Chapter 138


    Chapter 138-E Shifts


    Sinir


    I don’t remember much about my own experience shifting for the first time. I remember the blinding


    pain, the torment of having every bone in my body broken, every muscle torn to perform the strange


    alchemy of reshaping my into a wolf. I remember it feeling as though itsted forever, the certainty that


    it would never end… that I was surely dying. I didn’t understand how anyone could survive such


    torment, but my Father was beside me every step of the way, holding me,forting me and promising


    that it would be alright. I recall the rumble of his steady, reassuring voice more than anything else, but I


    never imagined how hard it must have been for him to watch me suffer thus.


    Now I understand only too well. It’s worse with E, because all her senses areing in at once – the


    entire world suddenly bing to sharp, too bright, too loud.


    And her agony is deeper, because in bing her wolf she’s also losing our baby, the baby she


    waited and longed for over so many years. I’m devastated to know our son won’t survive, and I can feel


    his immense stress through our bond as E’s wolf emerges, but the worst part of all this is knowing I


    can’t fix it. I can’t protect either of them from the brutality of nature.


    I would dly take on E’s pain myself. I would dly suffer so that she doesn’t have to… but I can’t, I


    can only be there for her and try to ease her distress. When the helicopternds on the roof of the


    mansion, I carry E down to my room, struggling to hold onto her as her small form jerks and spasms


    with more strength than she would ever be able to manage normally. She’s still shivering with cold, and


    though her wolf is waking up, I’m worried that it may not be fast enough to save her fingers and toes.


    “Look baby, look – it’s your nest.” I tell her, unwrapping her from my coat to deposit her on the bed.


    E is still in the beginning stages of her shift, still lucid enough to know where she is and what’s


    happening. It won’t stay that way, of course. In a few hours she’ll be so consumed by pain that she


    won’t know her own name anymore. She peeks through the darkened room, taking in her surroundings.


    With a pitiful moan, she weakly crawls deeper into the pillowy haven, both relieved to be in her safe


    haven and heartbroken to know she won’t need a nest much longer. I quickly bury her trembling form in


    nkets, and drop a kiss to her tear-stained cheek, promising to return shortly.


    I leave her only long enough to fill the bath with warm water, trying not to think about how different this


    might have turned out if I hadn’t waited so long to go in after her. I’d been trying to respect her wishes,


    to make her escape as safe as possible. Instead she ended up alone and helpless on the frozen


    mountain.


    The sounds of E’s inconsble weeping and whimpers of pain provide a tortuous soundtrack to my


    internal diatribe, and I return to the bedroom to find her writhing in difort under the nkets. When


    I try to lift her she resists, “N-no.” She cries, shoving my hands away. “I w-want to stay. If I h- have to l-


    lose him, it sh-should be here.’’


    “I’ll bring you back.” I vow, realizing what a mistake it was to offer her thisfort and then try to take it


    away – even if it is only temporary. ‘We have to get you warm first, sweetheart.”


    But E won’t have it. She fights me tooth and nail as I forcibly remove her from the bed, as vicious as


    a tiny hellcat despite her exhaustion and depleted state. It breaks my heart to be so ruthless with her,


    but I know it’s for her own good. I can’t get her to be still long enough to undress her so I tear her


    clothes away and drag her into the bath. She goes in with a great ssh, then whines as the warm


    water meets her numb extremities, no doubt sending pins and needles through her limbs.


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    E immediately tries to escape the tub, and I hold her down, wishing there was any other way. I’ve


    called for the doctor, but until her shift is over, administering any kind of care to her is going to be


    harrowing. Eshes at me the only way she can, telling me she hates me, that I’m a monster and


    she’ll never forgive me for this. I know she’s not herself, but I’d be lying if I said these words didn’t hurt,


    digging into my already aching heart like so many knives.


    I can’t even purr for her, because the noise alone will make her pain that much worse.


    The sounds and chaotic scents of the city have already amplified the pain she was feeling in the forest,


    and I’m trying my best not to add to her plight. I wish I could get some food into her to help provide her


    energy for what is yet toe, but I know it will be impossible. It’s probably for the best anyway, since


    her taste buds will be just as oversensitive as everything else.


    Suddenly E’s back bows violently as a horrible crack fills the air, and I know we’re out of time. She


    howls with pain as she enters the second stage of her shift, and my wolf whines helplessly, rabid with


    the need to ease her torment. I pull her from the bath and return her to the nest, letting her feel my


    nearness and praying this willfort her. E’s shouts of anger transform into wails and begging for


    me to make it stop. I can only hold and pet her, whispering sweet nothings and reminders that it’s only


    temporary. “I know, baby. I know it hurts. I promise it will be over soon.’’


    At some point, E turns her eyes to me, her pupils dted so wide with pain that her irises are nothing


    more than a glowing gold ring around pitch ck pools. “I don’t want to be a wolf anymore.” She


    whimpers, her fingers digging into my skin with incredible force. “Just make it stop.”


    “I would if I could, little one.” I answer miserably. “I’m so sorry.”


    She turns her head away from me and seizes up as all her fingers break at once, her mouth opening in


    a silent wail, beyond the ability of making a sound. “Shh,” I croon uselessly, “Shh, I know.”


    By the third hour of the shift, E’s begging has ceased. Instead the pain wracks her body with vicious


    sounds of breaking bones and rending flesh, contorting her into unnatural shapes as she wavers in and


    out of consciousness, screaming herself hoarse when she’s awake and falling limp when the darkness


    finally takes her again.


    My father enters after one such episode, finding me cradling her sleeping, broken body. I rock her and


    mutter in her ear, hoping she’ll be able to hear me somewhere deep down. “I love you, E. You are


    loved, so so loved.”