all around her, a few whines. Farther away, someone was talking in a low voice. She relaxed. Throbbing all over her body told of battles fought
With a soft sigh, she let herself sink down into the warmth of the shifters surrounding her. Last night, as the younglings grew exhausted, the adults had tossed blankets into a corner and sent them to sleep there in a puppy pile.
As the adults in the tent wore out, they’d shifted to animal and joined the pile of sleeping furballs.
Eventually, she and Donal ended up there, somewhere close to dawn, and later, she vaguely remembered Tynan squirming his way in to join them.
In fact, the big panther paw resting on her ribs was Donal’s. Contentment filled her at the sight of him, lying on his side in front of her, his hind legs tangled with hers. Tynan was curled around her from behind, his muzzle resting on her nape.
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