And now he was dead.
“Ah hell, Miriam. I’m sorry.”
And with that, Mother wrapped her good arm around the werewolf and pulled in tight for a hug. Gray Muzzle went willingly and even licked Mother’s neck. And when Mother drew back, the wolf nuzzled deeper into the shoulder wound, licking at the blood and tears. Mother hissed, but allowed it. And then she dropped her head on Gray Wolf’s haunch.
“You’re patrolling, ain’t ya? Trying to catch them hybrids?”
A single bark in the affirmative.
“Well go on then. We’re good here. Got Hank over there to keep us safe.”
Everyone looked at him, and he bared his teeth to show he was ready.
“Sorry about this one,” Mother continued. “We’ll keep his body safe until you can come back in the morning. But what do you want us to do with the others?”
A low growl. And in case anyone had trouble understanding what that meant, Gray Muzzle went over to the wolf-faced hybrid and lifted her leg. She pissed a long, angry stream on the hybrid before acknowledging Mother with another a nod and leaping out the window. The other three did the same. They first acknowledged Mother with a press of their nose to her hand, gave another lick to the fallen werewolf on the couch, then one by one, they pissed on the dead hybrids. Like they needed the extra stench in here. Mother must have felt the same because as the last one finished, she called loudly to them.
“You’ll be cleaning that up in the morning, too!”
The response came first from Gray Muzzle, then the other three. She lifted her head and howled, loud and long, and the others chimed in. It wasn’t a frightening sound. More mournful than angry. And it seemed to fill the night with a wild kind of awareness. Mother Nature was in charge tonight. Violent, angry, or even tender. The humans held no sway.
Which was completely thrilling to Hank’s bear side. The human mind looked for Cecilia’s reaction. Was she terrified? Repulsed?
He found her still gripping the bloody Swiss army knife but watching the werewolves with clear interest, maybe even excitement. And when she noticed he was looking at her, she shrugged.
“How could I have been so blind?”
Because everyone took pains to keep the normals from seeing. But he couldn’t say that in his bear form and until they got help, he couldn’t risk shifting back to human. He was stronger and a better defender as a bear. So instead of answering, he tried to smile at her.
Bears can smile, though it takes a special person to understand that. It took an ability to see past the baring teeth to the curve at the back of the muzzle. Few people ever got there, which was why bears rarely bothered. But he tried. For her. And she smiled back.
It was a connection, he realized. A moment when bear and woman understood each other, and he exhaled in relief. She wasn’t terrified anymore. And she wasn’t blind. She was looking at him as if…well, he didn’t know how. He just felt it as—
Her head snapped to the side as Sammy cried out, “Mother!”
Hank’s gaze shot to the couch, where the woman who had saved them all this night wobbled and collapsed.
