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from her
in return.
    She could only do what she'd done all her
life--sit tight, scope out the lay of the land, and decide what to
do from there. Her eyes remained open as she thought over all this,
but Mabel soon dropped off into innocent sleep, emitting faint,
peaceful snores.
    *** *** ***
    Elizabeth left her room in the morning to the
smell of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs. Cherie was across
the hall, leaning against the closed door of the one bathroom.
    "Come on, Scott, does anyone else get to use
the bathroom today?"
    Scott's voice roared back over running water.
"I'm in the shower!"
    "You've been in the shower for half an hour.
We have guests, you big idiot."
    "I didn't ask them here!"
    Cherie saw Elizabeth and rolled her eyes.
"He's in Transition. It's like he can't get himself clean enough,
as if that's going to make females fall all over him. There
aren't enough female Shifters in this Shiftertown anyway--he won't
have a chance to mate for years yet."
    "Transition?"
    "From cub to adult," Cherie said. "I hope I'm
not this insensitive when it's my turn." She slapped her palm to
the door. "Scott, would you quit hogging the bathroom?"
    "Go next door!" he shouted.
    "Males." Cherie rolled her eyes again. She
was pretty, with the deep, startling beauty that Rebecca had, hers
not as fully developed yet. Cherie looked about twenty in human
years, only a little younger than Mabel, but apparently, like
Connor, she was still considered a cub.
    "Probably best you have breakfast first,"
Cherie said. "If there's any hot water left when he's done, you and
your sister can have dibs on the bathroom."
    "Whatever works," Elizabeth said, shrugging.
You needed to establish territory fast in a foster home, but you
also had to show that you were willing to be flexible with those
who didn't fight you. Besides, Elizabeth would be home soon, in her
own bathroom.
    She went down the stairs. This was an old
bungalow, likely built in the 1920s or 30s, laid out in a square
with the staircase in the middle. It was pretty big, as far as
bungalows went, to have four bedrooms and bath upstairs, a large
kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs.
    Elizabeth walked into the kitchen to find
Rebecca setting seven places at the table and Ronan hunched over
the stove in jeans and black T-shirt, cooking what had to be five
packages of bacon and four cartons of eggs. An entire loaf of
bread, toasted, was piled on a platter, and four more slices popped
out of the toaster as she walked in.
    Ronan glanced up at her and gave her a wide
smile, full of energy. "I do a mean biscuits-and-gravy, but I
didn't have time this morning. Scrambled okay with you?"
    "Fine."
    Rebecca was giving Elizabeth a critical look.
"You didn't sleep, did you?"
    "Not really."
    "Can't blame you."
    Rebecca was tall and leggy, but large,
nothing willowy about her. She wore jeans and a sleeveless top and
had pulled her curly hair into a ponytail. Like Ronan, she had a
restless vitality, one that said she might wear human clothes and
set the table with matching silverware, but she'd rather be out
running through the woods as her bear.
    "Sit down, Elizabeth," Ronan said. "We'll
fatten you up."
    He piled the rest of the bacon and eggs on
another platter and carried it and the toast to the table.
Elizabeth stared at the mounds of food heading her way.
    "A slice of toast is fine with me," she
said.
    "Best thing for shock is a hearty meal."
Ronan stuck his spatula under the eggs and piled a load on her
plate. "I've got some roasted red pepper salsa if that's your
thing, or good old-fashioned salt and pepper. Butter and jam for
the bread, and best of all, honey. Bears like their honey."
    Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to laugh or
keep it to herself. She settled for a polite thank you. Ronan
turned away. "Any time, Lizzie-girl."
    Cherie and Olaf appeared as though by magic
as Ronan started ladling out the food. Mabel waltzed in a moment
later, and Rebecca poured coffee. Mabel sucked down