Paloma, Storie and Sam watched the dock from the front of the ship. Elcott Island had started as just a tiny blip on the horizon, just a speck among the gray of the sea and sky, but now it looked bigger and bigger. As they got closer, Storie could nearly believe that they were heading back to the mainland. She had been envisioning a tiny rock on the sea just big enough to hold a house, but this island was large enough to support an entire city. It could house a proper city, for all they knew. The thick evergreen forests enshrouded the island, preventing closer inspection of what habitations awaited them.

"There's a man on the dock," the captain told Paloma, studying the dock from his scope.

Paloma didn't respond. She didn't need to.

The captain cocked his head like a thought had struck him. "My lady, what was your plan of egress?" he asked.

"Wait for another small vessel to bring us to port this evening," Paloma replied.

The captain considered. "And how long do you expect this meeting to take?"

Paloma's response was immediate. "Can't see it taking longer than an hour."

The captain nodded. "I think we'll just wait for you, then. Take a little break on the dock."

Paloma gave the old man a warm smile. "Are you certain? Time lost is profit lost, isn't it?"

The captain chuckled. "With the treasure you won us from the pirates, profit isn't much of a concern for us." He sniffed and looked ahead as though the matter was settled. "Nah. We'll take you ladies home."

"Thank you," Paloma said. Storie nodded her agreement to this.

They docked peacefully. The steps were drawn out for Paloma and Storie. As they walked down the thin steps toward the dock, Storie looked up and saw that every single crewmember was watching them carefully.

"Protective of ya," Sam murmured from behind her, catching her eye. "If that bloke makes a mean move, the men'll jump ship and tear his throat out."

This warmed Storie's heart. She gave the men a wink and a wave.

The man waiting at the dock was exactly the sort Sam had described. He appeared to be Mexican. He was tall, slender, and dressed impeccably in a fine vested suit the color of the gray sky behind him. A polite smile graced his lips and his dark hair hung in glossy sheets past his shoulders.

"Hello, Ladies Lovejoy and Delgado," he said, offering Storie his hand. She stepped back and allowed Paloma to shake his hand first. The gesture was subtle, but the man was intelligent enough to pick up on it. "I would say our assumption was incorrect, then? You are the alpha?"

Paloma said nothing, only watched the man with a careful expression.

The man nodded once in understanding. "Of course. I won't pry. My name is Carlos. I will be your attendant while you are on the island." He looked to Sam, who stayed still when the man studied him, even though Storie sensed Sam desperately wanted to shrink out of sight. "And who is this?"

"Our assistant," Paloma said. "He is here to observe."

Carlos cocked his head. "He is a human."

Storie noted that whatever these people were, they could differentiate humans from wolves.

"Most of our... unit... was human at some point or another," Paloma said simply.

"He can hear anything you tell us," Storie said. "He has our confidence."

"Does he know the realm in which he walks?" Carlos asked, his gaze still on Sam.

"None of us do," Paloma told Carlos curtly, reminding him that the lack of information was grating on her patience. "But he knows of us. He holds our cause in the same esteem your Mr. Waters stated in his letter."

Carlos nodded. "And the ship?"

"Is waiting for us," Paloma agreed.

Carlos didn't like this. That was plain.

He is scared, Paloma realized over her mindlink with Storie. He is afraid of us.

Storie tried to think of a way to help calm their attendant, but Paloma's mind worked faster than hers. "Sam, my dear, introduce yourself," she told the young man softly.

Sam sprang forward, giving Carlos a smile. He was still nervous, but his boyish charm, helped along by a bit of pale powder from Storie's makeup compact to hide his injuries, clearly relaxed Carlos. "I'm Sam Maldin. Nice to meet you, my good sir."

Carlos properly smiled, soothed by Sam's light voice and infectious innocence. Beside the alpha and beta, Sam was practically angelic in his childishness. And Storie suspected that Sam knew this. The young man even faked a small stumble on the worn wood of the dock before smiling sheepishly up at Carlos.

Carlos nodded. "Right this way."

"What are you?" Paloma asked as they walked down the dock.

"That... is a difficult question. And one I am not allowed to answer," Carlos said apologetically. "You will be meeting with Mr. Waters personally. He will answer every question you have."

Paloma's expression darkened.

Carlos led them into the forest, on which a set of stairs had been formed by thin slabs of rock shoved into a bare dirt path. Paloma and Storie clutched their skirts up to avoid stumbling.

The trees did in fact conceal a town, and a very odd one at that. Storie, Paloma and Sam looked around at it, completely stunned. Dozens of buildings dotted the flat plain, but even more were visible through a sparser forest ahead and among the roving hills cupping the other sides of the island. The structures were built to weather floods, with thick log bracings raising each building several feet off of the ground. Some structures were even built into the trees, connected to the ground by steps and to each other by thin bridges. The winding main road was cobblestone.

"I was told to warn you that many inhabitants of our island dislike clothing," Carlos said simply. "Everyone has been warned that we have visitors who may be sensitive to nudity, but I am certain there are a few who didn't get the message."

As if on cue, a young Black man wearing nothing but a towel around his waist burst out from a house, laughing in glee as he was chased by a young white woman who was as naked as she had been the day she was born. Sam blushed bright red when he saw the woman, but neither of the gleeful pair noticed him. They laughed as the woman chased the man into the forest, her long hair whipping behind her as she disappeared into the pines.

Paloma and Storie were completely unfazed. "Our kind share a similar lack of care for nudity," Paloma said simply. "Seems I can't go a day without seeing a naked man who is not my husband."

Carlos got a genuine laugh out of this. As did Sam. Storie smiled when she saw the overwhelmed look on the Irishman's face.

"How do you sustain a population without fresh water?" Paloma asked Carlos. As usual, she was miles ahead of Storie, who hadn't even thought about that.

"Fresh water is not an issue for our kind," Carlos said, as though this explained it. "Mr. Waters will speak with you more on the subject."

This evasion of the question frustrated Storie, and she knew that Paloma's patience with vagary was likely wearing thin. Unaware of this, Carlos began leading them up the street. One particularly large house was built into a natural incline of the island and Storie assumed that this was their destination. As they walked past the homes and small shops, they noticed the signs of life inside. A happy young mother nursed a baby on her porch. An old woman came out to give the mother a cup of tea. Both of them waved at Carlos as he passed. The women both wore dresses, but these were not the thick, multi-layered garments Paloma and Storie wore. They looked more like thin cotton shifts, doing little to protect their skin from the elements.

"And your kind aren't sensitive to the cold," Paloma posited as they passed the women. Her suspicions were redoubled when an older man and woman stepped out onto the street. They, too, wore thin garments of cotton and hemp, more similar to what Sam was wearing than what Carlos, Paloma and Storie wore.

"Correct," Carlos said simply.

Storie was surprised by the extent to which the inhabitants of the island were immune to cold. Werewolves ran hot, which was why Storie and Paloma wore only thick dresses and knee-length coats instead of long cloaks, scarves and hats to drive off the chilly Pacific wind. But Storie knew that she and Paloma would be shivering within moments if they were dressed in the thin clothes of the islanders. She found this deeply unsettling.

Storie also noted that Sam had been spot-on in his observations. Even the old man had long white hair. He waved cheerily as they walked past.

"Do they know what we are?" Paloma asked Carlos.

"They know that your presence means good things for us," Carlos replied. "Mr. Waters has shared with them his conviction that an alliance between our units would benefit both."

Paloma had had enough. "Sir," she said in a harsh tone, stopping in the street. Carlos turned to her, clearly startled. "I am an alpha. You are treating me as though I am a schoolchild and I will not stand for it any longer. I am accustomed to having my questions answered directly, not being led around by the nose, possibly walking into a trap." She stepped toward him. Carlos shrank back in fright. "Need I show you how finished I am?"

Carlos swallowed. Behind Paloma, Storie straightened her shoulders as she, too, stared coolly at Carlos.

Carlos reached for something. Paloma reached to snatch his wrist just as his hand landed on a large dagger on his hip.

Paloma and Storie looked down at the weapon. "Silver?" Paloma asked, her voice ice-cold.

Carlos nodded once.

Paloma stared hatefully at him before she released his wrist and shoved him back a step. "Then I think we are done here."

"Agreed," Storie said, turning on her heel to follow her alpha. "Sam, come on."

Sam hurried after them as the two women walked briskly across the cobblestone and back toward the steps in the forest that would lead to the docks.

"Ladies!" came a shout from behind them. "Please, stop!"

Storie was inclined to ignore the voice, but Paloma stopped and turned, her dark eyes sharp.

On the street beside Carlos stood a beautiful Black woman with a magnificent halo of natural-textured hair floating serenely around her face and down her back. She, too, wore the thin attire of the island. The sleeves had been cut off of her dress, making it look like an undershirt. She was barefoot and beautiful as she gently approached them on the cobblestone, her hands held up imploringly.

"Please don't leave," she begged, pointing back up to the large house on the hill. "Please. My husband will explain everything."

"You're a Waters?" Paloma asked.

The woman nodded. "My name is Beulah. Beulah Waters." She gave them an apologetic smile and reached to wrap an arm around Carlos. "I am sorry. We are afraid of your abilities. We took precautions."

Paloma was not moved. Beulah looked down at the dagger on Carlos's hip and drew it from the thin scabbard before she tossed it gently onto the forest dirt beside her. "There. It was our mistake. We are sorry," Beulah said.

"We have been pulled away from our pack and onto an island in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by you, your unit, and whatever abilities you all have. We are outnumbered," Paloma said sharply. She stepped closer to Beulah. "We came here in good faith and I have been disrespected since I read that vague letter of your husband's. The man assigned to attend us has a weapon that can burn us from the inside out. I am not impressed by your fear."

Beulah gave Paloma a sad smile. Paloma was not particularly tall, but she rose over Beulah nearly as much as Storie rose over Sam. "Then let me impress it upon you," she whispered. She gestured around with slow movements and open hands. "The two of you could slaughter all of us in minutes. Just one of you could kill every last soul on this island and we would be defenseless against you. The stories of your abilities are thrilling and terrifying. On land, my kind are helpless. On land, your kind reign supreme. We were scared."

Beulah stepped back. "Come, please. My husband has a demonstration prepared to show you exactly what we can do."

"Storie, shift," Paloma said. Storie did as she was told. Beulah didn't flinch, but Carlos took a small step back.

Sam reached to pat Storie's head.

Smell her, Paloma ordered over the mindlink.

Storie gently crept forward. Beulah crouched in front of her wolf form and held her hands out. Storie sniffed them, then circled around to smell her dress and hair.

Before Storie could shift back and reveal her puzzling findings, she was tackled. She knew immediately from the weight and clumsiness that a child had grabbed her in a huge embrace. She turned her head to see a little Black boy, maybe two years old, grinning happily as he rubbed his cheek against her fur.

Words were exchanged. Someone yelled for their child. Storie nuzzled the boy and licked his cheek. He giggled happily and she poked her snout into his tummy. He hugged her around the neck, accidentally pulling on her fur. Storie tried to extricate herself from him so he would stop pulling.

Beulah reached down to grab the child. Once he was on her hip, Storie shifted back into her human form. She couldn't stop herself from smiling when she saw the look of awe on the little boy's face.

But she noticed something else. On the side of the toddler's neck were three parallel lines, like old scars, barely darker than his skin.

"What are the wounds on his neck?" she demanded of Beulah, spitting mad at the thought of someone hurting a child so young and happy. If Beulah didn't answer correctly, Storie was ready to massacre the island.

"They aren't wounds," Beulah said, lifting her hair to reveal that she also had a similar set of scars on both sides of her neck. The only difference between her markings and the child's was that she had four lines instead of three.

Carlos shifted his hair to show that he, too, had four lines on either side of his neck.

Paloma rested a hand on Storie's shoulder, calming her. "I suppose that is why you all wear your hair long?" she asked.

Beulah smiled as she handed the little boy back to his apologetic mother, who gave Storie an awkward smile before she carried the boy back down the street. Then Beulah nodded to Paloma. "Precisely."

"Storie, what did you smell?" Paloma asked.

Storie shook her head. "Just... salt. Seaweed. Sand."

"Silver? Smoke? Herbs?" Paloma asked, listing off the warning signs.

"None," Storie replied.

"Alpha Delgado," Carlos implored, stepping forward. "I am deeply impressed by you and all you stand for. Please, do not interpret my fear of your abilities for mistrust or disrespect. To me..." He held his hands aloft. "To all of us, you are revered."

Paloma considered him. "I appreciate the apology," she decided simply.

"Alpha Delgado, Beta Lovejoy," Beulah continued, stepping forward. Her voice was as light as a song. "Haven't you ever been afraid of someone you respected?"

Storie stayed silent, but she knew what Paloma was thinking. There was a certain air of pained, mournful nostalgia that came off of the alpha in waves when she thought of her time in Louisiana.

"I believe..." Paloma began, her eyes refocusing as she concentrated on the present. "Our two units have vastly different cultures."

Beulah and Carlos smiled. "Indeed," Carlos said. "To Mr. Waters, then?"

He was asking, not directing. He was a quick learner.

"Yes," Paloma said, nodding.