As the first half-outsider Tuk'mara, Mak was dead set on proving his mother had made the right choice when she named him Clan Guardian on her deathbed. If anyone needed anything before denning season, Mak wasn’t going to say no.
But now, Mak rubbed a hand over his face as his tired, ice-blue eyes scanned the rest of the dirt drive leading up to our totem den. Like all Ayaska maul dens, it looked like a large totem carved directly into the towering cliffs of the Kwalnal'ak Mountains from the outside while hosting large, cozy three—to five-bedroom cave dwellings on the inside.
“Cody decide to walk his bear home again?”Mak asked, noting the absence of our third maul's Bronco.
“Looks like it,”I replied.“That’s the third time this week.”
Mak’s brows furrowed.“You think he’s trying to send a message? Or just leaning into his brown bear instincts?”
“Maybe both,”I said with a shrug.“Unmated brown bears have the instinct to hibernate earlier. But he was upset when I told him we'd both be skipping fireside cocoa last night.”
“I didn’t skip it.”Mak's jaw tightened under his thick black beard.“I had shit to do, and you know half these mauls don’t winterize their dens until the last minute.”
Which was about as close as Mak would ever get to complaining about balancing construction work with leading the clan.
“Still,”I said with a shake of my head,“you know how he gets about the fireside cocoa and chat before bed. For a Dara'khanuk, Cody’s more Ayaska about his rituals than any of us.”
Mak, who was half Dara'khanuk—outsider bear—himself, just grunted and started toward the entrance of our den.
"Speaking of cubs,"I said, steering the conversation back to more pressing matters."Bear Mountain's still in dire need of a midwife with all these pregnant mama bears. Have you given any more thought to my proposal to invite?—"
"You mean your proposal to pretend we’ve got a job opening and then bond bite some random human with the right résumé into becoming our mate against her will?"Mak asked, his tone as sharp as the mountain air.
"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound unethical,"I admitted with a wry wince."But it doesn’t have to be."
"No," Mak snapped.
"But we could solve two problems with one mate—"I began to argue.
"I said no, dammit."Mak's jaw tightened, his black beard bristling."That’s exactly how my father tricked his way into my mother’s maul, and you saw how that turned out."
"Yes, the Ayaska got a damn fine leader in you," I countered, raising both eyebrows.
Mak glared at me, his icy-blue eyes slicing through the soft glow of the rising sun. "You know what I mean."
And yeah… I guess I did. Still, I couldn’t help but worry about fulfilling my own role as Pathkeeper once our clan-wide hibernation ended in the spring.
Mak was a natural leader, but I hadn’t anticipated the weight of my own responsibilities. At the University of British Columbia, where I’d studied veterinary medicine with a focus on wildlife health, overseeing a record number of pregnancies wasn’t exactly part of the syllabus. My single tour of the birth cages at the BC Wildlife Refuge hadn’t remotely prepared me for what lay ahead: a spring full of cubs and a town bursting with anxious, expecting mama bears—none of whom could shift while pregnant.
It was nature’s way of ensuring Bear Spirits didn’t accidentally harm themselves—or their cubs—during gestation. But that didn’t make it any easier for the mothers. The vulnerability chafed at them, layering stress and uncertainty onto what should have been a joyful time. They trusted me to care for them, and I couldn’t let my inexperience risk their futures.
But with every expecting mama bear I saw to, the ache in my chest deepened. They were building futures and nurturing lives. Meanwhile, our maul had no mate, no cubs—no future of our own.
At thirty-three, I was more than ready to start a family with the maul I’d helped Mak form shortly after he’d been unexpectedly named Tuk’Mara instead of his full-Ayaska Canadian Mountiebrother. That had been three years ago. Three long years of waiting for a mate who lifted all our noses. And lately, the ache had grown sharper, heavier—impossible to ignore.
That’s why I thought the plan made sense. We needed help—and a mate. Desperately.
But Mak’s jaw was already set in that immovable way of his, shutting down the conversation before it could even begin.
His father’s outsider ways and eventual downfall had left a scar on Mak that he’d been carrying ever since. And no matter how much I wanted to push, I couldn’t add to his burdens—not when I could feel the tension rolling off him through our maul bond.
I let it drop. For now.
As we walked down the stone steps Mak had carved into the main room of our open-plan den himself, the scent of home hit me. The air smelled of cedar and cinnamon, a signature touch from Cody, who couldn’t resist adding spice to everything, even the firewood.
Speaking of which, the fire in the stone-carved hearth was still crackling, casting a warm glow over the room. Cody must have stoked it last night before going to bed, but there was another scent in the air—something rich, dark, and unmistakably chocolatey.
"Yep, he definitely walked home from the grill in bear form again,"I guessed, inhaling deeply."Smells like he whipped up a new cocoa recipe, too. Maybe dark choc?—"
