The Taste of Home

Chapter 4

The females guarding Saguaro Pack's territory greeted Miguel with thrums of relief. "We thought they wouldn't let you come home," Esmeralda said.

Martha sniffed him as she searched for any signs of injuries, wincing at the claw marks on his chest. "Is it true Isabella did this?"

"On accident."

The pair let out the breaths they'd been holding. There were certainly worse ways to get hurt, as other members of their pack were keenly aware.

"She's waiting for you in the barn." Martha wrinkled her nose. "Might want to bathe before you go in. You reek of humans."

Miguel thanked them and ambled into Saguaro Pack's territory or, more accurately, Mr. Miller's farm.

On one side were the orchards that stretched across the horizon like rows of claws, the branches barren as winter's chill gnawed on them. The other held the pastures, populated only by the ever-present stench of manure now that the livestock had been herded inside for the evening.

Though the farm had many barns, only one belonged to the pack. What had once been a noble red building now shed flecks of paint in the slightest breeze as the old wood groaned in protest. Cracks in the roof provided unwelcome skylights that stabbed their eyes with sunlight every morning and left the hay they bedded on musty when it rained.

Yet, decrepit as it was, it was home.

The sound of slurping welcomed Miguel to the barn. While many had already fed on the coyotes and other prey the hunting parties had caught during the day, those too old or infirm to hunt for themselves were just now dining on whatever the farmer had allotted them.

All save Miguel. He could not hunt anything large enough to pass for a meal, yet Isabella always made sure he had his pick of the choicest cuts even when others had to settle for scraps. As his packmates grew leaner, the glares that followed him grew sharper.

Once again, Isabella had saved something for him. A goat stared up at Miguel with wide eyes as it bleated in terror. An actual, living goat with plenty of flesh fattening its sides and long, curving horns. Not even a pack leader could wish for a finer feast.

"Thought you might still be hungry." Isabella tugged the lead wrapped around the goat's neck, guiding it toward him. "Valentina had this sent over to apologize for missing our meeting, but you deserve it much more than I do."

"I'm actually full," Miguel said. Two bowls of soup and some pudding weren't quite enough to sate his hunger, but he had too much on his mind to worry about the dull ache in his stomach.

"Suit yourself." She beckoned to José, a gangly young male keeping watch over a pair of hatchlings tussling in the hay. "Why don't you go share this with your mother? She'll need it when your brothers and sisters hatch."

"Thank you, Isabella." He bowed his head, wincing as one of the youngsters clamored onto his back and swatted his shoulders. "Hunting practice isn't nearly as fun when there's only one target."

"You make a much better goat than I do," Miguel said with a chuckle. "I'll show them how to block a burrow tomorrow, give your back a break."

"Looking forward to it!" José took hold of the goat's lead before dragging it and his younger siblings off to where their mother lay curled around her eggs.

"That's, what, her fourth clutch?" Miguel shook his head as the young ones took turns pouncing at the doomed prey, each leap sending terrified bleats echoing through the barn. "She's going to have her claws full."