Her name was Clara Neagle, and it was the first thing that popped into Sammy's head when he woke up the next morning. Odysseus had sent him to scout the front of their property for anyone who might have followed her, but Sammy suspected that it had been a tactic simply to give her space while the alphas escorted her to the pack house and gave her a room to sleep in.

Still, he woke up eager to get to know her. She had an air of sadness and mystery to her. And, well, he knew what that was like. Perhaps they were kindred spirits. All he knew about her so far was that she had been mistreated by someone in Carter's would-be pack, and that's why she had come to them.

Sammy had heard Odysseus and Hatchet discussing them once. They weren't happy with the situation. So the story went, Patrick Carter had been the son of a former member of Argo, who had been banished for trying to sleep with Odysseus's mother. And Patrick, rather than blaming his father, nursed a grudge against Argo and refused to let it go. The rogues liked to push the envelope, getting away with anything and everything they could just shy of bringing the Order down on them. A couple of them were wanted by the police for property damage in some small town in Florida, but Carter helped them break out and convinced to ride up north with him on stolen motorcycles. Once, the pack had smelled their scents on the wind at the border of their territory, and it had made some of the more hotheaded members fighting mad. Sammy had kept well out of everyone's ways that day. 

He leapt out of bed and made it in record time, though at the sacrifice of its usual neatness. Sammy had no idea how his interactions with this girl would go, but he was eager to find out.

Of course, he could hear the murmur of pack members downstairs, talking just low enough amongst each other so their exact words couldn't be deciphered from up here. It sounded like half the pack was down there, which was no big surprise, really. No doubt word of the new member had gotten out before the sun had even risen. Werewolves were worse gossips than old ladies.

He hovered at his door, staring at Clara's for any clue, however slight, that he might be welcome. He recalled her reaction to seeing him, and the last thing he wanted was a repeat of what happened with Reilly. No, he knew he would have to keep his distance for a while and wait for an opening, even though he really, really wanted to meet her now.

He heard the squeak of the door knob, and momentarily panicked, wondering how he should play this. He almost retreated back into his room when [i]Elizabeth[/i] emerged through the doorway. She glanced his way and smiled. "Hey, bro," she said, quietly.

"Hey, sis. Uh, whatcha doin' in there?" he asked at the same volume.

"Checking up on our new houseguest. Aunt Night Sky asked me to introduce myself and give her a medical once-over."

He looked over her shoulder, to the door beyond. "How is she?" he asked.

Elizabeth took his hand and started leading him away, towards the stairs. "Exhausted. She didn't tell me everything, but she said she came out of a bad situation. It took a lot of courage for her to finally pack a bag and run away."

A sympathetic whine crawled up his throat. "Think she'll spend the whole day in there?" he asked, sparing another glance back before they started to descend.

"I have no idea, I only just met her." Halfway down the stairs, she stopped, and turned to face him. "Bro, I know what you're thinking, and let me give you some advice. Cool your jets."

Sammy straightened out, and tried to play dumb. "Huh?"

Elizabeth reached up, and tapped on his chest. "I get it. You're lonely. There's not enough people here your age, and you're hoping for a chance to make a new friend. Just be patient."

She looked around. "Now, what was I doing? Oh, right, going to bed, derp. Just got home from another night shift." She took a couple steps back up the stairs so she could plant a kiss on his cheek before climbing up the rest of the way to disappear into her room.

***

Sammy would be the first to admit he could be paranoid, but he could have sworn the alphas' eyes had been boring on him when he went into the kitchen, so he sandwiched his sausages between his French toast and took them to go, scarfing down his breakfast on his way to the barn before he buried his head in chores. Those only lasted him so long, however, but Odysseus called him over and handed him the keys to Hatchet's van with the instructions to pick him up from the airport. The odds were, Odysseus just wanted Sammy away from the house for a little while, and honestly Sammy couldn't blame him. Even if it meant navigating that lumbering monstrosity that everyone in the pack referred to as 'the Beast' for two hours to get it to the airport.

"You didn't scratch my van, did you?" was the first question out of Hatchet's mouth when he emerged out of the terminal. His only luggage was a single old-fashioned leather suitcase that was probably older than Sammy.

Sammy shoved his hands into his pocket, pulled out the keys and tossed them his mentor's way. "Even if I did, how would you be able to tell?"

Hatchet caught the keys mid-air without even diverting his stare from Sammy for a second. "Not many men have the balls to give me lip like that," he said, then strode past Sammy with the air of a man who'd had the last word.

It was a long trek to the far end of the airport's parking lot, but Hatchet never parked any closer. "Are you too tired to drive home?" Sammy asked.

Hatchet just growled and got behind the wheel. Sammy just muttered a little prayer under his breath before climbing in the passenger seat. Soon they were on the road, and the usual blanket of quiet settled over them. Normally, Sammy didn't mind how little Hatchet spoke to him. The man rarely spoke to anybody, it was just his way. And if he didn't like Sammy, then he wouldn't tolerate him in his presence. On the other hand, Sammy had some questions.

"So... how did things go with your daughter?" he asked over the singing of Fred Astaire.

The van's engine revved as Hatchet momentarily increased pressure on the pedal. "What do you know about that?"

"Uh, Odysseus told me you were goin' to Germany on pack business and that the alpha was your daughter," Sammy said in a small voice.

"Nothing else?"

"Nothin' else. I just figured it was pack alliances stuff."

"Argo doesn't have alliances," Hatchet corrected. "Only reason we're so chummy with California is because they split off from Argo and there's still enough family relations between the two that the officials who keep track of these things consider them a sub-pack, though you don't tell them that to their faces. But aside from that, Argo maintains a neutral stance whenever pack feuds happen. And believe me, they do happen."

"Oh." While Sammy appreciated the lesson, the conversation was derailing from the question he wanted to ask. And if Hatchet hadn't gone on official business, then it was all personal matters, and Sammy knew better than to delve into Hatchet's personal matters. "So, if you have a daughter, I assume that means you had a wife, yeah?"

Hatchet grunted. "That's the way it was done in those days."

"So... you know a thing or two about women, right?"

"Hah!" he shouted loudly enough to make Sammy jump. Thankfully, he was buckled in tight.

"What makes you ask that, cub?" he said next.

"Well, uh... there's a new girl in the pack."

"What?"

"She showed up last night. Asked for protection from Marley."

Hatchet smacked the top of the steering wheel and swore. "This could be trouble. Marley doesn't have enough wolves to take us on, but he's a damn fool and there's no telling what he'll do. How badly is he gonna want this girl back?"

Sammy shrugged. "I dunno. I saw the girl when she came to the border, but by that point she'd already explained things to Odysseus and Night Sky. I told you everything I know."

"Well, no doubt Nick will fill me in when we get home," Hatchet said. The van started picking up speed.

They'd gone off on another tangent again, but Sammy didn't know how to get it back on track, or even if it was worth it. So he rode in silence, until Hatchet spoke again. "This girl. I'm assuming you think she's cute."

"I think she's the only girl my age in the pack," Sammy answered. "I don't wanna get my hopes up until I actually meet her."

"Smart," Hatchet said, which made Sammy perk up a little bit. Hatchet was not a man who doled out compliments lightly. "Listen. Just because I was married, doesn't mean I knew what I was doing. Everyone was having kids after World War II. It was just the thing to do, and I was horny. By the time I found out she only wanted me for the social status of being married to a Chosen, it was too late. I didn't know a damn thing about women back then, and I sure as hell don't know a damn thing about them now, and things are a lot more complex now than they were back then. You want advice about women, ask Nick. He's the ladies' man. Or, hell, ask Liam. We [i]all [/i]know what he gets up to at school."

"Yeah, we do," Sammy muttered in agreement. "At least [i]you[/i] don't hafta share a room with him."