Her face heated. “I…I have a job. I work for Angie, and that’s what I want to do.” Her mouth tightened. She wouldn’t be forced back into being a banfasa. Maybe being a banfasa had been her life’s goal, but look how that dream had turned into a nightmare.
Donal’s expression held all the flexibility of a granite cliff as he told the Cosantir in a curt tone, “I’m not in need of help, thank you.”
The way the Cosantir lifted an eyebrow indicated that the healer wasn’t being particularly truthful. And she knew what that meant. Donal might need help—just not her help. The hurt of being disliked, being unwanted, was like lemon juice rubbed into a gash.
At one time, she’d thought working with an actual healer would be amazing, but not here. Not with this healer.
As the cublings on her lap stirred, she realized they’d caught her emotions. She pulled in a deep breath, asked the Mother for tranquility, and with her next breath, pushed away the pain.
Two breaths and the waters of her soul were calm again.
“Now, there’s control like I’ve never seen,” the Cosantir murmured.
She looked away from him to fall into the healer’s silvery gaze. Once again, he was studying her. Like the Scythe had studied the shifters.
Her jaw jutted out. Take your opinions, healer, and knot them into your tail.
He blinked.
And the Cosantir grinned. “Margery, if you’re pleased with your employment with Angie, then it shall be as you wish.” Even as she relaxed, the Cosantir rose and added, “Choices are not written in stone if you should change your mind in the future.”
Be a banfasa? Work with the healer? Never, ever happening. “Thank you, Cosantir.”
“Be welcome in the North Cascades Territory, Margery Lavelle. I’m pleased you’ve joined the clan.”
Warmth swept through her at the genuine acceptance in the Cosantir’s words.
As Calum walked away, the healer resumed tending the last few scratches.
Settling down beside Margery, Angie let out a laugh. “Most people meet the Cosantir more formally. Not sitting on the floor, covered in blood and younglings.”
“Oh, well.” Margery blew out a breath. “Lucky me.”
A snort drew her attention, and she saw the healer’s lips twitch in a second of amusement.
A sense of humor, gentle with younglings, blessed by the Mother with the talent for healing. The kind of person she’d always wanted to work with.
Instead, somehow, she’d earned his dislike. Or maybe he was just extremely territorial? If so, no problem.
You can go ahead and piss all over your boundary lines, healer. I’d already planned to stay far, far away.
After Donal healed the younglings, he escaped down the tavern stairs into the caves below. Bonnie was on dispatch at the sheriff’s station, and he called to warn her he was taking some time for himself.
“Have a good time, Donal. Sounds like you need a break after that mess.”
“At least no one was seriously injured.” By the Gods, it broke his heart when cubs were hurting. He hung up, tossed his phone on top of his clothing in the hollowed-out cubby, and shifted.
The wave of love from the Mother swept through him like a sun-warmed breeze, and he chirruped his pleasure. Stopping to rub against the cave opening, he left his scent and scratched off the last itch of trawsfurring. The scent of the forest drew him outside, and he bounded along the first trail, letting the movement stretch out pinched muscles.
Patches of the trail were slushy with melting snow—an annoyance to panther paws—but who could resist the call of springtime? Up he went, veering off to one of his favorite noon spots. The trail disappeared, but a quick squirming through underbrush let him exit into a sunny clearing with rock outcroppings.
After taking a moment to flex his claws on an available tree, he leapt to a smooth-topped boulder. Nice and dry. Perfect for a nap in the sun.
It had been a long winter.
But a satisfying one. His littermate was home where he belonged. His absence had been an ache in Donal’s heart for over ten years. He’d wondered if they could even live together again, but it felt as if they’d never been apart.
Mostly. Donal turned on his side so he could lick the annoying mush from between his paw pads.
Tynan had changed. Well, that was normal enough. Living among humans. In a human city. Alone. Aye, that would have been the worst part. His littermate was quieter now, thought before speaking, his emotions more difficult to read.