“You missed a spot,” Ronan says, pointing to a corner I’ve already swept twice.
“You missed an invitation to shut the hell up.”
He grins, and for a moment we’re cubs again, wrestling in the dirt behind our mother’s cabin, neither of us knowing what the future held. Before the challenge. Before the scar. Before I exiled myself to this mountain to nurse my wounded pride.
“The clan needs its winter wood delivered,” Mother calls from the kitchen. “You know hibernation is coming.”
“I never miss a delivery.” I haul another basket of laundry toward the small utility room. “They’ll have more than enough. I’ve been cutting since September.”
“And what about yourself?” She appears in the doorway, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Your pantry is bare, Tolin. Your refrigerator has more empty space than food. Hibernation will be here soon. You need someone to help you prepare.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You’ll go into town,” she corrects. “You’ll hire someone. A worker who can stock your pantry and keep this place tidy while you finish your deliveries. Shadow Suds has never failed to find someone willing to work, even for difficult clients.”
“Difficult.” Ronan snorts from across the room. “That’s one word for it.”
I shoot him a look that promises violence later. He just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. The Alpha of the Ironwood Clan doesn’t scare easily. Especially not from his younger brother who already lost one fight to him.
“This isolation isn’t good for you.” Mother’s voice softens. She crosses the room and reaches up to touch my face. Her fingers trace the edge of my scar, and my bear goes still beneath her touch. “You weren’t meant to be alone on this mountain, son. Bears are solitary by nature, yes. But not like this. This is punishment. And the only one punishing you is yourself.”
I can’t meet her eyes. I swallow hard and say nothing.
“I won’t argue with you about coming home,” she continues. “I know you’re not ready. But I won’t watch you waste away up here either. Find a helper. Let someone into this space, even if it’s just to stock your shelves. That’s all I ask.”
“Fine.” The word comes out rougher than I intend. “I’ll go to town tomorrow. I’ll find someone.”
She searches my face for a long moment, then nods. Satisfied, or at least as satisfied as she can be with a stubborn son who refuses to come home.
By the time they leave, the cabin looks like a different place. The floors are swept, the dishes are clean, the laundry is folded and put away. Mother made enough food to last me several days, filling containers she brought specifically for this purpose. Roasted venison, root vegetables, and a fresh loaf of her brown sugar honey bread. She knows I can’t resist the stuff. My bear has craved brown sugar since I was a cub, and she’s never let me forget it. The woman came prepared for war.
I walk them to Ronan’s truck. The cold doesn’t touch me, but Mother bundles her coat around her shoulders. Human. Fragile. The strongest person I’ve ever known.
“I hope Fate delivers your woman to you soon.” She rises on her toes to kiss my cheek, her lips brushing the edge of my scar. “Because you’re going to die alone on this mountain if you don’t let someone in. And I’m old, Tolin. I want cub grandbabies before I go. Little ones to spoil.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say gruffly.
“Not today.” She pats my chest. “But time moves differently for humans. You know this.” She steps back, letting Ronan help her into the truck. “Find a helper. Be kind to them. Practice for when your mate arrives.”
The truck vanishes around the bend. I don’t move. The forest is dead quiet—the way it always is up here, miles from anywhere. Most days I like it. Not now.
Back inside, the cabin still smells like lemon cleaner and Mother’s cooking. Evidence of her visit everywhere I look. The folded dish towels by the sink. The organized pantry. The pillows on the couch that I never bother to fluff. The jar of instant coffee I keep stocked for the human workers who never last long enough to need it.
I tear off a chunk of the brown sugar bread and eat it standing at the counter. Then another. The sweetness hits my tongue and my bear practically hums. I don’t know why we crave it so much. Always have. I just know the pantry is never without a jar of brown sugar, and Mother’s bread is the closest thing to comfort I’ll let myself have.
I sink into my chair by the window and stare out at the trees. My bear settles, heavy and tired. He didn’t like Mother’s words any more than I did. But truth doesn’t care if you’re ready for it.
She’s right. About all of it. The mess. The isolation. The punishment I’ve been inflicting on myself since I lost the challenge and chose exile over submission. I’ve been living like a wounded animal, hiding in the dark, refusing to let anyone see how badly I’m bleeding.
And now I look like a fool. My Alpha brother and my human mother had to drive up the mountain to clean my cabin because I couldn’t be bothered to maintain basic dignity. Because I chased away every person who tried to help.
I touch my scar without thinking, feeling the raised ridges beneath my fingertips. Ronan put it there, but I’m the one who keeps it fresh. Every time I use it as an excuse to stay away. Every time I let my wounded pride make decisions for me.
Tomorrow, I’ll go into town. I’ll talk to Derrick at Shadow Suds, see if there’s anyone left willing to work for the grumpy bear shifter on the mountain. I’ll offer double pay. Triple, if I have to. Hibernation is coming, and I can’t afford to enter it unprepared.
More importantly, I can’t afford to prove my mother right.
My bear hates the idea. Another stranger. More noise, more questions, more talking. We don’t want it. But Mother’s words keep coming back.
