Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

form, they were still his wolves) entered the room. As soon as they saw him, their footfalls quieted further. They dropped their heads, tucked their hands under the opposite arms, took a quick, comprehensive look at Warren’s wounds and left.
    When Honey came in, she was sporting a bruise on the side of her face that was healing visibly fast. A half hour later there would have been no sign of it at all. She gave Adam a quick look from the hallway. He nodded his head—it was the first reaction he’d given to any of the visitors.
    She scooted around Samuel’s chair, then sat down on the floor beside Kyle. She gave Adam another look, but when he didn’t object she quietly introduced herself to Kyle, touched him on the shoulder, then settled against the wall with her head leaned back and her eyes closed.
    A few visitors later a blond man with a short, reddish beard came into the room. I didn’t know him by sight, though I recognized his scent as belonging to one of Adam’s pack. I’d quit paying attention to the visitors—and would have ignored this one as well except for two things.
    His posture didn’t change as he walked through the doorway—and Adam’s did. Adam pushed against the wall with his shoulders, propelling himself completely upright. Then he took two steps forward until he stood between Warren and the stranger.
    The red bearded man was a head taller than Adam, and for a second tried to use that extra height as an advantage—but he was no match for the Alpha. Without a word or an aggressive move, Adam backed him down.
    Samuel appeared not to notice anything. I doubt that anyone else would have seen readiness in the slowly tightening muscles of his shoulder.
    â€œWhen he is well,” Adam said, “if you give fair challenge, Paul, I won’t stop the fight.”
    Under the Marrok’s rule, there were very few sanctioned fights—real fights, not just a couple of snaps and a bite or two. That was one of the reasons there were more werewolves in the New World than in Europe, where the werewolf, like the fae, had originated.
    I can usually sort out the pack from most dominant to least (or the reverse), just from body language. Wolves are better at it than I am. Humans, if they pay attention, do the same thing—though it’s not nearly as important to them as it is to the wolves. For a human it might mean getting a promotion or not, or winning a hard-fought argument. For a werewolf, survival depends upon the pack—and a pack is a complex social and military hierarchy that depends upon each member knowing exactly what his place is.
    Dominance among wolves is a combination of force of personality, strength of will, physical ability and a component of other that I can’t explain to anyone without the eyes, ears, and nose to sense it—and those with the proper senses wouldn’t need it explained. Willingness to fight is as close as I can come. It is because of that other that, outside of a pack, the natural dominance of a wolf changes within a fairly broad range. Like all of us, some days they are tired, depressed, or happy—all of these affect natural dominance.
    In a pack, these natural swings are gradually sifted through. In wolves that are near-dominants, sometimes a fight between them will allow strength to determine pack rank. An Alpha’s second and third were the next two most dominant males in the pack.
    Warren, among enemies, was quiet and watchful, rather than adapting the more typical aggressiveness of a dominant male. His body language skills weren’t even as good as mine because he’d spent so little time with a pack when he was first Changed. He ran beside the pack, rather than inside it. Because of that, he was vulnerable to challenge from wolves who thought they might be stronger, better, faster.
    It was Adam, I knew, who told the others that Warren was his third. If Adam had been less dominant, less well-liked or respected, there would have been blood shed over his declaration. I knew Adam’s determination was right—but I was one of the few people for whom Warren dropped his guard.
    A significant minority of the wolves felt that Warren wasn’t strong enough for the position he held. I knew—from Jesse rather than from any of the wolves involved—that some of the wolves wanted Warren out of the pack or, even better, dead.
    Evidently this Paul was one of those, and one dominant