It had been six days since I had seen the girl.

It had turned into a bit of an obsession, and the first couple of days I would lurk around the building from moonrise to dawn, trying to figure out a way to get in, with the cellar doors now sporting a lock and chain. (There was another way into the cellar, but I hadn't tried it yet.)

Sam, ever the mother hen, had put an end to that on the third night.

("You can't jus' not sleep all nigh', Darra, you idiot" he'd chastised before dragging me back home by the ear.)

So, instead, I decided to talk to Flare about the mater. He was, after all, the great thinker of the pack.

"So," he began, ears alert. "You're saying that all you've been able to think about is turning some blonde girl into a wolf, ever since you first met her?" He drawled.

I stop my pacing, turning to glare at him. "Well, when you put it that way, it seems a lot less bad then it actually is," I growl, irritated. Can't he see how bothered I am by this nonsense?

Flare holds up a paw placatingly. "Sorry, sorry, it's just..." he sighed, glancing at the exit of the den. "Describe it again, please?" He asked, looking back over at me.

"Well," I begin, falling back onto my haunches. "it's like... an itch that I can't scratch, and no matter how hard I try, I can't ignore it,"

"And you say you felt a similar way towards Dean pre-shift?"

I nod. "With Dean, it was more... I felt as though, no matter what, I had to protect him, to keep him alive,"

Flare nods. "Interesting..." he murmurs, beginning to pace. A tendancey to pace is a trait that Flare and I share.

I cock my head. "How so?"

Flare's eyes flickered over me briefly, as though not completely seeing me "I'm glad you asked," he says, eyes now fully focused on me.

"It seems that you have some sort of, uh, instinct- or something of that nature," He pauses, sitting down in front of me, ears flicking in thought. "Perhaps you feel you don't have enough pack members, or that we're an unvaried group,"

I nod. "I suppose it makes sense that I, as the Alpha of the pack, want to grow it. That is the goal, isn't it? Growth?" I ask, brows cocking.

Flare inclines his head. "Yes, I believe so. And it's probably not helping, having a pack composed solely of males,"

I blink. "Come again?" I say, not fully comprehending what my Beta was implying.

"Well," Flare began, looking at me like he couldn't believe I hadn't thought of this. "Isn't that the main goal in nature? To pass on your genes to the next generation?"

I look away, thinking. "Yes, I suppose I hadn't thought of that," I say, eyes wide. I look back to Flare, ears alert. "Or the future of our group at all, really," I say, guilt gnawing away at my gut.

Flare straightens, surprised. "No? Well, I hadn't either, to be honest, but still..." he bit at his lip, the action looking rather comical with his canine appearance.

I nod. "We'll deal with that tonight, okay? For now, we need a plan,"

Flare looks up, confused for a moment before realization dawns on his face. "Ah! Yes, I'm guessing your little problem isn't going to go away on its own,"

"It's certainty unlikely,"

We sat there for a while, brainstorming ideas for how to get the girl into our territory (unlikely), or at the very least bite her and let her find her own way here (risky).

It soon escalated into a discussion of how to keep the humans out of our territory, ranging from traps to attack rabbits.

Which is how Dean found us, hours later, giggling on the floor.

He rolled his eyes, dropping a rabbit from his jaws. "Remind me again why you two lead us in the face of certain doom?" He teases.

"Seniority," I say, grinning.

Flare snorts, snatching the rabbit from in front of Dean's paws. "Dibs!" He shouts, voice muffled, before sprinting down the emergency exit tunnel.

"Oi!" Dean shouts, running after him.

I laugh, then give chase, nipping at Dean's tail to try and slow him down.

###

As plans go, it wasn't the most solid.

There were flaws in every other step and a high risk that it wouldn't work.

But it was something.

Luckily, part of the plan was to observe and gather data on her and the place she lived, which I was more than happy to do.

So, once night fell, I walked to the building and began to survey the premises.

I kept my paw falls slow and quiet, my ears alert, slinking along cautiously.

I come upon an incline, and trot up it, wincing when I reach the top, and the fine gravel bites into my paw pads.

Look to my right, and see to brick pillars, coming together in an iron arch, with letters carved of metal depicting the words 'Saint Augustus' Home for Orphaned Children' and under that, 'est 367'

I blink, frowning.

So, she was either an orphan or a staff member at the orphanage. Either way, a good sign. After all, orphanages were mostly staffed by parent-less women, so as to reduce the chance of abuse. I'm still entirely sure of the logic behind that.

I turn to my left, ears shooting up at the sound of clopping hooves.

I dash into the underbrush at the other side of the road, crouching down so as to see but not be seen.

Soon, a black carriage sporting a pair of Shire horses came down the gravel path, going straight into the orphanage.

I kept pace at a distance, following them up to the front porch.

I find it strange, a caller at such an hour. It was early summer, and the sun had set four hours ago, therefor making it around 0200 hours.

I kept as close as I could, ears pricked up.

The stagecoach got up and opened the carriage door. Slowly, a couple stepped out of the carriage, both dressed in fine clothes fitting of nobility, and a young girl stepped out behind them, dressed in simple servants clothes.

The doors to the orphanage opened up, and a plump, elderly woman stepped out, lantern held in her hand. "Mister and Misses Ferndale, I presume," she says politely, a kind smile on her lips.

The man (Mr. Ferndale, I assume) smiles, nodding. "Indeed, Miss. Douglass," he greeted happy, stepping up to shake her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you I'm person," he gestured at the woman behind him "And this is my wife, Penelope" he introduces.

Penelope steps up, curtsying. "So nice to meet you, Miss," she greets.

"Oh, and you too, dear. Now, please, come in, I have tea on the brew," Miss Douglass says, holding the door open for the couple and the girl, then closes it behind her.

Curiosity piqued, I run around to the back of the house, trotting up to the small window that led down into the cellar.

I push at it with a paw. It doesn't budge. Locked, no doubt.

I growl, unsheathing my claws and carving a hole into the glass, near the latch

I shove a claw through the hole, digging at it, cutting into my paw pad, until I hook the latch, and pull it up.

I push at the window again, and this time it moves.

I walk into it, stepping onto the mostly clean shelf, moving out of the way of the window, lunging to catch it in between my jaws before it slams shut.

Carefully, I angle a jar to keep it propped open, then gently place it down.

I look down and find myself glad that these shelves were bolted to the wall.

Looking around, I find a conveniently placed door that leans against the shelf, at the perfect angle for a ramp.

Walking down it as fast as possible, I hurry up the stairs, and pause at the door to the kitchen, pressing an ear up against it.

Silence.

Slowly, I pull the door open and keep to the ground as I stalk towards where there is noise.

I pause, heart pounding, in front of an archway that led into a dimly lit room, my presence still hidden well within the shadows.

Thank the lord I have dark fur, I think, looking on as miss Douglass pours the Ferndale's each a cup of tea. All except the young girl.

"Now," she begins, sitting down on a lumpy-looking armchair "Let's talk prices,"

"Well," Mr. Ferndale starts, "We got her five years ago for fifty silver crowns, though of course she was much younger then,"

I blinked, brows furrowing. They had bought her? That doesn't sound legal.

Miss Douglass nods in understanding, siping her tea.

Mr. Ferndale continued. "She's a quick learner, can do the cooking, cleaning, child care..." he trails off looking at the girl.

I sneer, gut turning. I find that I don't care much for the blonde girl, or any other person for that matter, living in this place. Children taking care of other children, rediculous. The girl can't be older then eight winters!

"Well," Miss Douglass says, smiling. "we can give you one hundred and fifty silver crowns for her, which I think is more than a fair price, don't you?"

Mrs. Ferndale nods. "Oh, most definitely, don't you, Edison?"

Mr. Ferndale hums.

Yeah, okay, I'm done with this. Time to stretch my acting muscles.

"And here I was thinking that slavery was illegal in this country..." I drawl, my voice smooth and deep. Practice makes perfect.

The occupants of the room startle, all looking in my direction.

"Who's there?!" Miss Douglass demands.

"Who I am is unimportant,"

"I'm warning you, I have a gun!" Mr. Ferndale shouts.

I chuckle, low and deep "No you don't," I say, nose twitching. Guns real of gunpowder, a scent that Mr. Ferndale is free of.

Mr. Ferndale sputters. "I demand you show yourself at once!"

"Very well," I intone, straightening to my full height, and stepping into the light.

Mrs. Ferndale gasps, frozen in shock. Miss Douglass simply gaped.

"Scream and I promise you'll regret it," I say calmly.

"I'm going mad," Mr. Ferndale whispers.

I turn my gaze over to Mr. Ferndale. "Now, now Edison, you should enjoy your last days on earth. Worries of madness tend to be stressful," I say with a 'couldn't care less' tone.

"W-what do you mean?" Mrs. Ferndale asks, fear in her eyes.

"Oh, nothing of import, ma'am," I say dismissively, then turn my eyes to the girl, who was trembling but trying to appear as if not afraid. "That is, as long as I can have her..." I drawl, nodding at the girl.

"Hold on now!" Miss Douglas screeches indignantly, jumping to her feet and seeming to forget her present company. "You can't just take 'er, I'm paying good money for that brat!" She growled.

I eye her, as though assessing. "Hmm, well, I suppose you will do," I agree, prowling closer.

The woman backs away, remembering what she was talking to "Do for what?" She gasped.

"A meal, of course. I have many hungry wolves waiting for me at home,"

The woman shook her head, eyes wide. "No, eat the brat! Eat the brat!" She begged.

I huffed indignantly, fixing her with my unimpressed glare. "Fine, I don't like a bitchy meal anyhow," I drawl, turning back to the girl.

I cock my head towards the doorway. "Walk," I drag out.

She stands shakily, walking in front of me.

I herd her down the hall until significantly out of earshot. "Stay calm and hurry up, we don't have much time before they telegram for help," I say, rushing a very confused girl down into the cellar and helping her up to the window.

Once we're out of the home, I swiftly lay on my belly. "Get on my back, hold onto my mane," I demand. I'd have to figure out what to do for the other residents of the home, but for now, I needed to get this girl to safety.

"I- I" She stammers, simply standing there.

"Hurry!" I bark.

She leaps into motion, sitting on my back and clutching my fur like it's the last thing she'll ever do.

"Hold on tight," I warn, sprinting into the woods