“It helps us protect what matters,” I say simply.
Something shifts in Hamilton’s expression—it softens, just for a moment. “Yes. It does.”
Percy stands, dusting off his hands. “Swing’s installed. Who wants to test it?”
“Not yet,” I warn. “I need to check your work first. Last time I trusted a Porkwell engineering project, I ended up with a collapsing bookshelf.”
“That was Prescott’s design,” Percy protests.
“I’m a tech engineer, not a carpenter,” Prescott defends himself. “And you insisted on ‘improving’ my specifications.”
I leave them bickering and walk to the edge of the porch, surveying what was once just my grandmother’s old cottage and surrounding woods.
Two months ago, Porkwell Development officially announced that it was abandoning plans for the luxury resort complex and instead dedicating the land to a protected conservation area.
The press had a field day.
“Pigs and Wolves Unite: Historic Enemies Turn Conservation Partners.”
“Porkwell Heir Abandons Development for Wildlife Preservation: Love Behind Business Decision?”
“Interspecies Dating: Taboo or Progressive?”
That last one had made me throw the newspaper across the room, but Hamilton had just laughed.
I’m still getting used to that sound.
My pack’s reaction was more complicated than the simplified headlines. Alpha Thorncrest initially saw my relationship with the Porkwell’s as a betrayal—until the conservation announcement. “You’ve used unconventional means,” she told me during a tense pack meeting, “but you’ve protected Wolfstone more effectively than generations before you.” The younger wolves embraced the change immediately, while some elders still maintain a respectful distance from my pig partners.
“You’ve always been the weird one in the pack,” my cousin Mara teased when we visited last week.
There’s still distance to bridge, still suspicions to overcome, but when the pack gathered for the last full moon ceremony andallowed my three mates to observe from a respectful distance—a first in wolf-pig relations—I knew we were making progress.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Percy asks, appearing beside me.
“Just thinking about how much has changed,” I admit. “Three months ago, you designed a resort that would have destroyed my home.”
“And now I’m designing eco-friendly observation platforms that blend into the natural environment,” he finishes. “Much more challenging, actually. Anyone can build another soulless resort complex. Creating something that workswithrather than disrupts nature? That’s artistry.”
“Your modesty continues to astound me,” I say dryly, but I can’t help smiling. Percy’s passion for design hasn’t diminished—it’s just found a new, better direction.
“Come look at this,” Prescott calls from his laptop. We all wander over to where he’s sitting on the porch steps.
“Is that a wolf?” Hamilton asks, pointing to a grainy image on one of the screens.
“Red fox,” Prescott and I say simultaneously. I shoot him an impressed look, and he grins.
“I’ve been studying,” he explains. “Did you know they can hear rodents under the snow from up to two feet away?”
“Amateur,” I scoff playfully. “Wolves can hear prey from up to six miles away under the right conditions.”
“Is that how you always knew when we were coming?” Hamilton asks, a hint of his old suspicion creeping in.
“You three have the subtlety of a fireworks show at a silent retreat,” I reply. “Especially you, Ham. Your cologne announced your presence half an hour before you did.”
“I no longer wear that cologne,” he says stiffly.
“I know. You smell better now.” I lean closer, inhaling deliberately. “Like forest and earth. It suits you.”
