Rind.

Kellan woke just after daybreak, still in The Glen. The smell of meat, roasting over a pit hit him first, then the smell of the forest, the sound of the river, voices, laughter, splitting wood, the smell of fire, the chill of the room, the lingering taste of the sweet syrup he'd eaten the night before, and last, the nauseating smell of Gustin's fever, and the fur blanket and clothes he'd been sick on the night before.
Kellan stroked his mate's hair back from his face; in the daylight, Gus always seemed so pale to him; so small and fragile. The wolfe lifted one of the human's hands; they were cold.
Footsteps at the doorway; Kellan looked up. The trader nodded a greeting.
"Buyers are here, wolfe. Need to work."
Kellan nodded, his belly tightening with cold apprehension at leaving his mate alone. But there was work to be done.
The trader watched Kellan a long moment; his eyes slid over to Gus briefly, then returned to the wolfe.
"You should cover his neck."
Kellan's hackles rose immediately, and his stomach swirled into a pit of fear and his blood rushed madly through his veins.
"What do you mean, wolfe?" he demanded, although he already knew the answer. Kellan had messed up. He had been foolish, or careless, or simply inattentive when he'd bathed his mate and the trader had seen. Another wolfe had seen and knew that Gustin bore the mark of the moon on his neck.
The trader met Kellan's eyes and held the gaze. Kellan felt disquieted suddenly; the sharpness in the other's expression made him feel unstrung.
"Your human has the mark of the moon."
Kellan felt the corner of his mouth curl up in the beginning of a snarl. They could not be discovered now, not at this time, not like this, not with Gustin so weak and still sick and in need. They had to make it to a healer. They had to make it out of the Irion. Even as the panic swirled within him, Kellan remained stoic. He glared across the small room at the trader, a man to whom he owed his life, but whose he would take at a moment's notice if he planned to threaten Gus. Nobody threatened Kellan's mate. Nobody threatened the Synthesis.
The trader and Kellan stood there for long, heavy moments, locked in each other's gazes like harts, tangling their antlers in the springtime. Suddenly, the trader broke, looking troubled. He looked away, kicked at the ground.
"Cover his neck." he repeated. "You don't want the others to see."
Kellan grunted and settled his still-sleeping mate down into the makeshift bed, tucking him as far under the furs as he could. Then he rose, dressed, and made his way outside to greet the buyers.
At the door to their tent, he froze.
They were surrounded by the caravan.

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Adotre yawned and stretched his front paws out first. The night had been a long one, but not uncomfortable; he had bedded down in a hollow stump that might have been some small animal's den a long time ago. It had been warm and not too damp and sheltered from the wind. After Adotre had found it, he'd eaten one of his food stores and gone to bed.

Now it was morning, and time to resume the trail. Tracking this wolfe was taking so much longer than he'd expected; the path had broken suddenly, just when the Layer had thought he was getting close, and then reappeared in a totally different part of the forest.
Adotre sighed and shook himself, his pretty brown fur catching the sunlight and warming. Today would be better. Today would be a lucky day. Today, he could -
the sound of crunching footsteps stopped him in his thoughts.
Adotre froze and his ears shot up, trying to determine the direction of the sound. Then, before he could move or think, or do much of anything at all, a weight landed on him like a missile and a cold blade was pressed against his throat.
"You move, Layer," the voice grunted out, clearly Wolfish, "You die."

+++++

Kellan ducked back inside, his mind racing. He had to hide. Gus had to hide. When had the caravan come? In the night, that's when. But how had they gone unnoticed? Surely, someone must have detected the scent of a human? Kellan ran a hand over his hair, shaking his braid loose. He exhaled and rebraided it, trying to think of a plan. How had they gone undetected so far? From the bed, Gustin woke with a little moan, and Kellan realized. Of course. The sickness. The scent was so thick around them that the wolfes might not have been able to distinguish Kellan and Gustin's scents from the smell of disease. Kellan got an idea. He looked over at the pile of blankets and clothes that Gus had been sick over the night before. It was a disgusting idea, but it was an idea none the less.

+++++

Iorir picked his way delicately through the dense undergrowth. Damn his Layer mate, for dragging him into the thickest part of the forest. And damn his pack, for not watching the Layer more closely. And damn his own foolish trust, for thinking he could just turn Adotre loose and all would be well. And damn Adotre, for not considering for even one second that if Iorir lost him, he would lose his egg, his family, and everything he cared so deeply about.
Well. Iorir wasn't about to let that happen. He was going to find his Layer, and when he did, he was going to tan his hide so well that Adotre wouldn't even think of going anywhere without him for a long time.

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