Page 42

“Definitely.”

Chapter Twelve

(Roark)

“How are things looking?” Baz asked the moment Roark’s call ended.

“The full head count is in, and none of the sheep were lost to the blizzard,” I remarked, finally able to breathe easily now that every animal had been accounted for. “Staff at all three farm sites were able to get them rounded up and into the barns before the snow got too thick to see through. It helped that they’re only turned out into the fields nearest the barn during winter months.”

“Still, I’m sure those sheepdogs had their work cut out for them, making sure none were lost once the snow started to swirl.”

“Bruce does a fine job raising and training them,” Roark said, “and if they don’t make the cut to be a working dog, he finds the perfect home where they can be a pet.”

“Wolves with pet dogs,” Baz said, chuckling as he shook his head. “I suppose that wouldn’t be as strange as a wolf with a pet cat, but don’t you find it a little…I don’t know…weird to have a dog around who can’t shift?”

“No different than if there was a wolf who couldn’t take their human form,” Roark pointed out.

“Naa, see, that’s different,” Baz shot back. “We’d still be able to communicate with them.”

“Dogs are just as brilliant and able to communicate, you just have to trust your wolf instincts to interpret.”

“If you say so,” Baz replied. “I’ll stick with the kinds of pets that spend their days blissfully swimming around in their tank, waiting for me to sprinkle bits of food on the surface.”

“How about you? Were you able to reach the rest of the families on your list?” Roark asked.

“All but one, so I asked Slade to take Rand over and check on them.”

“Good news all around then,” I said as I glanced across the office to where the nursery area was set up.

Four pups were snuggling in a pile, snoozing deeply, basking in the warmth of a sunbeam streaming in through the window.

“Well, there is something that’s been on my mind all morning that might spoil the mood, but all the talk of a harsh winter has me worried that maybe we’re not as stocked as we should be.”

Sighing, I nodded and tried not to look outside at all the snow that blanketed the ground. The winter wonderland had created a magical playland for the pups, but nothing about what Baz was proposing would be playful.

“You’re not wrong,” I said. “The meat market had a limit on purchases, and rightfully so. There’s no way to bring more mutton in until the road to the borderlands reopens and the pack hunters have been instructed to deliver kills to the community kitchen and school first. What night are you thinking?”

“Friday.”

“I’ll make sure the processing room is ready for whatever you guys bring back.”

“Thanks. I hate taking your mate away so soon but…”

“We need the meat,” Roark replied. “He’d tell you the same and be upset if he wasn’t given the opportunity to contribute. I’m learning that the best thing we can do for Logan and Wren is to keep to the routine we’d established and allow them to grow accustomed to it, however it might look, given the season. You just make sure you don’t go crossing any wooden bridges.”

“Oh…oh, ouch,” Baz said, clutching his chest.

“Too soon?”

“Brutha, that’s just downright cold.”

“Colder than the river?”

Baz’s mouth dropped open. Roark heard him squawk like a chicken choking on a piece of corn, but otherwise, there were no discernable sounds. Just outrage and humor making his eyes shimmer before he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You just wait until you encounter another porcupine shifter in need of an attitude adjustment,” Baz remarked. “There will be no swooping in and saving your tail. I will sit back with a video camera handy so there is a permanent record of how well you fare, or don’t, when dealing with one of those bastards.”

“Come on. How is that fair when you were the one to rile it up in the first place?”