Feral sighed and walked over to stand just outside the kitchen’s entrance. “What are you doing? Breakfast?”
“No, Gwen is awake. She’s hungry so I offered to make her some scrambled eggs and grits. A lot easier on the stomach than fried chicken and dirty rice. Especially Alison’s dirty rice. It’s good, real good, but the woman cooks most everything spicy. Spicy is good until you’re nursing a gut injury. Then, not so much.”
Feral had practically frozen in place when Rance mentioned Alison. He watched as Rance plated the scrambled eggs, mixed butter into the grits then added them to the plate, then quickly buttered a slice of bread. He opened the fridge and glanced through it quickly, before closing it.
“What’s missing?” Feral asked.
“Something to drink. Don’t want to give her coffee, it might keep her up. But I don’t see any juice either.”
“Green tea, or chamomile tea. Both are good for digestion. Chamomile is good for relaxation, too. You have either one?”
Rance went to a cabinet over the microwave and opened it. “Ah hah!” he exclaimed. “Bonnie’s stash of herbal teas.” He dug through it until he found what he was looking for. “Chamomile!” he said triumphantly, holding it up to show Feral before taking a tea bag out and plopping it into a cup. He filled it with water, then put it in the microwave. Gwen’s drink option taken care of, he looked over toward Feral again. “What is wrong with you?”
“My woman left and didn’t tell me, and if I go storming over to her house she’s going to think I’m nuts and send me away, or call her Alpha to send me away, and neither is good.”
Rance blinked slowly as he considered Feral’s outburst. Behind him the microwave dinged, letting him know the tea was ready.
“What woman?” Rance asked.
“Alison.”
“Alison is your woman?” Rance asked.
“Where have you been? Everybody seems to have noticed but you.”
“Catatonic, worried about my own woman surviving. Remember? You put her back together.”
Feral nodded.
“The thing with Alison is that if you’re interested, you’re going to have to practically beat her over the head to make her aware. She’s never been the kind to be very worried about males, or mates, or even kids for that matter. She’s just always kind of done her own thing and been more of a loner.”
“I can’t get any clearer than you are mine and I plan to win you over.”
Rance had taken a tray out of another of the cabinets and was putting the food on the tray. He stopped and looked up at Feral. “You said that?”
“I did. And then she left without telling me she was leaving.”
“Where were you when she left?” Rance asked.
“Talking with the others. Determining our plan for the night, where we’d sleep, what time to reassemble…”
“You were busy. She didn’t want to interrupt. Alison is very unassuming. Very quiet, very shy, but also very strong. I’ve always thought of her as being a quiet, steady kind of strength.”
“Where is she?” Feral asked irritatedly.
“Probably at home,” Rance said as he lifted the tray and walked past him. He walked over toward the stairs, then looked back at Feral. “You know where my house is?”
“No. Never been here before.”
“Okay…” Rance said, thinking about it. “Alright, go out of the front door and walk about twelve paces. You’ll see a footpath leading to the right. Take that. About eight minutes later, it forks. Go to the left, follow it until you go around a large curve in the path, then it’ll fork again, go to the right. You’ll see a two story farm house sitting off to the side at the end of it. It’s obscured behind some trees and heavy foliage. And it’s not like a huge farmhouse. It’s quaint, and has a front porch swing. It’s painted pale yellow and the roof is tin. That’s Alison’s house. Do not actually beat her over the head, just be clear about what you feel. If she doesn’t want you, try to come up with a different approach. You get violent, we’ll all get violent and it won’t be good. She’s good. Don’t hurt her.”
“Never,” Feral said as he spun on his heel and rushed to the front door.
Rance shook his head as he went up the steps. He realized he couldn’t open the door without balancing the tray on his hip with one hand while opening the door with his other. “Okay, thiswas the hardest part,” he said, as he walked into the bedroom carrying the tray as he gently kicked the door closed behind himself.
“What was?” Gwen asked.
“Opening the door while carrying a tray.”
