Allison invited me to the dig. I was excited to go. She told me about the other graves they found near the first one and I wanted to touch the bones, feel my ancestors around me, guiding me like they always had. That was something Allison and Parker didn’t understand—the connection us rural shifters had to our ancestors. It was something that couldn’t be taught in a university classroom or studied on an academic dig. It was something that had to be felt in the soul. Like a fated mate.

But before I headed out to the dig site, I wanted to meditate. I settled myself down in front of my crystals and soon I was drifting off into the quiet spaces of my mind, steadying and preparing myself for the day ahead.

I’d just finished a quick breakfast when I heard the truck coming up the drive. I quickly pulled on my shoes, grabbed a backpack I’d packed with a few things, and headed out the door.

“Morning,” Allison said from the passenger seat when I slid into the rear of the truck cab.

“Good morning, Al.” I grinned at her. “Good morning, Parker.”

“Morning.” I heard a reluctant acceptance in his voice today. I sat back and smiled to myself. Everything would be okay, even if Parker didn’t think so right now. I wrapped my hands across my still-flat belly and hummed old pack lullabies softly under my breath while the truck bumped its way toward the dig.

* * *

Parker and Allison led me over and introduced me to the dig leader.

“Professor Frostburg, this is Shiloh, uh…” Parker’s face turned red.

“Balwin,” I filled in for him. From the corner of my eye, I caught Al giving Parker an elbow to the ribs.

“Shiloh Balwin? You’re the pack seer, aren’t you?” The older man gave me a searching look.

“I am.” I studied him, the coyote-shifting dig leader, and decided I liked him.

“I’m surprised to see you here alone,” he finally said. “But you’re welcome. Just stay with Al or Parker and, oh, don’t touch anything.” He gave me another appraising look before he headed off back to the tent that seemed to be doubling as an office.

“Would you like to see what we’ve found?” Parker asked.

“Yes. I would.” I followed as they led me off to another tent.

This one was cool inside and filled with tools and buckets and dirty tables. A young man was picking fragments of objects from a bucket and carefully noting them on a tablet before reverently placing them into what appeared to be evidence bags and filing them away. The almost worshipful look on his face caught me by surprise.

So did the way Allison handled the artifacts they’d found. Almost tenderly, like a newborn baby. They led me around the tent, showing me bone shards and pieces of pottery, weapons fashioned by hand. And when they took me outside and showed me the bones of our ancestor, I could see the reverence in their eyes. In their own way, they did recognize the importance of this place, of our shared inheritance. They didn’t want to disturb or destroy anything here. They just wanted to learn. To understand. And suddenly, I felt a love for these people blossom deep inside me.

“You’ve been quiet,” Allison said to me.

“Yes,” I said, “I usually am. Al, this is wonderful, thank you for showing this to me.”

“There’s more,” she said. “We found six more graves. We’ve marked the grids there.” She pointed to the strings running over the ground. “Would you like to help with them?”

“May I?” A thrill ran through me at the thought of helping uncover ancestors.

“Sure.” Allison led me over to a marked grid and gave me a small spade and paintbrush. She showed me how to carefully scrape the thinnest layer of soil from the top and deposit it into a bucket with a sieve at the bottom. The soil would be sluiced away with water to reveal any small artifacts it might contain. Then she showed me how to carefully brush dirt and dust away from anything larger I might uncover with the brush. And then she left me to the bones of my people.

I bent over the soil and scraped and brushed, and soon it became a meditation on its own, the rhythmic motion almost sending me into a trance. I didn’t even know how long I’d been here until I looked up and saw the sun directly overhead. Sweat was dripping down my back, making my shirt stick to my body. I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and suddenly I felt queasy and too warm. I tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my head and wiping at my face. When I tried to stand up, my knees buckled underneath me.

Hands slid underneath, lifting me. I was in the cool tent now and a cold water bottle was being pushed into my hands. I took a slow sip, then another, and rubbed the bottle over my forehead.

“Thank you,” I said, and looked up to find Parker standing over me, concern wrinkling his forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I am, I just got hot.”

“It’s too hot out here for someone who’s pregnant.”

“Oh, so now you believe me?” I gave him a smile to soften the words.

“I do,” he said slowly. “And if you’re going to stay at the dig today, maybe you should stay in the tents. There’s plenty to do there.”

“You care what happens to me?” I didn’t mean to question his motives but I was curious why he was being so caring with me.

“I think I do,” he finally admitted. “You’re carrying my child. Just because I may not be ready for a child doesn’t mean I’m going to shirk my responsibilities. I’m not that kind of person.”

“Parker, would you like to have dinner at my parents’ tonight?”

I was surprised when he said yes.

Parker took me to my cabin after he dropped Allison back at the hotel. I showered quickly and offered him the use of my bathroom. His eyes flickered quickly over my chest and down across the front of the towel draped around my waist. I felt the heat build between us quickly, fire to dry tinder, but skirted around him and into my bedroom before we could fall into each other’s arms. He chuckled as he headed into the bathroom.

I gave him directions to my parents’ cabin, barely a mile from mine, further down the mountain.

I could see the surprise in his eyes when we pulled up out front. My family was an old shifter family, around since the beginning, at least that was what the histories said. My parents were well-off for people from the valley. Their cabin was two stories and large, with picture windows under the deep shaded porch that faced the desert valley. It was the same place I grew up in, and I was proud when Parker looked impressed.

We headed up the steps and I pushed the front door open.

“Mom, Dad,” I called out, “it’s me.”

Footsteps rushed from the back of the cabin and my mom came barreling out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Shiloh, sweetie, oh I’m so glad you’re here.” My mom wrapped me into her cinnamon and sugar smelling hug. “And who’s your friend?”

“Mom, this is Parker Marks. Parker, Abigail Balwin, my mother.”

“Pleasure, Mrs. Balwin.” Parker stepped forward and offered his hand. He was very polite. I could tell he was taught well growing up.

“Please, call me Abby,” my mom gushed, then she pushed aside his hand and wrapped Parker into a hug. I giggled a little at the surprise on his face.

“Now, come on in the kitchen. Your dad is getting his roast out of the oven.” She bustled us along.

“Your dad cooks?” Parker gave me a strange look.

“Of course, but just the meats. My mom does everything else. It works well for them.” I led him to the kitchen.

And there was my dad, lovingly basting a sizzling, browned beef roast with pan juices.

“Dad,” I said to catch his attention, “I’d like you to meet Parker.”

My dad dropped his baster and hustled over, grabbing Parker’s hand and pumping it enthusiastically. “Parker, nice to me you. Adam Balwin. Call me Adam.”

Dinner was delicious—roast and potatoes and apple pie for dessert. My parents questioned Parker, but easily, never pushing him to answer and always plying him with more food. By the end of the meal, Parker was grinning and joking with my mom and I could have sworn he was flirting with my dad. My parents were easygoing and got along with everyone. Before we left, my dad packed up left-overs and placed a bowl in Parker’s hand.

“Take it,” he insisted when Parker tried to turn him down. “I know I’m a much better cook than anything you’ll get at that hotel.” Then there were hugs all around and we were headed back down the mountain, bowls of roast and pie balanced in the footwell of the truck.

“So, your parents,” Parker started.

I waited quietly for what he was going to say.

“Very nice people. Nicest I’ve met out here. Might be the nicest I’ve met anywhere, actually.”

“Thank you,” I said. I was happy that Parker and my parents got along.

“I’m surprised at how supportive they were of the dig. Are they seers as well?” He tried to make his voice sound casual.

“No, and I know that you don’t really believe in it yourself. But that’s okay.”

“What do they think about it, then, if they’re not seers?”

“Well…” I thought about my answer. “My parents love me, and they believe a little in my seer abilities, like most of the pack. But it’s not always easy now to have the kind of support I need to practice my gift. With all the available technology, a seer isn’t always needed. Who needs a psychic when they can install a bug or tracker? And of course, television just makes us look like jokes.” I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, hey. Don’t.” Parker pulled the truck over and unbuckled his seatbelt, sliding across the seat toward me. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, tucking me under his chin.

“It’s okay. I know people believe I’m a joke half the time. I understand.” I sniffled.

“I want to believe,” Parker said.

“I know. You will one day. For now, it’s enough to know that even though you don’t get it yet, you understand me—who I am—on a level no one else does. Or ever will.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” I answered. “You just don’t know it yet. I know what the future holds for us, Parker. It’s wonderful. It’s a baby and home and our own little family that’s surrounded and supported by our own loving families. Our child will have so many cousins to play with. And you’ll discover something incredible.” I smiled up at him.

“You know all this?” His voice was skeptical but he wanted to believe me. And one day he would.

“Yes,” I said. “And I know we belong to each other.”

Then I lifted my face and pressed my lips to his.

“Fated?” he murmured against my mouth.

“Yes.”

My eyes drifted shut and I lost myself in the taste of his lips.