Many plans for the future had died the day of the Scythe attack.
“So…have you figured out what you want to do?” she asked.
“Not really.” He scowled. “The human spymaster who helped get us out—his name is Wells—said something about us helping him kill off the rest of the Scythe. At least that’s what he mentioned before we got sent to the Elder Villages.”
His worried expression unsettled her. “I don’t like that idea.”
“Me, neither. Guess we’ll hear soon enough now that it’s spring.”
“It doesn’t seem right. The Scythe are human; Wells is human. He should have to deal with them, not our people.”
“Wishful thinking never gets a person very far.”
His bitter tone broke Margery’s heart. “You’re here now, though. And you’ll have to let me pamper you.”
If Wells wanted him to fight, he’d have to go through her first.
“You always did.” Oliver’s smile slowly changed until it was almost as carefree as it had been when they were young. “I’ve looked forward to being back with you since the day they parted us.”
Maybe she couldn’t imagine what the shifter-soldiers’ lives had been like or how horrible it would have been for a small unaggressive werebear like Oliver, but he was here now.
He’d have the time—and all her help—to finish healing.
A constant stream of wounded shifters kept Donal moving most of the day. By the Gods, full moons were a pain in the tail. But this was the last injured male today…he hoped. He set his hand over the deep abrasions on Devin’s forearm. As his power flowed, he melded the flesh together and then the layers of skin.
When Donal straightened, the middle-aged male smiled. “Not even a scar. Thank you, healer.”
“You’re welcome.” Donal rolled his aching shoulders. “I’m surprised you’re here, though. Post-gathering, it’s usually single males in here.”
Devin and his two littermates had a mate, Jody, and they all ran a cleaning service.
“Ah, well, this wasn’t from a fight.” Devin rubbed his arm. “A pup got herself stuck in a tree out at the Wildwood Lodge, and I climbed up to get her. I was halfway down when she started panicking, and I didn’t have enough hands to hold her and reach the ground without collecting a few good scrapes.”
Donal groaned. “More of that tree-highway stupidity? I was hoping they’d stopped.”
He heard his brother laugh and turned to see Tynan in the doorway.
“The cubs haven’t stopped. They’re just getting better at not falling.” Tynan walked in and bumped the older male’s arm in a greeting. “Good thing you were there, Devin. The cub’s dam says thank you, and Breanne sent you carrot cake as a reward for the rescue.”
“Carrot cake?” Devin jumped to his feet. “I’m all over that. None of us can make a dessert even a gnome would eat.”
“In the kitchen,” Tynan said.
“Thanks, Beta.” Devin made a beeline out of the clinic to the kitchen.
“I deserve carrot cake, too,” Donal grumbled. By the Gods, he was hungry.
Tynan laughed. “That’s what I told Breanne you’d say. She sent enough for us—and for Meggie and her littermate, who we heard about.”
“You’re a very good brother.” Donal washed his hands and headed straight for the kitchen.
Devin had already left.
Donal took a piece of the cake and bit in. Sweet perfection. “If it was anyone other than Margery, there would be no sharing.”
“Knowing you, we’d better take her cake over now and get the temptation out of the house.” Tynan stretched. “Maybe she and her brother would like to go for a run. I’ve got a craving to get out of the human skin.”
Donal scowled. “You had to say that, didn’t you?” Now his body itched with the need to be in fur, to leap and run and climb. He didn’t get out nearly often enough and almost never with Tynan these days.
He picked up the second plate. “Let’s go.”
Next door, Margery answered their knock.
“Well…hi.” Her lips curved up, a little shy and a lot sweet.
Donal smiled because her eyes brightened when she saw them. Not with cunning or ambition the way he often saw in the females who wanted a God-called male. No, Margery was simply pleased to see him and Tynan. As the younger shifters would say, the pretty wolf liked them.
By the Gods, the glow of the Mother simply radiated from her. How had he missed seeing that before?
Instead of purring, he handed her the plate.
“Carrot cake?” she asked.
“It’s from Breanne as a welcome for your brother from the alphas of our pack,” Tynan clarified.
“Cake?” Oliver joined them at the door. “Awesome. But I’m not a wolf.”
Donal eyed the male, taking the time he hadn’t earlier to look him over.
Oliver’s gait was more lumbering than prowling. His bones were big, but less bulky than a grizzly. He stood next to Margery, but with a few inches between them, not touching the way a wolf or cat would.
“You’re a black bear?” Donal guessed.
“Uh-huh.”
And hungry in the way young males always were.
“I’m Tynan, Donal’s littermate.” Tynan smiled. “Our alpha female, Breanne, likes to feed people, especially her pack and their families. Enjoy.”
“Tell her thank you if you see her before I do,” Margery told Tynan and handed the plate to her brother with an admonishment: “Leave me at least a quarter, greedy guts.”
“Been a long time since I heard you say that.” Oliver’s voice came out husky.
“Yeah.” Sadness filled Margery’s expression, then slipped away. She gave Tynan a puzzled look. “I know Cold Creek has predators, but does it take two of you to ferry cake to next door?”
Tynan’s laugh was as open and hearty as it had been before he’d buried himself in a human city. If the sweet banfasa could bring back that side of his brother, Donal would never let her escape.
“Actually,” Tynan said, “we’re going for a twilight run. Would you and your brother like to come?”
“Oh, yes.” Margery bounced once on her toes. “I would. Oliver?”
Bears had excellent hearing, and he called from the kitchen. “I just spent weeks in fur. I’d rather find a book and lay on your big couch. You go have fun with the neighbors.”
Neighbors? Donal’s mouth twitched. He exchanged a glance with his littermate. They intended to be much more than simply neighbors.
Tynan led his tiny pack—although his cat littermate would be insulted by the term. In Meggie’s shed, they stripped and trawsfurred, then slipped out the wolf-sized door in the back.
The last of the sunlight filtered through the trees along the gurgling creek, and the soft grasses were cool and damp against his paws. He paused to lap clear cold water before jumping the narrow stream.
Trotting up the trail to the mountains, he picked up scents of other shifters, deer, and a wolverine. Behind him came the light patter of Meggie’s paws and occasionally the sound of Donal in the brush.