Silvertip Mountain Trespass

His jaws clenched. His eyes wavered. Then make an exception—the words rose like bile in his throat into his mouth.

He swallowed them.

She protected the resources of her territory to ensure the survival of her family. His mouth, his hunger, would rob them. He understood her position. Maybe he even anticipated it. He would have said the same to outsiders at his border despite Alo's tenet to be generous. But insight into her decisive remark did not preclude his frustration; his resentment.

Family. It was a bitter word; it meant exclusion. Family eluded him. Ookaan eluded him. Alo was gone. He knew then that he would not return to Wapun Meadow. And then, though he felt remorse for leaving the pack that inhabited it, he knew it was the concept, not the reality, the loss of which made his heart sore.

Goldry shifted, breathed out, glanced at the mountain. “I could hunt with you. For you,” he offered, pleaded, in a quieter voice, though it lacked none of his earlier confidence. Perhaps it was his own brand of recklessness prompting him to be so hasty now, but this she-wolf had the makings of a strong and powerful leader. She could be someone worth following, someone who could provide what he was looking for. Aguta was here, at least: the first friend—acquaintance, really, but counted as a friend in this friendless place—he'd made since leaving his brother behind last Spring.

“For the pack.”