CAINE
I stand in the middle of the main lodge, keeping my expression neutral while Blue Mountain wolves exchange glances and wrinkle their noses. Dylan's covered from head to toe in dried mud and slime, smelling of swamp and death rot. If it weren't for the pack bond between us, I'd doubt his identity.
But it's him, gripping an equally muddy Sadie's collar with a death grip and dangling a grumpy-looking, once-white cat in his other arm. Whatever adventure the animals went through was very obviously torture for Dylan, who's gone without sleep to relentlessly track them since they bolted.
"High Alpha," Dylan says through clenched teeth, his dignity barely intact as Sadie's tail swishes slowly across the floor to smear more muck across the polished floor. "I've returned with your… pets."
