When Paloma returned to the ship among the sailors who carried armfuls of fine silks, pearls and a few jewelry boxes, Storie sidled up to her.

"I'd like Sam to come with us to the meeting," she said, watching the men laugh aloud when they saw the fine gold and silver contents of one of the jewelry boxes. Each piece of jewelry could double the salary of each man on the crew.

Paloma held up a hand to Storie, acknowledging that she heard her but that there were more pressing matters. "If anyone comes near us with the silver, I will bite you."

"Does it kill you?" the ginger man asked.

Paloma cocked her head at him. "And what would you do if it did?"

The ginger man gave her a respectful smile. "Throw it overboard, Lady Delgado."

Paloma returned his smile with a small one, the kind she favored. Storie was proud of her alpha. Whatever had happened on the pirate ship had earned the trust of the ginger man and his friends. "No, Mason. It only irritates our skin."

The ginger man, Mason, nodded. Storie watched as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began dumping the silver pieces into the fabric. No one said a word as Mason combed through the velvet-lined jewelry boxes and rid them of their silver. When the contents of the chests glimmered only gold, Mason wrapped up the silver and tucked it into his chest pocket before standing up and bowing his head to Storie and Paloma. "I'd imagine you'd like your pick, ladies?" he asked.

Paloma waved her hand to decline, but Storie grinned. She knelt before the boxes and selected an intricate sapphire pendant and ornate diamond ring. She smiled happily as she wore the new items. The ring only fit her pinkie, even when she took off her glove to try it on, but that was no matter. For whatever reason, Laurel had learned to operate a jeweler's forge at some point in her life. She was always happy to resize Storie's rings, or to make golden replicas of fine silver pieces Storie liked.

"Beautiful," Paloma complimented. "The sapphire brings out your eyes."

"Thank you," Storie said, resting her glove atop the new necklace. "And of Sam?"

Paloma's voice sounded out in Storie's head, not wanting the men around them to hear. You want Sam to join the pack, then?

Storie nodded slightly. He wants to. I explained it to him. I think he saw something when he was younger. Violence against women. He... he seemed more torn up about what would have happened to us if we were human than he was about getting his face smashed.

Paloma watched as the men brought up another load of silk. Bystander Helplessness, she whispered into Storie's mind.

Bystander Helplessness is a psychological phenomenon Paloma and Storie had been discussing for years. Though neither considered themselves a psychiatrist, they needed to understand the brains of their traumatized pack and thus tried to maintain observations of their minds.

Bystander Helplessness is the name they had given to the shattered self-confidence children, particularly boys, acquire when they witness the abuse of another. Paloma and Storie had observed it extensively in sons who had to watch their sisters and mothers endure torment from their fathers. The lack of strength, the lack of ability to protect their loved ones, curdled inside the children's minds until it turned into a choking lack of self-confidence in adulthood. People with Bystander Helplessness still had the mentality they had had as children; that they were weak and unable to defend those around them from threats. Even the tallest, strongest man would be terrified in a fight if he suffered from this phenomenon.

I think that's exactly it, Storie told Paloma.

Paloma looked around. I've not heard any other Irishman on the ship. He might be desirous of a family unit. Storie stayed quiet as Paloma considered this. Alright. He can come to the meeting as our assistant. Tell him to keep his ears open and his mouth closed.

Storie smiled. "I'll go inform him." She turned on her heel. "Sam Maldin?"

Someone dropped onto the deck behind her, slipping quickly from one of the masts on a damp rope. Sam smiled up at her, revealing his missing tooth, before sinking dramatically to a knee. Storie pretended not to notice how the injuries to his ribs winded him. "At your service, my lady."

"You're coming to the meeting with us. Watch and listen only," Storie told him.

Sam cocked his head as he stood up. "Don't misunderstand me, my lady, I'm happy ta be goin'. But ya still haven't told me what it is you're doin' there."

Storie glanced around to make sure no one else was listening in. "That's because we don't really know ourselves, Sam."

Sam was still deeply confused. Storie sighed and mindlinked Paloma. I'm going to take him to the room for a quick briefing.

Paloma looked over at her beta, the smallest of smiles on her lips. Is that the colloquial term for intercourse now? A briefing?

Storie laughed, making Sam frown as his confusion deepened. After the day he has had, I don't think he would survive a briefing of that nature with me.

Now Paloma grinned. Ah, yes. Best to let him heal up before you suffocate him beneath your breast.

The women chuckled. Storie waved Sam down the stairs and into the small room where he had placed her and Paloma at the beginning of the journey.

"Were you... talkin' to her?" Sam asked once they were inside.

"Yes. Wolves of the same pack can communicate silently," Storie answered, sitting down. Sam followed suit, but looked over at her with a furrowed brow.

"And, if I can ask, what were you talkin' about that you didn't want the rest of us to hear?" he asked.

"Paloma doesn't look it, but she enjoys vulgar jokes," Storie confided. "She is a regular riot when you get a bit of rum into her."

Sam smiled at the idea. "I knew I liked her."

"So, Sam, I wanted to tell you a bit about our meeting," Storie said. "A few weeks ago, we received a strange letter." She reached into her coat pocket and procured the letter, which she handed to Sam.

The young man looked down at the letter before he swallowed and looked up at Storie in shame. "I... I can't read, my lady," he murmured, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Storie jolted and took the letter back, feeling like a monster for making Sam admit he was illiterate. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is my fault for assuming." She leaned in a bit. "And that is something that can be easily remedied if you choose to join the pack." She opened the letter and began to read it aloud for Sam.

"Ladies Storie Lovejoy and Paloma Delgado,

Before I begin, I will forewarn you that this letter will not be a welcome one to you, but I implore you to carefully consider our offer.

Through accidental observation, myself and my UNIT have become aware of the nature of yourselves and your UNIT. We applaud you for your hard work to bring peace and power to people who could never hold it otherwise. We admire your dedication and the precedent you set for future generations.

Myself and my UNIT are of a similar BREED to you, though not quite the same. We hold our privacy as dearly as you and yours do. We have reached the conclusion that we could offer each other many advantages as we seek to survive in this hard world.

There is no need to reply to this letter. If you would like to know more about us, journey to Elcott Island off of the coast of northern Oregon Territory. I have researched it for you, and there is a ship captained by Joseph Caldwell that is bound to bring supplies to our island on September 9th from the Astoria port.

If you come, I believe the futures for both of our UNITS will be prosperous, peaceful, and wonderful.

Sincerely,

M. Waters."

Storie looked up at Sam, but he was frowning. His lips mouthed something as though he was trying to piece something together.

"M. Waters," he whispered. He thought for a moment. "I think that's the man who pays this passage. To Elcott."

This intrigued Storie. She cocked her head. "What does that mean, Sam?"

"Well, there's not a port there," Sam began to explain. "No export, hardly any import. But they have goods delivered once a month. We figured it was just some rich bastard, you know?"

"So you've seen the island?" Storie asked.

Sam shrugged. "I mean, we're never allowed onto it. There's a long dock. We set the goods on the dock, take payment, then leave."

"What are the people like?" Storie pressed. "Does there seem to be one or two in charge of the rest?"

Sam considered this. "Well... one thing I always thought was odd... they all have long hair. Even the men. Hangin' round their faces, too, not pulled back."

"Are they white?" Storie asked.

Sam shook his head. "Mostly African, actually, though I've seen all colors, all races. And they're all..." He struggled for a way to word it. "Lean. Skinny."

"Starving?" Storie asked.

"No. Just... trim," Sam said, seeming regretful of the fact that he couldn't give her any information. "But, my lady, I... I'm not sure what this information means, but Waters has got to be a hell of a man if he's paying for these deliveries. That money has to come from somewhere, and there aren't any ways to make money on that tiny island."

Storie absorbed this information, trying to imagine what they could possibly be sailing toward.

"D'you think they're like you?" Sam asked. "Wolves?"

Storie shook her head. "No. Our kind have thick fur. Gets waterlogged easily. We can swim better as humans than we can as wolves. There'd be no reason to set up on an island."

Sam paused. "I..." He chewed his cheek for a moment. "My lady, if you don't mind me asking, why did you board a ship in those dresses if your wolf forms can't swim, either?"

Storie looked over at Sam. Though illiterate, he was far from dull. She saw it now that he was in a more serious mood. Intelligence gleamed in his uninjured eye. "We are optimists, I suppose," she answered, trying not to imagine what would happen if she or Paloma found themselves overboard. The thick dresses required of women of the era would pull their bodies down into the icy depths of the Pacific. They could shift into their wolf forms to stay afloat, but with no opposable thumbs to grasp ropes or flotation devices, they would drown.

Sam also didn't like this train of thought. "So, what's the plan?" he asked.

Storie shrugged. "Well, my plan is to guard Paloma. As alpha, she is far more equipped to handle these sorts of situations." Storie looked down at the letter in her hand and shook her head. "But they clearly don't know as much about us as they think they do. They put my name first on the letterhead."

"They think you're alpha," Sam said, nodding. Once again, Storie was pleasantly surprised by his intelligence. He looked up at her. "Don't you want to be alpha?"

"God, no," Storie said, shaking her head. Sam laughed and Storie grinned as she continued. "Alphas must be as suave as politicians, as sweet as mothers, as smart as scientists and as vicious as actual wolves. She makes every decision for us. If I made those decisions, our pack would have disintegrated years ago." She shook her head again. "No. I'm more than happy to do as she bids me. Leaves me free to bare my teeth to those who bother me."

"Do I bother you?" Sam asked, his dopey grin returning.

Storie bared her teeth and Sam laughed. Then Storie shifted into her wolf form. Sam looked upon her with that familiar glowing happiness and reached to stroke her head and scratch her ears. He got to his knees and hugged around her neck. Storie was touched, though she wasn't sure if she should abide the young man's affection.

But she didn't want him to stop hugging her, so Storie decided that social rules didn't apply to her wolf form.