Sam looked stunned. “Why?”

“Enough, pup,” Simon said. “Let Meg eat her burger in peace.”

But Sam wasn’t done exploring her food choices. “What about deer? Do you like deer better than beef?”

No, she didn’t, but she was getting used to it, just as she was getting used to chops on the menu coming from other animals as well as pigs, and being served freshly caught duck or goose instead of chicken when the meat was listed as “poultry.” She hadn’t, to her knowledge, eaten elk, moose, or horse. She was pretty sure horse wasn’t a meat offered in the Courtyard anymore, which made her wonder who ate the horsemeat now.

“Meg?” Just a hint of concern in Simon’s voice.

Meg set her burger on her plate and picked up her fork to eat some of her salad. “I like deer meat, but I like beef better.”

Sam ate a couple of bites of his burger. Then he turned to Simon. “Maybe Meg doesn’t like eating deer because she doesn’t get any of the best parts. Maybe you could give her some of the heart or—”

Meg’s fork clunked on the plate. She swallowed hard to keep her suddenly queasy stomach from doing something that would ruin everyone’s meal.

Simon’s hand came down on Sam’s head so fast, the boy didn’t have time to flinch let alone avoid his uncle. Not a slap or a grab, just the weight of the leader’s hand giving a warning, keeping a youngster from causing trouble.

Meg heard nothing, but she was sure plenty was being said between them using the terra indigene form of communication. Then Simon removed his hand, discipline completed.

Looking thoroughly chastised, Sam sat with his head bowed, his lower lip quivering, and his hands in his lap.

Meg looked at Simon, who resumed eating his meal as if nothing had happened. She wanted to mimic Simon’s move, put her own hand on Sam’s head, run her fingers through hair that was a mix of gold and Wolf gray. Whether it was fur or hair, the coloring made him distinctive. According to Jane, the Wolfgard bodywalker, the fur would change as Sam matured, becoming more of a gray shot with gold—better coloring for a hunter.

Privately, Meg hoped Sam would retain more of the gold color in his human form. All the girls would have crushes on him—as long as he didn’t talk about his meat preferences.

Anxious looks from Sam. A different kind of look from Simon. More of a question: had Sam ruined her enjoyment of the meal?

Since she didn’t want this to be the only time they ate together like this, she picked up her burger and took another bite, hoping her stomach had settled. She swallowed and nudged Sam. “Eat your burger. And your salad.”

The chastised look faded. Sam gave her a happy puppy grin and attacked his meal with enthusiasm.

Simon focused on his own food, seeming to ignore both of them. But the one time he looked at Meg, his amber eyes were filled with amusement.

Relieved that he wasn’t angry with Sam, and a little bit curious about what had been said that she hadn’t heard, Meg watched a couple of the Addirondak Wolves approach the counter where Michael Debany and Merri Lee were studying the menu board for the day’s offerings. She couldn’t hear them, but it was obvious that the humans were explaining how to place an order, pay for their meal, and receive a number that they would put on their table when they sat down. When the meal was ready, whoever was serving tables that day would bring the food over.

“Prickles?” Simon said so softly Meg barely heard him.

But she saw the way he watched her, and she considered the question. Wolves and humans interacting. She rubbed her foot against her calf. Was that a tingle or just an itch?

Meg shook her head and turned her attention back to her meal. No, there was no danger in the Courtyard. At least, not tonight.

• • •

As they walked out of Meat-n-Greens, Simon caught the back of Sam’s shirt. “Meg and I are going to walk around the Market Square. If you stay out of trouble, we’ll all have a scoop of ice cream before we go home.”

Letting out a happy arroo, Sam raced away from them, heading straight for Nathan and Blair, who looked less than happy about the number of humans shopping in the Market Square that evening.

Watching Sam’s bouncing enthusiasm, Simon linked his fingers with Meg’s and they headed in the other direction. Since Blair led the hunt when the pack needed meat, Simon didn’t want to hear the dominant enforcer’s opinion of a human who preferred beef over venison. Beef had to be brought in from the farms that supplied the Courtyard; venison was available on the hoof right here.

But Simon wondered if he would be the only Wolf who would have a quiet word with Boone Hawkgard to make sure Meg received her share of any beef that came into the butcher shop.

“You eat hearts?” Meg asked as they wandered around the Market Square looking at the stores.

“If I tell you, will you throw up?”

“No.”

He studied her and finally decided she wouldn’t. “I’m the leader of the Courtyard and the dominant Wolf of the pack here. When we bring down game, I have first choice of the heart and liver. When I’ve had as much as I want of those meats, Elliot and Blair take the rest.”

“What about lungs?”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she sounded interested in an “I just found a big spider in my shoe” sort of way.

“We’re Wolves, Meg. We eat most everything on a deer. Even bones. Although a lot of times we don’t eat the smaller ones as they are because they could splinter and get stuck in someone’s throat. So we grind them up with a rock before eating them.”