*Sage*
Waking up wrapped around Kieran was starting to feel…normal.
That terrified me.
But I didn’t move.
His arm was heavy over my waist, hand resting just under my ribs, fingers splayed like he was physically holding me to this world. My face was tucked into the curve of his throat, his skin warm against my nose, the faint scratch of stubble rasping when I shifted.
I could smell him.
Smoke.
Pine.
Male.
Wolf.
Us.
My scar itched under the thin bandage. I resisted the urge to scratch. Mara would sense it through the walls and march in with more salve and that disapproving look that made me feel ten years old.
Kieran’s breath fluttered my hair.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
I smiled against his skin. “You smell that too?”
“I feel it,” he said. “You get…sharper. Heat changes. Heart speeds up when your brain starts doing…whatever it does.”
“Overthinking,” I offered.
“Yes,” he said. “That.”
He didn’t let go.
Neither did I.
We lay there a while, the cabin quietly breathing with us, fire embers glimmering like small red eyes in the hearth. Outside, the distant echo of pups arguing over breakfast filtered in, muted.
“I said it,” I whispered eventually.
“Said what?” he asked, feigning ignorance badly.
“You know what,” I said. “Last night. In the dark. When I couldn’t see your face.”
He went very still.
“Yes,” he said softly. “You did.”
“So did you,” I said.
Silence.
Fear spiked in my chest.
“Do you…” I swallowed. “Do you regret it?”
His hand tightened on my ribs, pulling me closer.
“No,” he said immediately. “I regret not saying it sooner. Before Cassian. Before Levi. Before…everything.”
“Before you watched me almost get my face rearranged?” I said dryly.
“Before I realized how quickly I could lose you,” he said.
My throat tightened.
I shifted enough to look up at him.
In the dim light, his eyes glowed faintly, not full wolf, but not fully human either. Somewhere in between. Like the rest of him.
“It doesn’t…fix anything,” I said. “The word. Love. It doesn’t suddenly make this easier. Or safer.”
“No,” he said. “It just makes it…realer.”
“More real,” I corrected automatically.
He snorted. “Are you correcting my grammar while we talk about our feelings?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s how I self-soothe.”
He huffed out a laugh.
His thumb traced idle circles on my back, just under my shoulder blade. It was distracting.
On purpose, probably.
“We don’t have to define it for anyone else yet,” he said. “Mara. Rafe. Your Kim. Cassian.”
“Definitely not Cassian,” I muttered.
“We define it for us,” he said. “First. Quietly.”
“How do you define love?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he said, slowly, “Wanting someone’s happiness more than your own. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Wanting to see them laugh even if you’re the joke. Wanting them safe…even if it means they’re not near you.”
My chest ached.
“And you…feel that,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said simply. “For you.”
“Well,” I said weakly. “That’s…a lot.”
He shifted, rolling onto his back, taking me with him so I sprawled half on top of his chest. His heartbeat thumped under my ear.
“What about you?” he asked. “How do *you* define it.”
I stared at the scar on his shoulder instead of his face.
Terrifying.
Profound.
Stupid.
Necessary.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I thought I did. I thought it was…comfort. Compatibility. Shared goals. Knowing someone’s coffee order and anniversary. Now it feels like…standing on the edge of a cliff with someone’s hand in mine, knowing if I jump, they jump, and if I fall, they fall, and somehow that *helps* instead of making me run away screaming.”
His chest rose under my cheek.
“And you feel that,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “For you.”
“So,” he said. “We’re idiots.”
“Yes,” I said. “Very much so.”
He laughed.
It vibrated through me.
“I like being an idiot with you,” he said.
“Same,” I said. “Hate that for us.”
He tipped my chin up with gentle fingers.
Looked at me.
“Later,” he murmured.
“Later,” I echoed, heat curling low in my belly.
We both knew what we meant.
We both knew what we were holding back from.
We also knew why.
Outside, a low, mournful howl drifted over the snow.
Levi.
Somewhere up on the northern ridge, nursing his new scar and his new place in the world.
“Work,” I said on a sigh. “Reality. Responsibilities. Can’t stay in bed all day confessing things and making out. Tragically.”
“We could,” he said.
My eyes widened.
He grinned.
“But the valley would burn,” he added. “And Mara would kill us both.”
“True,” I said. “And I haven’t had a chance to have hate sex with Cassian yet.”
He stiffened.
My eyebrows shot up.
“I’m kidding,” I said quickly. “Jesus. That was a *joke*.”
His jaw worked.
“You will never say those words again,” he said. “Not even joking.”
“Yes, Alpha,” I said.
He glared.
I kissed his sternum.
His glare faltered.
Progress.
We disentangled slowly, reluctantly.
As I pulled on my jeans and thick socks, he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with a heat that made my fingers fumble on the buttons.
“Don’t,” I muttered.
“Don’t what,” he asked innocently.
“Stare,” I said. “At my ass. With that look. While I’m trying not to jump you.”
He chuckled.
“You think I don’t want to?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s the problem.”
He pushed off the frame.
Came to stand behind me as I yanked my sweater down.
His hands slid around my waist.
He pressed a slow, careful kiss to the back of my neck.
“I love you,” he murmured there.
“Stop weaponizing that,” I said weakly.
“Later,” he said again.
“Later,” I agreed, dizzy.
***
By midmorning, the bone tree had three new ribbons and a very confused squirrel.
“We’re becoming a tourist destination,” Edda announced, dropping onto the bench beside me in the longhouse, cheeks pink from the cold. She smelled like snow and mischief.
“Should I print brochures?” I asked without looking up from my notebook.
“You joke,” she said. “But Tyler brought his little sister again. They had…friends. They left a Polaroid this time.”
“A what now?” Rafe asked, wandering by with a hunk of bread.
“Old-fashioned instant photo,” I explained. “Like a paper selfie.”
He made a face. “Humans and their relics.”
“Let me see,” I said, holding out my hand.
Edda fished in her pocket.
Produced a square of glossy paper.
In the washed-out frame, the bone tree rose like something from a folklore illustration. Jess and her brother and two other kids stood in front of it, bundled up, grinning, throwing hand signs. The bracelet Jess had left earlier dangled from a low branch. My scarf fluttered high above.
Someone—Jess, I guessed—had written something along the bottom edge in black marker.
*Respect the wild.*
My chest tightened.
“That was your word,” Edda said, peering over my shoulder. “It’s catching on.”
“Good,” I murmured. “The more people repeat it, the more it burrows into their brains.”
“Like a parasite,” Rafe said helpfully.
“Like a mantra,” I corrected.
He took a bite of bread. “So. What’s on the agenda today, Boss?”
“Don’t call me boss,” I said. “And…agenda?”
He ticked off on his fingers. “One, check on Peters. Two, find out if Tyler is still high on pain meds or if he remembers seeing Levi do his zombie act. Three, figure out if Kim has forgiven you. Four, make sure Cassian isn’t turning Levi into his personal attack dog. Five, don’t die.”
“You left out ‘eat’ and ‘pee,’” Edda said. “Important human functions.”
“Pee is implied,” Rafe said.
“Not for field biologists,” I muttered. “We schedule that.”
They both stared at me.
“What?” I said. “Bladders are a finite resource.”
“Gross,” Edda said cheerfully. “So. Where do you want us?”
“Alive,” I said. “Preferably unperforated.”
“You’re not funny,” Rafe said.
“I’m hilarious,” I said. “Okay. We split up. Carefully. I’ll radio Kim, check on Peters and Tyler’s status from a respectful distance. You two…keep an eye on the ridges. If you see Northridge near the bone tree, you howl. No lone heroics.”
“Yes, Mom,” Edda said.
“And no starting more fires,” I added, giving Rafe a pointed look.
He held up his hands. “That was a one-time performance.”
“Don’t make it a series,” I said.
Kieran appeared then, ducking under the low doorway beam.
As always, the room seemed to tilt slightly toward him.
“Patrols are set,” he said. “Outer ring is quiet. For now.”
“Keyword: for now,” I said.
He nodded to Edda and Rafe. “You two with me. East ridge. We’ll swing by Hollow on the way back. See if Cassian’s pups left any…presents.”
“Yay, presents,” Edda muttered.
Rafe saluted lazily.
Kieran’s gaze slid to me.
“Radio?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll call Kim from the tower. Less likely for…eavesdroppers.”
His mouth tightened.
“Be careful,” he said.
“I’m just talking,” I said. “No field trips today.”
He didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t argue.
Progress.
He left with the others, a ripple of power and fur and boot steps.
I gathered my notebook, the radio, my thermos, and my courage, and headed for the ladder.
***
The tower had become…haunted.
Not by ghosts.
By echoes.
Of that night—Kieran’s impossible shift, my world cracking.
Of Kim’s questions.
Of my own fear.
It still smelled faintly of him and of Mara’s sage bundles.
I set the radio on the crate we used as a makeshift desk and clicked it on.
Static crackled.
I thumbed the transmit button.
“Bozeman FWS, this is Holloway,” I said. “Checking in. Over.”
A moment.
Then Kim’s voice: “You always call when I’m in the middle of a spreadsheet, you know that? Over.”
Relief loosened something under my ribs.
“If I didn’t interrupt your Excel time, you’d never speak to another human,” I said. “Over.”
“Rude but fair. Over,” she said. “You at your tower of solitude? Over.”
“Yes,” I said. “Wolves visible on the eastern ridge. Behavior still…off baseline. No new depredations reported this morning. Over.”
“‘This morning’ doing a lot of work in that sentence. Over,” she said. “Peters made it through surgery. Stable. Arm will be a mess for a while, but he’ll live. Over.”
A tight knot in my chest unclenched.
“Good,” I said, exhaling. “Tyler? Over.”
“Stitches, mild concussion, a scar to impress girls with. He’s fine. Over,” she said. “Jess hasn’t left his side. It’s cute. Over.”
I smiled.
“Any…memory issues?” I asked carefully. “Hallucinations? Comments about…moving corpses? Over.”
“Sage,” she said warningly. “Over.”
“Just checking,” I said. “Over.”
“He says wolf came out of nowhere, tagged, big, wrong. Wolf went down. He heard me screaming into the radio, saw fire, smelled smoke, then nothing until you were yelling at him to breathe. Over. He’s chalking the weirdness up to adrenaline and fumes. For now. Over.”
“For now,” I echoed. “Over.”
“We’ve got a problem, though. Over,” she added.
I closed my eyes. “Of course we do. Over.”
“The necropsy team is pissed,” she said. “Got up here with their little coolers and their hopes and dreams of cutting open a wolf and found…nothing. Over.”
“‘Nothing’ is a bit harsh,” I said. “They got a collar and some hair. Over.”
“Do not mess with a pathologist’s expectations, Holloway. Over.”
I laughed weakly.
“They’re writing it up as…what? Over,” I asked.
“Predation was messy, scavengers dragged the body, poachers took the carcass, choose your own adventure. Over,” she said. “No one’s saying ‘wolf resurrection’ out loud. Yet. Over.”
“Yet is doing a lot of work in *your* sentence,” I said. “Over.”
“Touché. Over,” she said. “Look. I meant what I said at the tower. I’m…buying you time. One season. But the more weird shit piles up, the harder it gets to…contain. Peters’s report, Tyler’s, the missing body, Kurt’s bar sermons—it’s all data points. At some point, someone above me will start drawing a line through them. Over.”
“And then?” I asked quietly. “Over.”
“And then we’re out of the realm of ‘odd field season’ and into ‘send in the big guns.’ Over,” she said.
Cold slid down my spine.
“Any new pressure from the council? Over,” I asked.
“They’re in ‘wait and see’ mode,” she said. “Your little speech bought goodwill. And your promise bought expectations. Over.”
“Three months,” I said. “No more big incidents. How hard can that be? Over.”
She snorted. “You said that out loud. The universe heard you. Over.”
“I’ll sacrifice a coffee to the dark gods later. Over,” I said.
“Speaking of sacrifices,” she said. “Is there anything you *want* to tell me? Off the record? Over.”
My throat closed.
Images flashed.
Kieran’s bones sliding under fur.
Levi’s twitching body in the smoke.
Mara’s hand searing the snow.
Cassian’s eyes on me.
Kieran whispering *I love you* in the dark.
Too much.
Too big.
Too sharp.
“Kim,” I said. “If I start, I won’t stop. Over.”
She was quiet.
Then: “Okay. Over.”
Guilt hit like a wave.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Over.”
“I know,” she said. “Over.”
Static crackled.
“The Legends project is getting traction,” she added, brisker. “Bar guy even liked your flyer. He’s thinking of naming a cocktail after the bone tree. Over.”
“Jesus,” I said. “What would even be in that? Over.”
“Something dark, bitter, and bad for your intestines. Over,” she said. “Seeya at the next circus. Over and out.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the radio.
Then at the valley.
Then at the bone tree, a black tooth against the sky.
I was balanced on an edge.
Again.
Always.
I could feel the weight of decisions pressing from all sides.
Tell Kim the truth.
Lie harder.
Run.
Stay.
Love.
Leave.
Later.
Always later.
The wind picked up, rattling the metal ladder.
Wolves howled.
The valley answered.
I pressed my palms flat to the cold floor.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
Then I climbed down.
Because we had three months.
Because the wolves were moving.
Because love, apparently, wasn’t going to let me sit this one out.
***