I followed her gaze to the small marks I’d drawn years ago, copying them from my father’s old maps. “Pack seal sites. Ancient boundary magic. Most of them are dormant now, just historical markers.”
“But they were functional once.”
“A long time ago. Before my father’s time, even. The old alphas used them to bind pack territories and mark sacred ground. The magic’s mostly faded.”
She leaned closer, studying the symbols. I could smell her shampoo, something floral and clean. “How many sites are there?”
“Across the whole territory? Maybe two dozen.” I marked the locations of recently affected pack members as I talked, dots spreading across the northern section. “These are where the sick wolves patrol most often. You asked about understanding the territory better.”
Her enchanted pen hovered over her notebook, taking notes in her precise handwriting. Silence rang out between us.
I looked up.
Victoria’s expression had gone distant, the way she did when she was working through a problem.
“The weather’s been good for running patrols,” she said, turning her attention back to her bread. “You should be able to cover the eastern ridge before the next storm system moves through.”
The subject change felt deliberate.
I watched her spread jam with careful attention, her movements just slightly too focused. She was holding something back. A theory half-formed, maybe. Or a connection she wasn’t ready to voice.
I filed it away but didn’t push.
Mid-morning found me heading back upstairs to grab documents I’d forgotten. I found Victoria in the laboratory, surrounded by crates.
“What are you doing?”
“I was about to move some equipment down to the clearing,” she said without looking up from the inventory she was taking. “My crystallization experiment requires more space than I have up here, and the light spells will be easier to manage outdoors.”
I crossed the room and lifted a crate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.
“Helping.”
I grabbed the large cauldron with my other hand, its weight nothing compared to what I carried on hunts. The stairs were narrow, but I’d walked them enough times to know every turn.
I made it down in less than a minute, set everything in the clearing, and headed back up.
Victoria stood in the laboratory doorway, another crate balanced on her hip.
I took it from her.
“I can manage that,” she said.
“I know.”
I made two more trips, taking it all downstairs for her. When I came back the final time, she had her notebook and a small case of vials in her hands.
I picked her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She went rigid. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you downstairs.”
“I have functional legs.”
I blinked at her, genuinely confused. “The stairs are steep. Your hands are full. This is faster.”
