Page 3 of Collar Me Crazy
"Long day." He forced a smile. "Get some rest. I'll check on you in the morning."
After she left, Ryker stood alone in the medical cabin, surrounded by the comfortable clutter of his work. Bandages and bottles lined the shelves, along with specialized equipment for treating everything from pixie wing fractures to selkie scale infections. He'd built this place from nothing, creating a refuge for creatures who had nowhere else to turn.
Just like Varric had done for him all those years ago.
His wolf stirred again, ears pricked toward the forest. Ryker moved to the window, scanning the tree line that bordered Moonmirror Lake in the distance. The sanctuary sat on fifty acres of protected land, far enough from town to offer privacy but close enough for emergencies. Healing pools fed byunderground springs dotted the property, their waters infused with natural magic that accelerated recovery.
A red squirrel chittered at him from an oak tree, its tiny voice carrying supernatural undertones. "Someone new in town," it said in the common tongue most animals understood. "Magic's all stirred up."
"New how?" Ryker asked, though talking to the local wildlife was probably a sign he'd been spending too much time alone.
"Seer-witch. Pretty thing with sad eyes." The squirrel's tail twitched. "Got the whole town buzzing."
A seer. That explained the restlessness, maybe. Seers sometimes affected the local magic when they arrived, sending ripples through the supernatural community like stones dropped in still water. But this felt different. Personal.
Ryker's phone buzzed. Text from Emmett: Drinks at the Fang tonight? Maeve's trying out some new whiskey.
He typed back: Can't. Have a patient.
Bring her along. Maeve's good with wounded things.
Not that kind of patient.
Everything okay out there?
Ryker stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. How could he explain that his wolf had been pacing for hours, that he'd been having dreams about a woman he'd never met, that something fundamental was shifting in the air around Hollow Oak?
Fine. Just busy.
If you say so. Offer stands.
Ryker pocketed the phone and headed outside to do evening rounds. The sanctuary housed twelve creatures at the moment, ranging from a teenage were-cat with a broken leg to an elderly dryad whose tree had been struck by lightning. Each had their own space, their own needs, their own stories of how they'd ended up here.
The dryad, Maple, looked up from her healing grove as he passed. "Troubled tonight, young wolf?"
"Restless, I guess." He paused beside her. Maple had been here the longest, her recovery slow but steady. "You sense anything different today?"
"Change comes on the wind." Her bark-brown fingers traced patterns in the air. "Some changes hurt. Some heal. This one..." She tilted her head, considering. "This one chooses its own path."
Cryptic as always, but Maple's observations usually proved accurate. Ryker continued his rounds, checking on the were-cat (healing well, demanding more blankets), the messenger hawk (sleeping peacefully), and the half-dozen other residents who called the sanctuary home.
By the time he finished, full darkness had settled over the mountains. Moonmirror Lake gleamed silver in the distance, and lights twinkled from Hollow Oak's windows like earthbound stars. Somewhere in that cozy cluster of buildings, people were gathering at the Silver Fang Tavern, sharing drinks and gossip and the easy camaraderie of a close-knit community.
Ryker had never quite figured out how to fit into that picture.
His phone rang. Varric's name on the display.
"Evening, Elder."
"Ryker." Varric's voice sounded almost concerned. "How are things at the sanctuary?"
"Quiet. Got a messenger hawk in today with wing damage. She mentioned disturbances near the Tennessee border."
"Yes, I heard. Nothing that concerns us directly, but worth monitoring." A pause. "Have you... noticed anything unusual today? Any changes in the local magic?"
Ryker's wolf perked up at the question. "Why do you ask?"
"Just checking. The Veil's been fluctuating slightly. Probably nothing, but with seven mated pairs in town, the magical equilibrium can be delicate."
