“Tell me about them.” My smile must have communicated the warmth I wanted. Hattie grabbed my hand and the surge of Old Magic between us took us both by surprise.
The stories were long, filled with details only family noticed. They fleshed out the wolves I remembered from childhood into women with hopes and dreams of making this their home with the mates they hoped to find. It was clear they hadn't run away. And even though Holgar grew teary and the crock sat empty, they held out their hands at the end of a story like I was about to get up.
“I’m sure you have to go. It’s just that Starla still talked about you after you left. I heard you have a mate now, but she saw the truth of you when you forced the Alpha to leave. Not all of us understood what Anise was going through. Fated Mates don’t fail. That’s how we grew up. I wanted you to know she never stopped advocating for you.”
Her faith was more touching than I could say. The doubt of my decision had followed me for many years as I hunted for a way to bring back the Old Magic. My repayment to her was being present. I didn’t need to be anywhere more important than here.
“Did I tell you the time Starla saved our lives?”
Everyone’s interest sharpened.
“Cosomo and I were playing in the stream behind Dead Man’s Dell and we heard a rustling sound in the bushes…”
It was a stupid story involving a burning branch, a frightened raccoon, and water that should have frozen us solid. Still, the grief bled out of the room as I got them to laugh with me.
“That does sound like Starla. She still hunted the woods with Krystall every morning for food and magic alike.”
Then the scent we picked up in the forest on the way here was true.
“We found where their trail ended and we’ve sent more scouts to double-check the area. It didn’t feel like Old Magic, or not any I’ve ever encountered. Could they have tried to leave Sombermane through magical means?”
It wasn’t common, but perhaps I inspired Starla too much.
“I don’t think so,” Hattie said. “She was working to restore the Old Magic herself and wouldn’t leave in the middle of that.”
Dead ends upon dead ends. What might I say to make this better? I clenched my hands, trying to come up with the complete opposite of what my dad would have done.
Hattie looked up at me, tears glittering in hereyes. “Thank you for letting us talk about them. These haven’t been easy years. With the magic lost, we’ve drifted apart a bit. This wasn’t how I wanted the pack to come together.”
It was hard not to feel guilty for leaving, even if it had a purpose. All I could do was show up each day now that I was here. “I’m here for you. The pack is too.”
I eyed Briggs and she did her part, suggesting to Arden they go on a hunt. The Whitewolfs’ gratitude shone through as we all stood.
“I won’t make you any promises, but I will try to find them.”
“We know, son.” Holgar clapped my shoulder.
A surge of memory caught me off guard. I understood he wasn’t calling me his son, but being back in Nightfell, Momma’s pasta sitting in my belly, a bit of my mourning bled through. I might have held on to Holgar a little longer than I had to. Hattie also clasped me too firmly. It was gratifying to see that a spark of life had returned to their eyes.
I walked back into the night and saw Briggs and her charge off.
“Don't go too far.” I reminded her, more than warned her.
“Thanks, Dad.” She smirked at me as they disappeared into the dark.
“You're a dick,” I called after her.
But for the first time, I heard that as a joke and didn’t sense the noose of my past around my neck. I wouldn’tsay I was proud of myself. It was too early for that. Those hugs, Starla’s belief in me when I wasn’t even here, were a balm I didn’t know I needed. Momma had to love me. The pack would tear me to shreds if it didn’t think I was worthy. Hope filled the winter air.
That was, until a boom split the night open.
Chapter 11
Declan
The sharp stink of vinegar overwhelmed my wolf nose. I sneezed, shifting with a pop. Ned furiously dug into a pile of wood and mattress feathers. I pulled Fallon from under the heap of home. She brushed a cucumber out of her hair, a small army of them littering the floor. My heart skipped a beat. She took my suggestion despite her sass. Ned licked her face, uncaring of the vinegar. Seven hells, I was ready to set my tongue on her cheek too.
“I’m not dead,” she said. “Though I might drown in a minute.”
