Back in the ironwood forest, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the banks of the Great River.
The atmosphere at the soap-making station was winding down. The fires had been extinguished to embers, and the wooden molds were filled with cooling, fragrant mixtures.
The females sat in clusters, tired but chatting happily, smelling of lavender and ash. No one had noticed Roxy had been gone for too long; they just thought she was with her mate again.
Not Ren, maybe one of her other mates.
From the tree line, four figures emerged.
Torian led the way, carrying a massive boar over his shoulder as if it were a pillow. Kaelen walked beside him, wiping a dagger on a cloth. Syris followed, checking a handheld device, and Zarek brought up the rear, his golden eyes scanning the area with habitual vigilance.
They had returned early. The hunt had been successful, and the urge to rejoin their mate was a pull they couldn't ignore.
