Page 15

He was uncomplicatedly happy here in Phoebe’s tree.

A feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

Twinkle lights draped across the ceiling, a smaller version of the ones he’d seen hanging outside.

“You have electricity up here?”

“Solar panels. Do you want a cup of tea?”

“And running water?”

“We're dryads, Theo, the trees' roots provide water for us, too. So...tea?”

He was feeling a bit dumbfounded and had a million more questions but managed to nod yes to Phoebe’s question.

“Did you paint this?” he asked when she returned with two mugs and a plate of cookies. He couldn’t help himself. Theo’s life had been incredibly … small. He lived with his family, his parents and brothers. He was surrounded by his pack, his own kind. They made trips into town, of course, and plenty of wolves worked and did business with humans, but Theo didn’t know much beyond his own limited experience.

And Phoebe was another world entirely.

“Some of it. It’s kind of a group project.” Her face lit up with an idea. “Oh! Do you want to add to it?!”

“I … uh … I’m not really an artist.”

Phoebe waved away his insecurity. “Everyone’s an artist, Theo.”

All wolves learned to read and write and do basic math in order to ease their interactions with humans. Theo had had a few jobs in town painting houses, but he’d never held a paintbrush for anything other than utilitarian purposes.

“Not me.”

“Okay, I have an idea,” she said with a decisive nod. “Give me your hand.”

“My hand?”

“Yep.” She looked at him expectantly until he held out his hand to her. She wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist and he hoped she couldn’t feel the way his pulse kicked up into high gear. With her other hand she grabbed a paintbrush from a cup of paint on the coffee table in front of them. She gently brushed the pad of his index finger with yellow paint.

It was cool and wet, and the hairs of the brush tickled his skin, but Theo sat stock still, watching Phoebe cover his skin in paint. A part of him wished she would keep going, just so she would keep touching him.

“There,” she said. “Now press your finger to the wall. Anywhere you like,” she instructed, and he had to blink back to reality.

“Anywhere, really,” she repeated with an encouraging smile, so Theo pressed his finger to the wall behind the couch, right above a pink tulip.

“The perfect spot!” Phoebe proclaimed. Grabbing another brush and kneeling on the couch beside him she deftly turned his yellow fingerprint into a bumble bee hovering over the flower.

“There. Teamwork,” she said with a smile, looking back at him, and Theo felt like his body was filled with bumblebees just like that one, buzzing around excitedly inside him.

“Teamwork,” he agreed, the grin on his own face growing.

Phoebe took his hand again and wiped his paint-covered finger on a napkin. She didn’t let it go when she was done, instead cradling his hand in her lap.

“I think we will be friends, Theo,” she said.

“I’d like that, Phoebe.”

“You can call me Fee. All my friends do.”

And Theo was so damn happy he felt like he could fly right out of the house.

“Sorry!” Fee called, her house and the others coming into view. “Just come up. I’m not quite ready.” Her head tucked back in the window while Theo made his way up the wooden ladder.