Angie’s diner, make the breakfasts here—as well as provide food for the lodge’s patio parties.”
“That seems like…”
“Coming down in the world?” Bree stretched her feet out toward the fire. “In a way. In the city, I had status, but what I really wanted was to belong. To have a family. Here, I have Zeb and Shay, a wolf pack for family, and a community of shifters. I’ve never been so happy.” Contentment radiated from her like warmth from the fireplace.
“I’m glad for you.” A bit of envy was to be expected…because Margery would never have all that. At least not the mates. Males liked beauty, not scarred cripples. She’d settle for somewhere to belong and acceptance. “So, tell me, what does a new pack female need to know?”
Bree lifted a clipboard and waggled her eyebrows. “I have a list.”
She actually did.
There were pack runs before the full moon and occasionally in-between. Mandatory service hours, but she could choose whether to help with the injured, the elders, or the cubs.
Margery stomped on her first response—the injured. “Cubs. Absolutely.” Hey, it wasn’t a lie. She adored pups.
After covering who to call for help and for transportation, Bree warned about hellhounds, especially during the dark of the moon.
Hellhounds. In Ailill Ridge, there had been a hellhound attack in December. The cahirs had managed to kill it, but not before five shifters had been torn apart. She’d never seen anything as savage as their deaths. At least the two other victims and the cahirs had lived. She’d done her best to sew them up, but there would still be some scarring.
“I think that’s everything.” Bree ran her finger down the checklist on the clipboard and shook her head. “I’m still learning alpha female duties.”
“The one before you didn’t help?”
“Hardly.” Bree scowled. “The pack was a mess when Shay took it over. The alpha had let his crazy-vicious beta prey on females. His—their—behavior warped the pack culture, and we’ve been trying to fix things ever since.”
Maybe this pack had problems, but…
“At least you’re trying.” Roger and his betas weren’t. “Um. Shay said something about a mentor?”
“Your mentor, mmmhmm. He should be here soon to take you for a run.”
Soon? Wait…he?
They’d assigned her a male? “But—”
A knock interrupted her protest, the door opened, and Darcy walked in.
“Darcy!” Margery almost flew across the room—and realized her friend was carrying a baby.
A baby?
Bree barely had time to take the cubling before Darcy grabbed Margery for a hug. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”
At the hard, encompassing hug, tears filled Margery’s eyes, blurring the room. Eventually, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, then realized someone else had entered. “Sorry. I hardly saw Darcy after our escape.”
“Everyone got scattered,” Darcy grumbled. “And the Cosantir told me I couldn’t visit anyone until spring.”
“Well, it’s spring. I heard you have mates now, but…a cub already?” Margery tried to count out the months in her head and came up short.
Darcy laughed
So did a petite, dark-haired female who held two more babies. “The cub isn’t Darcy’s. All three of these are mine.”
Margery did a double take. “I know you, don’t I?”
“From that night at the compound.” The female looked down at the cubs in her arms and at the one Bree had taken. “I’m Vicki, and two of these cubs are alive because you kept them safe from the Scythe. Thank you.”
Uneasy with praise for what she hadn’t thought twice about, Margery moved her shoulders in a small shrug. “No thanks needed. Anyone would have done the same. Cubs are what it’s all about.”
Vicki’s slow smile made her beautiful. “If everyone realized that, the world would be a better place.”
“Hey, if greetings are done, I have cookies.” Carrying the cub, Bree shooed everyone to the sitting area.
Ah-hah, that’s why there’s an entire pitcher of hot chocolate and extra mugs.
When one of the kitlings in Vicki’s arms squeaked and kicked little feet, cub-craving overwhelmed Margery. “Can I hold one? Please?”
“Absolutely. This is Sorcha.”
Sorcha? Heather’s Sorcha? The kitling had fluffy golden hair not much longer than fur, and eyes edging toward green. When Margery cuddled her close, the little girl gave a sigh and fell asleep.
As everyone took the couches and chair, Margery settled onto a mound of soft pillows and blankets by the fireplace. From the human-sized indentations, the blanket-pile was a favorite napping spot.
The females talked about the babies, then all the babies in Cold Creek, before letting the conversation range: the Scythe proving difficult to locate, problems with the wolf pack, a hellhound possibly