I had expected two weeks to drag but they were moving faster than I anticipated. The travelling group had been staying on at the packhouse under some kind of treaty that entitled visiting wolves to a full week of rest between stops, and it had already been close to that since they arrived. I had barely seen Molly and Leo since Sunday, the two of them completely absorbed in each other in the way new mates tended to be. The green-eyed man, Pollux, kept crossing my path in a way that felt less like coincidence and more like habit. He never approached me but I would catch him watching from a distance and the feeling it left behind was difficult to name.
On Tuesday Alex finally came to help me with the heavy work I had not been able to manage alone. He moved broken ornaments and cracked concrete slabs into the back of a pickup truck with an ease that made it look effortless while I directed and carried the lighter pieces.
