THE GATHERING OF celebrating humans and wolflen had relocated to the Hunter’s Lodge, the large hall that attached to the Wolf’s Den. Food prepared by humans and wolflen alike were served to the long tables of mixed races. Though still with some awkwardness, the two groups spoke and ate together, discovering they were more alike than not.

At the head table, Pack Leader spoke with Shaman seated beside him, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps this should have been done sooner, trying to forge an understanding with the humans who shared our territory beyond Smith and some few others.”

Shaman snorted softly, the beads of his headdress rattling with the gesture of disdain. “None of us were ready. There was too much hostility between us. Too much distrust. If one of them offered their hand to us, or we to them, it would have been slapped away. We saw only our differences, not our similarities. We needed Warrior to heal the division between us. She made us see ourselves through her eyes.” He grunted. “I had my doubts allowing her to run with our cubs. But you were right about her.”

“Something troubles you,” Pack Leader observed.

The old wolflen grumpily waved a hand. “You need not worry that I believe she endangers the tribe. I do not.”

“Still, you have concerns, and your concerns are worth heeding. They were when I was a pup and didn’t want to listen. They are more so now as we have both aged.” The larger male paused a moment. “What concerns you about Tiwaz?”

Silent for quite some time, Shaman drummed his fingers, eyes unfocusing. “A shadow hangs over her. It haunts her. It stalks her. She bears wounds none can see.” He looked at his chieftain. “Wounds she does not want anyone to see. Not even her pack-brother. Wounds that bleed the dark color of heart blood, not the brighter red of more superficial hurts.”

“Mmm. I see.” Both looked up as the sound of a horn filled the night to announce the return of the first hunting party. As the double doors opened, Pack Leader rose to welcome and declare the winners of the final contest of the games. He could not help but straighten a little more in pride as Tracker entered first, followed by Tiwaz and then Doom. He echoed the surprise of the gathered when the gromek unslung the massive boar carcass from his back and dropped it before him and Shaman.

The wolflen elder stood, stepping forward to look at the boar, then looked at the three. “Tradition speaks, packs hunt for tribe, kills go to tribe.” He looked down at the boar. “Never a pack not all of tribe. Who made kill?”

Tiwaz stated, her voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd, “Tracker made the kill.”

“Cat-Sister and Doom-Not-Demon saved Tracker’s life,” the young wolflen interrupted before Shaman could say anything. “Prey belongs to them, not—”

“We were a team,” Doom interrupted. “We hunted together and we fought together.” He held up his wrist to display his prize. “We returned together.”

“To whom would kill go?” the elder asked.

Tracker straightened. “To the tribe.”

At the same time, Doom and Tiwaz both answered, “To Bralden.”

Shaman grunted at that. “Then kill shared equal. Half to tribe for one make kill. Half for Bralden.” Tracker looked to his teammates then nodded, all three bowing in acquiescence to his decree. “Solstice Games finished.” All voices raised to cheer the pronouncement as the celebration grew, the meal waxing to drinking, dancing and games.

Tracker turned from speaking to his sire, frowning. “Where Cat-Sister?”

Doom glanced towards the doors, glimpsing the woman slipping out into the night. “Ti is…not much for gatherings like this.” He tilted his head and admitted, “Neither am I. It will take getting used to.” The gromek offered his arm to the wolflen, the two exchanging a comradely grip. “Thank you for hunting with us.”

“Doom-Not-Demon hunt with Cat-Sister and Tracker in future. Learn speak wolflen tongue like Cat-Sister. I practice human tongue.”

“I will,” he agreed. “Good night.”

“Moons guide and protect,” Tracker bid before turning to join his family to give more details of the adventure’s unexpected outcome.

Back at the house, Doom found Tiwaz curled on the sleeping place he’d made on the floor and smiled sadly. Preparing for sleep, he lay behind her and put his arm around her waist. “Am I a coward?” she asked in an anguished whisper. “I ran away. There were so many people. So many. All around and no walls between me and them. They moved everywhere doing different things, all of them talking at once. I couldn’t watch them all. I couldn’t listen to them all to know what they were talking about, if any were a threat.” He hugged her against him, feeling her tremble. “I must be a coward. Even little children had no fear there, but I felt nothing but—.”

“Stop,” Doom interrupted in a gentle voice. “It is okay to be afraid of strange things. Give yourself time to become used to them.” He hugged her lightly. “Go to sleep. I will watch over you.”

“And I will watch over you,” she murmured. Many hours passed, neither sleeping, lost in troubled thoughts.