wolf in the tavern joined in the howling, telling the shifter that he wasn’t alone. That the pack was there—a shield, a family, a home.
As Margery lifted her own voice, her eyes burned with tears.
Finishing the song, the bard—because, oh, that’s what Emma must be—paused and started a new tune, Song to the Mother. The males behind her added a baritone and bass, and then the entire tavern sang along.
Tears spilled down Margery’s cheeks.
These, these were her people.
As the song ended, Emma rose. “Thank you all. May the Mother’s love forever light your trail until you return safely home to her.”
When Emma put her guitar into the case, Margery whined, “She’s finished? Nooo.”
At a table, a female chuckled. “I’m afraid so. But she sings twice a week. Get here earlier next time.”
“Oh, I will.” Margery made her way across the room to Emma and bent her head in respect. “Bard. Thank you. I’d forgotten…” She couldn’t think of the words to express the feelings that welled inside her. “Thank you.”
A rumble of laughter came from the huge male behind her. It was the grizzly cahir named Ben. “I get it. I felt the same way when I first heard her sing.”
“That’s why I play. Thank you.” Emma gave Margery a happy hug. “Margery, I think you know Ben from when the feral attacked at the park. This is my other mate, Ryder.”
Ryder was sleek, dark, and deadly, reminding her of Donal. Another cat shifter.
Emma smiled. “Since I’m finished, let’s have a drink and catch up.”
A fair number of people were leaving, now the singing was done, but at the bar, Calum looked busy. Margery could wait a while to talk with him. “That’d be great. Is your cub here tonight, too?”
“No, Minette is playing with Bonnie’s litter—and instigating trouble, I’m sure.”
“Margery, Emma—over here,” Darcy called from a large table in the corner. She had a male on each side of her, and across the table, Vicki grinned and pushed out two chairs in invitation.
“We are summoned,” Emma said. After kissing her mates and shooing them toward the bar, she grabbed Margery’s hand, pulling her along.
“Margery, look who’s here.” Darcy was beaming. “My littermates, Patrin and Fell.”
“Margery, good to meet you.” Patrin looked like Darcy, lean and dark with black eyes and hair. He smiled at her.
Fell was brown-haired and more muscular. His icy-blue eyes looked as if they’d seen far too much death. He nodded at her. Apparently, that was his idea of a greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She didn’t remember them very well from Dogwood. Darcy’s family had only moved there a month or so before the Scythe destroyed the village. And during their captivity, the shifter-soldiers were permitted to speak only with their own sisters.
“Is Oliver here?” Patrin looked around.
“No.” It was a shame. Surely, her littermate would have wanted to see his friends. “He was planning to go run in the forest.”
Fell frowned.
The knot of worry in her gut tangled more. “I know he had a hard time of it, but he still seems awfully unhappy.”
Patrin gave her a steady look. “All the Dogwood survivors changed, all in different ways. Being free is the first step to recovery—not the last.”
It was a dismal truth. “And Oliver…?”
“He didn’t adapt well to being a soldier,” Fell said baldly.
“Some shifters have a predator’s instincts. Being a soldier comes naturally. He isn’t like that.” Patrin rubbed his neck. “And he’s a solitary beast. In the compound, we were stuffed into barracks, muzzle to tail, and even on a mission, never left alone.”
Impossible conditions for her brother. When upset as a cub, Oliver would hide in the forest and return only after he’d calmed himself. “You’re saying he never got his balance.”
“No, he didn’t,” Patrin said. “Although Elder Village was good for him, his head is still in the past.”
Fell confirmed this with a dark scowl.
“What can I do?” Margery asked.
“Don’t know.” Patrin moved his shoulders. “Give him time?”
Darcy gave her a sympathetic look and rubbed her head against each brother’s shoulder.
Oliver wouldn’t have permitted even that small amount of affection.
“If Oliver isn’t here, does that mean you walked up the hill by yourself?” Vicki asked with a frown.
“Sure.”
Now they all frowned at her.
Vicki glanced at the dark windows. “Cold Creek isn’t a shifter-only village—there are humans as well as strangers passing through. Unless you’re good with a blade and firearms—preferably both—you shouldn’t wander through town at night.”
Margery blinked. “Oh. I guess I never thought about it.” No one