“Fixed?” Aunt Inla’s eyebrows shot up. “My name change tripled our membership. That’s the most important thing.”
“Details,” Grannie waved her cane, her eyes twinkling. “We can barely keep up with matches now. Had to talk Gracie into helping on the technical side.”
“Because you insisted on approving every profile personally,” Aunt Inla said, but she sounded happy. “As if you’re the romance queen.”
I spotted Hail coming around the building. His bruises were a deeper purple on his jaw, but his eyes were clear. I’d woken him every hour the night before, and while he’d grumbled, he’d kept wrapping his arms around me, rolling me over, and… Well, it was all I could do to insist that he needed to rest, not exert himself.
Sawdust clung to his pants, and his hands had clay dust on them.
“How’s the kiln?” I asked, moving over to put my arm around him.
“Salvageable.” He kissed my forehead. “We need new par-parts, but I ordered them this morning. They’ll be here Thursday. I know exactly how to f-f-fix it.”
The solid feel of him against me made my throat tighten. I’d almost lost him. I kept remembering cutting the ropes, seeing his bloody wrists. The blood on his face and head. I pushed the images away, focusing on him now, already planning ahead, already rebuilding.
“What can I do?” Margaret asked, rolling up her sleeves. Her shirt looked brand new, but her face showed she was ready for dirty work.
“Sorting.” Holly pointed to the big open room inside. “We need to finish separating what we can save from what we need to throw away.” She gestured to the dumpster we’d had delivered this morning.
We kept busy over the next few hours. People moved through the pottery barn carrying boxes of broken pieces,sweeping, checking for further damage. Hammers and saws made a constant background noise as Dungar’s team repaired the exterior of the structure. The air smelled like paint, freshly cut wood, and clay dust. I found the familiar smells comforting.
I worked with people I’d just met, sorting pottery while they talked about their lives. A retired teacher from Kansas wrapped intact mugs in newspaper. The young California couple sorted through animal figurines, delighted by each tiny wolf and chumble that had survived. I watched the care they took and thought about how strangers could become friends so quickly through shared work.
“This one’s adorable,” the woman said, holding up a small pottery rabbit. The glaze caught the light, showing all the color variations in Hail’s work. “The detail is incredible. How do you get such precision in something so small?”
“Practice,” I said, remembering Hail working on those pieces with tools that looked like toothpicks in his big grip. “And patience.” My mate could transform a lump of clay into something amazing.
Tressa moved between the workers, sniffing everyone. She’d appointed herself greeter and security guard, wagging her tail for friends and watching strangers until she’d decided they were okay.
“That wolf is something else,” a man said during a break, wiping sweat from his face with a bandana. “I swear she understands every word we say.”
“She does.” I watched Tressa stop by Grannie’s chair for a pat. The old woman’s weathered fingers stroked through her white fur gently. “She saved our lives.” I still couldn’t believe she’d brought those chumbles when we needed them most.
Everyone got quiet, remembering the danger.
Then Grannie spoke up from her shady spot. “This wolf has got good sense. Can’t say the same for all the humans aroundhere.” She looked pointedly at Max, who was supposed to be helping but had started edging toward the rodeo ring Becken was constructing.
“Max,” Holly called in that universal mom tone. “Get back here and help with the siding.”
By noon, the change was amazing. The main room was clear of debris, damaged walls fixed and primed. New shelves waited to be installed, smelling like fresh lumber. The sorted pottery sat on temporary tables where sunlight showed off the glazes. Clay dust hung in the air, but it was now mixed with hope.
“Lunch break,” Aunt Inla announced, unpacking sandwiches and iced tea from baskets, placing them on tables we’d set up in the shade. “Time to eat.”
Tired but satisfied with our progress, we grabbed food and sat wherever we could find a place, me and Hail on the clipped lawn behind the alley. The cool grass felt good under my legs as I snuggled into Hail’s side. Margaret settled nearby, her clothes dirty, her hair escaping its ponytail. But her face glowed with satisfaction.
“This is wonderful,” she said, biting into a sandwich. “Work stimulates the appetite, doesn’t it?” She glanced toward the barn. “I feel like we’re making a difference.”
“You are,” Hail said. Tressa lay on his other side, her head on his outstretched leg. He stroked her spine. “This place means everything to us.”
I looked around at everyone, taking in the locals who’d shown up, the tourists, the orc brothers and their mates, all working together to rebuild something beautiful. My swallow got caught in my throat. For years, I’d been alone, running, trusting no one. Now I had people who dropped everything to help rebuild not just a building but our life.
“The afternoon shift should focus on painting,” Dungar said, checking his notes on his phone. “The primer’s dry enough, and we need the first coat on before evening.”
“I’ll organize the volunteers.” Grannie, sitting in a chair beside Aunt Inla, tapped her cane on the ground for emphasis. “You young people don’t know how to delegate properly.” I smiled at her confidence, wondering if I’d be that sharp at her age.
The afternoon work went even faster. Paintbrushes moved across walls while people chatted and laughed. The paint smell mixed with lumber as white primer turned into warm cream. Hail’s pottery wheel hummed from the corner where he’d set up a temporary workspace. I watched him shape the clay, the familiar motion calming me after all that had happened.
I painted beside the California couple, listening to their quiet talk about pottery techniques. Each brushstroke felt like we were erasing Will’s violence, covering it with something new and clean.
