Poppy was pulling the worry from a man named Canyon that sat down in her chair with his shoulders up around his ears. She heard a little about their morning call and the poor farmer that might lose his hand. The team had done their job admirably but it still shook many of them.

She was feeling a little tired from her massages. Her hands were strong but she had another appointment later that day. It was her side gig that she did because it helped her recharge as much as it helped others.

After waving goodbye to the crew she packed up. At home, she dropped off her supplies and grabbed a quick snack. Outside her mother’s small house on a residential street there was a ten by ten shed that used to be storage for garden tools and the lawnmower. Poppy had converted it to a hideout when she was a child. When the nightmares of the dark shadow man would haunt her, this small room felt safe and secure with only one way in. It brought her peace. Now she used it for her other job. The one that raised more than a few eyebrows when she started.

Serenity Snuggles wasn’t something that most people could understand. Her neighbors had complained to her mother that she was running a prostitution ring out of her house. Then the Serenity PD showed up because of complaints, and luckily for Poppy, they knew that there was nothing to investigate.

Even without her unique talents she could do a lot of good by providing contact. Simple touch that so many people didn’t have in their lives. Her clients ran from young to old, men and women, all seeking something they needed.

In the beginning she had a few that thought her services were just a cover for something else. Her interview process had become better. Those that were really interested were happy to do multiple interviews and didn’t expect anything the first time.

Now her clients paid her to be held. She was a cuddle therapist, something that didn’t really have any specific qualifications other than the desire to help people.

Fully clothed in either thirty or sixty minute sessions, she touched, held, and breathed life into those that needed it. Whether there was some deep seated reason for their need, which she always referred to a licensed therapist she knew, or people that just didn’t get a lot of physical contact in their lives she’d found a need in the community for her services. She took her clients based solely on the feeling she got from them.

Her shed was painted a soft cream on the inside, the floor was hardwood she’d put down herself. There was a large futon mattress on the floor covered in pillows. Soft fuzzy blankets were stacked in a basket. Some clients requested the burrito treatment before being held. Candles, music, and a diffuser of calming essential oils were on a small table in the corner, it all completed the experience.

It was her little bliss hut. Soft, comforting and most importantly, a safe space.

Her client tonight was a young woman that had grown up in and out of the hospital for a variety of reasons. Childhood illness wreaking havoc on her fragile psyche. She had grown to distrust touch, even from her family. It was burned in response from painful stimuli. She’d come to Poppy to see if she could get over it. A few months later and they had managed to have thirty minute session with Poppy holding her in a blanket and allowing her to stroke her hair.

It was a big step and Poppy was glad to see her getting better.

* * *

“Bruin made it quite clear that we should be treating you like a brother, as if we wouldn’t. We hope you enjoy your time here in Serenity,” Conri, Bruin’s brother and acting Chief said, raising a glass.

Zane nodded and looked around the bar in his new hometown. He didn’t want to admit that he felt a little lonely in the group of men looking at him. Beau and Ren were still in Wyoming and probably enjoying not having his cranky ass around. It had been a week since Bruin informed him that Wade wanted him to transfer. It took a few days for Bruin and Willow to make their rounds before all three headed back to Illinois.

Now that he’d gotten accustomed to his new duties. Conri had devised a training program so the crew could learn some basic wildfire skills. It was more about managing a fire than trying to put it out. It was a tough thing for firefighters to do, but fighting wildfires was often about letting Mother Nature take her course.

The crew had accepted him. He thought some of their joyous acceptance of him was to do with the return of their renquas. There was a renewed spirit in the air. Although Khain was popping up more, there were cubs already, and with more new life ready to come into the world there were True Mates to be found and babies to be made. There wasn’t much that could dampen their joy.

Zane wanted to be as happy as they were. His renqua was back. The mark resembled a closed fist and he was relieved to see that it had returned to his shoulder. He wanted to call it something else, name it something else. But it was a fist, it represented the anger and pain inside him and he was almost afraid to show it. The men shared their marks to each other later after they had gotten them. It was a bonding moment between them. Beau’s mark looked like a pyramid with a circle above it. Ren’s mark was irregular lines that angled down like meteors crashing. Some bearen had marks that were obvious reflecting something about them. Others were a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

Since the move he’d felt it building. The desire to punch something, hurt something, or tear into someone and ease the fire raging inside him.

He’d been running every day. The woods around Serenity offered that respite. He’d started working out on a daily basis, his muscles bulging from the continuous effort. He’d almost hit the bar to see if he could round up a fight or two but didn’t want to get on the new Fire Chief’s radar in a bad way. He was okay with Bruin knowing his name, he didn’t want to be known to him as a loose cannon.

However, his growling countenance had been noticed. He could see those around him sliding their eyes to him then away quickly. They were friendly enough, but they also kept their distance.

The crew finished their meal and a few of them stopped to pick up an extra meal to go. Bears were always hungry. As he stood near the door, he saw a corkboard with business cards for car dealerships, carpet cleaning, and the like. There was one notice with kittens for sale. At the bottom was a pink and purple business card that caught his eye.

Certified Cuddler? He hadn’t been able to book another appointment with the cuddler he’d found in Wyoming. A middle-aged woman name Emelia that smelled like lavender and tea who would hold Zane, her arms tight around him and stroke his hair. He would rest his head against her chest and listen to her heartbeat, trying to remember if he had done that with his mother. He must have. Didn’t mothers hold and rock their children?

Zane couldn’t remember what it felt like. He couldn’t remember his mother’s perfume. Emelia wasn’t his mother, but she calmed the beast inside of him. She didn’t talk, but occasionally she’d hum, and he didn’t mind that. When he had that contact, the tightness of the embrace made him feel like he wasn’t slipping away. It brought a sense of grounding that he needed and as a side benefit, kept him from hitting people. He didn’t need to run or fight. He felt safe.

Now he needed to vent. He checked his phone for a bar outside of town that he could go to get his drink on and release some tension.

Jumping into his rental, he drove through the flat Midwest roads, past the statue of the bear with the shining eyes that was positioned on the edge of town. Each entrance had one of these statues and the local humans didn’t think much of them. Shiften knew they were meant as a welcome.

He pulled up to a bar that looked somewhere between a honky-tonk and a biker bar. Zane was a master at finding just the right few guys that looked like they had short enough fuses that he wouldn’t bring the whole bar down on himself.

An hour later and he was back in his rental looking for a dark deserted road so he could pull over and shift. He felt like he might have a cracked rib and one of the burly dudes had gotten a lucky shot and busted his lip.

Turning onto a private drive that was surrounded by fields, he got out and stripped out of his clothes.

Letting the change come over him, his teeth lengthened as his jaw and muzzle stretched. Hair sprouted over his body and his body grew as he fell to the ground. He took a moment to breathe in the night air, hoping to relax his muscles. He just needed to manage his rage until he could meet the therapist. He’d much rather lay in a woman’s arms than beat up drunks.

After a while he shifted again, his fur receding and his bones forming back into his still large human form. He couldn’t even feel his lip or his ribs now. The shift had healed all of his injuries. It was convenient when you could shift and not have to visit a doctor. Getting dressed, he drove home, or at least back to his temporary home. He really was alone now.