“I could navigate the trail.”
“You tripped over a root on the way here.”
“That root was strategically placed to sabotage me.”
“The forest doesn't sabotage people.”
“It sabotages me specifically. We have a complicated relationship.”
Daniel snorted and offered me a hand up. His grip was warm, solid, gone almost as soon as I was on my feet. “Come on. I'll guide us back before you declare war on the local vegetation.”
We walked back through the darkening forest, Daniel's wolf-enhanced senses keeping us on the path while I stumbled along behind him. Occasionally he'd point out things I couldn't see on my own. The owl watching from a branch overhead. The family of deer bedded down in a thicket. The fox that followed us for nearly a quarter mile before curiosity was satisfied.
“Show off,” I muttered when he identified the fox before I'd even heard it moving.
“Survival skill,” he corrected. “Knowing what's in the forest keeps the pack safe.”
“And impresses easily impressed humans?”
“That's just a bonus.”
By the time we reached the truck, night had properly fallen, and the stars overhead were brighter than I'd ever seen them in the city. I stopped, head tilted back, just taking it in.
“It's different out here,” I said. “The sky. You can actually see it.”
“Light pollution's minimal this far from major cities. On clear nights you can see the Milky Way from the pack house roof.”
“You go up there often?”
“When I need to think. Or when I need to not think.” He unlocked the truck, held the door open. “Maybe I'll show you sometime.”
“I'd like that.”
The drive back was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just two people who'd spent a good afternoon together and didn't feel the need to fill every silence with words.
When we pulled into the pack house lot, my truck sat alone under the security light, waiting patiently for its owner to stop gallivanting through magical forests.
“Thank you,” I said as Daniel put the truck in park. “For today. For showing me that place.”
“Thank you for getting me out of the office.” He almost smiled. “I needed it more than I realized.”
“Anytime. Seriously. If you ever need a break from Alpha duties, I'm apparently very good at tactical retreats.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
I climbed out, then leaned back in through the open door. “Same time next week? I hear there's a world's largest ball of twine somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. We could start a magnet collection.”
Daniel's expression did something complicated. Surprise, maybe. And something softer underneath.
“I'll check my schedule,” he said finally.
“That's not a no.”
“It's not a yes either.”
“I'll take it.” I tapped the door frame twice. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
“Goodnight, Michael.”
