Chapter 5 - Lola
Lola changed her outfit three times before finally settling on a soft green sweater and a navy skirt.
It was the kind of look that said “friendly academic” rather than “overcompensating and frighteningly inept bookworm.” Or at least that was the hope.
She was aiming for approachable. Intelligent but non-threatening.
Just the right level of “open to new friends” without seeming like she was trying too hard.
She sighed, tugging the sleeves down over her wrists.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, “It’s just coffee. With some women. Who were perfectly lovely to me.”
Still, her stomach was a nervous pit. She shouldn’t have had that second mug of coffee.
She grabbed the tin of blueberry muffins, store-bought, with the packaging very deliberately hidden under foil, and tucked it into her tote bag beside her notes and a backup scarf.
You never knew when you’d need a scarf. It made her feel composed.
People who had scarves at the ready didn’t panic. They were together.
She locked her door, hesitated, then unlocked it again to check that the stove was off.
It was.
She relocked the door.
Her boots echoed faintly on the pavement as she made her way through the quiet morning streets.
Silvermist looked different by daylight.
Less mythical, more picturesque. There were warm wood storefronts with painted signs, the occasional dog trotting loyally at someone’s side, and the scent of fresh bread from somewhere down the street.
And ahead of her, nestled like something out of a snow globe, stood the Pine Shadow Club.
She’d only seen it at night, when it had seemed more like a den of intimidating alpha males and judgmental onlookers.
In the daylight, it looked almost friendly.
Like an old hunting lodge turned community center.
Broad and weathered, with thick logs making up its walls and flower boxes under the front windows that someone had clearly made an effort with, even if the frost had started to wilt them.
Lola stood in front of the door, her heart hammering.
“You’ve survived fieldwork in foreign archives with hostile academics,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve presented papers at international conferences. This is just…brunch.”
Steeling her shoulders, she pushed open the heavy door.
A burst of warmth greeted her, real heat, from a huge stone fireplace at one end of the room, and the low hum of chatter and clinking ceramic. The scent of cinnamon and honey wrapped around her like a blanket.
“Lola!” Daisy’s voice rang out, cheerful and bright. She was halfway across the room, waving with a mug in her hand and a toddler clinging to her hip. “You came!”
“Yes, I…yes,” Lola stammered, stepping inside and awkwardly kicking rainwater off her heeled boots.
Cassie appeared a moment later, grinning as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “We were wondering if we’d scared you off.”
“Oh no,” Lola said quickly, clutching her tote like a life jacket, “not at all. I just…didn’t want to be early.”
Daisy exchanged a look with Cassie. “It’s half-past.”
Lola flushed. “Exactly.”
Cassie chuckled and reached out to take the tin from her, “Are these for us? You didn’t have to bring anything!”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lola said, trying and failing to keep the lie smooth, “just a little something. I…uh…I baked them.”
Cassie opened the foil and peered inside. “They look amazing.”
“They’re muffins,” Lola said, stating the obvious with a grimace, “blueberry.”
“Well, we’ve got coffee, tea, and about twelve types of sweet things. Come sit. Let me introduce you to the others.”
The room wasn’t as crowded as she’d feared. Maybe a dozen women total, some seated on mismatched chairs pulled into circles, others drifting between a buffet table and the fireplace. There were a few young children playing on the rug, building elaborate structures out of wooden blocks.
Lola smiled faintly as they looked curiously up at her. She hadn’t the slightest idea of how to interact with children.
She followed Cassie toward a group by the fire, where a few women were laughing over something and a baby was asleep on someone’s shoulder.
Names swirled around her—Poppy, Sophie, Marsha, Bree.
Everyone seemed to know each other, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a new student on the first day of school.
Still, they were kind. Warm, even.
Poppy complimented her skirt. Sophie asked about the library. Marsha offered her a cinnamon twist, her catlike eyes narrowed in appraisal. But whatever she saw, she seemed to be okay with it, as she settled back and gestured to an open seat next to her.
Lola smiled gratefully and sank slowly into a squashy armchair near the fire, cupping a mug of tea in both hands like it might anchor her.
Daisy was on her other side, balancing her son on one knee while expertly juggling a sippy cup and a napkin. “So,” she said with a conspiratorial grin, “how are you settling in? Ethel working you to death already?”
“She’s very…thorough,” Lola replied, which made Cassie snort.
“That’s one word for it.”
“I don’t mind,” Lola added quickly, “I like it, actually. The library is wonderful. So much history, so many records. I keep finding references I’ve never seen before. Some of the texts date back over two centuries. It’s like a treasure trove.”
“Ethel said you’re studying shifter history, right?” Bree asked, leaning forward.
“Yes, specifically the evolution of pack structures over time. I’m trying to trace how early leadership models influenced modern-day dynamics.
A lot of the older oral histories have been lost, but the Iron Walkers have fantastic records and…
well…can definitely be considered one of the most successful modern-day packs. ”
The women hummed in approval at her praise, and she heaved an internal sigh of relief.
It was only too easy to bruise a shifter’s ego, especially when it came to the pack.
Luckily for her, she didn’t even have to lie.
Everyone knew about the Iron Walkers. They were the most powerful pack in Northern America.
Daisy smiled warmly. “See, didn’t I tell you guys her research was fascinating? ”
“ I want to hear more about the records,” Cassie added. “Have you managed to dig up any secrets while you’re at it?”
“Cassie,” Marsha scolded lightly, “she wouldn’t be allowed near pack secrets. You know that.”
Lola swallowed a sudden lump of nervousness, trying to play it off as a chuckle as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well…obviously. There’s a whole area that I’m not allowed into yet. But I have found some old schematics! Maps from the Civil War era.”
“Ooh,” Cassie leaned in. “That sounds fun, what sort of maps?”
“Just the old tunnels, escape routes, things like that.” At the blank expressions facing her, Lola grimaced. “You…you do know about the tunnels, right?”
“No,” said Marsha, her voice prim, “evidently not.”
Lola cringed. “Ah, well, I mean…most packs from pre-World War One have them. Escape routes, contingencies in case of invasion. They became popular amongst Southern packs during the Civil War when Jefferson Davis made that stupid declaration about abolishing pack structures. According to the records I found, the Iron Walkers have tunnels leading all over town. Several from this club, actually.”
“Where do they lead?” Cassie asked, her eyes bright.
“One goes due North, another to your ceremonial site, and a few others that have likely been lost to time. If they haven’t been maintained, I doubt they’d be in a safe condition.”
“We should try to find them!” Cassie said. “You said that some lead from the club? I bet the entrance is down in the cellars, if we go look—”
“No,” said Marsha and Daisy together, their voices surprisingly harsh. At Cassie’s shock, Daisy exhaled. “We’re not allowed down in the cellars, you know that. There’s too much…history down there.”
“History?” Lola asked before she could stop herself, leaning forward.
Daisy grimaced. “Bad history. Not the sort we should be discussing.”
Lola exchanged a look with Cassie, who shrugged as if to say, “Must be a wolf thing.”
But Lola was a wolf. And a very curious one at that. She filed away the information, deciding to look more into the history Daisy had talked about. Clearly, her direct questioning wasn’t welcome.
“Anyway,” said Daisy with a breezy smile, “tell us more about these pack dynamics!”
And so, cheeks burning from the attention on her, Lola stumbled her way through an explanation of her research, managing to answer questions with as much tact as possible, wary that even the slightest slip of the tongue could end up insulting everyone.
Perhaps she should have more faith that these women were nice and wouldn’t fault her for the odd conversational blunder. But she couldn’t get the mental image of her accidentally calling the Iron Walkers uncivilized right to the alpha’s face out of her head.
Thankfully, the conversation eventually turned to winter plans, and Lola sat back in relief and soaked in the conversation around her.
She was just about to ask more about the traditional solstice celebrations when a loud bark of laughter echoed from outside the window, followed by the distant slam of a door.
Lola stiffened.
Daisy followed her gaze to the large windows.
Dane.
He was crossing the gravel with his usual swagger, a towel slung around his neck, hair damp, muscles under a tight grey shirt flexing as he wiped his face. He must have just come from a run or sparring session, judging by the sweat-slick edge to him.
Lola looked away quickly.
Too quickly.
Cassie noticed. Of course she did.
“Uh oh,” she murmured, lips quirking, “trouble incoming.”
Cassie’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and she nudged Daisy, who followed her gaze, then raised her eyebrows.
“I guess Dane’s back from training,” Daisy said, voice deceptively light.