Mated

Twenty-Four

Cort returned carrying clothes and shoes in his hand, wearing something a little more modern himself. Jeans and a sweater would surely help him to blend in as long as he didn't wear the mask from before.

James shed his fur behind a tree and dressed quickly. Cort said he saw signs of a pack while he was gone when James said he didn't smell any wolves.

"I'm surprised they haven't confronted us yet, this far into their territory," said James. He let the Hunter lead us into town and we were welcomed to festive music from a carnival happening a quarter of a mile away. People were gathered in an open field where the carnival began.

"Time to ask around." James gave us a nod. "Split up." The twins went off in one direction and as did Cort. James and I stayed together, weaving through the crowd in front of us. It wasn't until then that I caught a faint scent of a wolf but then it was gone in an instant. To not draw any attention to it, I pretended I hadn't noticed it.

"Hey, I'm new to the area! I hear there's a heale?" I said to a guy dressed in a Hawaiian shirt swaying with the music.

"A healer?" he yelled over the music.

"Yeah! My grandmother's into natural remedies, you know, for her arthritis."

"I don't know of any sorry. My step-dad's a doctor though. Here let me give you his card!"

"Thanks," I said and as he turned around for his wallet in his back pocket, I slipped into the crowd before he noticed. I asked a group of people and they shook their heads without a clue about a healer.

"Anything?" James was suddenly at my side. I shook my head. He stopped in his tracks and his guarded expression changed to one of alarm.

"What's wrong?"

"The twins."

He pushed through the crowd and I ran after him. When Cort caught sight of us running, he slipped behind us. We ran until we entered a side street. There stood two men and a woman, werewolves, who had the twins cornered against a wall. They looked back and forth between the three of us, acknowledging our arrival. One of the men stepped forward.

"When I smelled wolves on our land I told my pack to give you space, that maybe you weren't a threat. Then I hear you asking around about our healer! Give me one reason why we should let you out of here alive," he spoke in a deep, sauntering drawl, cocking his head to the side.

"We're not here for any trouble," James held up a hand, palm facing the Alpha.

"Tuhh, then what do you want with him?"

"We just want to ask a few questions."

"He's too old to perform large tasks. If your pack needs a healer I can point you in the direction of a good one."

"We don't need any healing. We need to talk to him—" James stopped and looked to me.

"Anything you need to ask him you can ask me, and then I'll let you know what he says. How's that?" The Alpha didn't seem to care to listen to James.

"We're here to ask him for a way to stop Rogues," I said, stepping forward.

"Ah, don't tell me you think you can cure them! I'm going to tell you like I told all the others: that treachery can't be fixed, those wolves did it to themselves."

"What if I told you, our race is in danger?"

"Danger? Our race?"

"Show us the healer and I'll explain everything." The Alpha didn't move, so I added, "Please, you can be present while we speak with him."