On the trail, once away from the parking area, Tuesday let her wolf come up high in her psyche so she could enjoy the forest, too. Not fully forward, just present, taking in the layered smells of the mountain, the density of the many tree species on the upper slopes.
Willow moved well on the trail. She was a hawk shifter, which meant her relationship with elevation was different from a wolf’s. She was comfortable with height in a way Tuesday respected without entirely sharing, but she’d also spent plenty of time on two legs in the woods, and they fell into a natural rhythm.
They talked about easy things on the way — Willow’s most recent ER rotation, a chaotic shift involving a man with scratches in places that really should’ve been clothed, and required reports to animal controlandthe park rangers about an aggressive raccoon in a state park.
They talked about a pack gathering coming up in June that Willow was excited about handling the logistics of. Tuesday talked about Miami, the ceviche she was proud of, the head chef in Paris who’d been an asshole at first, and then a charming asshole.
Eventually, the trail delivered them to Edward’s Point, with the river and valley spreading out below, the mountains rolling away in every direction, and Chattanooga visible in the distance like a tiny little diorama.
They sat on the warm cliff and ate the lunch Willow had packed with the thoroughness of a woman who fed three large wolves on a regular basis — sandwiches that were serious about their fillings, homemade potato chips, good cheese, and they finished it off with squares of watermelon and flaky salt.
Tuesday had offered to bring the food, but Willow had insisted, and she’d done well.
“Is the meat from Silas’s place?” Tuesday asked.
“Yeah. His sauce, too. Also his slaw. I added the melted sharp cheddar, the fried egg, and the crispy onions. Sometimes I pickle onions for sandwiches, but I thought the texture needed crispy onions today.”
“These are fantastic. Well done. The brioche buns are perfect, too.”
They talked about the view, and then they didn’t talk for a while, which was comfortable, just taking in the view while they ate.
Eventually, Willow said, “Kenny has a boss, you know.”
Tuesday looked at her, wondering where she was going. Cora was Kenny’s boss, alpha werewolf over eleven or so states. Every wolf in Chattanooga knew that.
Willow ate a potato chip and added, “Cora might be more understanding. Kenny puts pack first, but Cora sees the bigger picture. More than a single pack. She’s also a woman, and she’ll understand things a man might not get unless you beat him over the head with it, and that isn’t usually advised with Kenny.”
And then Willow told Tuesday about the time Kenny and Boone had brought her to the point on dirt bikes, pointing behind them instead of toward the trail. “I needed to fly, and they brought me here. It was… I don’t know, proof they understood my needs. That they valued my hawk nature. It was in the early days, and it meant the world to me. Kenny has his moments, but I figure Silas and Boone probably explain a lot of the emotional stuff to him.”
“But Silas didn’t come?”
“I get Silas alone a few hours every day during the week, and I have the other two while Silas works on the weekends. It all works out. Boone and Kenny are mostly on the same schedule, but Silas is on his own. He has competent managers who handle things when he isn’t there, but he goes in for at least a couple of hours most every day the restaurant’s open.”
“I have so many questions about how it works with three wolves and a hawk. Absolutely none of my business, but still.”
Willow laughed. “Kenny isallabout rules and schedules, and that’s probably why it works so well. Also, I work for five to ten days every month, and I’m gone the entire time. It gives me a break from it all, because yeah, it’s a lot, living with three demanding wolves, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You love them. That’s clear.”
“I do.”
And Knife had told her he’d loved her.
But she hadn’t said it back. She desperately loved him, but what was the point in saying it when…shit.
Willow thought she was helping, offering a way to leave the pack without having to go to Kenny, but at least before, knowing it was doubtful Kenny would break her pack bonds, had made it truly impossible.
But now, with the knowledge Cora might do it…
It made her have a true decision to make, but she couldn’t leave her pack. She wouldn’t be the same person without them.
But… could she ever be whole without him?
They talked about hawk society and how it differs from wolf packs on the return hike, and that led to talk about what they knew of prides with a lion rex over all the reginas, which led to talk of how horses worked, with a single stallion and a bunch of mares.
“I think bears may have it best,” Tuesday said. “A choice of whether to be alone or part of a family group, but either way, your life is still your own. No restrictions on using magic just because you aren’t part of the pack.”
Tuesday thought about it on and off for three days and then put it away, because thinking about it meant admitting she was considering it, and she couldn’t truly consider leaving the pack.
