The return is faster. Or it feels faster. My body already knows the rhythm, hips rolling with his stride without deciding to, and every shift of his muscles moves through me with nothing in the way. No clenching. No fighting. Just his body and mine and the heat building slow between them.
I press my forehead against the back of his neck and let my eyes close. His heartbeat through the fur. Earth and forest filling my lungs.
Evening light filters through the canopy when we reach the territory. He stops at the tree line, lowers himself, and I slide off. My legs hold this time. Barely.
Bones cracking.
The rustle of him standing. Movement behind me, close.
I dig through the basket, find his clothes, hold them up over my shoulder. Wave them in the general direction of his existence.
Nothing.
I wave again. Higher.
"Take them."
A pause. Then his hand. Fingers brushing mine as he takes the bundle.
I yank my hand back into the basket and rearrange flowers that don't need rearranging.
Pack members have noticed. Stares. Murmuring. The Alpha and the human, returning together, her on his back, smelling of moonbright and forest.
The animal fence has a new hole.
Eyes forward. Don't look at Kestria, whose grin is visible from across the clearing even without direct eye contact.
I head straight for my work area, baskets heavy on my back, chin held high.
I don't turn around.
The teaching session draws a crowd.
Dara. Henna. Kor—a quiet wolf who's been hovering at the edges of my work area for weeks. Three wolves ready to learn everything I know about keeping their pack alive.
"The water preparation is the foundation." I set the bowl in front of them. "Everything starts here."
"How do you tell the difference of potency in the field?"
"Color and smell. Deep color, strong smell—those are your potent flowers. Pale and odorless, useless. Leave them."
"Useless feels harsh," Henna says.
"Plants don't have feelings. Crush gentler, Dara—you want to release the oils, not murder them. Circular motion. Slow."
"What about storage?" Kor asks.
"Cool and dark. Sealed jars—clean jars. Any contamination and it goes rancid within a week. You'll know because the smell goes wrong and the color turns muddy." I take over the bowl. "See how this catches the light? That sheen. That's what you want."
"What if it's gritty?"
"More water. You can always add. Much harder to take away."
They practice. Dara's wrist angle is wrong—I adjust it physically, move her hand, show her. Henna's crush is too fast. Kor's water measurement is off.
I correct everything.
Show everything.
