yee b
The memory of the child held up high, torn from its mother's side, of the dog's cry and then his lifeless eyes for daring to protect the innocent...it stuck with her, niggling into her mind and creating a whirlwind of worry that was rare for her. Even as she completed her familiar routine — wandering through the Valley, adding her scent to the borders and scrounging up whatever food she could find — she felt distant. Until she saw him.
Merrick.
Her chest tightened, and she was sent back again to that day. Should she even bring such a thing up, lest she meets the same fate as the dog — Fraser was his name, the poor lad.
It felt foolish, but she chuffed, declaring her presence to her alpha. Better come at him head on that sneaking up on him and giving the bastard a fright.
She wanted to laugh, and nearly did, her chest flutter and a gust of air squeaking out. But she could not forget the sight of Merrick, holding his newborn as if he was about to tear it asunder. Porcupine Cove,
she said, her mind suddenly recalling the pale woman she met at Porcupine Ridge. Too many places named after the prickily little mammals. Huntin' and patrollin' mostly. 'm plannin' on venturing out to check up on the packs 'round 'ere.
She watched the levity in his eyes, so distant from that night that still niggled in her brain and left her with doubt on her loyalty. I talk too much to spy,
she grinned, tension tightening her teeth together. I'll give them a swing-by, though.
Orson, for all her self-described roguishness, was not much of an actual rogue. Not like Merrick was. She hadn't realized it when they had first met, but it had become apparent to her after the birth of his children, and the death of Fraser. He was on a different level than her. The idea of harassing another pack left a sour taste in her mouth. Ye think we could handle it?