TWO

Heather awoke and tugged the heavy furs closer around her body. Then she waited. Hoping this would be a day she could wake without the overwhelming deluge of pain.

Grief soared through her, leaving her weak and limp against the makeshift bed. Her body still hadn’t healed from the attack three weeks ago, but her soul had suffered the most damage. Irreparable damage.

A thump alerted her to John Quincy’s presence in the old cabin. The front door opened, and a rush of cold air blew in before he quickly slammed it shut again.

She looked up from her pallet by the fireplace to see him hauling a small fir tree across the floor.

“Good morning, girl. You feeling better today?” the older man asked.

She nodded just as she did every morning, and he harumphed as he did every morning when he saw the lie in her eyes.

“What’s that?” she asked as she struggled against the pain to sit up.

He quirked a bushy eyebrow at her. “What does it look like, a grizzly bear?”

She tried to smile but gave up. Smiling took too much effort.

He sighed. “It’s a Christmas tree, girl. Thought it might cheer you up. I have a few baubles we can hang on it to make it pretty. We can even string some popping corn if you promise not to eat it all.”

She did smile then. She loved Christmas. Had told him so during one of their long conversations on the cold nights in front of the fire.

“There, that’s better,” he said approvingly. “Smiling ain’t so bad, now is it?”

She looked down, wondering for the hundredth time what she would have done if the old trapper hadn’t come across her lying in the snow. Lying there wishing for death to come quickly so she could turn off the pain.

John Quincy set the tree in a corner and moved to the fire to warm his hands. After rubbing them together a few seconds, he turned his attention to her.

“Let me have a look at that leg I set. I reckon it might be time to take the splints off. You’ll more than likely walk with a limp for a while, but in the end, you should be good as new.”

She allowed him to pull back the covers, and he ran his gnarled hands over the sturdy splints he’d secured to the sides of her leg. As gruff as he looked, he was amazingly gentle.

“Well, what do you say, girl? Are you up to trying to walk on it?”

She bit her bottom lip then nodded.

“Let me get my knife,” he said as he rose back off his haunches.

He went to the area of the cabin that served as the kitchen and rummaged around in the cabinet before returning with a sharp hunting knife. He cut open the cloth surrounding the splints then gently eased the wood away from her leg.

“Move your foot around a bit,” he encouraged. “Then we’ll have you stand up and test it out.”

She flexed her foot, wincing when her muscles protested the action.

“It’ll hurt a little,” he cautioned. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

He curled his arms underneath her back and waist, and she put out her hand.

“You can’t pick me up,” she protested.

He chuckled. “Me, can’t pick up a little bit of a thing like you? How do you think I got you here? Girl, I’ve hauled an eight hundred pound grizzly out of the woods to skin.”

She found herself lifted as he stood to his full height.

“Now, I’m going to set you down nice and easy. Take most of your weight with your good leg. Try not to overdo it.”

Her foot hit the floor, and she gritted her teeth as her various body parts protested her being upright. After three weeks of lying down, her body was weak and shaky. She’d barely even sat up each time she had to relieve herself.

John Quincy held her around the waist as she eased her bad leg down. Then she shifted her weight to both legs equally. Her knee buckled and he caught her before she crumbled to the floor.

He half carried her, half assisted her over to the small table and plopped her down in the chair.

“There now, you just sit there and get your bearings while I rustle us up some breakfast. Then you can supervise while I get the tree all decorated.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the grizzled old man. “Thank you, John Quincy. I can’t ever hope to repay you for your kindness.”

His expression softened. “Now, girl, don’t go getting all teary-eyed on me. That pack of yours ought to be hunted down, shot and made into fur rugs for what they done to you.”

She hung her head as John Quincy started puttering around the kitchen. She hadn’t wanted him to know about the wolves at all, but he’d known of their existence a long time before Heather had ever set foot in these mountains. He’d known Magnus himself when he was younger. Called him friend.

Once she’d realized he knew of her wolves, she’d poured out the whole story to him, going through an entire box of tissue in the process. He’d jokingly told her he hoped he didn’t catch cold this winter because she’d used his entire supply up and he wouldn’t get more until the spring.

She looked back up at John Quincy. “Will it ever stop hurting?” she asked in a soft voice.

Kindness softened the wrinkles under his eyes. “It will, girl. In time. One day you’ll wake up and not hurt as much as the day before. And the next will hurt less than that day. It takes time, but you’re a survivor. More importantly you’re a good, sweet girl. You don’t deserve what happened to you, but I have no doubt it’ll make you stronger.”

* * *

Cael trotted toward the spacious cabin that served as his and Riyu’s quarters. He’d run along the ridge of the mountain until he’d panted for air. But still, the pain squeezing his chest wouldn’t dissipate. He could deny it all he wanted but he missed her.

She’d betrayed them, murdered two of his pack, but he still ached for her. He longed to go back before it all had happened. To the nights she lay between him and Riyu, her silky hair splayed out over his shoulder as she slept in the shelter of his arms.

His nose curled as he began his transformation back to human. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t rid himself of the smell of the hunters that had lingered with her scent that final day. She had reeked of them.

As he conjured his clothing and started for the door to his cabin, the remembered scent, the foul odor, was replaced by a more familiar smell. One that he should not be smelling.

He yanked around to stare across the snow-covered ground. In the distance he heard a yip. Niko. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t be. He’d disappeared the day Cael’s father had died. Believed dead at the hands of the hunters. And of his mate. Could he have escaped and only now made his way back to the pack?

He threw back his head and uttered a harsh call to Riyu. In seconds, his brother threw open the door and ran out.

“What is it?” he asked Cael.

“Do you smell him?”

Riyu sniffed cautiously at the air. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Niko?”

Another yip rent the air and suddenly, incredulously, Niko appeared over the top of a hill. His paws dug into the snow, ice particles flying in his wake as he pulled a sled behind him.

Cael and Riyu rushed forward to greet their pack mate, their joy at seeing him alive washing over them.

As Niko stopped a few yards away, he shook the snow from his fur then transformed. He strode toward Cael and Riyu, his arm out to greet them.

Cael stared at him in openmouthed wonder. He was alive. Niko grasped the arm that Cael had stuck out in stunned disbelief, as if Niko hadn’t just come back from the dead.

“It’s good to see you, Cael,” Niko said. “Where is Heather?”

Cael’s face hardened. “She’s not here.”

Relief flashed in Niko’s eyes. “Good. I wouldn’t want her to see what I’ve brought you. It would upset her too badly.” He looked around. “Though I think your father would be interested in a little vengeance. Where is he?”

Riyu stepped forward, confusion creasing his brow. “Niko, we thought you were dead. How is it you come to us alive? How is it you know nothing of our father’s death? And why would you ask us if Heather is here knowing what she did to all of us?”

Niko’s mouth dropped open. His tall, muscular body tightened as his lips turned down into a perplexed frown. He shook his muddy blond hair as if clearing the cobwebs.

“Magnus is dead? How did this happen? He was injured when he left Heather and me, but he should have easily survived such wounds. And why did you think me dead? Did Magnus and Heather not tell you I was hunting the hunters who ambushed us?”

Dread tightened Cael’s abdomen. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Nausea curled in his stomach and he rubbed at his gut to try and alleviate the discomfort.

“Magnus died because Heather betrayed us to the hunters,” Riyu said flatly. “Father told us everything.”

Niko went white. “He told you that Heather betrayed us to the hunters? He actually said that?”

Cael nodded.