’s outstretched hand, instead clasping his forearm in a bone-crushing grip. “Well met, Zephyr, jarl of Thunderbird Steading, of Clan Frazer-Swanmay! The great lady Moira has told me much of your mighty deeds. Come, let us embrace as befits newfound brothers at the start of such a grand undertaking!”
Zephyr found himself yanked into what was either an overly enthusiastic bear-hug, or a wrestling hold. Any response he might have made was lost in the rush of air out of his lungs.
“Ragvald,” said a familiar female voice, in tones of careful patience. “What did I tell you about picking people up without asking permission first?”
“But we are bound to the same venture, of one heart and purpose!” Ragvald’s arms tightened, like a child trying to prevent a toy from being taken away. Zephyr’s spine creaked. “Would you have me treat him as coldly as though our clans had sworn bitter blood-feud?”
Moira sighed. Crushed against Ragvald’s rough chest, Zephyr couldn’t see her, but he could precisely picture her pained expression.
“Put him down, Ragvald.” Moira’s voice sharpened, taking on a ringing, regal clarity. “That’s an order.”
Ragvald grumbled, but set Zephyr back on his feet. “Sea dragons. Always so formal. I am sure you have taken no offense, have you, jarl Zephyr?”
“None at all,” Zephyr gasped, still trying to work out whether any of his ribs were cracked. “And just Zephyr is fine.”
Ragvald let out a bellowing laugh, slapping Zephyr on the back hard enough to drive all the breath out of him yet again. “Hah! I knew we would get on like—what is it you say? Horses on fire?”
“House,” Moira said. “A house on fire.”
“Ah.” Ragvald stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, that makes more sense. I wondered how anyone could delight in putting the torch to harmless beasts.”
“I think you need to explain to him that we don’t set fire to buildings either,” Conleth muttered to Moira.
Moira sighed again. She was a tall, elegant woman, who always carried herself with quiet dignity. Even dressed in cargo shorts and a Camp Thunderbird staff T-shirt, she exuded class. She was so much Joe’s polar opposite t
hat Zephyr still sometimes found it hard to believe that they were brother and sister.
“I’m so sorry, Zephyr,” she said. “I’m afraid Ragvald is still getting to grips with human society. But he’s very… enthusiastic about being here.”
“It’s quite all right,” Zephyr said. “Enthusiasm is exactly what we need in our camp counselors. I take it this is your first time on land, Ragvald?”
“Ha!” Ragvald belted out another enormous laugh. He flung his arms out, and Zephyr braced himself for another round of affection asphyxiation—but Ragvald just posed, as though presenting himself for inspection. “Do I look like I was born under the waves, far from the touch of the sun? I took my first breaths in the cold, icy air of Ormholm, and cut my knees on her fine sharp stones! No, friend Zephyr. No sea dragon, I.”
Zephyr hesitated. It was normally beyond rude to question another shifter about their animal. However, it was clear that Ragvald was operating under different rules of etiquette. And from the gleam in the big man’s eye, Zephyr was fairly sure he wanted to be asked.
He took the plunge. “May I ask what type of shifter you are, then?”
“I,” Ragvald’s barrel chest swelled even further with pride, “am a worm.”
Zephyr blinked at him.
“Wyrm,” Conleth clarified. “With a y. Apparently they’re a kind of flightless dragon.”
Ragvald made a sound like a lion that had been poked in the rump with a stick. “Dragons are craven, flighty thieves who know nothing of honor. We are not dragons. We are wyrms.”
“Conleth meant no insult,” Moira said, flashing the pegasus a warning look before turning to Zephyr. “Ragvald’s kind are distant cousins of sea dr—ah, my people. They mostly live on a hidden island in the North Sea.”
“Ormholm, bleak and bitter, built on the bones of my ancestors.” Ragvald gusted out a huge, wistful sigh. “Ah, my heart already weeps for the biting kiss of your snows.”