Roger’s second beta, had joined Gretchen. The beta snapped his teeth at Margery as if he was in wolf form and told Gretchen, “Fuck, she’s slow.”
“I know, right?” Gretchen curled her lip at Margery. “About time you got here, gimpy.”
I don’t care what these stupid people think about me. Yet she did, and humiliation formed a cold, hard stone in her chest. This was her pack; nevertheless, to them, she was just a crippled, scar-faced wolf who was only useful once in a while.
She knelt beside the injured male. “Caleb, I’m going to clean the wounds and get them closed up.” She spoke low and soft until the shifter relaxed.
Ignoring the slighting remarks from Brett and Gretchen, she concentrated on her job.
A little while later, she finished with the last injured shifter.
Jens and an elderly female were handing out broth and raw beef to help with the blood loss. Some of the wounded had already left. One older male who lived alone would spend the night so she could keep an eye on him.
With an effort, she pushed to her feet, wincing at the painful throb in her ankle…and at the work still to be done. The living room was a mess and had to be cleaned.
She started collecting bloodied gauze and rags.
The last two wounded stopped on the way out. “Thank you for the tending, banfasa.”
His littermate nodded. “Aye, thank you.”
Warmed, she smiled at them. The rest had left without any thanks. It wasn’t surprising, since that was how the Cosantir and the alpha of her pack treated her. No matter how much she did, she had no value.
As she stepped outside to dump the rags, the cool, fresh night air whipped around her, blowing away her frustration, leaving her free to think clearly.
This wasn’t who she wanted to be. A frustrated, unhappy person. But if she stayed, they’d continue to treat her like a stray cur. Because they could.
No, it was time to make a change. To find out how much more she could be.
Chapter Two
Ailill Ridge, Rainier Territory - full moon
“I don’t want that stupid banfasa living here…”
Ignoring the complaints coming from the other room, Margery smiled at the older shifter who’d spent the night and unwrapped the dressing on his arm. “Bleeding has stopped. No sign of infection. It’s going to heal up well.”
Having come to help the shifter get home, Roger and Brett were in the kitchen getting coffee—and had been cornered by Portia. Bits and pieces of their conversations drifted out.
“…hurt shifters showing up all the time…missed my TV show…” Typical Portia complaints.
Margery sighed and picked up a fresh roll of gauze. “Hold your arm out, please.”
Portia’s voice rose enough to be clear. “Give her someplace else to stay.”
“Pete said no,” Brett growled. “The banfasa stays in communal housing so she’ll get room and board without any money. If she’s broke, she can’t take off like the healers did.”
Margery’s mouth dropped open. They didn’t want her to have money? Was that why Roger had snapped at a shifter who’d tried to pay her?
“Fucking high and mighty healers.” Roger growled. “It sucks that all we got now is a stupid banfasa. An ugly crippled one, no less.”
She knew better than to take his insult to heart, yet…it still hurt.
Beside her, the older male heard. “Margery, Roger doesn’t mean—”
Margery shrugged, trying to push away the ache. “I’ve heard worse.” A decade’s worth from the Scythe guards and staff.
She hadn’t expected to be eviscerated by her own people.
His sympathetic look spurred her to ask, “I don’t suppose you’d drive me to a different territory?”
He shook his head. “I won’t go up against our Cosantir. I don’t got a car anyway. Sorry, banfasa.”
“Me, too.” Seeing his regret, she patted his hand. “It’s all right.”
An hour later, with everyone gone, she considered going for a run, but her ankle still hurt. Instead, she took a cup of coffee onto the front porch and settled in a wooden chair. On a Thursday, the end of the small cul-de-sac was quiet.
Coffee in hand, she inhaled slowly, closed her eyes, and sank into the sense of the Mother. Here in the land of the Daonain, the presence of the God and Goddess was as close as the air she breathed.
Eventually, when her heart was peaceful, she opened her eyes. In the deep blue sky, puffy clouds drifted slowly toward the mountains. A breath of a breeze teased the tree branches. The squirrel-ear-sized light green leaves indicated spring had arrived.