<It disturbs them to see you do that when you look mostly human,> Joe said, glancing at Tobias and Truman.
The Grizzly gave Joe a long look, then lowered his paw. “The hauler is back. Once we load what it can carry, we’ll have enough meat.”
“We’ll want the meat of one more bison to trade,” Joe said.
Wyatt growled, making Tobias and Truman flinch. “With the humans? They’ve left good meat to spoil in the heat; they aren’t going to want any of ours.”
“Not with the humans. I want to find out if we can ship some of this meat to the Lakeside Courtyard.”
Wyatt finally nodded. “We’ll come back for one more.”
After they’d dragged one more half-grown bison close enough that the men would be able to winch it onto the hauler when it returned again, the horses were loaded into the trailer and returned to the ranch. The hauler slowly drove off with its cargo. The Wolves and Coyotes, having eaten enough, jumped into the pickup beds, happy to nap on the way back to the terra indigene settlement.
Tobias started the truck, then looked at Joe. “You want me to drop you off close to your place?”
Joe shook his head. “I need to talk to Jesse Walker and use the telephone.” He waited for Tobias to put the truck in gear. “Something else?”
“The Elders. Do they mean us harm, Joe? I guess humans have done plenty to piss them off lately, so I have to ask.”
He considered his words carefully. “If you honor the agreements you made with the terra indigene, there is no reason for the Elders to do more than watch you as they go about their own lives. But, Tobias? If they had wanted to do you and your community any harm, you wouldn’t have survived long enough to ask the question.”
Tobias put the truck in gear and headed back to Prairie Gold.
Their footsteps filled the land with a terrible silence. They moved among the carcasses, breathing in the mingled scents of Wolves, Coyotes, horses, and the two-legged beasts called humans.
They moved up to the road, where the scents were not mingled. A different smell here, a sourness in the air that displeased them—and reminded them of the human beasts who had entered their hills without their consent. Those beasts had snuck in, as if that would keep them hidden from the terra indigene, and scurried to one of the creeks to collect some of the yellow pebbles. Wondering if the new Wolf had given permission, they had allowed the beasts to take the pebbles and leave. But the new Wolf had not given permission, so the next time the beasts came for the yellow pebbles, they became meat, and the pebbles were returned to the creek where the smaller terra indigene would find them.
Humans were still new to this part of Thaisia, still something to watch. The new Wolf was also something to watch, something interesting—something connected to the Wolf who lived near Etu, the Wolf who was being watched by many while the Elders in the east considered if the little predators called humans were needed by the world.
They tore open the bodies of the prairie thunder and ate their fill. Then they tore off large pieces of the meat and returned to the hills to feed their young, to rest—and to keep watch.
CHAPTER 6
Windsday, Juin 6
Vlad leaned against the doorway of HGR’s upstairs office. “Could you stop waking up Meg so early in the morning? Some of us would like to sleep a bit longer.”
Simon bared his teeth. “I didn’t wake her up this morning. She woke me.” He turned on the computer. Everyone who lived in the Green Complex was getting an early start this morning—and everyone was so quick to blame him.
It wasn’t his fault. One moment he was happily asleep; the next, Meg screamed and threw herself on top of him, startling him enough that he yelped. Loudly. And since the windows were open, and since terra indigene all had excellent hearing, the scream and yelp had brought the rest of the Green Complex’s residents running to find out what was wrong.
Vlad approached the desk. “She just had a dream? You’re sure she wasn’t cut, even by accident?”
“No cuts. No broken skin.”
“You’re sure?”
Simon nodded. Before Henry Beargard pounded on Meg’s front door and Vlad, in the Sanguinati’s smoke form, flowed through the screened bedroom window, Simon had planted a paw on Meg’s back and given her a quick but thorough sniff to make sure there wasn’t any blood.
Not that he was going to mention that to anyone.
“You’re not starting the day that much earlier,” Simon growled. “And you were the one who said we needed to get our book orders in today to make sure the store was fully stocked when the Addirondak Wolves arrived next week.”
“Fine. I’ll start on those, and you can . . .”
The phone rang. Simon grabbed the receiver on the second ring. “Howling Good Reads.”
“Simon? It’s Jackson. We need to talk to Meg.”
Simon looked at Vlad. <Get Meg. Now.>
Vlad opened the office’s back window, shifted to smoke form, and flowed down the side of the building—the fastest way to reach the back of the Liaison’s Office.
“Vlad is fetching her,” Simon said. “Is the pack all right? Are you?”
“Yes. Look, we have the phone on the speaker thing. Grace and Hope are with me.” Since Jackson had finished the sentence with a snarl and needed to talk to Meg, it was easy to figure out who had caused trouble for the Sweetwater pack.
Footsteps on the stairs. Then Meg rushed into the office.
“Simon?” She sounded a little breathless. He was going to have to chase her more to build up her lungs. “Vlad said—”
Simon waved her toward the desk. When she hesitated, Vlad gently gripped her shoulders and steered her behind the desk.
“Jackson?” Simon said. “I’m going to put you on speaker now that Meg is here.”
“Meg?” A timid female voice.
Meg sat in the chair, so Simon leaned a hip on the desk while Vlad stood to one side.
“Yes, this is Meg.”
“Tell her why she was a bad puppy!”
Hearing anguish beneath Jackson’s anger, Simon’s canines lengthened in sympathy. He poked Meg’s shoulder. “Yeah, Meg. Tell her why she was a bad puppy.”
Vlad gave him a sharp look.
“I just needed the color!” A wail.
“I remember you,” Meg said, pretending she hadn’t heard his comment. “You were called cs821.”
“Yes.”
“Did you choose a name for yourself?”
“Hope.” A sniffle. “Hope Wolfsong.”
“That’s a wonderful name.”
<After being snarled at today, I wonder if that will be her name tomorrow,> Vlad said, sounding amused.
But not really amused, Simon decided after studying the Sanguinati. There was nothing amusing about a cassandra sangue using a razor.
“You liked colors, liked to draw,” Meg continued.
“Yes. I’m allowed to draw now. Or I was.”
Poor puppy, Simon thought. She sounded scared. But he would still take Jackson’s side because the Wolf was probably scared too.
“You drew a picture,” Meg prompted.
“Yes.”
“And then you cut yourself, using the razor?”
“Yes. No. I wasn’t trying to cut; I just needed that shade of red.”
Simon poked Meg’s shoulder again. “Tell her the rules.” He raised his voice, even though Jackson could hear him just fine. “There are rules.”
Meg stared at him and bared her teeth.