"So I hear there's a lake down the hill?" I asked, dumping the toxic punch mixture at the bottom of a tree and tossing the offending cup.

"There is," replied Gordon, handing me a new glass of lemonade. "Care to take a walk and look it over?"

I paused for a moment, thinking it over.

"I promise I don't bite," he added with a chuckle, hands up as if to show he was harmless.

"You don't... or you don't bite hard?" My mouth betrayed me before my brain could even slap a hand over it. A bright blush blossomed across my cheeks painfully. "Sorry, that was horrid. I just... wow."

Gordon threw back his head and laughed. "Come on."

I pressed my lips together tightly, a mortified expression etched onto my face. At least he laughed, I thought to try and lick my wounds.

The path was well kept and well worn into the dirt, more than likely from generations making the trip to the water's edge.

"So is your pack relatively close by?" I asked, attempting to break my awkward silence.

"Not too far. Probably about a day's drive South West into the Eastern corner of Utah. What about you?"

I shook my head and chuckled. "California desert, so it was a drive."

Gordon chuckled. "Man, talk about dedication. The others in the car didn't drive you nuts?"

I shot him a glance out of the corner of my eye. "It was just me in the car, and I think I like myself enough to not get on my bad side.

"I would have gone crazy," he replied, shaking his head. "I know you probably had the radio and such keeping you occupied but I'm used to constant chatter that it'd be a jarring difference."

"I take it your ride was a full house?"

"A dog, pony, and donkey show," he admitted. I turned to look at him, eyes wide. It took him a second to realize why I gave him that look before he blushed beet red.

He winced, then groaned "That's... not what I meant. Not a donkey show donkey show. Just, like... a circus. Gods."

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes to avoid rambling further.

I pressed my lips tight and tried to keep a neutral face, but failed as laughter escaped like bubbles from a freshly opened soda. "I'll take that as my compensation for being the only one to try that awful punch."

"Fair," he chuckled ruefully, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

We walked in companionable silence for a bit before I asked, "So besides being a bit of a circus, what's your pack like?"

"I'd say typical pack, but in my years of leading and meeting other groups, there's really no such thing," he shrugged, then added, "it's a lot like Ironpine. We are growing and have made it a point to try and work together to strive for more."

"Unlike Ironpine," he continued, watching a group of young men play around with a football, "we have an active community of Kinfolk that live among us."

"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "That's-that's actually pretty progressive. How has the reception been for that decision?"

"A few packs have decided to emulate our example," he nodded before grimacing. "Others have been judgmental and even more have been openly hostile."

"There are a good number of packs that are still incredibly old fashioned in that respect. Even those born to wolves that are wolfless are seen as beneath them."

"There's that," he admitted with a sigh, "but others are angry that we openly accept anyone that is in the know. So the packs that have been treating mixed couples or wolfless families like crap have been bleeding out to our benefit."

"Now," he added with a shrug, "We've got wolfless kids, human mates, even a few who just grew up around the pack and never left. They're as much family as anyone else."

I smiled warmly, eyes cast down to where we were going. "I wish my ex husband was as open minded as you. He demanded the pack be so traditional it nearly choked us to death."

"Ex-husband?" Gordon asked, dark eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Not many divorces in our kind."

"Long story," I frowned. "But to make it short, chosen mates since we were young. He found his fated. End of story. At least our story." I blinked a few times and looked away from my companion in an effort to hide the traitorous tears that threatened to build.

"That's shitty, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," I shrugged before pausing in our walk. We had reached the "top" of the trail and could see out across the lake. Tall pines circled the lake as if to keep it secret from the rest of the world, though the sun reflected off the water like a spotlight. As if the lake were trying to shout to the world 'here I am! Notice me!' The group of young guys thundered past, expertly weaving through the trees while still tossing the football back and forth.