Tynan frowned. It’d take someone with a brain smaller than a pixie’s to be rude to a healer. Then again, Donal could set off even the most placid of shifters. He wasn’t exactly tactful.
Their neighbor Leo had openly enjoyed the drama of living next to a healer…but someone else might not feel that way. Like the intriguing female in Leo’s house who’d looked at Tynan with fear in her big eyes.
“Cat.” Tynan eyed his littermate. “Did you do your shouting inside, or did you upset our new neighbor?”
“What new neighbor?” Donal sat up, glanced to the right as if he could see the adjacent house that held three males, their mate and cublings. His gaze turned left. “Old Leo’s house? Someone’s living in that stench-filled cave?”
“I don’t know if she’s actually living there.”
“A female?”
“Aye. One of the Dogwood villagers.” A female who didn’t seem to like him—and worse, might even be afraid of him. The knowledge hurt somewhere deep inside him. His job was to defend the pack, not frighten little females. “She looks interesting.”
“Interesting, eh?” Donal grinned. “I’m feeling the need for a cold draft, oh, my brother, along with the latest rumors.”
“Fecking feline.” Cats reveled in gossip. “Right then, let’s go get a beer. I’m sure the Cosantir will know what’s going on. If he doesn’t, Angie will.”
An hour later, they’d learned that Angie was out of town…and that Calum hadn’t heard about the new shifter moving into the vacant house.
Or into his territory.
Chapter Five
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - waning gibbous moon
“Margery, don’t leave yet,” Angie called.
On her way out of the diner, Margery stopped in the doorway. Her first shift as a waitress had gone well. She wasn’t fast—yet—but she hadn’t messed up any orders. It’d been a good morning. “Sure, boss. What’s up?”
A line appeared between Angie’s blonde eyebrows. “We need to visit the Wild Hunt.”
“The tavern?” Like tiny ants, anxiety prickled over Margery’s nerves. “Why?”
“The Cosantir called to ask about you.” Angie motioned Margery out the door and headed down Main Street, slowing her pace to accommodate Margery’s limping gait. “I can’t believe you didn’t speak with Calum about moving here.”
Dread tightened Margery’s stomach as they walked. Was she supposed to have gotten permission? Silently, she considered her conversations with Heather about moving to the North Cascades. No, Heather hadn’t said anything about getting permission from the Cosantir.
“Angie.” Up the hill, they turned off the road into the parking lot. The big log tavern seemed darker than normal. Ominous. “Am I in trouble?”
Hand on the tavern door, Angie glanced back. “No, no, girl, don’t look like that. The Cosantir’s not going to claw you. You didn’t break the law. It’s simply tradition to introduce yourself to a Cosantir before moving to his territory.”
“Oh.” Margery let out a relieved sigh. “Is he angry that you’re letting me use the house?”
“No, not at all. He gave me charge of that problem.” Angie pulled open the door and waved her through.
Into chaos.
Screaming cublings. Bleeding cublings. A lushly curved female was trying to calm things. A younger slender female dashed from the back, carrying a first aid box. Skidding on a patch of blood, she fell. The box rolled across the floor.
“By the Mother’s breasts.” Angie pushed Margery farther inside so she could enter.
After a second of shock, Margery pulled in a slow calming breath.
“No matter what, dear child, keep it together. If the nurse panics, so will the patient.” Phyllis, the Scythe nurse, had repeated that advice over and over until the understanding was buried deep.
Moving forward, Margery grabbed the dropped first-aid kit while doing a quick visual survey. The injured were all children. Two had deep parallel slashes on the torsos and were bleeding heavily. Looked like werecat damage. There was a slashed thigh. Another had a scraped arm. A cut over a boy’s eye was trickling blood—as head wounds would do. All cubs were conscious and breathing with no obvious broken bones.
“Well, then.” She used a volume loud enough to get attention without scaring the cubs more. She turned to the big-boned female with honey-colored hair who stood in the center of the children. “Can you put pressure on the one with a scraped forehead?”
“Can do.” The blonde took the gauze packages from Margery and turned to the little dark-haired child.
“Angie, can you check on that cub?” Margery pointed to a youngling with a cut thigh.