The two flushed, gazes on the ground.
“Sorry,” one muttered.
“Yeah. Won’t happen again,” the other said.
“Then, go.” Tynan motioned with the baton.
After a disgruntled exchange of glances, the males rose, heading for opposite sides of the street.
“Young and stupid.” Thorson growled, although amusement lurked in his eyes. “Can’t say I was much better at that age.”
“I’ve seen the scars on your arms, Joe. You were far worse.”
With a hissing laugh, Thorson disappeared into his store.
Tynan continued his foot patrol.
At the diner, Angie had mentioned Meggie wasn’t on today and was probably catching up on her sleep.
More’s the pity. He’d hoped to see her, to assess how she felt about him. Emotions during a Gathering could be as capricious as a leaf blown in the wind. What a shifter thought was undying love under a full moon was often dead and buried by noon the next day.
Today would be the test as to whether the little wolf’s emotions were ones that would last longer than the waning of the moon.
Because his feelings were more solid than the mountains behind him.
He nodded at Bonnie who was trying to get her two cubs moving in the same direction. Unsuccessfully.
Typical enough. Littermates were bound to head in different directions—unless and until they lifemated a female. Then…their world had a center.
The thought slowed his pace.
Although they hadn’t been able to share Meggie last night, Donal must’ve returned to the Gathering at some point. With luck, he’d taken Meggie upstairs.
Perhaps next time, they could be with her together, as littermates should
Despite her need for sleep, Margery couldn’t stop smiling. Oliver was back.
In the guest room, she started to make the bed. “You look healthy.”
“The upside of living in an Elder village. Those older shifters really enjoy cooking.” He grinned. His shaggy hair was brown and his eyes hazel, the coloring they shared from their mother. Although a few inches short of six feet, he was a bear shifter with big bones and bulk.
“What did you do all winter?” She fitted the sheet over the mattress corner as he did the same on his side. “Were you the only shifter-soldier in the village?”
“Nah, Patrin and Fell were there. Two elders worked with us—a shepherd who did a lot of listening and a teacher of the traditions. We talked. Spent time in animal form.”
Patrin and Fell were Darcy’s littermates, and like Oliver, they undoubtedly needed both teaching and counseling. It was a shame there wasn’t a soulweaver in the area, but like bards, the God-called menders of souls had grown exceedingly rare.
She added the top sheet and soft blankets. “I bet it was a long winter in such a small place.”
He shrugged. “It was okay. We did handyman stuff. The elders appreciated the repairs, since after they get snowed in, they don’t get much help. Played board games. Learned Daonain history, traditions, and laws.”
That had been the Cosantirs’ plan—that the shifter-soldiers would have a chance to merge back into the Daonain culture. Would have counseling from a shepherd and basically a lot of socialization. “Did it help?”
His smile looked so much like their mother’s that her heart ached. “I guess. I’m more settled. Not on edge all the time. Patrin and Fell are doing better, some, but…yeah, like me, they’re still having trouble.”
“Darcy said they trained as assassins.”
He tugged a wrinkle out of the dark green quilt. “Yeah. And they led us. Protected us when they could. Patrin was the one who told the Scythe I’d make a lousy killer, but that I was good at blending in and getting information.”
Bless Patrin. Being a killer would’ve damaged Oliver irreparably.
Blinking back tears, she smiled. “You blend in, hmm? Considering we look alike, that’s not what a female wants to hear.”
He led the way out of the room. “Sis, you’re not gorgeous, sorry. But you are pretty. And, you know—nice.”
“Nice, huh.” How bland was that? Is that how Donal and Tynan thought of her?
“Smart, kind, brave. That stuff.” He flushed. “The Elders sent us to the closest villages for Gatherings. After a few times, we’d learned that beauty can hide an empty heart.”
Oh. She had no words. Not only because he was being super sweet, but…this was her brother talking. Her brother had attended Gatherings. Had mated with females.
In the kitchen, he started opening and closing cupboards. Evaluating the food situation. Such a bear.
An adult bear. She gave herself a shake. “I forgot that time passed for you, too. Part of me still thinks of you as the kid you were when the Scythe took us. Then you talk about attending Gatherings.”
“We’re from the same litter,” he pointed out.
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I feel a lot older than I really am.”
He nodded, his eyes holding a sadness that would probably never go away. “Violence, being treated like animals, killing. That shit changes things. Patrin says other shifters our age seem like younglings.”
Opening the fridge, Margery pulled out the leftover roast beef and a loaf of bread. When Oliver’s eyes lit, she started making sandwiches. “Most of the time, I feel old—and then I trip over a tradition everyone else knows and feel like I’m five.”
The haunted look disappeared from his eyes as he snickered. “Oh, yeah. Like I didn’t remember shit about lifemating stuff. It’s not as if Mom or Grandmama had lifemates. So…I was trying to flirt with a pretty female. And two big werecats saw me trying to get her interest. Turned out they were her new lifemates.”
“Uh-oh. Nice ones?”
“Not. Hardly. They bashed me into the wall, ready to tear my throat out. Thank fuck an elder stepped in and explained I was still learning the traditions.”
Margery felt her breath shudder. The males could have hurt Oliver badly. “I heard new lifemates were unstable, but wow.”
“Yeah.” He drank some lemonade, then grinned. “Do you remember when we were seven, and you asked the Howatt littermates to wait for you so you could be their lifemate?”
“They were so nice. They didn’t even laugh.” Her mood darkened. The Howatt brothers had died on the street the day the Scythe attacked.
Oliver saw her face and looked away. Picking up the sandwich, he moved out of the kitchen. “So, you’re going to work as a banfasa like Grandmama?”
“Maybe. Probably. I have a job as a waitress, but the healer has work for me to do, too. With older shifters and pregnant ones as well as the ones with injuries that take a while to heal.”
“Sounds boring,” Oliver said.
“Not to me.” She settled into a chair in the living room. “I don’t like all the bloody stuff the healers are so good at. I’d rather do therapy to help someone recover their strength, make sure a pregnant shifter is eating right for the unborn cub. I’m good at that.”
“You’re good at all of it.” Oliver sat on the couch. “Grandmama was really proud of you.”
Tears prickled her eyes. “Thanks.” Earning her grandmother’s praise had been difficult—but very rewarding. They’d planned to be partners when Margery was an adult.