Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 67

Chapter 66: Caine: Strange (I)

CAINE

The Fiddleback Pack is unusual, settling most of their central pack territory in the middle of a human city.

There are rows of cookie-cutter homes, differentiated only by paint color. Manicured lawns, where even the trees look trained. White fences.

The back of my neck itches, and I resist the urge to scratch at it. "How do your wolves stand this?"

Marsh glances at me from behind the wheel, his expression placid. "Stand what, High Alpha?"

"This." I gesture at the subdivision sprawling around us. "Boxed in like sheep. No room to breathe."

A yard the size of a postage stamp comes into view, a plastic swing set crammed into one corner. The thought of a pup confined to such a space makes Fenris bristle.

"We’re used to it." Marsh shrugs, turning down another identical street. "Most of us were born here."

"That’s worse."

Fenris growls agreement in my head.

"Why live among humans like this? Most packs claim territory where their wolves can run free."

Marsh’s fingers tap against the steering wheel. "Numbers, mostly. Our pack isn’t large enough to maintain extensive territory. The subdivision houses all of us. Seventy-four wolves total."

Seventy-four. Barely enough for a functional pack hierarchy. My pack numbers over a thousand.

"And the humans don’t care?"

"We’ve adapted." Marsh’s voice carries a hint of pride. "Integration gives us options our ancestors never had. Jobs. Education. Resources. The humans think we’re just another community association with strict property rules."

The car slows as we pass a human woman pushing a stroller. She waves, and Marsh returns the gesture with practiced ease.

"And if one of you shifts accidentally?"

"Hasn’t happened in fifteen years. Our control is exceptional."

I observe his profile. Though young—perhaps twenty-five at most—he carries himself with the confidence of someone comfortable in his environment. No strain of keeping his wolf leashed. No yearning for wilderness.

"Is that why your pack uses these unusual titles? Deputy Marshal?"

Marsh’s eyebrows lift. "Oh, Deputy Marshal?" A smile touches the corner of his mouth. "It’s because we’ve taken on as law enforcement around here. We keep it clean."

Wolves policing

ten years ago. Most of our enforcers work for the department

outside. No children in the yards. No one

they preparing a

the humans trust you

has benefits for everybody. Crime rates are the lowest

survive crossing paths with

to those who break your

shifts in his scent.

link to my beta, I

thoughts reach back immediately. Surprisingly luxurious for such a rural pack. Humans would love to live here. Thom’s

And the pack?

around the edges,

have children running underfoot, testing boundaries, learning their place

watch. Something

His mental voice

Enough.

house yet. Stone facade, three-car garage.

announces. "And the pack

"No communal den?"

basement level connects to several neighboring homes through tunnels. For full moons

adapted indeed." I keep my voice neutral despite Fenris’s growing

taking my observation as approval. "We’ve evolved

no forest scents, no wild game, no earthy undertones that should mark wolf territory. Just cut grass, chemical cleaners, and

them, I’d assume only humans lived in this

paces within me. I don’t like

High Alpha." Marsh gestures toward

distance. A human neighborhood indistinguishable from thousands of others

more than strange. It’s unnatural, skirting hard around the edges of pack law. Humans aren’t allowed in pack territory. But moving the territory

gleams. Between the polished hardwood and the shiny chrome

My teeth grind together.

waiting in the great

room? My lip

and wedding

this way, they’ve been operating

of these rural packs. See how common this

graying hair, his face weathered

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