Chapter 9

At that, the tall wolfman gave a terse nod, turned, and walked right out of the cabin.

Mila stared after him dumbly. What on earth was that behavior supposed to mean? She glanced toward Winnie and Dillon for help, but they were sharing a look that appeared to be an entire silent conversation.

Annoyed, Mila sat back down on the cot, stretching her bare legs out. Though she’d been wearing leather for weeks, her skin was a shiny almond color as though she’d just been tanning on a beach. The water had greatly healed her and her senses were strong than they’d been for weeks.

She could hear the people outside. Smell the fragrance of wolves that she’d failed to notice in the woods. The fact that it was so strong to her now made her understand how desperate she’d allowed her body to get.

It wasn’t as though Mila hadn’t ever experienced water deprivation. There had been times in the past where she had traveled through deserts. Deserts where the sun beat hot upon the back and every drop of moisture was precious.

Ariel had always been given the very best treatment affordable. She had been a queen in those arid regions, with subjects that willingly gave what little they had to ensure she didn’t suffer for a moment.

When Ariel rode upon animals, Mila walked. When there were no animals to be ridden, Ariel rode on the backs of her subjects, Mila had done her part to shoulder the burden. When Ariel was thirsty, Mila had given what little she had.

The desert regions had weakened Mila greatly back then. She hadn’t been able to heal herself readily or sense dangers with ease.

How had she allowed herself to return to such a wretched state in such a lush area? How had she traipsed the wilderness for so long without finding a steady source of water?

Had it been by design? Was she being punished by her god who left her? Or was this her own doing?



Outside the people were gathering. Sounds and scents were growing. Mila could hear parents calling their children to them. Telling them to wash up after play.

It must be nearly time for an evening meal. Around the scent of wolves, Mila could smell food. Someone – more likely several people – had cooked for this large gathering of wolves. A feast.

To her mortification, Mila’s stomach gave a growl. Even with the water filling her, it could not entirely fill the void of nourishment. She had been too preoccupied feeding the unicorn to take care of herself. Though now that she thought about it, hadn’t she been neglecting herself intentionally?

Winnie flushed. “I’m sorry, you must be starving.”

Mila gave a mild shrug, not wanting to let on how badly in need she was. “I can hunt for myself when I leave your territory.”

Winnie shook her head. She broke away from Dillon’s side to reach her hands out to Mila, pulling her up. “No, you’re a guest and our pack is not so weak that we can’t spare some to a guest. Please, come eat with us.”

Mila stood at Winnie’s insistence. Winnie tilted her head to look at the sorry state of Mila’s garb. The undergarments were soaked through and the rest of her armament was filthy. Wolves were a little lax when it came to nudity, but even they had a sense of propriety while in human form.

“I can lend you some of my clothes,” Winnie said thoughtfully. “Though I’m not sure they’ll fit. Maybe I can ask some of the kids?”

Mila’s nose wrinkled in distaste. She wriggled out of her wet undergarments, smirking slightly when Dillon and Winnie immediately dropped their eyes. She then reached for her chainmail tunic and pulled it on over her bare skin.

The tunic fell just above her knees and left very little to the imagination. It occurred to her that had she remained in her weakened state, the chainmail would have chafed horribly. Now it almost felt like silk against her water-heavy skin.

She strode very purposefully toward the door, not waiting around for them to protest her lack of refinement. Winnie followed quickly and took the lead once outside, showing Mila to a large array of picnic tables that were quickly filling up.

It was arranged like a cafeteria. People went up to the kitchen buffet for their meals and took it back to their tables. Winnie and Dillon made to secure seats before getting food.

Mila looked around. The best tables in the center, the alpha tables. That was where the higher ranked and elder wolves sat. Around them were the younger pack members, children and parents. The warriors and still childless, lower-tier wolves were on the fringes.

Mila was to sit with Winnie and Dillon at the outer tables. Winnie was young and clearly hadn’t yet mothered any pups. Dillon was her mate and though clearly stronger and protective, was not an alpha. They would be some of the last to be allowed to take their turn in getting food.

Mila waited with a straight back. Her chin was lifted and she pointedly ignored the gawking stares she was receiving.

Some of the smaller children asked their mothers about her, pointing pudgy fingers. They hadn’t yet learned that it was rude to point.

Older pack members, namely single males, also seemed unaccustomed to politeness. They whispered to each other, noting her figure – not seeming to realize she could hear them perfectly well.

Mila glanced at her reflection on the side of a pot at the buffet. She had to admit, this face wasn’t bad. It was a little plain. She’d never been one to stand out.

Her skin was shiny from her bath. Her drying hair was curling sweetly. She had a full mouth, slim nose, and long lashes. All were fairly appealing traits to human eyes.

But they also noted how petite she was. Easily the shortest adult within this grouping of wolves. Everyone was sizing her up.

If she were a wolf that could potentially join them, she would have to fight for a position. Strength would determine where she sat among them or what males she could choose from to be her mate.

Mila had no intention of joining them past this meal, but they couldn’t help thinking about her in their terms. From their perspective, someone as small as her would be useless to the pack. So even while males noted her fine figure, they were also writing her off as someone that could be enjoyable for a night, but not a life partner.