“But how?” For a long time, I firmly believed that if I nagged enough, eventually she’d crack and tell me something worth knowing.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Adults were always saying things like that. Shifters were known to be secretive, but our pack took being secretive to the extreme. It drove Jules and me both crazy as kids. It drove me crazy as a teen, too.

“But, but how did you learn how to do it? Did someone teach you? Who taught you?”

“You don’t need to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”

“Who drew these pictures?” I’d say, trying to change tactics. I knew damn well who drew them. I’d asked the same question a hundred times or more.

“Ah, my Herbert drew them. May he rest easy.”

Her Herbert died of old age before I was born. That should give you some indication of how old Mrs. O’Malley was. She was old old. She was the oldest person I’d ever met. Hell, she might have been the oldest person on the planet, for all I knew.

“Have you shifted into all of these animals?” I’d ask.

Sometimes, I’d think I saw a twinkle in her eye, but she wouldn’t answer. Instead, she’d change the subject. “Which picture is your favorite, Sully boy?”

“The grizzly for sure.”

“Predictable,” she’d say with a slight roll of her eyes, and then she’d lower her voice. “Predictable and easy. Too easy.”

A pit of excitement would form in my belly. I thought she might be about to spill something important. “Do you mean it’s easy to shift into a grizzly?”

“If it was easy, everyone would do it.” She’d give me a knowing look and I’d know she was about to clam up.

“Which picture is your favorite?” I asked once.

Without hesitation, she raised her bent forefinger and pointed straight at the wren.

“Why?”

“That’s enough of this why, what, and how. Why don’t you take your momma this batch of tea? I made it specially for her. Then go and play outside. Wolves grow big in the open.”