was on the second level, in the small kitchenette to the left. "Eat." He thrust a plate of food at her and pulled out a chair at the nearby table.
A second ago, she would've sworn her stomach was too twisted up to eat. But now, it rumbled. She took the seat. "Thanks." He had made her toast and eggs. Simple enough. Except for the muffin that accompanied it. Her appetite dulled. "Faith?" She picked up the offending piece of baking, barely able to stop herself from crushing it to a pulp.
He put down his own plate and grabbed a seat opposite her. "Tamsyn," he said, eyes cat-sharp. "She sneaks in here and leaves things in the cooler."
She couldn't stand the suspense. Stupid muffin. "Who is she?"
"Nathan's mate."
That cut off her simmering jealousy midstep. "And Faith?"
His lips curved a little and she suddenly felt very warm. "Careful, Tally. Your claws are showing."
"I'm human," she retorted, knowing she shouldn't be so happy at the sign of a thaw in his earlier mood, but she was. "The best I can do is grow my nails." She stared at her stubby nails. "And I'm not exactly good at that." He'd wait forever if he thought she would ask about Faith again. She shoved some eggs into her mouth.
Clay had already finished his toast and now took a sip of coffee. "Faith is Vaughn's mate," he said, looking at her over his cup. "Coffee?"
She let him pour her a cup, feeling silly. "Nathan and Vaughn are your friends?"
"Yes. So are Faith and Tammy."
It shook her. The Clay she'd known had been her only friend, and she had been his. But now he was part of a pack and she was an outsider. "I'm glad for you," she whispered, even as an ugly possessiveness bared its teeth inside of her. "It must be nice."
His response was a grunt. "Eat."
She ate, cleaning her plate far quicker than she would have believed possible when she first came downstairs. The muffin proved delicious. "Tamsyn's a good cook."
"How about you?"
Surprised by the question, she answered honestly. "Weird, but I like cooking. I used to do it with Pa Larkspur."
"Pa Larkspur?"
She smiled. "Don't be so chauvinistic. He's the best cook in the county. His baskets bring in more money than any others at the picnic auctions."
"Jesus. Baskets? Picnic? Just how country is the Nest?"
"Very." His horrified expression made her laugh. "Clay, you live in a tree. I don't think you should throw stones."
"I guess the corn would provide some cover when grown," he muttered. "Nowhere to climb or create a lair though. Not unless you build a house." He almost shuddered.
She'd never thought about the farm from a predator's point of view. "Well, yeah. But there is one thing you might like."
He raised an eyebrow.
"There are caves." She had spent a lot of time in them as a teenager, pushing away the love the Larkspurs tried to give her. She had never talked back, never created trouble at home. She'd simply disappeared to where they couldn't find her and she couldn't hurt them. "They're deep enough underground that it doesn't affect the farming operation, but the area's riddled with them."
A gleam of interest lit the dark green of his eyes. "They ever been mapped?"
"I didn't find any records when I researched them for a school project," she said, "but there have to be maps."
He laid his arm on the table. "Why?"
"Because" - she leaned forward - "I'm certain the caves are man-made. They're almost like proper tunnels in places."
Interest turned to intrigue, the forest green getting brighter. "Your town have a big changeling presence?"
Catching his line of thought, she shook her head. "A small horse clan, and an owl one - predatory but not particularly dominant. They always used to vote me in as captain when they split us into teams for gym class." And she was no superathlete.
"You're a strong personality," he said, surprising her. "Most nonpredatories would automatically see you as dominant, and as for predatory changelings, they decide according to the individual. Your owl schoolmates must've figured you were tougher than them."
"Huh." But it made sense. The owls had been scholars from a nice family, while she had been very hard-case. "Anyway, the horses and owls can't have dug the caves. They hate being shut in."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
"No snakes?"
She almost spewed coffee all over the table. "There are snake changelings?"
"Why wouldn't there be?" He refilled her cup. "They're rare, but they exist."