Salmon fillets sizzled in the remnants of their olive oil slathering and the generous butter blob Casey had garnished with garlic and honey dribbles. She spooned the mix over their dinner with a teaspoon and careful concentration.

Once the fish was seared beautifully she plucked them from the pan and into bowls. She put the larger piece in Georgie’s, Georgie laughed and swapped them. Then, in the pool of melted salty, sugary goodness she tossed their veggies to cook for a few minutes.

Even in the evening chill Georgie had to puff to cool down each bite enough to put it in her mouth. Wedged back in between Casey’s knees she could lift her spork up to get her soon-to-be mate working like bellows when she needed a break. Casey ate over her with great care when she didn’t need her blowing assistance. The salmon was almost fluffy, the vegetables had a bite to them, and there was no beating butter, honey and garlic. It was delicious and Georgie fought to the very end to finish it.

The crackles of the fire seemed louder now that there was no clinking and clanking of their bowls. Or maybe it was wailing because it was dying out. They didn’t need it to stay warm, they had their fur if the weather actually turned wintery. It was beautiful to stare into, though, and comforting to feel the heat on your face when you leant in. And, of course, the marshmallow possibilities. Humans invented the treat, werewolves invented the toasting.

Georgie stroked her belly and let out a long hum in protest against her fullness. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Casey’s hand extending.

“Don’t you dare,” she groaned. “If you tickle me I’ll throw up.”

Casey thought about that risk for a moment. “I do have to share a bed with you tonight…”

“Have to?” Georgie twisted her neck and looked her over with scathing eyes. “You can sleep outside if it’s too much trouble.”

“Bad choice of words! I love sleeping with you! Next to you, I mean.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes, settling back against her. “I’m just messing with you.”

“So mean.” Her pout was audible.

Georgie cracked a lid. “Outside is still an option.”

“I love you,” she sang sweetly.

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

“Help me into the tent. I want to get in my jammies but I feel so heavy.”

Casey looped her arms through the backs of her knees and stood, lifting her like a sack of flour bent at the middle.

“Uuugh you’re squeezing my tummy!”

“Sorry!” She hurried to their tent, a triangular canvas they had carried with them on adventures for a decade. In a deep squat she released her and Georgie flopped forward with her head inside and the rest of her laid out on the dirt.

“I just need a minute,” she moaned before Casey could question her.

Casey waited, knees bent and butt almost to the ground, never any impatience in her body to show.

Georgie dragged herself the rest of the way inside, taking care not to bring half the forest’s dirt with her and dusting off her feet right before they crossed the threshold. The bed was made up of layers of blankets and a couple of pillows. It had fit all three of them even until they were all grown up. She rumpled the covers with her clumsy climbing and searching for her stack of clothes. They packed light although mud was inevitable. From the middle she pulled free her folded nightdress and shook it out. Today’s clothes hadn’t gotten too mucky, she could get away with folding them back up into the pile. As she took the hem of her top in her hands, she realised the figure squatting in the tent opening remained. Casey was still. Eerily so.

Georgie looked to her uncertainly. Had she forgotten something? Her elbows rested on her knees, her bare feet balanced her evenly, not even her abs were flexing and squeezing like they often did when Georgie found herself ogling them. She was a statue. One whose eyes followed you around the room.

“Do you intend to watch?” she asked softly. Genuinely uncertain as to whether she wanted her to or not. Georgie wasn’t of age for acts of the downstairs department… that didn’t rid her of the urges for the gorgeous, shirtless alpha crouched through the tent flaps.

It took Casey a moment to react to the question. “I shouldn’t.” She swallowed. “I should do the washing up.” She lingered, though, drinking her in with her eyes for just a little too long. Taking what she could of her before dragging herself away.

―

Even from her place tucked up under the top blanket, knees to tummy, Georgie could hear every action outside clearly. Casey gathering water from the lake to use in the washing up bowl with splash-accompanied-stomps. The clack and clatter of her heavy-handed dunking. The slosh of her spilling the soapy water. Hissed curse words that would indicate the suds got on her shorts.

Georgie smiled at the sloping tent wall on her side of the bed. She could fall asleep to her bumbling noises, her legs were weary enough and her stomach full enough, but she kept her eyes open with stubborn determination. When Casey crept in to join her, she wanted the option to entangle herself with her radiator body.

By the time Casey finally peeled open the pair of hanging canvas pieces making up the door, Georgie’s eyes were stinging and there was nothing to see inside any more. Casey sat in the doorway and shucked off her clothes with her back to her and only the moonlight squeezing in to offer her a glimpse of her outline. Her shoulder muscles bunched and flexed until she covered them with her pajama top. Her bottoms were slipped on with her lower half still hanging out the tent. The modesty was appreciated by Georgie. It was really only Casey that had to struggle with the mate maturity rules. She never complained. The craving was dark in her eyes sometimes, though. It could make Georgie skittish. Like she wanted to bare her throat and bend over and submit to her-

“I forgot to brush my teeth,” Casey whispered near her head.

“I can tell,” Georgie teased.

She heard, rather than saw, her sit up with a whoosh. It was a wonder she didn’t bump her head on the low ceiling. “Really?”

“No! I didn’t do mine either. Too tired. We’ll brush extra hard in the morning.”

“Does that mean I can still kiss you goodnight?”

Georgie answered with her actions. She rolled over, swinging her leg wide and hooking it over Casey’s hip, and reached for where her neck should be. Her muscle memory was getting good, she latched to the back of it and kissed her slow and easy. Everything with Casey was easy. Her love for her was effortless. A seed planted at birth and nurtured for so long there was no way she could dig it back out of her heart. The roots were intertwined with her own nerves and arteries. The tickle of tentative touch along the edge of her nightdress skirt rolled her hips forward without thought. She wanted Casey’s hands to sink, to take their hot grip deep beneath. Her upper thighs ached for her to squeeze them, to part them and push them down flat.

Casey grumbled into her mouth, “No more. I-” She snatched Georgie’s bottom lip and pinched it between her teeth just long enough to draw a whimper from her. “I can’t.” Georgie knew it to be true from the lump growing in her pj shorts, despite Casey’s best efforts to keep it from pressing into her.

She fell back, withdrawing her leg and offering her a little space to breathe. “Maybe a dip in the lake would cool you off.” Half in and half out of the covers, she stretched until her fingertips reached the top end of their tent.

Casey had scooted to the very edge of her half of the bed. “You have no idea what that feels like with mate maturity,” she chuckled. There was a shake to it, like she’d just crossed the finish line of another of their races. Her lungs not quite able to get full capacity again yet. “It’s maddening to stop. Like I could actually just start humping your leg like a dog.”

“That would be hot.”

“Stop it,” she groaned.

“Wanna go fertilise the bushes again?”

She was silent.

“Can I watch you do it?”

She heard the shocked intake of breath and could only guess what her face looked like. To be honest, the words had rushed out her mouth before she’d really thought it through.

“Is that allowed?” Casey mumbled. “I thought those parts were off limits.”

Now she’d thrown the possibility out there, Georgie was willing to petition for it. “I won’t touch it.”

She was awkward in her attempt to respond. “Yeah, but…”

“And I’ve seen it before.”

“Since mate maturity we haven’t, you know- I mean, we’ve been actually trying not to look.”

“It’s not possible to never see-”

Casey’s face snapped to the side. “Have you been secretly looking?”

“No! But-”

“Georgie!” she gasped. Serious didn’t suit her. “I’m the older one, I’m supposed to be protecting you from mate maturity until you reach it.”

“And you do a great job!” She was gentle and patient and Georgie had never once felt an ounce of pressure from her. If anything, she was overly aware of how much Casey was hiding the struggle of being in her presence all the time. She put on a contented front for Georgie, made her jokes and light-hearted griping. It was a sense Georgie had, nothing she could present as evidence, that Casey was fighting internally near-constantly. “I’m completely innocent thanks to you!”

“Don’t say that like an accusation,” she laughed. “It’s the right thing. You’re too young.”

“So if I’m too young, what do you think about when you handle it?”

Her silence was damning.

Georgie spluttered into wild cackles. “You do think of me!”

“Of course I do!” Her fluster only tickled her more. “You’re my soul mate.”

“I’m only twenty,” Georgie said on a disappointed sigh. “How could you think of me like that?”

She heard her swallow. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Georgie cleared the tent’s width in one fling, finding her again in the dark and wrapping herself over her front. “Don’t say sorry! I was only teasing you!” She kissed away her own guilt, following her hairline, then her neck, her hands clung to the shoulders of her t-shirt, her thighs clamped to her hips. Casey was so warm she could just glue herself to her. More and more kisses, maybe a little nibble-

“G-Georgie!” She stiffened, top to bottom.

Georgie stilled too. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see that Casey’s were closed, squeezed shut, actually. She looked almost pained.

“Are you okay?”

“I… need to go brush my teeth.”

“What? We said-”

“I need to go.”

“Oh.” She looked back for the bump that should have been just behind her butt. Only, it had flattened again. It may just be the dark, but she almost thought she could see a stain-

“Georgie,” Casey grunted.

“Yep. Sorry.” She swung her leg back over and scurried back to her own side. It wasn’t her intention to torture her, she hoped Casey knew that. She didn’t need more of her input right now, though, so she hid herself under the blankets and let her deal with it.

On her return, they kept an inch between them for the rest of the night.

The next day they uncovered another, much larger, buried treasure.

Of course, at first, Georgie took part in the rowing of the canoe, carved to fit three. Once the shore was all greige instead of individual stones, her oars were tucked (gingerly, so Casey wouldn’t notice too soon) under her seat and her journal retrieved from her waterproof side bag. Another human invention. Well, wolves had their version back in the day but it involved a long process, animal innards, and wax. Georgie could give it to the fur-less on this one.

Casey ploughed through the water, taking them to where the lake encroached on the forest’s end. When the trees thinned out and drew back they would be at the base of the mountains.

They expected to arrive around lunchtime, and had packed a picnic that rested under the middle seat. Cove’s seat. They would stay until dusk, then row back past their camp to the absolute other end of the lake and cover their canoe up at the bottom of a dyke for safe-keeping before trekking the last of the way back home on four feet each.

They picked up impressive speed and Casey had yet to notice she was solo-powering the boat. Fir trees that fluffily filled either side of the lake began to blur. Georgie took out her coloured pencils and did her best to remember the shades of the leaves from the day before.

She was three pages deep into her sketches and colouring before Casey peered back to check on her and found out she was shirking. She wasn’t mad. She’d never been mad at her. Georgie showed her her leaf collage and Casey complimented it until they started to veer off course and she needed her attention forward-facing again.

In the furthest distance, Georgie was starting to see what she believed were the mountain crests. They were still too far away to really tell, it could just be the shadows under clouds peeking out from atop the trees. She kept her eyes on the line, though, because eventually Borderwatch would be there.

And there it was. A little late for their usual lunch but the view more than made up for it as they reached the the shore. Georgie stared over Casey’s shoulder, open mouthed, at the incredible height and pure vastness. A thin border of trees, like a last line of defence, split the ground between sand and mountain. They were monstrously tall and thick. They left their canoe and lunch beside one, needing to see the mountains proper before anything else. On the other side, Casey let out an exhilarated laugh.

The Borderwatch range felt more fortress than mountain cluster from stood at the bottom. The ridge was surmounted by tattered flags battered by wintery winds. Icicles weaponised the lip beneath, ready to crack and spear at any disturbance. Despite the flags signalling some kind of claiming, there were no scent markers left to dictate that the craggy ascent was being actively defended as any pack’s territory.

Georgie tried to imagine climbing the sheer rock face. Cliff-nesting clans, if they ever truly existed, left no trace to make a trail of. There was nowhere she would feel safe placing her boot to even begin.

“This is…” Georgie shook her head. It didn’t feel real.

“I feel tiny,” Casey laughed. “It’s so massive!”

They hadn’t the time to stray too far, but lunch at the base of Borderwatch was enough to thrill them. They ate in near silence, simply taking it all in (and planning what to bring back for journaling) and basking in the feeling of insignificance beneath mountains that had stood before wolves.

At dusk, they dragged themselves away. Their adult lives awaited them back in the pack, unfortunately.