Oh. Just Brumous.
The dire wolf pup padded in on silent feet, his charcoal gray fur fluffed from static, blue eyes huge as he surveyed the room. He moved like a ghost, hesitant and curious all at once. His nose twitched, taking in the lingering smell of the Devil’s Breath and antiseptic.
He went to Seri first, of course. Circled the cot once, then sniffed all over her, his nose hovering just above her skin, pausing on her bandaged hand before moving to her wrist.
Then he licked her. Right on the pulse point.
“No, Brummy,” I grumbled at him, waving a bleach-soaked rag in his direction. “Don’t disturb the gauze. It’s helping her.”
He ignored me completely. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead, he whirled and turned his attention to Foster. His entire body language changed: Ears forward, tail straight out behind him, each step slow and cautious. He looked like he wasn’t sure if Foster was real.
“Probably the first wolf he’s seen since Arabesque took him,” Zane said, pausing in his task of sterilizing tools. “Seri said he was barely weaned when she found him.”
Brumous approached the wolf cautiously, sniffing at the bandages. He circled once, twice, nose working overtime as he processed whatever scents lingered. Then, with all the caution of a bomb technician, he extended his neck until his nose nearly touched Foster’s.
“Remember about the gauze, Brumous,” I warned. “Don’t lick it.”
The pup’s ears flattened against his head, and Zane choked on a surprised laugh as he translated for us.
“He said,‘No lick! Am noble.’ Very indignant about it, too.”
“Noble?” I wondered aloud. “Where did he hear that word? Does he even know what it means?”
“Probably from Seri’s books,” Zane replied. “He likes to sit with his head in her lap when she reads those cheesy historical romance novels. He soaks up vocabulary like a sponge, even if he can’t pronounce half of it right.”
Brumous, apparently tired of being discussed like he wasn’t there, poked Foster’s ear with his nose.
The ear twitched, and Brumous practically levitated backward with a startled squeak, legs pinwheeling like a cartoon character’s. His tail puffed to three times its normal size, bottlebrush-style.
“Didn’t expect a reaction, did you, buddy?” Zane smiled, the first real one since he’d returned with Seri.
The dire righted himself, fur still standing on end. He gave Foster a contemplative stare, head tilted to one side.
“Who, Alpha Fun?”he asked through Zane.
“His name’s Foster. His wolf Greisen is in… Um, like a deep sleep.”
Brumous circled the unconscious wolf again, tail flicking with interest. His initial fear had given way to curiosity, and he seemed to be deciding on a suitable name for our unexpected guest.
Alpha Stink? Alpha Big Paw? Alpha Singe? Alpha Ow Ow Ow?
Each suggestion made Zane’s smile grow a little wider, which was worth the ridiculousness. Ko, still sitting vigil at Seri’s side, huffed a quiet laugh.
“We’re not keeping him,” I said, returning to my cleaning. The last thing we needed was someone with as much baggage as Foster had.
“Alpha Toast?”Brumous mumbled via Zane, making Koa snicker.
“Put away the elixirs, Z. Alphabetically, too.” I shook my head as I rolled my eyes.
“Aye, aye, Captain Buzzkill,” he saluted, but there was no heat in it. The color had returned to his face, and he moved with something closer to his usual restless energy.
Brumous, having recovered his dignity, padded over to where I knelt on the floor. He sniffed at the bleach-soaked rag in my hand, sneezed dramatically, then plopped down beside me with a heavy sigh.
“He said,Alpha Sharp clean too much,”Zane declared as Brummy rested his muzzle on his paws and watched me.
“No such thing,” I corrected, fighting a smile.
I gave the floor one final wipe, then sat back on my heels, surveying our work. The med bay was nearly back to its usual ordered state. Equipment sanitized and stored, surfaces disinfected, floor gleaming. Only our two patients indicated anything out of the ordinary had happened.
