Page 61 of Moon Chosen

Noticing his son approaching, Sol waved and smiled a welcome. Nik nodded respectfully to his father, and then greeted Rose. “Congratulations on Fala’s whelping. How many pups did she have?”

“Five!” Rose slurred. “Sssshe had five! Big, black, and healthy. By all the gods, my girl did a good job.” Rose raised her mug, which Nik noticed was almost as big as a pitcher.

“To Fala!” she yelled.

“To Fala!” Nik and those closest to them repeated the cheer. Then he stepped closer to his father. Sol scooted aside so that Nik could sit beside him.

“Bring my son a mug of ale!” Sol called.

Almost instantly a mug of foamy spring ale was shoved into his hand. “Nice celebration,” Nik said after taking a deep drink.

“I think new pups are the best type of celebration,” Sol said.

Nik raised a brow at his father. “How muchcelebratinghave you been doing?”

Sol mirrored his son’s look. “Not too much to interfere with hearing your report. That is, if you have anything to report to me.”

Nik lowered his voice and leaned into his father. “I do, but not here.”

Sol nodded once before turning to Rose. “Companion, duty calls me. But again I congratulate you on Fala and her pups. May the Sun bless you and them, and help you all to thrive.”

“Thank you, Ssssol,” she slurred.

Sol looked over his shoulder at the Lead Elder. “Cyril, would you take my place? I need to speak with Nik.”

“Of course!” The white-haired man moved with a litheness that would put much younger men to shame as he and his gray-muzzled Shepherd moved forward. “Should I take your ale for you as well?”

Sol smiled. “That, my friend, I shall take with me. I have a feeling I’ll need it after Nik and I talk.”

Cyril’s moss-colored gaze went to Nik. Nik nodded and smiled at the old man. “Greetings, Cyril.”

“Greetings to you, Nikolas. Do you really need to speak with our Sol, or is he using you as an excuse to find his bed early?” Cyril dropped his voice in the pretense of a whisper. “You know, he is getting old.”

Nik grinned. “That’s what I keep telling him.” Out of the twelve Elders who made up the ruling Council of the Tribe, he’d always liked Cyril best. He was the only Elder who seemed to care to stay in touch with the younger Tribe members—and he was the only Elder who had kept his sense of humor after he was appointed to the Council.

“If I’m finding my bed early, it’s because of the lovely, shapely Companion who so often joins me there,” Sol said. And while Cyril laughed, the Sun Priest cuffed Nik gently and said, “Come on, you.”

“Yes, sir. I’m coming,” Nik said. “Cyril, Thaddeus should be along shortly. He’s going to report to you about a fire that we put out today in Scratcher territory.”

“Fire?” Sol paused, moving back to stand close enough to Cyril that his voice wouldn’t carry far. “Was anyone injured?” Sol asked.

“No Companion was hurt badly. Davis and his Cameron are a little singed. I don’t think Thaddeus or Odysseus were hurt at all.”

“That’s right! Let’s drink to Thaddeus and his Odysseus! The sire to my Fala!” Rose raised another sloppy mug and the crowd cheered.

Sol sighed. “I see now why Thaddeus didn’t report.”

“Being the Companion of a sire is no excuse,” Cyril said.

Nik kept his face carefully neutral, but concerned, as he mentally put a check on the side of the good guys. Now Davis would be thanked for reporting while Thaddeus would be given a much deserved reprimand.Mission accomplished,Nik thought.

“Go on with Nikolas. I will be here waiting for Davis and his report. Shall we call a Council meeting after dawn?” Cyril said.

Sol glanced at Nik, who almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to call the Council to admonish Thaddeus,” Sol said.

“You’re right. I’ll listen to Davis and then talk with Latrell. I’m sure he can come up with a proper reprimand for that mischief maker,” Cyril said.