In his mid-forties, he had silver threading through his dark hair at the temples, and was built like he could break someone in half without much effort. Since he could shift into an enormous wolf with fangs and claws, I wasn’t sure what use he found with his blade.
He scowled at me. “Hello.”
“I’m Victoria. The, uh, Feral’s new bride.”
“Kirk,” he barked, shifting his blade to his other hand.
“I’m investigating the shifting sickness and wondered if you could help.” I waved to my notebook and pen, and they floated closer.
Kirk’s scowl deepened, and he took a step away from them.
“I was hoping you could give me information about geographic patterns and affected personnel,” I said.
His jaw tightened. “That’s pack business.”
“I’m not asking for strategic details. I’m asking about a medical crisis that’s impacting your ability to defend this territory.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. Two younger guards who’d been sparring nearby stopped to watch our exchange.
I waited.
Kirk’s green eyes narrowed, but he gestured to a rough map carved into a wooden board, the territory marked with various symbols I didn’t understand.
“Cases cluster here.” He pointed to the northern section. “We’ve seen more affected in this quarter than anywhere else.”
“Any theories why?”
“No.”
I waved my pen to take note. “Geographic clustering. Environmental cause likely.” I shielded my eyes with my hand as I squinted up at him. “How are you managing the affected members?”
“Reassigning them to duties that don’t expose their vulnerability.” His gaze shifted to the others, and he flicked his hand, indicating that they needed to stop listening in. They got back to sparring. “Interior patrol. Supply management. Training supervision.” His tone came out clipped, matter-of-fact. “We handle our own.”
“How long can you sustain that before it impacts overall security?”
His expression darkened. “Are you questioning pack capabilities?”
“I’m asking a tactical question. If the sickness continues spreading, you’ll run out of jobs for them. I hope I can prevent that.”
Kirk studied me for a long moment. His posture shifted, not quite relaxing but losing some of its hostile edge.
“The alpha hasn’t slept more than a few hours a night in weeks,” he said, lowering his voice. “He’s trying to solve this himself.”
I wrote it down without comment, though my chest tightened.
Acorn sat on my shoulder, watching the males spar, though I knew he was listening. Maybe taking his own internal notes.The guard dog growls and shows his teeth, but loyalty runs strong beneath.
I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile.
Kirk’s eyes flicked to my face. “Is there something amusing about this condition?”
“No. Thank you for your time.”
I turned, aware of the guards watching, perhaps trying to figure out what to make of their alpha’s new witch mate.
Strolling around the compound, I questioned a few more people, but no one offered anything new.
I found a shifter who introduced himself as Tristen at the forest’s edge, returning from a hunt with a deer carcass slung across his shoulders. He was younger than Kirk, maybe mid-twenties, with an open face and easy movements.
