#Chapter 52: Mating Mark

Third Person Arthur arrived back at the packhouse by sundown, his feet sore from running halfway across the filthy human city all day. But he felt little relief as he saw the peaked roof and sprawling gardens come into view, because it meant that his day as a servant was long from over. And of course, there she was—the woman with long dark hair and large, nearly black eyes—standing on the front step and tapping her foot impatiently. “You’re late,” she hissed, acting as if it was some big deal if he took five minutes longer than expected on his errand. “Here.” Arthur handed the brown paper bag over to the woman, a little out of breath from hurrying back to the pack land in such a rush. She snatched it from his hands and peered at the contents inside—soap, cigarettes, a couple cans of that hard cider stuff that humans liked so much. Everything that the Elders occasionally liked to indulge in. Things that couldn’t be found within the pack borders. Arth