I couldn’t believe my cubs could talk now. They were so cute, these little balls of golden fur with voices like bells, calling out "Mama" and "Dada" and "up" and "no" with the enthusiasm of creatures who had just discovered language existed.
But cute did not mean easy.
The morning ritual of teeth brushing had become an Olympic sport in our household. Four cubs. Four mouths full of tiny, sharp teeth. Four squirming bodies that had apparently decided that salt paste was a personal enemy that must be defeated.
I started with Atlas, the oldest, who at least understood the concept even if he didn’t enjoy it. I sat on the floor with him between my legs, his back against my chest, and tried to coax his mouth open.
"Open up, baby. Let Mama see those pretty teeth."
"No," Atlas said clearly, clamping his mouth shut.
"Atlas, please. We do this every morning."
"No," he repeated, more firmly.
I wrestled with him for a good five minutes, managing to get the wood brush in for approximately three seconds before he squirmed away, leaving me with a streak of spit up salt paste across my top and a cub who was now halfway across the room.
"That’s it," I announced, throwing my hands up. "I give up. Ravin, you’re up."
Ravin looked up from where he had been attempting to dress Chase, who was currently trying to eat his own tail. "Krys, I’m barely keeping this one from—Chase, stop that, it’s not food—"
"Leon!" I called out. "Leon! Anyone! I need reinforcements!"
Leon emerged from the sleeping chamber, his hair wild, his eyes barely open. "What time is it?"
"Teeth brushing time," I said, my voice slightly manic. "Which is apparently also wrestling time, running away time, and ’let’s see how much salt paste we can get on Mama’ time."
To my surprise, Veylan appeared, already dressed and ready, his silver hair shiny in the morning light. "I’ll help," he said quietly, but with a determination that hadn’t been there before.
He walked over to where Ryder and Jasper were currently engaged in what looked like a death match over a stuffed rabbit toy. Without a word, he scooped up both cubs, one in each arm, and sat down with them on his lap.
"Jasper and Ryder," he announced. "You’re with me."
The cubs fussed, squirming and whining, but Veylan held them firm, his large hands gentle but unyielding. "Open," he commanded, and to my astonishment, they did.
I stared. "How did you—"
"Wolves are pack animals," Veylan said, not looking up from his task. "We establish dominance early. They know I’m not playing."
Within minutes, all four cubs had clean teeth, fresh breath, and were looking at Veylan with something approaching awe. Ravin and Leon looked at him with expressions of pure jealousy.
"You’re in charge of mornings from now on," I said seriously.
Veylan actually smiled, small and hesitant but real. "I can do that."
Then the cubs attacked.
It happened so fast. One moment Veylan was sitting there looking proud of himself, the next moment he was buried under four golden balls of chaos. Atlas launched himself from the table onto Veylan’s back. Chase clamped onto his ankle. Ryder grabbed a fistful of silver hair and pulled. Jasper, the smallest but fiercest, climbed onto his chest and started batting at his face with tiny paws, demanding attention.
"Help," Veylan wheezed, his voice muffled by fur. "I can’t... they’re... everywhere..."
The cubs overpowered him completely, jumping on him, tumbling over him, using him as a climbing structure and a chew toy. Veylan’s "dominance" lasted exactly five minutes before he was reduced to a pile of wolf daddy covered in cubs.
Ravin and Leon’s jealousy turned to laughter, howling until they had to hold their sides.
"So much for pack dominance!" Leon gasped out.
"He lasted longer than I did," Ravin admitted, wiping tears from his eyes. "But not by much."
Soryn and Caelion emerged from their chambers, took one look at Veylan being devoured by cubs, and promptly retreated.
"We love them," Soryn called out, his tail disappearing around the corner. "But the morning routine is a nightmare!"
"Caelion and I will take evening duty!" Soryn shouted from safety. "You three handle the chaos hours!"
So you want to take on the bathing in the evening?" I shouted back already knowing the answer.
Soryn looked sheepish and so did Caelion. "You know what? We need help during those times too... the cubs are very active during the bathing ritual," Caelion admitted, his sea-glass eyes avoiding mine.
"Very slippery," Soryn added quickly. "And they splash. So much splashing."
"And they escape," Caelion continued. "Chase actually climbed out of the stream and ran up the tree yesterday, Soryn panicked thinking Chase was going to fall."
"Ryder tried to eat the soap," Soryn said.
"Jasper...you have to do everything, and I mean everything there is no fuss no fight just dead weight," Caelion finished.
I just laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Nice try. But you’re not getting out of it. We’ll rotate. All five of you. Welcome to fatherhood, my loves."
Veylan extracted himself twenty minutes later, his silver hair sticking up in every direction, his tunic shredded, and his dignity in tatters. He sat on the floor, surrounded by four purring cubs who had collapsed into an exhausted pile, and looked at me with shell-shocked eyes.
"I thought I had them," he said, dazed.
"You did," I said, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "For about five minutes. That’s actually a record."
He looked down at the sleeping cubs, then at me, and something in his expression softened. "I’ll still do mornings," he said quietly. "Even if they destroy me."
I kissed his forehead, right between two tiny teeth marks that Jasper had left as a souvenir. "That’s the spirit."
Finally, fully awake and ready for the day, the cubs were released into the main room where they immediately began their daily destruction of anything not nailed down.
Lyle arrived just as the chaos reached its peak.
Lisa’s youngest son, now twelve years old and growing into his wolf form, bounded through the door with the energy of youth. "I came to play with the cubs!" he announced, his tail wagging, then he transformed back into his man form.
I looked at him, at his lanky frame and eager face, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"Good luck," I said, patting his shoulder.
The little wolf uncle had no chance.
Within minutes, Lyle was buried under a pile of golden fur. Atlas had claimed his back as a perch. Chase was chewing on his tail. Ryder had stolen one of his snacks and was running victory laps around the room with it. Jasper, the smallest but lazy just wanted to be cuddled, demanding attention.
"Help," Lyle wheezed, but he was laughing, his young voice bright with joy.
The cubs overpowered him completely, jumping on him, tumbling over him, using him as a climbing structure and a chew toy and a nap spot all at once. By the time he extracted himself an hour later, his fur was matted with slobber, his clothes were torn in three places, and he was breathing like he’d run a marathon.
"They’re only four months old," he gasped, leaning against the doorframe. "How are they so... so..."
"Chaos incarnate?" I supplied.
"I was going to say energetic, but yours works too." He waved weakly and stumbled toward home. "I’m going to sleep for a week."
It was a sight to see, and I laughed until my sides ached.
After the morning madness subsided, I escaped to find Rhonda and Layla, needing adult conversation that didn’t involve the words "no" or "mine" or "Mama, up."
I found them in the garden behind Rhonda’s home, sitting in the shade of a large oak. But they weren’t alone. Another female sat with them; one I had seen around the village but never properly met. She was small and delicate, with white hair that caught the sunlight and pink eyes that seemed almost otherworldly. An albino rabbit beast, pretty and ethereal.
"Krys!" Layla called out, waving me over. "Come join us!"
I approached, smiling, ready for a relaxing chat about herbs or sewing or whatever mundane topic would soothe my frazzled nerves.
I should have known better.
"—and then," Rhonda was saying, her voice carrying that particular tone of someone sharing intimate secrets, "you tilt your hips upward, just so, and the angle changes everything. The pleasure becomes—oh, Krys! Perfect timing."
I froze. The conversation they were having was anything but innocent.
Rhonda was telling her about the art of pleasure. The stuff I had taught her and Layla during one of our conversations, the techniques and positions and little tricks I had learned from books and movies in my old life. The things that made mating not just about reproduction but about connection, about joy, about mutual satisfaction.
I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.
"Wren here was just asking about how to communicate with her mate during the act," Layla explained, her face completely innocent. "We learned from Krys here. She’s a genius when it comes to the mating life."
No, I’m not! I wanted to yell. But I just smiled at her.
Wren turned to me, her pink eyes wide and hopeful. "Please teach me too," she said softly, her voice like a bell. "My mate, he is too strong. He is a bear beast. When we mate, I feel very overwhelmed." She twisted her hands together, her pale cheeks flushing pink. "I don’t want to avoid him. He’s very gentle otherwise. He’s just very excited when we mate, and I don’t know how to tell him to slow down without hurting his feelings."
How could I say no to her? She was so cute, so earnest, so clearly in love with her mate but struggling with the physical reality of their differences.
I thought about what I knew of bear beasts. Massive, powerful, built for dominance and strength. And rabbit beasts, delicate, small-boned, easily broken.
In my world, you’d be dead the moment he put himself inside you. It was impossible for a bear and rabbit to mate back in my world; the size difference alone would cause catastrophic injury. But here, with healing bonds and beast strength and whatever magic made this world function, it was possible. Difficult, requiring care and patience, but possible.
I kept that opinion to myself.
"Sit down," I sighed, taking the empty space beside her. "Let’s talk about communication, and positions that give you more control, and how to guide him without making him feel like he’s doing something wrong."
Rhonda and Layla leaned in, eager to learn more, and I resigned myself to being the female’s unofficial expert on sex education. At least it was more interesting than teeth brushing.