Kestria's slowing down again. Steps shorter, her breathing going shallow, careful.
"We need to stop."
Keer pauses. Turns. The missing eye, the tight line of his mouth—I want him to look concerned. Annoyed, even. Anything. But he just looks at me, and nothing on his face tells me what's behind it.
"She's tired." I nod toward Kestria. "The wound's pulling."
He looks at Kestria. She's leaning against a tree, trying very hard to look like she's leaning casually against a tree.
"I'm fine," she says.
"You're not fine." I set Nugget's basket down—she immediately hops out and starts pecking at the ground, completely unbothered by werewolf territory or the middle of the night or anything—and walk over to Kestria. "Let me see."
"Mel—"
"Let.me.see."
She sighs but lifts her shirt. Bandage holding. Edges clean—good. No fresh blood—better. The skin around it is angry red, hot when I press my purple-stained fingers near theedge, but that's healing, not infection. Healing looks ugly before it looks better.
"You're fine." I pull the shirt back down. "Well. You're notfine. But you're not worse." Need to find more moonbright soon.
"You need to rest.Actuallyrest."
"We're close."
"How close?"
"An hour. Maybe less."
"Then we rest for fifteen minutes and you stop pretending this doesn't hurt." I dig through my pack for the waterskin. "Sit down. Drink this. Small sips."
"You're very bossy."
"It's a personality trait. I've accepted it. Sit."
She sits, slowly, back against the tree.
Keer stands nearby. Not sitting, not resting—just standing with his arms crossed, eye moving between the forest and us. The muscles in his forearms are taut, hands still but not relaxed.
Does he ever just... stop? Just stand somewhere without looking for the next threat?
"You can sit too."
He shifts his weight. One step to the left, putting himself between us and the downhill slope where the wind's coming through the trees. The cold draft that's been hitting the back of my neck stops.
I check Kestria's bandage again. Already checked. Hands need something to do.
"So I'm about to walk into a place with thirty werewolves who don't know me." I pull the dried herbs from my pack and start sorting them. "What happens?"
"Keer's bringing you in. That matters."
"Why?"
"He's the Alpha, Mel."
"Yeah, but what does that actually mean? In practice."
"It means when he speaks, everyone stops. It means he'sheld this pack together for years and nobody has successfully challenged him. It means when we walk in there with you, every single person in that clearing is going to look at him first. And whatever he says about you, that's what goes."
