She went back to her work.
I blinked a few times, my heart rate spiking.
“Thank you,” I said, turning for the door.
I left at a pace that was not quite running but was definitely the fastest I could walk without making it obvious I was running.
Acorn bobbed on my shoulder, still chewing.
I made it halfway across the main hall before Maria intercepted me. She sat at one of the outdoor tables, cleaning her fingernails with a blade the length of her forearm.
“How are you settling in?” she called out.
I paused, shifting my weight, aching to bolt to my lab. But the polite thing to do was stop and answer.
“The sleeping arrangements are fine,” I said. “The laboratory I’ve created in the old alpha’s office suits my needs well. I find the pack dynamics here genuinely interesting as a social system. They’re much more collaborative than I expected from my research into hierarchical structure.”
Maria laughed. “You sound like you’re writing a report.”
“I suppose I do.” I hadn’t meant it to be funny.
She worked on another nail with her blade. “You’re good for him.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“The alpha.” She flicked a fingernail across the table in front of her. It skidded and dropped over the edge, landing on the floor. “He’s different since the wedding. Lighter. Even with all of this.” She gestured at the compound in general. “He smiles more. Sleeps better, from what I hear.”
My throat went tight. “He’s under a great deal of pressure. Small improvements in sleep and nutrition would account for a mood shift.”
Maria gave me the kind of look that said she knew exactly what I was doing, but she wasn’t going to push. She went back to her nails.
I filed her observation away in the place where I kept things I wasn’t ready to think about yet. Though her statements made warmth unfurl in my chest.
Acorn said nothing. This, somehow, was worse than when he did.
I climbed the stairs fast.
Back in the laboratory, I added the extract to my secondary experiment with one hand while my brain stayed somewhere else.
The pen hovered beside my notebook, waiting for dictation.
I ignored it.
Instead I went over to my desk and studied the two overlaid maps. Duskburst locations. Seal sites. The pattern so clean it felt like someone had drawn me a diagram.
I started pacing. Three steps one direction, pivot, three steps back. The familiar rhythm helped me think.
Acorn watched from the windowsill with the detached interest he usually reserved for birds.
When I strode near him, I randomly noted the things he’d collected in his basket. Bits of string, interesting stones, and an acorn cap.
Plus a neat pile of duskburst sprigs. Purple and white flowers, dried in the sun. At least six or seven of them, arranged with the same careful attention he gave his acorn hoard.
I’d seen them multiple times, actually. They’d been in my peripheral vision for days. But I looked at them now.
Backing away, I sat down in front of my desk, tugging my notebook in front of me.
Acorn started grooming himself on the windowsill. One paw, then the other. He murmured to himself in that absent way he did when he thought I wasn’t listening, half in my mind and half the soft chittering that filled the space.
