The sound that comes out of me is low, spreading through the ribs. I lean into her hand. Press the scarred side of my face into her palm. Her fingers move—behind the ear, down the side of my face, into the thick ruff at my neck.
"Yeah." Softer now. "That's what I thought."
The vibration fades. My muscles unlock. One at a time.
She sits down. On the cold ground. Two feet from me. Her hand still in the ruff at my neck, scratching slow.
"This is insane." Same voice. Same not-waiting-for-an-answer. "You know that, right? I'm sitting in a field of wolves petting the Alpha and I should be terrified. I should be in my dwelling with the door shut. That's the smart thing."
I lean closer. Her hand moves deeper into the coat.
"But you're not going to hurt me." Not a question. "You've had about a hundred chances to hurt me and you haven't. You held a branch for me on the walk here and you didn't even turn around. You stood in the mud and told me no one's sending me away. And I keep waiting for the—I don't know, the part where it stops making sense? Where you do the thing everyone's always done and I go oh, right, that's why you don't trust people. But it just keeps—you keep being—"
She stops. Huffs at herself.
"Anyway. You can't argue with me right now, which is honestly ideal. I should do all my important conversationswhile you're a wolf. No interruptions."
Her free hand moves to her eyes. Wipes quickly. Hoping I didn't see.
I saw.
Her hand stays where it is. Doesn't tighten. Doesn't pull. Just waits.
She's still scratching slow. I haven't moved. The camp around us quiet, every wolf settled. I settle with them.
"See, that's what I mean." Her fingers find the base of my ear. "You just checked on everyone in two seconds and came back. That's not scary. That's just—you're working. Even right now. You're always working."
Her hand pauses.
"And now you're sitting here guarding your pack in the dark and you turned your head when I came outside. I saw that. You were watching the treeline and you stopped."
"I'm not afraid of you. I don't know if that makes me brave or stupid, but I'm not afraid."
Her hand against my neck. Fingers buried in the thick coat. And I press into her touch. Can't stop.
She can't smell it. Human nose. Every wolf still awake can scent what's pouring off me. Can't crush it in this form. Don't have the man's—
Her other hand comes up. Both now. Scratching down the sides of my neck, into the heavy ruff at my chest. Fingers working through the tangles. I drop my head, chin on my paws. Her hands keep moving.
"You need a brush. This is—there are actual knots in here. When's the last time anyone—oh. Right. Nobody touches you." Quieter. "That's a long time to go without being touched."
My eye opens. She's looking at her own hands in my coat. Face soft.
She'd fix this too.
A sound from the trees. Head up. Alert. The dark—still, nothing. Wind through the pines. A branch settling. My weight shifts forward, hindquarters tensing, ready to—
Her hands stop. Flat. Weight balanced. Ready to move out of the way if I need to move.
She made herself lighter.
Nothing. I lower my head. The hindquarters ease.
"False alarm?"
A breath through my nose.
"Eloquent." Her hands resume. "Very informative. Thank you for that detailed report."
