Rosemary was walking deep within the woods, cataloging tree species. She hated her job. She loved her job? Rosemary was forty. She'd signed up for this job in remote Wyoming after her husband's arrest in hot San Diego, California.
Wyoming, with its steep mountains and deep snows, was the anthesis of sunny San Diego.
Rosemary knew she'd never been this deep in the woods before. It was on the uncharted edge of the forest preserve. Rosemary could swear that they woods looked different everyday. It was like the trees walked around. Rosemary knew it was nonsense and her overactive imagination. She had a job cataloging trees. She could hardly tell the National Park Service about trees walking. They'd say she was insane and take this post away from her. After all she'd been through, after all she'd lost she needed this job. Rosemary sighed, dancing trees---it was time to stop imaging things. She had a job to do, whether she liked it or not---Rosemary walked on.
"That mortal was fairly close again, Alpha...a kilometre or two away. What should we do?" questioned Ian.
"Is she hurting anything polluting the environment, cutting down the ancient trees...killing any animals?" questioned Cian.
"Nah...she just makes her rounds and goes back to the ranger station...you know, the one built way back in World War Two...mortals wanted a station here in case war broke out. She's living out there like a pioneer...livin on the land. Reports to National Park headquarters monthly with her assignments, BUT otherwise, she's just there. What should we do about it?" Ian questioned again.
He'd finished gnawing on the buffalo wing and tossed it out the window...figuring the raccoons would eat it. He wiped his hands of the sauce on his shirt.
Cian rolled his eyes. He thought after all this time, his first lieutenant would have better manners. Was it too much to ask Ian for a little class? They were werewolves, but they still should have manners. Then there was the matter of the woman park ranger. She wasn't hurting anyone. She wasn't doing anything, but she was just there in the World War Two era Ranger Station a kilometre away.
Cian's pack had very good control, yet there was always the possibility that someone could get out of line around mortals. The pack lived deep in the enchanted woods away from civilization, so they rarely encountered mortals. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. He would deal with it---like he dealt with everything and more.
"I'll take care of it," said Cian lackadaisically.
"Yes, Alpha," said Ian. He was used to taking orders. Cian was the Alpha but Ian everyone came to Ian when they wanted to talk. They were cautious of their Alpha. A stern wolf. He could have a hot temper.
Ian was a bit surprised. His Alpha was a leader who governed, NOT did things. Cian sent his lieutenants out in the world to do things. Cian handled administrative work, Yet Cian's leadership and mediation skills were sought by all werewolves in the Americas. Ian hoped his Alpha wouldn't hurt the woman. She was just being.
"Well...if that's all, then we'll talk later. Paperwork...you know how it is," said Cian as he yawned and stretched his arms.
"Best be getting home for supper; the wife is expecting me," said Ian as he exited the office.
Cian jealously watched as Ian left. He sighed. He was just so tired...Ian constantly complained about his true mate but didn't know how lucky he was. Friends in other packs had tried to set Cian up with their daughters or cousins. He did go on a few dates and occasionally those dates led to more. BUT Cian had never hit it off with anyone.
