Page 9 of Fractured Fang: Omega

“Fantastic. We are running low on pork, and we’ve got a lot more mouths to feed.” Mostly his family, which we were grateful for. It was nice having some more little ones running around. Pups were what injected life into a pack—the more, the merrier.

“You aren’t wrong.”

Once we were on the road for a little while, I looked over at him. I wanted to talk about Gabriel, but I wasn’t sure how. “Is it nice having your kids on the territory?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral, even though everything inside me was very much one-sided—Gabriel’s.

He nodded. “Yeah. We’ve always kept in good touch with Jacob. And it’s been really great to see Gabe. Though we worry about that one a lot more.”

“He seems to be in good shape,” I said and put my eyes back on the road. We still had a decent drive ahead of us, and hitting a pothole and losing a tire didn’t sound like the best idea.

“Yeah, I’d really like to know what the hell he’s been doing the past few years, but I can’t push him to tell me.” He let out a long sigh. “He’ll just dig his heels in and run away again. He’s stubborn like that.”

“Is that what you think happened? He ran away?” That wasn’t Gabriel’s interpretation, for sure. If anything, it sounded like he was running to something, his passion.

“Hell, if I know. It’s hard telling,” he admitted. “He’s never been one to take to pack life easily. Edith and I have always worried about him being able to fit into a pack.”

My wolf got a bit ruffled at that. Gabriel, for sure, understood what it meant to be part of a pack. Having your gift falling outside of what a pack values doesn’t make it any less of a gift or you any less of a team player. What it does is make life a series of very difficult choices, and my mate had to make the one that was best for him. It wasn’t as if his family was a forever part of that pack. If they were, Phillip and Edith wouldn’t have joined Fractured Fang. They’d have still been there.

“Oh, look.” I pointed to a billboard for a fancy schmancy coffee place, the kind I usually avoided preferring gas station coffee myself. “I’m stopping for coffee in the next town. Want some?” And changing the topic, it was.

“Sure. I could use a cup.”

I got off the next exit, and the town was much larger than I realized it would be. The main street had a lot of different stores, including an art supply store. Had Phillip not been with me, I’d have stopped there and found my mate a present, one to show him that I cherished his gift and would never treat it as less than like so many people had done before me.

But Phillip was here, and I had no excuse to stop there, instead pulling up to the coffee house—the coffee house that happened to be next to a small knitting store.

“Change of plans. We are going to check out the knitting store and then get coffee.”

I didn’t wait for Phillip to agree, instead popping out of my truck and heading right in. It was one thing to research yarns and another to see exactly what was being sold locally. We would never be a large commercial venture; local and possibly internet was our best option.

The bell on the door rang as I walked inside. Behind the counter sat a man knitting—or was it crocheting? I forgot which was which—something green. He didn’t even look up, instead telling me if I needed help finding something, just ask. So I did.

“I was wondering if you had any hand-dyed wool?” I asked, and the man set his project down and walked around the counter.

“I’ll show you what we have. There’s not much left.” He stopped at a small basket marked clearance. “This is really great wool, locally sourced, but the woman who used to make it for us retired, and we haven’t found anything new to replace it.”

I reached down and grabbed a skein. It was pretty. Each skein was all a bit different. “Thanks.” I grabbed a few colors. “Is there anything like this that isn’t hand done?”

If a factory could accomplish the same look, maybe this wasn’t worth our time, but if it couldn’t, I was bringing these home so we could try and create something similar when the time came.

“I’ll show you what we have, but not really.” He led me to the far wall. He was right; it wasn’t the same.

I thanked him and paid for the yarn I’d picked up. Being on clearance, I expected it to be a lot less than it was. They truly did get top dollar for it, making it for sure something we needed to look at further. After we got the sheep, that was.

Purchase in hand, I went outside, less than impressed with Phillip not even stepping foot in the door. I quickly forgave him as he stood by the truck with not one but two coffees in hand.

“I figured I’d save us some time.” He handed me the coffee, which of course, was just how I liked it. “Anything good in there?” He eyed the bag.

“Potentially, yes. I’ll let you look at it in the truck. We should get moving.” I didn’t have a specific time to arrive, but I did promise them it would be before noon. And really, I was already itching to be back on pack lands—back near my mate.

We climbed back into the truck, and as we drove the rest of the way to the farm that had our future sheep, Phillip and I discussed the yarn to death. I didn’t even care that much at that point; I just wanted to avoid talking about my mate with his father. The last thing I needed was to start a fight with the man, and I had a strong suspicion that was the only result possible if we didn’t stay off the topic of Gabriel.

The farm we were picking up the sheep from was stunning, the animals well cared for, and the property postcard-worthy. We made a deal quickly, and Phillip and I loaded our new livestock addition into the trailer.

“This was a great trade.” Phillip’s words surprised me as we pulled onto the road. “I still don’t want to deal with yarn, but there is value in it. Did you see the full price for those things?”

“I was shocked too,” I admitted. “They will be a nice addition to the pack.”

I just crossed my fingers that my mate wanted to stay. I’d miss Fractured Fang, but he came first. Always.

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