“Margery!” The shout came from near the door, the voice so familiar.
“Oliver?” She spun.
It was her littermate. He stood just inside the door, his grin wide as the sky outside.
They met in the center of the room.
She hugged him hard enough to make his ribs creak. “You’re here, you’re finally here.”
“Well, yeah.”
For a long moment, she held him as the littermate bond warmed with his presence. His face had filled out, no longer gaunt. His stomach wasn’t sunken any longer. He’d gained weight and lost the sour unhappy scent he’d had when first freed from the Scythe. The winter months in the Elder Village had been good for him.
Finally, she stepped back. “When did you get here?”
“Me?” He frowned. “What about you? You’re supposed to be in Ailill Ridge.”
“I left a moon ago. But I asked the Cosantir here to send you word at the Elder Village.”
“It probably passed me when I was on the trail. I didn’t hurry on the way down.”
Even as a cub, Oliver had preferred forests to people. He’d loved sharing the wonders he’d found—the incredible intricacy of moss and lichens, how a fallen tree would become a nurse log and raise tree babies, how owls used abandoned woodpecker holes for nesting.
“But you found me, and you’re here now.” She spotted Donal at the bar with the Cosantir. They were both watching.
She pulled her brother forward. “Calum, Donal, this is my littermate, Oliver. Oliver, the Cosantir of the North Cascades Territory”—she motioned to Calum, then Donal—“and the healer.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oliver,” Calum said.
“Cosantir.” Oliver bowed his head before turning to Donal. “Healer. Good to meet you.”
“Welcome to Cold Creek. Margery’s been eager to have you here.” Donal smiled at Oliver. “Since we’re neighbors, let me give you two a ride home.”
Oliver didn’t speak, letting her make the decision as had been his way when they were cubs.
Margery hesitated, but her ankle was protesting a long walk. “A ride would be wonderful.”
Donal set his glass down. “Get some sleep, Cosantir. Healer’s orders.”
“A shame you probably won’t be able to do the same,” Calum responded. “There will probably be more brawls before the young males settle down.”
Donal shot him a scowl, then headed out, muttering, “Belligerent, pixie-brained, cox-combs.”
The Cosantir was laughing as he waved Margery and Oliver after Donal.
Outside the tavern door, Oliver grabbed a backpack.
It looked heavy. “Did you carry that all the way from the Elder Village?”
“No, I traveled as a bear.”
“Ah.” She remembered his form—a medium-sized black bear, more cute than scary.
“The Elder Village sent the bag to Ailill Ridge for me. I picked it up there and begged a ride here.”
She tensed slightly. What had the people in Ailill Ridge said about her?
“Here we go.” Donal opened the passenger door for her. He ran his hand down her upper arm…and sent tingles chasing after his touch.
No, behave, Margery. Gathering night was over.
Oliver took the back seat. “When the grocery clerk at Ailill Ridge told me you were here, there were a couple of shifters listening and getting all pissed-off. Growling, even. What’s with that?”
Oh Gods, how could she explain?
Settling into the driver’s seat, Donal gave Margery a glance, then said smoothly, “No banfasa or healer will remain in a town where they’re not treated well. Margery is just the last one to walk away from that territory. Being idiots, they probably feel as if she abandoned them.”
“Got it.” Oliver snorted. “Sounds like it’s good you left, but, knowing you, you stayed until it was unbearable.”
“Pretty much, yes.” Margery still felt as if she’d abandoned people who needed her.
“If the town had disrespected Grandmama,” Oliver said, “she’d have left them with tattered ears and shortened tails.”
“Oh. You know, you’re right.” The ugly feeling of guilt lifted.
“I think I’d have liked your granddam,” Donal murmured.
Margery grinned. “I daresay. She was a cat, too, and like you, she was…” cantankerous, irritable, bristly. “Um, well, you’re a lot alike.”
Donal gave her an amused look.
After he parked the car in his driveway, Margery paused with her hand on the door. “Thank you for the ride, Donal.”
“You’re welcome, sweetling. I’ll tell you what I told Calum—get some sleep today.” Still in the driver’s seat, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch made her shiver with longing. “Come over tomorrow, though. I have a couple more shifters to add to your schedule.”
“I can come over now.”
“How did I know you’d say that?” he murmured. His gaze lingered on her lips, then with a sigh, he shook his head. “Tomorrow, banfasa.”
She slipped out of his car and reminded herself that a Gathering mating wasn’t a prelude to a romance; it was merely a sexy time under a full moon.
The full moon had set.
She and Donal would work together. And that was all.
The lack of sleep was catching up to Tynan. He yawned as he left the diner after downing a cup of coffee. He was on duty, patrolling Main Street, until Alec relieved him at noon.
He’d already broken up three brawls.
After a Gathering, there were always fights between those who’d succeeded in mating and the ones who’d lost out. Having five times more males than females meant some males weren’t chosen. Although females usually mated more than once, some males were chosen several times a night, some never.
And there were always those who were bad losers.
A shout and growls caught his attention, and he snorted. Looked like his brawl-count was rising to four.
He rounded the corner, and there they were, in front of BOOKS. Two males going at it with fists and kicks, battering at each other for all they were worth.
“Break it up,” he ordered loudly. When they ignored him, he yanked out his baton, expanded it, and whacked one idiot in the meaty part of his thigh hard enough to paralyze the muscle.
As that male staggered back, the other dumbass swung at Tynan.
Tynan whipped the baton around and caught the male’s upper arm. A baton was quite useful, really.
Separating, the combatants rubbed their injuries and cursed him in foul terms.
Seriously? “You’re standing on Main Street. Your mamas would have their paws over their ears if they heard you.”
One flushed.
The other had no shame—or sense. “You dickless dog.” He charged at Tynan. “I’m gonna—”
Tynan palmed the male’s face and shoved him back, then swung the baton. It thudded against ribs hard enough that the male dropped to his knees. The bones hadn’t broken, but would be sore for days.
“Nice job, Deputy.” Joe Thorson stood in the doorway of his bookstore. “Want help?”
“Got it handled, Joe, but thanks.” Tynan leveled a stern look at the two whimpering pups. He’d not seen them before. “In this territory, both the Cosantir and the law forbid fighting in town. Cubs shouldn’t see this kind of violence…or hear language like you used.”