“We’ll be there,” Feral said.
They left us at the seal site, the morning sun climbing higher and burning off the last of the mist.
Kirk joined us after the alphas had gone, his expression lighter than I’d seen since the shifting sickness began affecting our pack.
“I’m so glad you figured it out,” he told me.
“Thank Acorn. He’s the one who kept pointing me in the right direction.”
The squirrel looked up from his examination of the duskburst, his whiskers twitching.
Kirk nodded to him with what looked like genuine respect. “Thank you, Acorn.”
A squirrel who saves a kingdom wide, deserves respect and nuts beside.
I shared what he’d said.
Kirk’s mouth twitched. “I’ll see what I can arrange.” He left us, heading back toward our pack.
Feral and I stood alone in the clearing, the duskburst still glowing near our feet.
“We did it,” I said.
“We did.” He pulled me against his side, his arm settling around my waist.
I rested my head on his chest and let myself feel the thrill of what we’d accomplished.
The sun climbed higher, warming the grass around us. Acorn continued his inspection of the area, occasionally chittering observations that would probably require translation later.
Feral’s hand moved to my hip, squeezing gently. “Ready to go home?”
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
Everything I’d measured and documented had led me to this forest and this wolf.
I hadn’t included him in my models.
I should’ve known he’d be the most significant finding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE 1: FERAL
Two months after the seal repair, I stood at the edge of Elizabeth Thornwick’s gardens with Victoria’s hand in mine, staring at what had to be the most elaborate brunch I’d ever seen.
Early autumn had painted the trees in shades of amber and copper. Spelled decorations drifted through the air like lazy faelights, occasionally pausing to rearrange themselves into new patterns. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat drifted from tables laden with more food than seemed reasonable for any gathering. Laughter and conversation rose from clusters of people scattered across the lawn.
This reception was for family and friends. People who genuinely wanted to celebrate what Victoria and I had found together.
Victoria squeezed my hand, watching me with that expression she got when she’d noted something significant.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Your pulse just jumped.” She pressed her fingers against my wrist. “Elevated heart rate. Slight tension in your jaw. Classic anxiety markers.”
