It was good to be home, even if it was a home he had only ever stayed in for a couple of weeks. The first morning after sleeping in a real bed, in a room of his own, Greg just lay there for a while, to let the feeling sink in, the luxury of the soft linens, the sounds of the house, the smell of breakfast. He had missed this so much: Three decent meals a day, fresh clothes, a roof above his head – to not having to worry about where all those things came from day to day. Just a little bit of comfort and security.

He would have been happy to simply stay at the house at Brines with its generous garden, but to his surprise, more than just the railroad camps had changed. He could go into the village anytime he wanted, and even Eoforwic was easing up on the “no werewolves without a hunter” rule. Bram had to accompany them so the guards would let them off the train, but he didn’t have to chaperone them once they were inside the city. Even Pierre took the opportunity, to visit a church of all places. Everyone else was more interested in visiting the markets. Most of the pack still had some of the paper vouchers David had given them, which the merchants of Eoforwic were happy to accept.

“We get another one on new moon, right?” Leo asked, playing with his three remaining vouchers.

“I think so,” Greg said.

“Why, you saving up for something special?” Rémy asked.

“Na, just wondering.”

Greg had more money to spend, of course, but most of the time, he just stayed home. The mild spring weather held, so every day he went outside to play with his daughters and their siblings on the lawn. He couldn’t stop smiling at their antics. Almaz made the best grimaces, and Hewan would laugh every time someone turned her on her stomach. Then she promptly rolled over onto her back again for the game to repeat.

As the moon waned, the other cubs turned human as well. One baby boy in particularly – Morgulon didn’t seem to be in a hurry to name her little ones – had a hard time coming to terms with the changes in his anatomy and tried to rob over the grass the same way he did in his wolf shape. He complained quite loudly when his body didn’t work the same way.

Morgulon rolled her eyes and pushed him back onto the blankets he had managed to push himself off.

Greg grinned and then sighed. This felt like a holiday, and he wasn’t too eager to go to Deva, now that he had seen how nice it was at Brines. Morgulon was actually willing to take the cubs into the city, provided she could stay at the townhouse.

There wouldn’t be enough space there for the whole pack.

And is that good or bad? Morgulon asked.

“You know, I don’t even know anymore,” Greg sighed. “I liked staying with the pack in the mountains. Now...”

He could feel how Pierre was pulling on him right now, to get him away from his daughters, go into Eoforwic with the rest of them. Morgulon didn’t want him close to her cubs, so Pierre avoided the garden when she was there. Greg just wished the elder would leave him alone for a bit. At least it was entirely his decision to stay or go right now, since he was sitting next to Morgulon. Or was it?

He tried to relax, let his mind wander a bit, figure out his own feelings. After a few minutes he was fairly certain that yes, this desire to spent as much time with his babies as possible was all him. The wolf even agreed.

“Why don’t I feel you?” he asked, looking over to Morgulon. “I mean, why don’t you have a pack? Why is there no – no pull to follow you everywhere?”

Morgulon ran her tail through the grass like a scythe. It’s not right, she said. Pushing a child like that.

Greg glared at her. “I’m nineteen, you know.”

Morgulon tilted her head at him. In mind and body, yes. But in magic? You’re as weak as a toddler.

She shook herself when Greg didn’t protest again. None of this – I think none of this is the way it‘s supposed to be. A werewolf your age – should be a baby. A literal child. They should be protected by their parents, who would be my age, or Laurent’s at the very least. By the time they would be old enough to leave their family, start one of their own, they would be like Rust or Alister: Mostly independent even in the presence of someone like Pierre.

She shook herself again. You shouldn’t have been there, she went on. And I am sorry for getting you caught up in all this.

“You said that,” Greg muttered, staring at his daughters, lying side by side in the sun. His mother had sewn their clothes with her own hands. They gurgled happily as a big, fat bumblebee passed by just above their heads.

And yes, he was still a little angry – not even angry. Shaken. By how it had all occurred. By the fact that he was a father and had no memory of how it had happened. But he had had all winter to think about it, and at least the shock had worn off by now.

“You know what?” he went on, “I don’t even care anymore. I had no choice in any of the stuff that’s been happening ever since I got bitten, and I don’t want them – they aren’t a mistake.”

Morgulon nodded slowly.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” Greg came back to his original point. “Why am I not pulled to you, given that I – am a toddler as far as magic goes?”

An adult shouldn’t have power over another adult in the same way Pierre has power over you.

“But you do have that same power,” Greg grumbled. “So why can’t I feel it?”

Morgulon huffed. Because I know how not to bleed magic all over the place.

She rolled onto her side, stretching out her long legs and resting her head on the ground.

It’s a matter of control. And effort. Pierre doesn’t think there even is an issue with the power imbalance. In his world, there’s nothing wrong with bossing people around. He used to be a priest, he is used to being surrounded by impressionable souls a fraction of his age. I’m sure he could control his influence. But he’d have to want to.

Greg considered all that. “So you’re saying you are alone because everyone in your pack would be, uh, under your control? But you also said that someone in Alister’s or Rust’s age would be independent?”

I have no pack because I never wanted one. A family, now, that’s different... She trailed off. Do you want to go to Deva?

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked David yet how it would be if we went. I’m not even sure he knows, you know? There are no – no free werewolves in the city, right now, so there’s really no telling how people would react to us.”

If it was like Eoforwic, where the merchants were happy to sell goods to the werewolves – if there was a way to be sure he wouldn’t be confined to the house... He liked the townhouse in Deva, but it didn’t have a garden as big as the one they were currently relaxing in, and sitting around inside all summer wasn’t his idea of a good time. Especially now that the cubs were getting a bit more mobile. They would probably be able to crawl even in their human forms come summer, wouldn’t they?

He hadn’t heard back from Gustave, either, but David had said that there was a stack of mail waiting at the house for each of them, so he had some hope.

Ask your brother.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Greg wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on top of them, then held his hand out for one of the cubs to sniff.

He didn’t want this break to end.