Chapter 5 #2
"So," Miska said, grinning at Fen across the fire, "when are you going to stop sniffing around Kerra and actually do something about it?"
Fen's face went red. "I'm not—"
"You absolutely are," Jarak cut in, laughing. "Every time she walks past you go silent and stare like you've forgotten how words work."
"She's not interested," Fen muttered.
"Won't know unless you ask," Torin said, waving a piece of meat on his good hand. "Worst she can do is say no."
"Or laugh," Miska added helpfully.
"Or tell everyone in the pack and make it awkward forever," Jarak said.
Fen threw a scrap of gristle at him. "You're all terrible."
They laughed, and I found myself grinning until Torin turned his grin on me.
"What about you, Alpha? When are you going to stop turning down every female who looks at you twice and actually pick a mate?"
I kept my expression easy, confident. "When I meet the right one."
"The right one," Jarak repeated, shaking his head. "You sound like you're waiting for the Mother to drop someone perfect in your lap."
"Maybe I am," I said, grinning. "Why settle for good enough when you can wait for perfect?"
"Because the pack needs—" Miska started.
"The pack needs a strong alpha who knows what he wants," I interrupted, my tone still light but carrying an edge of authority. "And I know exactly what I want. I'll mate when I find her. Not before."
Daska snorted beside me. "His parents were true mates. He watched them be disgustingly perfect for each other his whole life. Now he's ruined for anything less."
I shoved him, grinning. "They weren't disgusting."
"They were absolutely disgusting," Daska said. "Your father looked at your mother like she'd hung the moon. It was nauseating."
"It was romantic."
"It was both," Jarak said, laughing. "And now you're waiting for that same thing while every unmated female in the pack loses her mind trying to catch your attention."
"Not my problem," I said cheerfully.
"It kind of is though," Miska pointed out. "You're alpha. You're supposed to set an example, strengthen the pack bonds, produce strong pups—"
"I will," I said, still easy, still confident. "When I find the right female. Until then, you'll all just have to be patient."
"Spirits save us," Torin muttered, but he was grinning.
"Speaking of females," Jarak said, "Sila brought down an elk by herself yesterday. Practically dragged it back to camp alone just to prove she could."
"Showing off for someone," Miska said knowingly.
"Showing off for Rivik," Fen corrected, and they all looked at me with varying degrees of amusement.
I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Sila is a strong hunter and a valued member of the pack. That's all I'm saying about it."
"That's not a no," Torin pointed out.
"It's not a yes either."
Daska was laughing beside me, the sound warm and familiar. I glanced at him. "You think this is funny?"
"I think watching you dodge questions about mating is the most entertainment I've had all winter," he said.
"Traitor."
"Brother," he corrected, grinning.
The word settled something in my chest, warm and solid. Daska had been my closest friend since we were boys—my brother in every way that mattered. The fact that he shifted into a bear instead of a wolf had never mattered to me, not once.
Though I'd noticed, over the years, the subtle ways it mattered to everyone else.
"At least you don't have to deal with this," I said to Daska. "Nobody's pestering you about taking a mate."
His expression flickered—something complicated I couldn't quite read—then smoothed back into easy humor. "Benefits of being the weird healer bear, I suppose."
There was something in his tone that made me glance at him again, but the firelight was shifting and his face was already turned away, focused on the meat he was turning over the flames.
I let it go. Daska was private about certain things, always had been.
He'd joined our pack as a half-grown cub, orphaned after his mother was killed by a cave lion. My father had taken him in without hesitation and Daska had grown up among us, learned our ways, and once he’d grown earned his place a hundred times over as our healer.
But he wasn't a wolf. And no matter how many kills he shared or wounds he tended, there were moments—small ones, easy to miss if you weren't paying attention—where I caught him watching the rest of us with something quiet and careful in his eyes.
Like he was measuring the distance between himself and belonging, and finding it just a fraction too far to cross.
I didn't like it. Never had. But I'd also never figured out how to fix it, because every time I tried to bring it up, Daska deflected with a joke or a shrug and the conversation moved on.
The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks toward the cave ceiling.
I stretched my legs out and let the warmth soak into my aching muscles.
Outside, the rain had settled into a steady downpour, the kind that would last through the night.
Good. We were dry, fed, warm, and the meat was smoking nicely.
Gradually the conversation drifted from mating to hunting stories to speculation about whether the spring gathering would have better trade goods this year.
The fire burned low. The storm drew closer, the wind picking up outside the cave entrance. I found myself drifting in and out of the conversation, content to listen more than speak, watching my pack with satisfaction.
Good hunt. Everyone safe. This is what matters.
Then, from somewhere to the west, a howl split the air.
Every one of us went still.
I knew that voice.
"Broken Ridge," Jarak said quietly, and his hand went to the knife at his belt.
The Broken Ridge pack—named for the shattered escarpment that dominated their territory to the north.
I'd recognize that particular harmonic anywhere.
Their alpha, Karik, had a howl like grinding stone, and his wolves echoed it, harsh and discordant —at least four more wolves, maybe five, their voices carrying clear across the open ground.
"They're closer than they should be," Miska added, tension sharpening her voice.
I stood slowly, scanning the western horizon through the cave entrance.
Nothing moved that I could see, but that meant nothing.
Broken Ridge pack were sneaky bastards—dishonourable fighters who ambushed rather than challenged openly, who stole kills and pushed boundaries until you had no choice but to push back.
We'd had three skirmishes with them in the past year. None of them had ended well.
"What do we do?" Fen asked, his voice tight.
I considered for a moment, weighing options. "We can't take the main route home."
"Why not?" Torin frowned. "Hanging Stone lands are four days east. We push hard, we're back in three."
"River's running high from the spring melt," I said. "Main crossing will be mud and ice, and slow going. Broken Ridge knows that route—they'll be watching the crossing points, and we're loaded down with meat. Easy pickings."
"So what, we wait them out?" Jarak's tone made it clear what he thought of that idea.
"No. We take the northern route first, then swing east. Higher ground, harder terrain. They won't expect it, and we can move faster without worrying about ambush at the crossing."
Miska made a frustrated sound. "That's half the distance again. And it’ll take us along the other river. It doesn’t get as high as the main one, but with this storm, it could be hard going."
"I'm not losing meat or packmates to prove we're brave," I said, my tone carrying the weight of alpha command. "We go north at first light. Avoid contact, then head east and get home safe with our kills."
They didn't argue. After a moment, Torin nodded. "You're alpha."
Damn right I am.
I did one more patrol before full dark—circling wide in wolf form, checking for threats, marking our temporary territory out of habit more than need.
That's when I caught it.
A scent on the wind that made my hackles rise and my lips pull back from my teeth.
Sharp. Clean. Wrong.
Not blood or smoke or hide or earth. Not anything natural I'd ever encountered. It was almost like the air after lightning, but without the storm. And underneath—something sweet that wasn't flower or fat or fermentation.
I circled, trying to track it, but the wind shifted and it vanished.
What was that?
I stood there for a long moment, head lifted, testing the air. Nothing. Just the familiar scents of grass, distant water, and the storm.
But the wrongness lingered in my memory, unsettling in a way I couldn't name.
Something unnatural. Upwind.
I resolved to investigate tomorrow when we took the northern route and returned to the cave, shaking the cold rain from my fur.
The others were already settling for sleep, Torin and Fen in human form, wrapped in their fur cloaks, the others in wolf form, close to the fire's warmth. I took my usual position near the entrance where I could see everyone and still watch for threats.
Daska was still awake and human, staring into the coals. He glanced at me as I stretched out. "You alright?"
"Fine," I said. "Just thinking about the route tomorrow."
He studied me for a moment with that healer's awareness that always knew when something was off. "You sure? You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The 'something's wrong but I'm not going to talk about it' look."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "I don't have a look."
"You absolutely have a look."
I was quiet for a moment, then decided there was no point hiding it from Daska. He'd figure it out anyway. "Caught a strange scent out there. Something I've never smelled before."
His expression sharpened. "Strange how?"
"Unnatural. Almost... chemical? Like the air after lightning but wrong somehow."
Daska frowned, thinking. "Could be something from the mountains. Those strange springs, maybe? Or maybe Kavik’s pack are burning herbs"
"Maybe." But it hadn't smelled like springs or herb smoke. It had smelled... strange.
"We'll check it out tomorrow if we can," Daska said. "Might be nothing."
"Might be."
He shifted and settled down, his breathing gradually evening out into sleep. I shifted, and wrapped myself in my hunting furs, but lay awake, staring at the cave ceiling, unable to shake the unease that had settled in my chest.
Tomorrow we'd head north. Avoid Broken Ridge. Get home safe. That's all that matters.
Eventually, despite my intention to stay alert, exhaustion pulled me under.