Sawtooth Spire You took my hand and we pretended like I was your guy

Mahler was right about that. From way up here, Wylla could see a great many things, and yet it was only a fraction of the wilds. She could walk for the rest of her life and touch less than half of it. Truly, it was a marvel of nature, a utopia for wolves, although not without its challenges.

She allowed his gentle touch to her shoulder, feeling a tiny shiver spread from the point of contact. Outwardly, she did her best not to react, but Mahler was a skilled healer and couldn't miss the way the muscles there relaxed. Their children were proving a handful already and the displaced Astraeus, while never destined to be considered her child by Wylla, was only going to add to that. Small wonder part of her was tense—made worse by ire over Agana's careless abandonment of her cub.

She expected Mahler to comment on the children or share news on the pack, but instead, he said something so unexpected, her brain needed to buffer for a second. The tail end of his words almost wavered. She wondered why, but didn't ask or tease for once. Instead, she pulled a slow breath through her nose, then said, I guess that depends on you and your plans.