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“Tate’s hatchery proposal sailed through the approvals committee at the council meeting, so we’ve officially moved into the design phase,” Roark replied. “Not that Tate, Charlie, and Baz waited to get started. You know how intense Baz can be whenever he’s got a new project to work on. He’s already in discussions with a family who lives by the Squirrel River up in the borderlands about operating a hatchery there. Tate’s going to coordinate both, so it looks like he’ll have his hands full for a while.”

“Good for him,” Flame said. “So, Wren, what is all of this we’ve got here?”

“We made homemade instruments in class this week. Uncle Kale helped me make extra ones for the pups,” Wren explained. “He cut the necks off these little gords after they dried, and we filled them with beans and glued them back together. Then we tied ribbons and strips of leather around the necks so they wouldn’t slip out of our hands if we shook them too hard. I made one for you. We’ve got silly-song videos we can play along with.”

Wren held up a larger gord and rattled it, prompting the little ones to squeal and shake their rattles too, while Flame carefully inched closer until he’d joined their group.

“Wow. You made this?” Flame asked when Wren passed him his gord.

“Uh huh,” Wren replied. “It was easy. The insides were already hollow. We left the seeds inside them and added other kinds of beans to make different sounds. When we put smaller beans in, like lentils and mung beans, they sound like water.”

Wren shook one of those to show Flame the difference, much as they had when they’d come home from school with their instruments carefully wrapped up and tucked in their new aqua and purple backpack. Another find by the amazing Gina.

“Big ones, like lima beans, made a louder rattle. I liked pouring them in because that means I don’t have to eat them. Bleh! I hate lima beans.”

Flame chuckled, scrunching up his nose. Rusty knew how his brother felt about lima beans and expected him to launch into one of his infamous tirades about how many times they’d been served them growing up. Instead, he turned and caught Rusty’s eye, a look of confusion and uncertainty crossing his face.

Is it okay to agree or am I supposed to encourage them to eat their lima beans because they’re healthy?

Whoa, unexpected, but Rusty appreciated the questions.

You know how I feel about those beans. We don’t serve them here and won’t. Thank you for checking, though.

Flame nodded, turned his attention back to the pups, and surprised his brother again in the way he chose to respond.

“You tried them first, right?” Flame asked.

“Uh-huh. They were awful, even when Papa cooked them with bits of bacon.” Wren declared. “He finally promised to stop making them.”

“All the ways I’ve had them have been pretty terrible,” Flame admitted. “Brussel sprouts were too, until the right wolf made them for me.”

“I love Brussel sprouts,” Wren declared, “they look like tiny cabbages. Papa Roark makes the best ones I’ve ever had. He roasts his with onions and bacon.”

“His are the best I’ve ever had too,” Flame declared. “Wanna know what was so fun about them?”

“What’s that?” Wren said, eagerly leaning closer to hear more.

“I didn’t like them before he made them for supper one night,” Flame said. “Every time I’d had them in the past, they’d been mushy and flavorless. If I’d let that stop me from trying them when he made them, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how much I love them now. But only the way he does them. Sometimes, it takes trying something a few different ways before you know one way or another whether you like them or not.”

Wren’s nose scrunched the way it always did when they were deep in thought, then they looked at the younger pups on either side of them, eyes lighting up.

“I’ve only had Papa’s lima beans,” Wren said.

“There you go,” Flame declared as he gave the rattle a shake before grinning and shaking with a swirling motion at the end, causing the beans to make a shhhhh shhhhh sound. “They sure do sound pretty though.”

“I love all the sounds they make,” Wren said, showing him the long wooden tube full of beans they’d made. “This one is called a rain stick.”

“I can see why,” Flame replied, cocking his head as he listened to the sounds it made as Wren tipped it back and forth, a serene look on his face. “The only time I turn off my music is when it’s raining. Sometimes the sound of nature is more soothing than anything shifters or humans can create.”

“Wren, here’s the remote so you can start the music when you’re ready,” Roark said, passing it to them. “Think you can keep your Uncle Flame out of trouble while Rusty and I make lunch? We promise there won’t be any lima beans.”

“Will there be Brussel sprouts?” Wren asked, beaming up at him with their hands cupped beneath their chin in the shape of a heart.

“Can there be Brussels sprouts?” Flame asked, mimicking Wren’s heart, and dammit, it was just as fucking adorable.

Rusty rolled his eyes. His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard he was so pleased to see Flame behaving like the wolf Rusty had grown up with.

“How can I say no when you’re both begging for vegetables?” Roark said. “There shall be Brussels sprouts.”