Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 172: Grace: Theories

By the tthe tow truck comes and goes and I've made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all the adults

(only to find out Caine likes grape jelly like a psychopath), I'm calm again.

We're out. It didn’t happen to us. And right now, that’s my focus.

Besides, despite having lucked out onto a wide shoulder like this, I'm still a little worried a car’s going to crash

into us. With our current streak of luck, it isn’t a baseless concern.

Andrew dangles a piece of crust in front of Sadie, who's been sitting in front of him with begging eyes since he

first started eating. He seems both nonplussed and enthralled by her.

At first, it was weird. But then | thought about it. Wolves never get to spend twith dogs, so they've never had

the Sadie experience.

Her tail swishes against the floor as she gingerly snatches it from his fingers, only to then scarf it down like a

feral beast.

Then he gets a second bit of crust out, dangling it in front of the dog.

"Don’t feed her that!"

Andrew freezes mid-motion, the crust hovering between his fingers and Sadie’s expectant mouth. "Why not?"

Sadie’s eyes lock with mine. Her tail stops wagging. I've destroyed her doggy Christmas.

"Because we don’t know what's up with her." | take another bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly as | frown at

the dog. She’s cute, but knowing there’s something strange about her... it’s hard to see her as just a big,

loveable ball of fur.

But so far, aside from her lack of fear, she’s just... a normal dog.

Too normal.

Shouldn't she want to go back home? Why is she so comfortable in a stranger's car? And now she’s going in and

out of the camper with us like she’s been part of the family forever.

"It’s just a dog, Grace." Andrew shrugs and drops the crust anyway. Sadie’s tail resumes its happy rhythm as she

snatches the offering.

"She's not just a dog," | mutter.

When I'd asked what Sadie actually was, Lyre had danced around the subject. She did say the dog wasn’t any

sort of threat, and might actually be helpful. How a dopey golden retriever’s going to somehow help our little

caravan has yet to be realized, though.

But the kids like her. So | guess there's that.

Cto think of it, Lyre gave no explanation about what happened to Archie and Doris—just reiterated Owen's

claim that they're not dead and leaving them there will be fine.

Which, of course, makes zero logical sense, but I'm coming to think of this as thePhenomenon. Anything

under its purview is on a need to know basis.

Though I still don’t understand why an old couple who like to barbecue have anything to do divinities and Chaos.

And Caine’s been no help with dragging information out of Lyre. I'd thought he'd be pushier, demand answers,

but the moment the magic words cout of her mouth, he was done. It just took the one phrase: "They have

nothing to do with Grace, and they're not a danger to you."

After that, his focus had instantly shifted back to us—to me—with his intense, single-minded concentration. He'd

even said, "If it's not a threat to Grace or the children, it's not my concern right now," without even a flicker of

discomfort over saying a line I'd read out of a sappy romance somewhere.

But it should be his concern. It should be everyone's concern when two seemingly normal people turn out to be

something strange and dead-but-not-dead. In my world, we call those zombies, thank you very much. And

zombies bring uprisings and the apocalypse.

"Why are you mad at Sadie?" Sara asks, popping up by my elbow. | blink, realizing I've been glaring at the dog

while aggressively masticating.

| swallow my bite. "I'm not mad at her."

"You keep staring at her like you are."

Andrew snorts. "More like she’s trying to decide if Sadie’s secretly plotting world domination."

He's clate to the game, so he doesn’t know why I'm suspicious of the dog. I could always fill him in—and

would—but dragging him into another room to explain something sounds like a bad idea.

For him, anyway.

"Well, maybe she is," | mutter.

Sara flounces away to approach Sadie, running a hand over her golden fur. "Look! She's such a nice dog."

Caine chooses that moment to duck his head into the camper, filling the doorway. His eyes sweep the interior,

cataloging all of us in his quick, assessing way before landing on me. "Everything alright in here?"

"Grace thinks Sadie is an alien," Jer pipes up from where he’s sprawled on the couch.

"I never said that." | break eye contact with Caine, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.

His gaze shifts to Sadie, who meets

his stare with unflinching calm. nd

tongue lolls happilyySke lobks like a

oBstar Nil for retrievers

" f PU)

everywhere. "Lyre said she isn't

: "

dangerous. Do you not believe her?

"I do. I just think it’s weird and suspicious she’s sticking around us. What if she’s a mafor trouble?"

"She’s a dog," Andrew interjects again. "She can’t be that bad."

Sadie whines, and I'm convinced she not only knows we're talking about her, but she can understand every word

we're saying.

Maybe she’s a shifter like the children?

It would make sense. She loves them,

, q Q

and there's certainly no rule saying

i . rte n

dog shifters dot EXis mean, Sara

re a hedgehog, and all of

these kids are able to shift well

before the standard age of sixteen.

Maybe the old people were like Owen, saving a little soulspliced shifter who prefers to live as a dog.

The more | think about it, the more it

makes sense. Caine had said

something about the ¢lg people"!

onic

smefindadittie ike Owen. And when

Jer was freaking out, it was Owen

q ).

who cto explain they weren't

dead. The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

Yep.

Sadie’s a soulspliced child.

| just know it.

But how to prove it?