Her males.
Not lifemates, of course, but they were hers, no matter what they thought.
She eyed the angle of the sun against the tent wall. Early morning. The night had been long and ugly. The Daonain had won the fight, but at a cost of lives, of injuries.
The bodies of the shifters who’d been killed would be taken to Cold Creek and Rainier for the Daonain’s rites of passage—the Return to the Mother.
The spymaster with the shifter-soldiers’ help had used a portable fingerprinter on the Scythe bodies before trucking away all trace of their presence. He even said he had a way to dispose of corpses. Having met him, she wouldn’t put it past the devious human to own a crematorium or something.
Most of the shifter-soldiers went with Wells to continue the hunt for the Scythe Colonel. Not Oliver, though. The group he’d escorted hadn’t returned yet. Her chest ached because when his duty was done, he would leave for Canada.
When a tiny whine escaped her, she felt a wolf paw land on her shoulder, and Tynan took a comforting lick of her ear. Donal’s purr swept over her, and he rubbed his big head against her furry cheek.
Not alone. I’m not alone.
Smiling, she breathed in the scents of her males, of her pack, of her clan. And drifted back off to sleep.
When she woke again, Donal and Tynan were gone, and the puppy pile had diminished. A quick glance showed the tent was almost empty. Donal must have finished healing the injured.
Rolling up onto her paws, she almost whimpered. Her ribs and shoulders were bruised, and the healed knife wound was still tender. Ow, ow, ow.
Slowly, carefully, she picked her way out of the pile of sleeping shifters, ignoring the grumbling.
Hey, she didn’t step on more than a paw or two.
After shifting to human and washing in the icy stream, she dressed and stretched. The sun had warmed the air, and a breeze swept away the last stench of battle.
It was a new day.
Returning to the grounds, she saw shifters leaving, some being helped down the path to the road. The sound of vehicles picking them up came and went.
A youngling ran past her, carrying a backpack.
The cubs were back?
Margery looked around, seeing that the noncombatants had returned.
“Margery!” Oliver stood by the firepit, drinking from a mug. He handed the cup to Angie, then caught Margery up in a warm hug. “Fuck, I was worried about you all night.”
“Are you all right?” She held him at arm’s length to give him a quick perusal. Scratched, dirty, tired, but intact.
“Yeah. A couple of the mercenaries got close, but I decoyed them away and up to the top of a cliff.” He grinned at her. “Bears don’t sneak worth shit, but I can sound like a whole bunch of people.”
“You didn’t get hurt?”
“Nah. Owen came up behind them—fuck, but he’s, like, totally silent—and smacked them right off the cliff.”
Owen was one of Darcy’s mates. A werecat cahir. “Sounds like perfect teamwork.”
“It worked all right.” His smile said he was feeling better about himself. He gave her the same careful study she’d given him. “You’re all right? Angie said you were in the fighting before the healing tent was set up. That you got hurt.”
Margery shot her boss a glare that made her laugh. “I got thumped on the head”—a gunshot was a thump, right?—“but Donal put it to rights.”
Oliver’s sigh was relieved. “It’s good to have a healer at hand.”
“It is.”
A noisy family group headed for the firepit, and Margery pulled Oliver out of their way. “So, bro, what are you planning now?”
“Heading for Canada. I wanted to make sure you were all right and say goodbye before leaving.”
The bond to him didn’t even hurt—because it was the right choice for him. What he needed to get himself back on the right trail. Pulling in a breath, she found her calm. “I’m glad you waited to see me. I needed a hug before you left.”
Blinking back tears, she wrapped her arms around him.
He squeezed her so hard her injured ribs set up a protest—and they both stayed for a moment, feeling the pain of loss.
“Goodbyes suck,” he muttered and let her go.
She wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Well. You know my address, my phone number. You call me when you find a place to den.”
“I will. Yeah.” He pulled in a breath. “Love you, sis.” And then he was walking into the forest—his haven as the moon was for her.
“Love you, bro,” she whispered.
After a minute, an arm encircled her waist. “He’s off to Canada, like he said?” Angie asked.
“He is. It’s good.” Margery heard the quiver in her voice and firmed it up. “He needs to go.”
“It’s good when someone knows what to do next.” Angie gave her a squeeze, then poured a mug of coffee from the pot on the grill. “You look like you need this, girl.”
“Thank you.” The scent of the dark brew would wake a hibernating bear.
As she took a sip, she studied her boss. The lines on Angie’s face were deeper. Brush scratches reddened her face and neck, and she moved…carefully. She’d been in Shay’s wolf pack last night. “How badly did you get hurt?”
“You’re such a banfasa.” Angie smiled wryly. “A bullet messed up my leg, but Donal mended it. Got some bruises here and there. I’m alive.” Sorrow flickered in her gaze.
Deep within, Margery could feel the ache of the broken pack bonds. She’d only known those packmates since spring—not for years like Angie. Margery moved closer to share the grief, to comfort, and Angie leaned against her.
After pulling in a breath, Margery motioned to the shifters walking toward the road. “I take it the festival is over.”
“Aye. The Cosantirs don’t feel it’s safe to remain.”
Approaching, Vicki heard and smiled. “It’s always nice when the REMFs are smart.”
At Angie’s confused look, Margery clued her in. “Rear-echelon motherfuckers.”
“Girl,” Angie sputtered. “One of those REMFs is your mate.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” Vicki grinned. “He’s better than most of them.”
Margery laughed. “You’re such a fraud.” Then she frowned because, although Vicki was moving well enough, she had dark circles under her eyes and a strained expression. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine.”
Margery crossed her arms over her chest and tried for a Tynan-authoritative frown.
“You do that well. I’d promote you.” Vicki shook her head, and her smile disappeared. “Okay, though it was fun to play with weapons again, the fighting brought back…stuff. It’ll take a few days for it to die back down—and yes, Angie, Calum and Alec know.”
“That’s all right, then.” Angie handed Vicki a cup of coffee.
Vicki took a sip before turning to Margery. “Calum told me what you did last night. Thank you for guarding my back.”
“Ah, well, you were pinning down a whole bunch of bad guys—there would have been a whole lot more casualties if you hadn’t.” Mother’s breasts, but the female was braver than anyone Margery had ever known. “It seemed only right I should lend a paw.”