Despite the oncoming rush of spring, the woods were cool. It was a welcome relief from the heavy heat of building and earth-turning that had filled his days since he and Marissa had decided to try homesteading. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the work; it gave him a sense of accomplishment that he had not felt in a long time. But these little intervals in the woods around the cabin, when he slipped away to check his traps, were a welcome respite.

Marissa was not with him. She was so entranced with the pigs they had borrowed from Duncan and Mara to clear their prepared ground for planting that she did not like to leave them alone at the cabin unless they were securely locked away in the pig-shed he had designed and built with Duncan's help. Emrys grinned to himself. Bramley had his mate wrapped around one pudgy little trotter; who knew how fond Marissa was going to be of the piglets promised to them' But she was happy, and that was all that truly mattered to Emrys. Her smile came more easily, and since their awkward encounter after that first full moon, they had learned the value of being embarrassingly honest with one another.

Crouching beside one of his traps - empty - Emrys turned his attention to resetting it, absently noting a splinter that had somehow become caught in the webbing between his right forefinger and thumb. That would have to come out before he healed over it - he'd been stung that way before. Marissa probably had a better method for removing the splinter than taking a knife to the offending limb, which was what he had done before, but then, she had a better method for just about anything. Life with her was just ....better.

As he worked with the little willow trap, he became aware that the woods, normally so welcoming and friendly, had taken on a hostile feeling. A sense of being watched, of a presence not altogether friendly prowling through the trees. He stiffened, raising his head to sniff the air. Marissa would kill him if he got injured again, and yet, he would rather he was injured than that she be put in harm's way.

The scent that reached his nose was a familiar one - not that he knew its owner, but he knew what kind of creature bore a scent like that. He smelled of it himself; Marissa bore a trace of it. A scent that spoke of a life lived on the edges, not just of humanity but of animal kind, too. A scent that attached itself only to those who could change their shape. And this one smelled distinctly canine.

"If you want to talk to me, I suggest you change shape," he said, apparently speaking to thin air. But if he could discern that scent, then its owner was far too close for comfort. "If you're going to attack me, get it over with. I'm not a rabbit, I'm not going to run away just because you smell like a predator."

A low growl sounded behind him. He rose slowly to his feet, turning to find a wolf watching him from the cover of the trees at his back. Yellow eyes glared out at the world, and for a moment, Emrys was uncertain. The wolf seemed hostile, and yet it wasn't attacking. It was calm and quiet, and yet, it growled when spoken to. His eyes narrowed as he looked at it.

"We don't tolerate violence for violence's sake on this land," he said firmly, wishing his silver-bladed knife was in his hand, not sheathed at his back. "Either change and state your business, or leave. I will not say it twice."

The wolf growled once again, but made no move toward him. Instead, it sat down on its haunches and began to shift. Most weres he had known would have removed themselves behind a tree to shift from wolf to man, or vice versa, and yet this one did no such thing. It kept eye contact with him throughout the painful process, the shedding of fur, the breaking and resetting of bones, until at last a man stood before Emrys, totally nude but for a small pouch hung about his neck.

Emrys stood his ground, almost eye to eye with a werewolf who could easily kill him if given even half an inch of leeway. "You're trespassing," he said calmly. "Speak your piece. What do you want?"

"I wanted to see the male who smells like my mate," the man said, just as calmly. His voice was harsh, and there was still a hint of the yellow in his eyes as he held Emrys' gaze.

The words hit Emrys like a blow, but he was quick to recover. There was only one female he could possibly smell like, but ....she was dead. He had killed her when they were newly teenagers, that was the reason he had been held at bay and cast out when he was old enough to fend for himself. He remembered anew the blood on his hands, Seren's blood, his beloved sister's last mortal remains already eaten by scavengers by the time he came to that morning. And now this male stood before him and said that ....It was impossible.

"You've seen me," Emrys managed, forcing himself to keep his voice level. There was no need to show his sense of imbalance to this stranger. "Who is your mate?"

"Mine," the man growled, and for a brief moment, Emrys saw a flicker of fury in his eyes. He had to fight not to smirk at the realization that, whoever this female was, she was evidently not mated to the male standing in front of him.

"Give me her name," he insisted, still holding his ground. His hand, however, slipped behind his back, taking hold of the hilt that nestled there. There was violence in this other male, barely contained. "Why should I believe a word you say?"

"Seren," the other man ground out from between clenched teeth. "She is mine. I know her scent like no other's. Her scent is close to yours. Why?"

The name was a shock. Emrys had told only Marissa his dead sister's name. If this was some elaborate scheme, the male should have had no name to give him. "And where is she?" he demanded to know.

"In the city." The other male grinned, but it was not a friendly expression. It was self-satisfied, arrogant, and cruel. Emrys found his hand clenching about the hilt of the knife at his back. Even if all this were true, he highly doubted that Seren would ever allow herself to be mated by this ....creature. "Always in the city."

"Then she'll be safe there," Emrys said sternly. "And you are still trespassing. Leave, and there won't be repercussions."

The other male snorted derisively. "You're no threat to me, weakling."

Emrys' hand flashed out from behind his back, the blade leaving a smoking scoreline along the male's bare arm. "I'm no weakling," he snarled, his own teeth clenched now. "I've killed worse than you in my time. Go back to the city, pup. You don't know what you're walking in out here."

There was murder in the yellow eyes that glared at him, the promise to rend flesh in the sharpened teeth that snarled. But despite the madness of that reaction, Emrys saw the cold, calculating sanity behind those eyes, a sanity that was careful to consider just how likely it was that Seren, if she was alive, would mate him if he tried to kill her own brother. It was that sanity that sent a chill down Emrys' spine, watching as the madness and fury was drawn back under a very thin veneer of control. This wolf was dangerous.

"Gone," the male growled, shifting back to wolf even as he turned away, loping through the trees and out of sight.

Emrys stood perfectly still for a very long time, his mind whirling. Seren was alive" But what proof did he have" The word of a half-crazed wolf who seemed to recognize his scent as being similar to the female he wanted to mate himself. The word of a man who was obviously used to getting his own way, and just as obviously used to obtaining his way by means of violence. If Seren was alive, then how" How long had she been here, in Rhy'Din city' Why had they never crossed paths?

He shook his head, feeling the sense of the woods around him return to normal in the wake of the intruder's departure. Glancing down at the trap by his foot, he came to a decision, frowning at the unease that drove that decision to be made at all. Turning on his heel, he headed back toward the cabin.

He had to speak to Marissa.