The wound had already begun to heal at the surface, necessitating that Honor occasionally dig and reopen an area to get at the shards of bone and bullet. She gritted her teeth every time she did it, praying she wasn’t really hurting her mate. Not that she would mind the occasional moan or curse. The fact that he’d gone completely silent worried her more than if he’d woken up and tried to fight her off. She almost wished he would.
When she had removed all the material she could see, Honor slipped the tweezers back into their package and tossed the whole thing in the trash. She doused the wound in peroxide and used gauze and tape to fashion a bandage which she placed on top of another absorbent pad, just in case there was more bleeding. Then she turned her mate back over, cleaned the entrance wound with peroxide, and bandaged that as well.
By the time she sat back on her heels and stretched to relieve some of the tension and soreness in her back, she realized that the lamp had ceased being necessary a long time ago. Judging by the light pouring into the shack through the single window, it had to be mid-morning at least. With no other trouble since that single gunshot, she imagined the shooter hadn’t stuck around to assess the damage.
On the one hand, the fact that the shooter fled meant there was likely no imminent danger to either herself or Logan. If the shooter had meant to stay and finish them off, he could have done so a hundred times over by now. On the other hand, if he had fled immediately after pulling the trigger, the trail the shooter had left would be cold. Honor could still follow it, of course—with her nose, hiding it would be close to impossible—but the time lapse would make it a bit more challenging.
Her feet itched to move. She wanted nothing more than to spring into action. The urge to head straight into the forest in the direction the bullet had come from made her literally vibrate with suppressed energy, but she couldn’t do it. Just because she suspected the shooter had disappeared didn’t mean she felt anywhere near comfortable leaving Logan alone. Not while he remained unconscious. Until he could shift and begin speeding his own healing process, it was too big a risk for her to go anywhere.
She knew she could summon help if she just threw back her head and howled, but could she take the risk? Her cry would draw the attention of any Lupine within hearing range, but who knew what that would mean? Would the shooter return to finish the job? Would one of the males gunning for Honor’s position in the pack hear and come first? It would be easy out here for them to take advantage of the opportunity to get rid of both her and the wounded Silverback interloper.
Right now, about the only people in the pack that Honor would trust to help her out of this situation were her uncle and Max. Joey would be useless in a crisis situation; she was too girly and squeamish to cope. Uncle Hamish loved her and had supported her from the beginning, and Max was a good kid, loyal to the pack, which to him meant the Tates, Honor included. Too bad there was no way to get to either of them without attracting the wrong kind of attention. Honor couldn’t bring herself to leave Logan even for a few minutes, and it would take longer than that to find Hamish or Max. They could be anywhere in the territory. Logan would be too vulnerable without her.
And she was too vulnerable to keep standing out here in the open.
With a growl, Honor spun around and returned to the shack. Being cooped up inside while her wolf howled for action didn’t exactly top her list of pleasant ways to spend the day, but at least she’d be able to keep a close eye on Logan. Within the cramped confines of the single room, there wasn’t anything else to do.
Honor climbed onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Logan. She wanted him awake, but causing pain wasn’t how she wanted to see that happen. Resting one hand on his uninjured shoulder, she leaned back against the wall of the shack and prepared to wait.
Fifteen
The earsplitting screech of a barn owl jerked Honor out of a fitful doze. Boredom and stress had combined to weigh down her eyelids, and she’d found herself catnapping all afternoon. Every time she woke, her gaze flew straight to her mate, but Logan never stirred. For the last few hours, she had gradually begun shifting her mental state from concerned to slightly frantic. He should be awake by now.
The owl screeched again, the second call finally penetrating through Honor’s haze of preoccupation. Owls didn’t screech during the middle of the afternoon. They were nocturnal, sleeping during the day and not waking until dusk.
A panicked glance at the window had her leaping from the bed and swearing. While she’d been dozing, the day had slipped away. Dusk had fallen over the forest, and in minutes, the moon would begin to rise. As soon as it topped the trees, the Howl would begin. And if Honor wasn’t there, she’d be labeled a rogue and a coward. The entire pack would hunt her down. She had to get to the stone yard. Fast.
But what could she do about Logan? Damn it, leaving him would be a risk, but she couldn’t see any other choice. If she stayed, eventually the pack would find them, and then they’d both be in danger; if she left him here, at least the shack would provide some cover, and hopefully the Howl would keep the pack occupied and away from him.
She didn’t really have a choice. She would just have to pray that if she didn’t make it back to him, he would wake up before someone else found him.
With one last look at her injured mate, Honor exited the shack, stripped off her clothes, and shifted. Her gray form glinted briefly in the dying light, then bolted into the shadows of the tree trunks, and disappeared.
Honor reached the stone yard during that brief slice of darkness when the sun had fully set, but the moon had not yet risen from behind the cover of the trees. Still, her keen night vision allowed her to clearly see the figures, mostly remaining in their human forms, that milled around the clearing, waiting for the Howl to begin.
Howls held Lupine packs together. A Howl was a time to celebrate milestones, like births and matings, a chance to hunt together and revel in the magic that ran through every Lupine’s blood, and the moment when power passed from hand to hand. All formal challenges for rank were settled at a Howl, whether the combatants ranked at the bottom of the pack or the top. At Howls, alphas were made, and no able-bodied member of the White Paw Clan would be likely to miss one.
Especially not this one.
Pausing at the edge of the trees to catch her breath—and to muster her courage—Honor sent up a brief prayer to the Moon Goddess who had breathed life into the first of her kind.
Silver Lady, she thought, closing her eyes and feeling the power of the rising full moon, give me the strength to lead my pack into the future; but if I cannot, then give me the dignity to die in the attempt. And above all, please protect my mate from harm. No matter what my fate is, he deserves better than to be punished for my failings.
As if in response, the first sliver of the pale moon rose above the dark expanse of the forest, but Honor knew better than to take that as a sign. The moon might be beautiful, but she could also be cold. One never knew which face she would decide to show.
The Lupines already in their furry forms yipped in excitement, and more of the ones still in skin began to remove their clothing. Using their distraction to add to her cover, Honor began to move toward the far side of the stone yard where the stump of an enormous ancient oak had served as a podium for generations of White Paw alphas. Tonight she would take her place on that platform; only the moon knew how long she would keep it.