“I’m not a girl.”

“Alright. Then what are you?” The man struggled to shove his child’s shirt over his head. Why did his cub (as he and his wife were so like to call Rowan) insist on walking outside the house shirtless?

“I’m not a boy either.”

“Okay. That’s fine, but what are you?” Aside from a ball of energy who was even now trying to remove the shirt Erland had just slid onto him. “Keep that on. You can’t go into town like that.”

Rowan huffed. “I’m a wolf, aren’t I?”

Erland smiled at his son, then ruffled Rowan’s hair. “If that’s what you wanna be, then sure. You’re a wolf.” Rowan bounced happily. “Just like your mother.”

“Yeah! Just like Momma.”

“Alright weasel. Ready to go?” Rowan nodded vigorously and ran for the door. Erland trailed after him at a slower pace. He had a great deal of work to do that day at the shop, and one of his tasks was watching Rowan while Leah slept.

Later that day Rowan asked, “Does Momma go into town at night?”

“Town’s closed at night.”

“Then where does she go?”

Erland wiped his brow as he raised the hood of the truck that had been brought in. He saw the gray in his dirty blonde hair, the strands a clear indicator of his age. He scratched his beard, which was also coming in grayer than it had a few months back. No wonder he was feeling old that day. “Exercise. It’s good for her.”

“I wanna exercise with Momma.”

Erland smirked, scratching an itch in his stubble. “Maybe when you’re older.”

“How older?”

“Older,” he grunted as he resumed changing the various fluids in the truck. Rowan sat on a stool and kicked at the air, but didn’t wander off. Erland had at least instilled in the child the need to stay put when out in public.

Rowan huffed at his answer, eyeing the people through the windows in the building who were waiting for their vehicle to be repaired. “Why do they stare at me so much?”

Erland paused to look out the window. He gave the people staring his finest military glare and that was enough for them to steer clear of the windows and cease their gazing. Fortunately Rowan didn’t notice what he had done, or else the child would have questioned it. Erland continued his work on the truck and decided not to give the owner the timing discount he usually did for making Rowan uncomfortable. “Don’t pay attention to them.”

Rowan made a humming noise as his feet stilled and he looked down at his uncovered toes. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” Erland answered immediately. “No there is not.”

“Then why do they stare?”

Erland stopped and looked into his child’s hazel eyes. “Because they don’t understand.”

“What’s there to get?”

Erland didn’t have an explanation for the child. Not one he was willing to share. He wasn’t looking forward to sending Rowan to school this year, simply because too many other kids might not hold their tongues the way the adults do. They might ask Rowan about Erland and Leah. They might ask what Leah is and whether Rowan will grow up to look and act like her. They might bully Rowan for possibly not being human.

Well . . . their idea of human . . . .

They were already fighting for Rowan to go to a more well-to-do school and not one they knew would be short supplied and understaffed. No one would take the child without an argument, it seemed. Either they didn’t want Rowan because of the possibility of him growing into a skinwalker or because of his Native American heritage. Leah had been adamant that they not send Rowan to a school for nonhumans, but Erland knew humans would be just as unwelcoming.

Perhaps it was best just to keep Rowan at home and out of sight. Leah would probably rest easier during the day knowing that Rowan was safe with them.

--

“How’s the little squirt doing?”

“Getting bigger every day.”

Steven watched as Erland raked a hand through his hair, his weasel counterpart Earl running around the room ecstatically at having woken from his slumber. They sat in Erland’s garage ignoring Earl’s antics while Leah spent some time with Rowan before her nightly run. Erland’s brow was furrowed and his nose was slightly wrinkled in thought, and honestly it worried Steven. “Why the long face?” Erland stopped and pinned Steven with a gimlet stare. “That worried, huh?”

Erland didn’t answer at first, just returned to mending one of Leah’s collected pelts. “Leah wants him to go to school.”

“And you don’t?”

A long pause. Then he shook his head. His jaw tightened before he answered, “It’s too risky.”

Steven nodded. “Afraid the Red Cord might find him?”

Erland nodded this time. “Leah thinks Rowan will be safe in a good school.”

“And you disagree?”

Erland looked up then. “She . . . he’s not safe anywhere.”

Steven couldn’t argue. If Leah’s former partner wanted to find them he would. “I can teach the kid.”

That earned him a snort from his current charge. “What, how to land on your head? Or smash a nail?”

“Haha.” Steven the enchanted hammer, teaching Rowan how to use a hammer. “Wouldn’t be a bad skillset to enforce, jackass.”

“I don’t want Rowan to ever fight like Leah did.”

“Or like we did?” That silenced Erland. Two ex-fighters, one for the Moderator’s portion of the Red Cord and the other for the United States military. They had seen their fair share of blood. It was understandable they wanted Rowan to have nothing to do with that part of their lives. Steven had been a weapon in the Sverre family for generations. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. He’d forgotten more than any of his charges had ever learned, that was for certain. He did know one thing. “You may not want him to fight, but one day he might have to. Who better to teach him?”

Erland returned to mending. Earl climbed up his leg to perch within the pelt as the human worked. Letting out a loud sigh, Steven’s charge muttered, “When Rowan is older maybe.”

“How much older?”

Erland answered the same way Steven knew he usually answered his child. “Older.”

It was Steven’s turn to snort. “You’re worried about Leah’s partner finding him, right?” Erland tried to ignore the question. “About him taking Rowan?” Erland’s fingers fumbled. “How can you guarantee you’ll see him get older?”

“This discussion’s over.”

Not for Steven it wasn’t. “You need to consider you might not always be here to protect him.”

“That’s why the family has you, right?” Erland cut his eyes to Steven.

And Steven grit his teeth, the feeling uncomfortable as his bones were as hard as the metal his true form was made from. “Right.”

The Sverres had started out a family of metalworking. It was only fair it seemed that they were as hard in the head as the early weapons they had crafted.

He hoped that one day Erland might listen to him.