Healing of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - waning gibbous moon

  * * *

  Grumpy bear. A frown tugging at her lips, Margery strolled through the cool evening air, up the hill to the Wild Hunt tavern.

  She’d tried to get Oliver to join her, but since last night, he’d been as irritable as a badger with a thorn in a paw.

  Frustration and worry for him was a dull burn in her stomach as she crossed the parking lot. Dear Goddess, she was tired. It’d been a very full day.

  Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t help but smile.

  She’d worked as a banfasa.

  Today, she’d taught Walter—and his mate Sandy—some exercises to strengthen his muscles around a newly healed leg.

  Then she’d visited three senior shifters to check nutrition and see how they were managing.

  The elderly cat was doing all right since her daughter lived in a nearby village.

  The senior wolf needed more help. With his permission, Margery discussed his needs with Bree who would get the pack involved.

  Generys, an older bear shifter, had no one. Her only family lived in Canada.

  When Margery reported the problem to Donal, he’d told her to talk with Calum. Scary thought, but the healer was right. Finding the needed resources for a patient was part of her job…and the Cosantir of a territory held all the resources.

  She pulled open the tavern door and stepped inside.

  Even though it was midweek, a Tuesday night, people filled the tables.

  Then a woman raised her voice in song, and Margery stopped dead just inside the door.

  To the left in the front corner that held the piano, Emma strummed a guitar as she sang The Legend of the First, telling of one of the first Daonain—the half-breed children of fae and humans. How the werewolf padded through the forest. All by himself. As the moon’s glow called to him, he sang to her of his loneliness.

  The melody changed and brightened as Emma and the two males behind her swung into the chorus. And then every wolf in the tavern joined in the howling, telling the shifter that he wasn’t alone. That the pack was there—a shield, a family, a home.

  As Margery lifted her own voice, her eyes burned with tears.

  Finishing the song, the bard—because, oh, that’s what Emma must be—paused and started a new tune, Song to the Mother. The males behind her added a baritone and bass, and then the entire tavern sang along.

  Tears spilled down Margery’s cheeks.

  These, these were her people.

  As the song ended, Emma rose. “Thank you all. May the Mother’s love forever light your trail until you return safely home to her.”

  When Emma put her guitar into the case, Margery whined, “She’s finished? Nooo.”

  At a table, a female chuckled. “I’m afraid so. But she sings twice a week. Get here earlier next time.”

  “Oh, I will.” Margery made her way across the room to Emma and bent her head in respect. “Bard. Thank you. I’d forgotten…” She couldn’t think of the words to express the feelings that welled inside her. “Thank you.”

  A rumble of laughter came from the huge male behind her. It was the grizzly cahir named Ben. “I get it. I felt the same way when I first heard her sing.”

  “That’s why I play. Thank you.” Emma gave Margery a happy hug. “Margery, I think you know Ben from when the feral attacked at the park. This is my other mate, Ryder.”

  Ryder was sleek, dark, and deadly, reminding her of Donal. Another cat shifter.

  Emma smiled. “Since I’m finished, let’s have a drink and catch up.”

  A fair number of people were leaving, now the singing was done, but at the bar, Calum looked busy. Margery could wait a while to talk with him. “That’d be great. Is your cub here tonight, too?”

  “No, Minette is playing with Bonnie’s litter—and instigating trouble, I’m sure.”

  “Margery, Emma—over here,” Darcy called from a large table in the corner. She had a male on each side of her, and across the table, Vicki grinned and pushed out two chairs in invitation.

  “We are summoned,” Emma said. After kissing her mates and shooing them toward the bar, she grabbed Margery’s hand, pulling her along.

  “Margery, look who’s here.” Darcy was beaming. “My littermates, Patrin and Fell.”

  “Margery, good to meet you.” Patrin looked like Darcy, lean and dark with black eyes and hair. He smiled at her.

  Fell was brown-haired and more muscular. His icy-blue eyes looked as if they’d seen far too much death. He nodded at her. Apparently, that was his idea of a greeting.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She didn’t remember them very well from Dogwood. Darcy’s family had only moved there a month or so before the Scythe destroyed the village. And during their captivity, the shifter-soldiers were permitted to speak only with their own sisters.

  “Is Oliver here?” Patrin looked around.

  “No.” It was a shame. Surely, her littermate would have wanted to see his friends. “He was planning to go run in the forest.”

  Fell frowned.

  The knot of worry in her gut tangled more. “I know he had a hard time of it, but he still seems awfully unhappy.”

  Patrin gave her a steady look. “All the Dogwood survivors changed, all in different ways. Being free is the first step to recovery—not the last.”

  It was a dismal truth. “And Oliver…?”

  “He didn’t adapt well to being a soldier,” Fell said baldly.

  “Some shifters have a predator’s instincts. Being a soldier comes naturally. He isn’t like that.” Patrin rubbed his neck. “And he’s a solitary beast. In the compound, we were stuffed into barracks, muzzle to tail, and even on a mission, never left alone.”

  Impossible conditions for her brother. When upset as a cub, Oliver would hide in the forest and return only after he’d calmed himself. “You’re saying he never got his balance.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Patrin said. “Although Elder Village was good for him, his head is still in the past.”

  Fell confirmed this with a dark scowl.

  “What can I do?” Margery asked.

  “Don’t know.” Patrin moved his shoulders. “Give him time?”

  Darcy gave her a sympathetic look and rubbed her head against each brother’s shoulder.

  Oliver wouldn’t have permitted even that small amount of affection.

  “If Oliver isn’t here, does that mean you walked up the hill by yourself?” Vicki asked with a frown.

  “Sure.”

  Now they all frowned at her.

  Vicki glanced at the dark windows. “Cold Creek isn’t a shifter-only village—there are humans as well as strangers passing through. Unless you’re good with a blade and firearms—preferably both—you shouldn’t wander through town at night.”

  Margery blinked. “Oh. I guess I never thought about it.” No one had cared when she was out at night in Ailill Ridge.

  No one there had cared about her at all.

  “I used to think that once I escaped the Scythe, my world would be safe.” Darcy’s lips twisted. “Wrong.”

  “I know. I had so many dreams of how wonderful life would be if I was free. Talk about mistaken.” Her entire time in Rainier Territory had crushed most of her dreams.

  But what about being with Donal and Tynan on Gathering night? “Then again, some daydreams fell completely short of reality.”

  Although Patrin and Fell looked confused, all three females snickered.

  Oh, she did love having friends. “Much as I’d like to visit, I didn’t come to the tavern to socialize. I need to talk to the Cosantir.”

  “Banfasa business?” Emma asked.

  Margery nodded.

  “We need to get you a car.” Vicki tapped her fingertips on the table. “Donal hates vehicles but knows he has to use one. You should have one, too, for urgent stuff and so you’re not walking around at night.”

  A c
ar? “I don’t even know how to drive.”

  “Someone can teach you. Only don’t pick Donal.” Vicki grinned. “The first time you run over a curb, he’ll have a hissy-kitty fit.”

  Emma burst out laughing. “He will.”

  Donal and his ranting. Margery snorted at the thought.

  “I’ll ask Tynan to teach you.” Vicki nodded to herself. “Superb driver, patient teacher. And he’ll be easier on your nerves.”

  “Not as much fun for the rest of us, though,” Darcy said. “I’ve picked up some great insults from listening to Donal.”

  That set them off, comparing the best insults. Arguing over fecal matter versus sexual imagery in insults.

  Margery noticed Vicki had turned to stare at the bar. At the Cosantir.

  After a minute, the Cosantir looked directly at his mate and raised an eyebrow.

  Vicki pointed to Calum, held her arm out, and moved her hand forward several times. Then she pointed to Margery.

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment.

  “There. He should join us in a minute.”

  As the recipient of puzzled stares, Vicki added, “Alec had me teach the cahirs some tactical hand signals from the military. Of course, Calum decided to learn them, too.”

  “I noticed he turned around without you doing anything,” Patrin said slowly.

  “Well, you know how you can feel someone watching you when you’re making a covert approach?” Vicki asked.

  Both males nodded.

  “I think it’s a Cosantir thing, but Calum can feel if someone stares at him, even in a crowded room.”

  Emma glanced at the bar. “Cosantirs are scary.”

  When Margery nodded soberly, Vicki grinned. “Or he’s tended bar so long he can sense when someone needs a drink.”

  “Who’s cubsitting for you while you’re down here?” Emma asked.

  “Alec and Jamie. Thorson planned to join them. He takes being a caomhnor very seriously.” Vicki’s smile faded. “So does Wells, although I haven’t seen him for a while. Patrin, Fell, do you know what he’s been up to?”

  Fell shrugged. The male sure wasn’t into speaking.

  “He just got back from the Mideast. He said the new unrest over there was instigated by the Scythe,” Patrin said.

  Margery shivered. Although the Daonain had destroyed the Scythe compound in Seattle, the Director had escaped and their network of rich, influential humans was intact.

  Whenever she thought about the Scythe, she wanted to hide.

  From the shifter-soldiers’ deadly expressions, hiding wasn’t in their plans. Patrin leaned forward. “Don’t worry, Margery. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  A corner of Fell’s mouth turned up as he looked at her, then Patrin. “Anyone?”

  “Good point.” Patrin grinned at him and turned to her, his dark gaze dancing. “We’re the only ones who get to hurt you.”

  She blinked. Was that a threat or was he flirting with her? “Ahhh…”

  “Did Shay tell you that he’d asked us to teach you how to fight?”

  “You?” She stared. “But Jody is—”

  “Her, too. I think we’ll have the whole wolf pack there.” Patrin’s smile deepened. “We were hoping to have a smaller class. Of one.”

  They’d wanted to give her…personal…lessons?

  “Banfasa.” The Cosantir’s deep voice interrupted. He set a drink in front of her and handed one to Emma.

  Next to him was Tynan.

  Everything inside her reacted, as if she was hearing bone-shaking thunder, feeling a storm approach through her whole body. She licked her lips, and her voice came out husky. “Tynan.”

  He smiled down at her and tugged a strand of her hair. “Meggie mine.”

  Oh, she knew that “mine” was merely part of the common phrase. She shouldn’t want it to be true.

  When she smiled up at him, he traced the backs of his fingers down her cheek. And her whole body blossomed with desire.

  “Well, cat-scat,” Patrin muttered for some reason.

  Before she could look over, Calum said, “Did you need to speak with me, Margery?”

  Work. She pulled her thoughts into banfasa business. “Yes, if you have a couple of minutes, Cosantir.”

  When he nodded, she pointed to an empty table. “There?”

  “If you wish.”

  Tynan lifted his chin in inquiry.

  “Um, you, too, please?” A person’s medical needs shouldn’t be common knowledge, but the town’s law enforcement should know Generys had a problem. The elderly shifter had given Margery permission to share with whoever might be useful. Open hunting, she called it.

  And Tynan was the kind who’d help anyone who needed him.

  How could a female not lo…not care for a male like Tynan?

  As Margery settled at the new table, Emma started a new conversation with the ones left behind, tactfully, distracting them from Margery’s group.

  “I was visiting some of the senior shifters today. I’ve found help for two of them, but one needs more than I can find for her.” Margery went on to tell them about the older shifter. How her balance was poor, her hygiene worse, and her diet inadequate. Her daughter was in Canada with younger cubs, and Generys didn’t want to be a burden.

  Calum tapped his fingers on the table as he considered. “I’ll talk with the Jasper Territory Cosantir. We can find out if the daughter knows about her dam’s problems and wants to be involved.”

  Perfect. That was exactly what Margery had hoped for.

  Tynan frowned. “Our wolf pack has a support system for those who need it—our seniors, new mothers, cubs, invalids. Perhaps the town needs something similar, Cosantir?”

  “Aye, I think it’s time we took steps.” Calum smiled at Margery. “Now that we have someone capable of evaluating needs, we should be able to establish a support network.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Vicki chimed in from the other table.

  Beside her, Emma coughed politely. “Sorry, but I couldn’t keep the conversation going—not without help.” She frowned at the others at the table.

  Calum gave Margery a rueful smile. “My mate has an insatiable curiosity.”

  “Since we heard the end of your discussion,” Emma said, “Ben and Ryder are using some younger shifters in volunteer work and teaching them the construction trade. They can help out.”

  “Perfect.” Margery felt her enthusiasm rising. “I’ve been researching ways to convert houses to be elder-friendly. I’d like to talk with both of them.”

  “They’re still over at the bar. We’ll talk to them and get it set up.” Emma’s eyes held equal enthusiasm. “Historically, bards were used to recruit for wars. It’s time we drew people to something better—like charitable efforts. I’ll see if I can’t find you shifters, young and old, who have spare time on their hands.”

  “The younger ones will probably want to be paid,” Patrin said.

  “You’re so cynical.” Darcy thumped her littermate in the ribs. “Count me in for repair work. I bet Bree will cook if the clan’s budget would buy the ingredients.”

  Margery’s heart skipped a beat. A support system was being born as she watched.

  Darcy nudged her littermates. “Are you two going to help?”

  “Chwaer, we don’t know where the shifter-soldiers will end up,” Patrin told his sister. “Not until we talk with Wells.”

  The thought sent a chill up Margery’s spine. The human spymaster apparently still planned on involving the shifter-soldiers in eliminating the Scythe.

  What would her littermate do?

  Later that night, Tynan parked his car in the driveway and got out. His SUV pinged quietly as a cold drizzling rain splatted against the heat of the hood. Grateful for their bright porch light, he walked around the vehicle as Meggie slid out of the passenger side.

  When he’d told her he was driving her home, she hadn’t argued at all. Progress.

  He smiled. Everyone at th
e table—other than Meggie—had noticed the shifter-soldiers’ interest in her. And that the only male she’d reacted to as a female was Tynan.

  Mine.

  He glanced across the side yard at Meggie’s dark house. “Looks like Oliver hasn’t come home yet. Or he went to bed early.”

  She shut the passenger door. “A rainy night in the forest doesn’t bother him in the least. He says he finds a dry hollow and enjoys the quiet.” Her voice was tight as she whispered, “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he want to be here with me?”

  Heedless of the rain, Tynan pulled her into his arms, the only way he knew how to comfort her. “After I left Seattle and came here, I spent days and weeks in the mountains. We shifters go into the forests when stressed—and even something as simple as change can be stressful.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  When she relaxed and laid her cheek on his shoulder, he felt as victorious as if he’d dragged home a moose for her supper.

  “You needed the forests, and you actually like people. It must be worse for an introverted bear.” She gave Tynan a squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll try not to worry so much about him.”

  “At least you’re not harassing him about what he might need or what he should do. Donal, as you can imagine…”

  She had the cutest throaty giggle. “I’m sure he told you exactly what to do to get better and was offended when you didn’t take his advice. Noisily offended.”

  Tynan laughed. “You know him well, banfasa.”

  Her head was tilted back, and raindrops glittered in her dark eyelashes. Her eyes danced with laughter, her soft lips curved, and she offered far more temptation than any male could resist.

  He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to object, and then kissed her, savoring her mouth, pulling her closer. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and when he slid his hands under her shirt, her damp skin was warm and silken under his rough palms.

  She kissed like a dream.

  “Seriously? If you’re going to do that, get your tails inside and out of the rain.” Donal stood on the porch, hands on his hips.