by Viola Rivard
By the time she was finished, Taylor’s shoulder was wet with tears and other fluids she’d rather not contemplate. Taylor could tell that she’d been keeping all of this in for a while, and she could understand why. She doubted that any of the females in Sarah’s pack wanted to hear her complain about menopause when they’d never had the opportunity to bear children of their own. It was similar to the problem Taylor faced when she wished she had someone to talk to about not wanting to have more pups. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she would find a sympathetic ear from Sarah either, at least not right now.
“The worst part is,” Sarah began, swiping at her reddened eyes, “that I’m not producing milk anymore. It used to be that when we got a really young pup, I could just put them to the breast. Even if I wasn’t lactating at the time, it was like my body just knew what to do, and within a day or two, I was nursing without any trouble. But this time, nothing is happening. It’s been almost two weeks, and he’s just getting worse and worse. I’ve tried formula. He must be getting a little bit of it down, but he’s mostly just regurgitating it. It’s awful, Taylor. I can’t remember the last time I felt this helpless.”
At once, it dawned on Taylor why she’d been summoned to Sarah’s den.
“Wait, slow down. Are you telling me that there’s a baby that you need me to nurse?”
Sarah gave a tearful nod. “Like I said, I tried asking the nearby packs if they’d take him in. I know of at least three women that might have been able to nurse him, but none of them would take him. I know it’s a lot to ask, and you don’t have to keep him, not for more than a few weeks, anyway. We just have to get him to a point where he can eat solids and—”
Taylor cut her off with a shake. “Sarah, I love you, but please just shut up and take me to him.”
Chapter 3
“A pup?” Hale asked, not bothering to sound surprised. “How old is it?”
Hale had known from the first that Cain would be trying to saddle him with one of their strays. Why else would they ask for Taylor? She really wasn’t good for much of anything, aside from nursing. The real giveaway had been the vagueness of the letter. He’d actually felt insulted as he’d read it. Did they honestly think he would refuse to take in a pup?
Of course, he hadn’t known why they were asking him to take the pup in. His first assumption had been that Sarah had given birth to twins again and could not manage to take a third pup to the breast. He hadn’t expected to find out that Sarah was now barren.
“Barren” wasn’t the right word. Cain had used another word, one that implied that she’d simply come to the end of her childbearing years. That was the strangest thing he’d heard yet. Last he’d seen Sarah, she’d looked as young as she had twelve years ago when Cain had first brought her home, already carrying their first pup. There had been scarcely a wrinkle on her face, and Hale even remembered springing an erection when she’d given him one of her annoyingly provocative hugs.
“It was born about two weeks ago,” Cain said, his stern face fixed with a grimace. “Sarah had been in communication with the mother throughout her pregnancy. She was young, but she seemed eager enough to care for her pup. He hadn’t been born two days when she changed her mind.”
They were hiking on a rocky slope, tracking a small flock of deer that one of Cain’s scouts had spotted earlier in the evening. The first snow had melted and frozen beneath the later snow drifts, making the terrain dangerous to navigate. In their wolf forms, they could have used their claws to grip the earth more securely, but the true purpose of their trek was not to hunt, but to talk. Hale wore a pair of his brother’s sturdy boots and carried a walking stick to help keep his balance.
Cain said, “It was one of the more difficult ones to watch. The mother was resigned, but very emotional.”
It was Hale’s turn to grimace. He had seen Cain take in many pups during his time in Shaderunner but had scarcely interacted with the mothers. That had been Sarah’s domain. The few times he had taken Sarah to collect a pup, he’d been unable to hide his contempt for the females, and so they had started having Alder bring her instead.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Hale remarked. “Or why you do it.”
Hale and Alder had been the first pups Cain had taken in. He had brought them with him when he’d left the pack of their birth, not long after their mother had died. Hale did not remember how old he’d been, but he’d been young enough that his memories of his first pack were hazy. Though Cain had never said as much, taking he and Alder had been a massive burden for him, as it had been years before they’d been able to make a meaningful contribution to Shaderunner.
“For whatever reason, their fathers were not capable of raising them,” Cain said. “I am, therefore they are my responsibility.”
Hale lifted a skeptical brow. “If it were as simple as being able to provide for them, you wouldn’t be the only one taking these pups in.”
“It isn’t that simple. It is more than being able to provide shelter, or keep food in their bellies.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” Hale conceded.
When Taylor had been pregnant with the twins, Hale had mostly imagined teaching them to hunt. Occasionally, he’d contemplated what they’d be like when they were older, and in his mind, they were usually clones of himself, ready to help him defend his territory and do his bidding without complaint.
Then, they’d been born, coming into the world small and helpless, and with a whole host of needs that Hale had not been entirely prepared for. Cain was right. It was not enough to provide them with food and shelter. They needed an adult to guide them through just about everything, to care for them when they were sick, to soothe them when they cried, and to discipline them when they tried doing something that could kill them—which was constantly. And even after expending all of that effort, he still didn’t get what he thought he would in return.
Fawn was nothing like him, at all. She was gentle, sweet, and gregarious. Shadow had Hale’s stubborn streak, and he shared his fondness for Taylor’s breasts, but outside of that, he reminded Hale more of Alder, with his reserved nature. By rights, it should have annoyed him that they were so different, that he couldn’t fit either of them into the mold he’d constructed while they were in the womb. Instead, he relished in every aspect of their personalities and marveled at how the little beings, despite being of him and raised by him, could be so very different.
“Are you expecting Alder and I to take the pup in?” Hale asked.
“He needs a female that can feed him.”
‘And my mate cannot.’
The unspoken words seem to echo around them.
“I’m sorry,” Hale heard himself say. The phrase sounded foreign on his tongue.
Cain gave a single shake of his head. “Don’t be. We’ve raised many pups, and we will continue to take in the ones that have already been weaned.” He hesitated, and then added, “To be honest, I am somewhat relieved. Sarah… She always had an easy time with births. They lasted only a few hours and passed without incident. But this last time, she labored for two days. I thought the pup would never come. I thought…that I’d be burying her.”
Hale swallowed, pushing down his own memory of the birth of his pups. He wondered why childbirth had to be so grueling for humans, and if it had been the same for their females, back when they’d been able to carry pups.
“I am being selfish,” Cain said suddenly. “Talking so much of myself. How are you, and your brother?”
It was clear that Cain still had a lot on his mind, and Alder would have had the finesse to hone in on whatever was troubling Cain, but Hale did not. Instead, he allowed Cain to change the topic, and dove into a long discussion, mostly about pack politics. Halcyon had been at peace for nearly two years, though lately there had been some skirmishes with a pack to their west, nothing that would constitute war, but enough to give him plenty of conversational fodder.
They were discussing the best way to assert territory boundaries
when the terrain leveled out. The rocky slope ended in a thickly forested valley, where the snow came up higher, to the middle of his calf. There was still no sign of the deer or their tracks, but Hale didn’t care. He found that he enjoyed talking to his older brother. When he’d been younger, conversations with Cain had always seemed tedious. Everything out of his mouth had been a long-winded lecture, usually directed at Hale. For some reason, the years had made Cain much more agreeable.
“And your mate?” Cain asked, not long after the conversation had drifted to the pups. “Is she well? I’ve been waiting for word that you’re expecting another pup.”
The tip of Hale’s foot caught on a log that was hidden beneath the snow. He nearly lost his footing but was able to use his walking stick to right himself at the last moment.
He wanted to pretend as though he hadn’t heard Cain’s question. Oddly, he also wanted to tell Cain everything. About the months he’d spent waiting for Taylor to give him another pup, how she'd seemed eager in the past, and then her sudden and irrational declaration that she would never carry another child for him. But for reasons he could not understand, Taylor’s refusal to have more pups made Hale feel ashamed, and he could not bring himself to admit this to his brother.
“She’s been begging me for another pup since spring,” Hale said, rolling his eyes. “I told her I might give her one if she weans Shadow, but she’s being so damn stubborn about it.”
He found himself watching Cain closely, waiting for his brother to see through the lie. To his relief, Cain sighed and nodded.
“Sarah was still nursing our first pup when the second was born. I warned her that it would take a toll on her body.” Cain’s brow furrowed. “What about Alder? Does he want more pups? How does that even work, if one of you wants pups and the other doesn’t?”
“You know Alder. He doesn’t usually make decisions; he just tries to mediate.”
“True. I still have a hard time picturing him as a father.”
Hale was taken aback. “What? Alder?”
Between him and his twin, Hale would have thought that anyone would have pegged Alder as having a more paternal nature.
“Mm. He’s always been so uptight. Has he loosened up at all?”
Hale snorted. “Hell no. If anything, having pups has made him more uptight. If it were up to him, the pups wouldn’t have left his sight until they were juveniles.”
They came to a stop at the same time and exchanged looks. The air carried the scent of an unfamiliar wolf, coupled with the faintest hint of decay. They moved swiftly, but silently, Cain leading the way as they headed in the direction of the scent.
They found the gray wolf partially submerged in a wide stream, the top half of his body clinging to the snowy shore as if he’d used the last of his strength trying to pull himself from the water. The large gouge in his throat told a different story. It was not the sort of puncture that a wolf survived, not even briefly. Someone had killed him farther upstream and dumped his corpse into the water.
“Is he one of yours?” Hale asked, already sure he knew the answer. Most wolves from the same pack shared a similar scent, and this one smelled nothing like Cain.
Cain was crouched near the wolf’s head. “He’s from a pack not far from here. Half a day’s walk. His alpha is a male named Yewen. He is, for lack of a better word, a complete ass. He’s constantly poaching my boars and demands tribute whenever we have to pass through his territory, which is often. It’s the only direct route to the town Sarah frequents.”
“Why do you stand for it?” Hale asked. “Just tell him to fuck off, and if that doesn’t work, kill him.”
Cain gave him a withering look. “I am not thirty and I do not have a twin that can take my place if I lose my head. I have a mate and pups that rely on me to keep the peace, no matter the minor grievances.”
Cain pulled a tuft of dark brown fur from the wolf’s mouth. He brought it to his nose, sniffed and then grimaced.
“I don’t recognize the attacker’s scent,” he said.
“Good,” Hale said. “Leave him here for Yewen to clean up. Not your problem.”
“It is absolutely my problem,” Cain said, standing. “This wolf’s body is in my territory. I will have to answer for this.”
Hale still didn’t understand. “But you didn’t do anything.”
“It doesn’t matter. If we don’t handle this carefully, Yewen will find a way to hold me responsible.”
“Fuck that. I’ll deal with the asshole myself if you want.”
Ignoring the offer, Cain said, “This is not the first dead wolf to turn up. There was another yesterday, in a neighbor's territory. I’ve spoken with other wolves in the area. There are rumors of a large, roaming pack, with an alpha as tall as an oak tree.”
Had the setting been any less somber, Hale might have laughed. “An oak tree? Don’t tell me you believe that sort of superstitious, backwater nonsense.”
Cain’s eyes narrowed. “I never said I believed it. However, in my experience, most rumors start from a grain of truth. Now, you take the wet end and I’ll get his head. We’ll bring him back to the den tonight. You can rest for a few hours, and then we’ll take him to his alpha.”
Hale begrudgingly complied. As he heaved the rigid body from the water, his eyes drifted back to the wound. Something the width of his upper arm had punctured the wolf’s neck clean through. In spite of his own considerable experience, he could only wonder what could have done such a thing.
* * *
The room was mostly empty, save for a fur pallet and a wooden infant cot. Like the hallway, the walls held candles in carved depressions, but these were different. They weren’t the standard, mildly unpleasant candles that most shifters made from animal fat. They were unscented, beeswax candles, the sort that the average human could pick up in bulk at the dollar store.
She envied the location of Sarah’s den, which was a hop, skip, and a jump from a small town. Sarah and Cain made regular trips to town, where Sarah had a friend that helped them convert things like furs and handmade trinkets into a modest amount of cash via the internet, all without raising the suspicion of the locals. Because of this, Sarah’s little den had many conveniences that Taylor’s lacked, such as the candles, tools, medicine, and books on just about every subject under the sun.
Taylor knew that even if her den was close to a town, she wouldn’t have been able to go. She had fled her human life after committing murder. While she no longer lost sleep over it and the media buzz had died down, all it would take was one person to recognize her, and she could end up in jail. Even if she managed to get exonerated—which would be a tall order, considering that the victim had been a US senator—it would be a lengthy legal process and years before she could see her mates and her pups again. The risk was simply too great.
Sarah went to the cot which appeared empty at a glance. She moved around some covers and lifted a small bundle into her arms.
“I only just got him to sleep before you arrived,” she said. “I won’t lie. He cries constantly. I think it’s just because he’s hungry, though. Like I said, formula isn’t ideal for pups. It’s just not made to work with their bodies. It’s weird, but some of them will take goat’s milk formula. Others just can’t keep anything down except for breast milk.”
As Sarah stood and approached her, Taylor felt a sudden burst of nervous energy. The bundle was so tiny. She hadn’t held anything that little since the twins were babies, and even then it had felt wrong; like she’d been an overgrown child playing at mommy while waiting for the real adults—usually her mates—to show up and take proper care of the teeny, tiny, fragile little beings. That feeling had eventually gone away as the twins had become more capable, but now it was back in full force and she had to resist the urge to put her hands up and back away.
She didn’t, of course. That would have been ridiculous. Instead, she held out her hands and hoped Sarah didn’t notice them trembling.
The older woman bypasse
d Taylor’s hands and deposited the bundle into the crook of Taylor’s arm. Taylor quickly adjusted her hold on the baby, instinctively bringing her free hand up to pull him close to her chest.
He was unexpectedly gorgeous.
Unexpected because Taylor had never really found babies to be cute. In fact, she thought most babies looked precisely like what they were—unfinished grownups. Her babies had been breathtakingly beautiful, but that was because they were her babies. Everyone thought their own babies were magnificent wonders.
All the features on the pup’s face were symmetrical and in perfect proportion, from the round slope of his forehead, down the gentle curve of his nose, to his perfectly pointed chin. He had a full head of hair that looked too pale to be blonde though Taylor couldn’t make out its precise coloring in the candlelight. Of all his features, she thought his pink lips were the best. They were curved in the shape of Cupid’s bow, and she couldn’t resist running the tip of her finger across them.
“He’s so small,” Taylor breathed. “How old is he?”
The nervousness that had fled Taylor seemed to have infected Sarah. She moved back and forth between her feet in an anxious rocking motion while wringing her hands.
“Two weeks, one day.”
“Two weeks?” Taylor repeated with disbelief. “Someone left their two-week-old baby with you?”
“No, someone left their one-day-old pup with me,” Sarah corrected. “I’ve had him for two weeks, remember?”
It shouldn’t have surprised Taylor. She, herself, had been adopted the day she was born and had later spent the bulk of her childhood in foster care. She had seen so many babies shuffled about in the system that it had become banal. But now that she was a mother, had given birth to children of her own, it was difficult for her to wrap her head around.