I’m about to thank her when Thomas himself comes over, a stack of printouts in hand. He’s got Beta stamped all over him: even, steady, a little intimidating. He gives me a smile that makes him look ten years younger. “Dina, I heard you used to help your dad with perimeter maps. Bryan says you’re just the person to ask for a second opinion, that right?”
I freeze. Damn Bryan and his big mouth. “Sometimes,” I say, guarded.
He hands me a map with the new patrol routes marked with a highlighter. I scan it and immediately see two choke points that could funnel a whole squad into a pointless bottleneck. I point this out just as Nick and Bryan walk over, and Thomas makes a pleased noise low in his throat, not quite a laugh but close. He shows the guys, and Nick flashes me a surprised nod that looks a lot like appreciation.
“You ever think about coming to training?” he asks. “We could always use another set of eyes.”
My mouth is dry. I want to say no, but the way he asks, it doesn’t feel like a challenge, more like a genuine offer. “Maybe,” I say.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Bryan says. “She’s got her old man’s brain for it. Probably could run the whole perimeter blindfolded, if you asked her.”
The words land like a stone in my stomach. I can feel the eyes of the whole group on me, including Caleb, who has wandered over with Alora, and for a second, I’d do anything to be invisible.
“I just pointed it out,” I mumble, suddenly wishing for a hole to crawl into. “Anyone could see it.”
Bryan shakes his head. “No, really. You’re the only one who did. Reminds me of your father; he used to take the patrol maps and cover them in red pen. Always had the best technical eye.” He means it as a compliment, but there’s a tenderness under the words that makes me want to run away and also cry.
I glance at my feet, then at Caleb, hoping he’ll say something to change the subject, but he’s standing a little apart, holding Alora with both hands, and for once his expression is one of genuine surprise, but he doesn’t say anything, just holds my eyes for a second, as if to say, I see you. I feel the back of my neck flush.
Thomas is already making notes on his phone, and Nick grins at me, his presence as reassuring as a weighted blanket. “You’re welcome at training, Dina. Any time.”
I thank him, not sure how to feel about the entire exchange, and then men drift off to prepare for the usual sparring rounds that always happen at pack events. I notice Caleb holding Alora and realize he’s not taking part. For somestupid reason, my feet move before my brain engages, and I walk over, offering my arms to Alora, who reaches for me, beaming.
“I’ll take her, you go take part,” I say, barely looking him in the eye.
Alora practically flings herself into my arms, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her weight until I’m holding her again. “Are you sure?” he says, the surprise evident in his voice, “you’re not on the clock.”
“I know,” I say, holding Alora close as he nods once and heads off.
The first round of sparring starts with the usual posturing and trash talk, which means most of the pack kids start to drift over to the edge of the ring, trying to get the best view. I don’t want to draw attention, so I hang back by the low benches with Alora on my hip, half-watching as Nick goes up against Caleb in a friendly. My stomach clenches with a feeling I don’t want to examine as Caleb pulls his shirt over his head and discards it before shifting.
Next to me, Maisie has appeared, clearly sulking, arms folded tight, a scowl on her face that would have made my father proud. I suspect it’s still because she’s not allowed to take part in the games yet, and I recognize the feeling. It’s the same one that I used to get at events like this when I was little and not allowed to do what the others were doing. I shift Alora to my other hip and edge closer to Maisie’s bench.
She glares up, ready to repel all invaders, and I meet her stare with one of my own. “You don’t look like you’re having a great afternoon,” I say, and then give her a moment to decide whether she wants to answer or not.
She considers me. “I want to do the obstacle run, but Dad says I’m too little.”
I nod. “That sucks. I’d be mad, too.” I say, and she shrugs, then sighs so heavily it blows the hair away from her face.
Alora is getting squirmy, so I set her on the bench next to Maisie and unsnap a rattle toy from the diaper bag. Alora bats at it, tries to eat it, and then loses interest. Maisie watches this in silence, her face settling into something softer, and after a minute she picks up the rattle and shakes it gently, so the baby blinks and giggles.
“She likes you,” I say, hoping it comes off as casual.
Maisie shrugs again, but there’s a flicker of pride. “I’m good with babies,” she says.
“I believe it.” I let the silence stretch, then say, “You know, you can run the course when they’ve finished. I’ll time you.”
Maisie looks up, skeptical, then glances at her mom, who is deep in conversation by the food tables. “You’d do that?”
“Sure,” I say, “I used to help my dad set up those runs, back in the day. I’m an expert.”
She looks at me wide-eyed and then beams, running off to tell her mom before they both walk back over. Fiona smiles, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” I say, and I mean it. Maisie is now dancing around, and I feel a warmth in my heart as she finds some space to do a warm-up routine.
Fiona sits next to me and picks up Alora’s rattle to dance it in front of her eyes, “You're a natural," Fiona says, in a voice rich with approval that makes me want to squirm. "The way you handle her…you sure you've only been doing this a month?"
I shrug, but my cheeks burn. "It’s mostly just keeping her alive, I think."
