Dyna gave him a small smile and went to sit on a nearby bench to wait, giving him privacy. Careful not to tear the page with his claws, Zev took it out and read the black scribbles.
Dear Zev,
I hope my letter makes its way to you, because if you are reading this, it means you chose to live. Forgive me for assuming, but I caught the scent of silver on you at our first meeting. Wayland is a skilled blacksmith. He will tend to your chains well.
I must share the wonderful news that the Lupin Pack survived due to Dyna’s medicine. Please pass on our thanks. We owe her a great debt.
As for my brother and I, we arrived in Little Step before the first snowfall. The train will take us home. Should you ever come west, you are always welcome in Lángshan.
Yours,
Lara
On the bottom of the page, she added:
Ronin insists that I mention the Garou Pack is nearly complete. Whatever that may mean.
Zev’s eyes lingered on the wordyours. There was no connotation behind it but a means to sign off a letter. Yet it made him smile all the same.
He read each stroke of ink again while imagining the words in the timbre of her voice. Lara had written to him at the start of winter, yet the page still smelled of her. Zev subtly inhaled her scent from the air once more before carefully returning the letter to the envelope and tucking it safely in his pocket.
Wayland leered knowingly. “Goodnews, I take it, eh?”
Zev removed his thick chains from his pack, and they clanked loudly as he set them on the service counter. “Only that I don’t need to come up with some explanation for what these are for. You come highly recommended.”
Wayland chuckled and crossed his hairy arms. “Our kind recognizes good smithing when they see it. Worry not, I will see that your pup chains are reinforced.”
Zev’s wolf growled, the sound rumbling in his head.
Now he understood why Wayland had taken to calling him that. A Lycan should have outgrown the use of chains by now.
“How much do I owe you?” He reached into his pocket.
“The payment is covered. Call it a pack courtesy.”
Zev paused, not expecting Ronin to pay for the work in advance. “Thank you.” He placed a couple of coins on the counter anyway. “For the letter and for your haste. I will come for the chains before dawn.”
“Aye, fine that, pup.”
“I am called Zev,” he snarled, his eyes flaring yellow. The wooden counter cracked beneath the force of his claws. Wayland held his ground, but the stale scent of fear joined the smoke. Zev smiled tightly, bearing his fangs. “And I am much too old to be a pup, wouldn’t you agree?”
Wayland nodded meekly. “Your pardon,” he said quietly. “I haven’t seen a fully grown Lycan who still uses chains. At this point, it’s too…” He looked away and cleared his throat. “Aye, it’s no business of mine. Have a good night.”
A heavy feeling sank in Zev’s chest. He stared mutely at Wayland’s retreating back before he could make himself leave.
Dyna rose from the bench, eyeing the blacksmith stand. “I hope he apologized.”
“More or less.”
She smirked as they strode down the street together. “I feared you were going to tear out his throat.”
“He should know better than to antagonize another wolf,” Zev muttered. Especially one who wasn’t in control of his Other.
“So, what did the letter say?” Dyna asked, giving him a teasing smile. “Did Lara confess her undying love?”
Zev choked on a cough. “Hardly.”
She laughed. “Well? What did she say?”
