Chapter 20: Tides of Change

Despite tensions rising from the panther attacks, and all the political heat that comes with that, the pack still needs to head out into human population for goods, services, you name it. Anthro’s make up 10% of the population in America, a minority, but their presence is large, due to their majestic nature, their strength, their thousands of years of history, most of which humans don’t know about. Add in the vast variety of animal anthro species, then you have less than a 1% chance of meeting a particular animal in public. Dragons being very rare, wolves a middle ground, majestic cats more rare, and prey animals like deer, the most common. Most rare among anthros are domesticated breeds, such as an anthropomorphic golden retriever. And the only known source for these beings has been from human to anthro transformations. But they are increasing in number as the transformed begin to mate and produce offspring.

The panthers actions have caused fear in some, for sure, and the pack gets looks now they didn’t get before. But it has been still safe to go in public. Panthers are not common enough that the smaller portion of them doing these attacks have effected everyone. Much like a public shooting, most people believe it will never happen to THEM. It’s just a tragic event they hear about on the news, in someone else’s town, someone else’s state.

But as the pack went out for groceries and some other light shopping, fate had decided that it was this small college town, this New England state, that should be rocked by the next attack.

The small grocery store was surprisingly busy for a weekday afternoon. Cass walked between Roan and Kiran, still getting used to how his new wolf body moved through human spaces. His sleek black fur drew plenty of stares, the faint bluish-purple shimmer catching the fluorescent lights every time he turned his head. People gave them a wide berth, but no one was openly hostile. Yet.

Kiran pushed the cart with dramatic flair, tossing in far too many snack bags, having an insane and envious metabolism, while Roan grabbed practical items with quiet efficiency, actual netrients and proteins. And you better believe they raided the much too expensive steak section.

Cass carried a basket, claws clicking softly against the plastic handle. His new nose picked up everything, the sharp tang of cleaning products, the warm bread from the bakery section, and the nervous sweat of a few nearby humans who weren’t sure how to act around wolves.

A small boy, maybe six years old, suddenly broke away from his parents and ran straight toward them, eyes wide with pure wonder.

“Wolves! Real wolves!” he squealed, skidding to a stop in front of Roan.

Roan’s golden eyes softened. Without hesitation, he crouched down and scooped the boy up, letting the kid wrap his tiny arms around his thick furry neck in a delighted hug. The boy giggled, burying his face in the soft black fur.

“You’re so fluffy!” the kid exclaimed.

Cass couldn’t help smiling, his tail giving a small wag. It was one of those rare, pure moments that reminded him why they fought to keep coexistence alive.

The boy’s parents hurried over, faces tight with unease. The mother reached out quickly. “Ethan, come back here right now.”

The boy pouted but didn’t let go of Roan’s neck. “But Mom, these aren’t panthers! Panthers are mean. These ones are nice!”

The father’s eyes shifted nervously between Roan and Cass, clearly uncomfortable with how close his son was to two large wolves. “Ethan, now.”