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.