Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 115

Chapter 115: Grace: Hide and Seek, Peek-a-Boo

I fish my phone from my pocket and shoot Lyre a quick text.

[GRACE: Made it safe. Kids settled. Everything ok on your end?]

The three dots never appear. Not even a “delivered” notification.

Signal’s probably garbage out here. Or she’s napping. Could be dealing with her own crew of supernaturals with big personalities and bigger egos. Jack-Eye seems like he’d either be helpful or a handful.

Kind of like Jer, actually. Maybe they share initials for a reason.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I squint at the solar panel display again. The battery percentage has dipped slightly since Caine left, but we’re still at a respectable 94%. Not bad for an hour of AC use. And the trailer’s significantly cooler now.

Behind me, Ron’s taken over entertaining the kids. “Hey, Sara, wanna play a game with Bun?”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide-and-seek peek-a-boo, but with a twist. You shift into something small, and Bun has to find you. When she does, we all say peek-a-boo.”

A pause. “That’s basically just regular hide and seek. And I can’t say peek-a-boo in hedgie form.”

“So? She likes finding animals better than people, and she likes saying peek-a-boo. Come on, it’ll keep her occupied.”

“Pa-buu!”

The camper jostles as they storm about, like we’re a ship at sea. Sturdy—Lyre made it perfectly clear the movement is very normal—but probably strange to them.

I’m barely listening, focused on deciphering the solar display, only to get distracted when my stomach grumbles. It’s later in the day, and we’ve only had breakfast.

It isn’t hard to make a giant plate of baby carrots, sliced cubes of cheddar, apples, and even grapes. Putting it out on the counter? Even easier. Getting the kids to eat it…?

Apparently, it’s quite hard.

“Snacks, guys!”

Ron glances up from where he’s crouched near the couch. “Thanks, Grace.”

Jer appears out of nowhere, his head at my elbow. “I’m not hungry.”

Bun? Ignores me. It’s mildly offensive. She was glued to me, but now she’s trying to cram her head under the couch and oblivious to my existence.

“That’s fine. It’s here if you want it.” I scan the room. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on what. Like I’m forgetting something important.

Jer hovers as I head back to the kitchenette. “How does the water work in here?”

Great question. I’ve recently learned all about it, too. Okay, not all about it. But I do know there’s a button for the water pump and now I know it’s important to keep the “fresh water” tank filled.

“There’s a pump system,” I answer, gesturing vaguely to the electric panel. “It’s connected to a fresh water tank, and it supplies water to all the plumbing lines in the camp.”

“What about electricity? Is it all from the sun?”

“Right now, yes. We have a generator, and that’s why Caine’s getting gas.”

“Why gas?”

“It uses gas to… run.” I’m not super familiar with generators, either.

“What happens if it rains for a week?”

I blink. “I… don’t actually know. We’d probably use the generator more?” I wonder how much gas that would require.

His eyes light up. “What if there was a zombie apocalypse? Would we still have power?”

“As long as the sun rises, I guess.” I lean against the counter, watching his mind work.

“What if dinosaurs came back? Could we outrun them in this RV?”

“Depends on the dinosaur,” I reply, unable to hold back a smile.

His questions are like pinballs, bouncing all over the place. No idea where they come from—or why—but I answer them all as best as I can.

“Do you think the Lycan King could take on the King of Dinosaurs?”

“You mean the chicken’s great-grandpa?”

His jaw drops, dark eyes wide with horror. Ron snorts in the background. “Chickens aren’t dinosaurs!”

“Actually, birds evolved from dinosaurs. So technically, T-Rex is related to chickens.”

My lips quirk as he splutters, gangly arms waving in the air.

“But the T-Rex is the King of Dinosaurs,” he protests. “He would totally eat the Lycan King!”

I shake my head. “T-Rex isn’t the king. There’s no dinosaur monarchy.”

“What’s a monarchy?” He squints at me, looking more suspicious than curious. Like maybe I’m lying to him.

I’m not—obviously—but I am messing around with his head a little. It’s more fun than I realized.

“Nature doesn’t work that way. But if you want my vote, I’d pick velociraptors over T-Rex any day.” I’ve literally never thought about tiers of powerful dinosaurs before this very moment, so I just throw out one of the only other dinosaur names I can recall off hand.

Something thuds against the camper, and there’s a high-pitched shriek. It has a very distinct outside sound, not something the kids did.

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