The simple words touched me, and the second kiss made more sense.
“You still think I belong with you...even after the bite failed.”
“Yes. Try to go to sleep, Charlene.”
I sighed and did try. But my mind continued to dwell on my concerns. Especially the one I hadn’t vented. Why was Mary acting so guilty?
The racket in the yard woke me at dawn. I sat up, disoriented, and looked for Thomas. But he wasn’t there. Mary was. She stood in front of the window, watching the yard below.
“What’s happening?” I asked with a yawn. It had taken me too long to fall asleep.
“A challenge.”
Her voice hitched a bit when she spoke, worrying me. I flipped back the covers and joined her at the window.
Below, the men had formed a loose circle around two wolves. The animals fought wildly with claws and teeth, clashing and backing away only to clash again. Their moves were too fast to follow easily, but the blood on the ground around them told the tale well enough.
I glanced at Mary. She bit her bottom lip as she watched and tears glistened in her eyes.
“Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“Thomas.”
My heart gave a lurch; and in transfixed horror, I again watched the pair fight. I couldn’t tell which wolf was Thomas. There was too much blood on both of them.
“A challenge for what?” I asked.
“Pack leader.”
In the crowd surrounding the fighters, I spotted Gregory and Grey. Then, I frowned at the fight, trying to make sense of what I knew and what she just told me.
“Wait. You said packs are family units. So who’s Thomas fighting?”
“A Forlorn.” Mary spared me a nervous glance. “Charlene, I can’t talk about this.”
“What do you mean? Talk about what? What a Forlorn is, or Thomas fighting?”
A tear actually slipped down Mary’s cheek as she helplessly looked at me. I could tell she wanted to say more. Something was stopping her. As if she’d been commanded not to speak of it.
“Mary, don’t worry about it. If it’s something you can’t talk about, I understand.” I pulled her to me, hugging her close. I understood secrets and wouldn’t condemn someone else for keeping them.
The door to our room opened, and Anton poked his head in.
“She can’t talk to you, but I can. Thomas has been recruiting. He’s now the first leader of a non-family pack, one large enough to ensure Thomas can claim any territory he wants. He’s claimed this territory. His challenger, should he win, would be Thomas’ pack’s new leader. That would give him rights to this compound, you because you’re unClaimed and living here, and Mary, since she’s unClaimed and currently a member of Thomas’ pack.”
Outside, the snarling increased in volume.
“I’m sure you’ll have questions for him when he’s done. Would you like me to escort you to the main room? Winifred asked that I keep an eye on both of you.”
Anton’s calm demeanor and choice of words told me he believed Thomas would be the winner. It helped me think past the actual fighting to the reasons behind the challenge. The challenger wanted leadership of not just Thomas’ pack but the compound—I liked that name—and me. It wasn’t long ago that I’d asked Mary and Winifred about non-family packs. They said there weren’t any. When had that changed and why? Just how big was Thomas’ pack now? Anton was right, I did have questions. Why hadn’t Mary told me that Thomas was now her leader? What about her father, Henry? I glanced at Mary and saw her worry.
“Yes, let’s go down,” I said to Anton.
Anton led us to the empty main room. The door to the outside remained shut, yet we could hear the continuing battle. Mary stood beside me, eyes wide as she listened. We needed distraction.
No food waited near the fire. Nothing to cook.
“Mary, let’s boil some water for a bath.” One or both of the two fighting would need a bath or at the very least, to wash. If they chose not to bathe, the water wouldn’t go to waste. I felt overdue for a bath, myself.
While pumping the water, I noticed two more bags on the floor and realized I’d never looked at what Winifred had brought. Once all the kettles were heating on the stove, I emptied the contents of the bags on the table. As promised, I found cookies on a tinfoil wrapped plate. I eagerly shoved one in my mouth while looking at everything else. She’d brought more dried beans and a very large cloth bag of rice. This time she’d also included a huge bag of oats, a jar of honey, a bag of sugar, and several jars of jams, tomatoes, and pickles. It appeared that either Winifred canned or she knew someone who did.
Mary started to put the supplies into the cabinet, and I removed one of the steaming pots from the stove. I poured half the water into the bowl in the bathroom, leaving just enough in the pot to boil oatmeal for breakfast.