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“We’re almost finished imbuing the supply of Amanzite you found for us,” Claire says, her hands shaking as she sets them on the table. “But many shifters in the pack are already requesting their replacements. The patrolling shifters go through the magic faster than others, and with the supply we currently have…”

“Should we go back to the market?” Kellen asks, his brow furrowed as he turns to look at me. “To obtain more?”

My mind is only half in this meeting. The other half is stuck firmly in my kitchen, watching as Kira broke into sobs at the simple gesture of someone believing her. It fucking devastated me, somewhere inside, to realize the pain it had been causing her all this time.

To be denied that part of herself. To feel like nobody understood who she really was, or didn’t care to know.

“No,” Leta says, leaning forward and shaking her head. “My contacts in the territory say there have been some stirrings with the Grayhides. We’re not sure what the exact agitation is, but it seems the alpha leader has been on a warpath. It’s not wise to send anyone—and especially not Dorian—back into that territory.”

“I’m not certain that, even if I did go, we would be able to get Amanzite there,” I admit. “The vendor I got it from seemed to be telling the truth when he said he couldn’t get any more.”

There’s a moment of silence as we all sit with what this means—the lack of Amanzite. Without it, our shifters won’t be able to move freely back and forth between their forms. There won’t be the protection of magic. Beyond just avoiding the pain of the transition, there are a hundred other ways the stones assist us in our way of life.

Things we’ve all started to take for granted.

Pacing back and forth in front of the long table, I try to think. This is exactly what my grandfather was trying to prepare me for. Being a good leader isn’t just about taking credit when things go right. It’s about facing problems head-on and finding solutions.

His voice comes to me, “We won’t be able to go over all the possible problems you could face in the future, Dorian. But what we can do is talk about what to do, a system of steps you can take to ensure you find a solution.”

In my mind’s eye, I can see him sitting across from me at the table. Breakfast was never just breakfast with Gramps—it was always an opportunity to talk about my future. Being the alpha leader and being a good one. Doing right by the pack. Ensuring I’d be capable of helping us move forward, avoid the primitive fight-to-the-death style of electing a new leader packs inevitably fall into without strong options.

“What’s the most important thing to remember when it comes to facing problems in the future?”

“I may lead alone,” I’d said, almost like a recitation. “But I’m within the pack, too.”

“Which means?”

“Draw from them. Never try to solve a problem myself—we are stronger as a unit, and that’s why the pack system exists in the first place.”

“Exactly.”

Now, my eyes drift to the window, taking in the scenery. Outside, the day is starting to get hot, the sun high overhead. A lizard scampers from a large red rock and into the shade.

I haven’t sat down for this meeting—it doesn’t feel right, like I need to be on my feet for this. Like I might need to take action at any moment.

“Right now,” I start, feeling their eyes shift to me. “We need to brainstorm. No bad ideas—everyone, let’s think about what we can do to get our hands on more Amanzite.”

“I don’t think we should count out the market,” Kellen says, and Leta narrows her eyes at him, but I just nod.

“Alright, Kellen, I will take that idea into consideration. What else do we have?”

“We could send out scouts over our own land again,” Claire offers, spreading out her palms. She is not a usual member of these meetings, but her presence is starting to become more familiar. Unfortunately for her, the fact that she hasn’t been present through the years means she doesn’t understand the extent to which we’ve already done this.

It’s enough that allocating more resources to it most certainly wouldn’t yield results.

Instead of saying all this, and discouraging her from speaking up again, I nod, glancing at the others—mostly Kellen—to ensure they keep their mouths shut.

“That’s a good thought, Claire. Let’s keep thinking.”

“There’s always the Llewellyn pack,” Leta says, tapping her pen against the table. The Llewellyn pack, a rare matriarchal pack to our north. Not exactly enemies, not exactly allies. Wolves that we coexist peacefully with. “We could reach out and negotiate some sort of deal with them.”

“If we do that,” I say, turning to look at her, “we’re going to need information beforehand on what they need. A bargaining chip. See what you can find out, Leta.”

“On it,” she says, scribbling furiously in her notebook.

“Other ideas?” I let my gaze wander over the shifters in this room. I’d like to think I’ve ensured they all know they can speak up, that they feel emboldened to share their ideas with me. We need it now more than ever.

None of them speaks, but I feel something bubbling from the corner of the table. I turn to look at Claire, who’s sitting quietly, but her eyes are focused on the table, moving side to side, like she’s processing. Thinking.

Being attuned to them is helpful, and when I lean into that feeling, I can sense the way her mind is racing, how her heart beats fast.

She has an idea, but she’s fearful of sharing it. Likely from the way Kellen looked at her the last time she offered an idea.

When I clear my throat, the rest of them look at me, but she’s still looking at the table, her fingers drumming against her thigh, deep in thought.

“Claire?” I prompt, hoping I’m managing to keep my tone gentle. The last thing I want to do is bark at her. She startles still, her cheeks flushing scarlet when she looks up from her spot at the table.

“Sorry,” she says, letting out a breathy laugh and looking around the table. “I was—”

“We’d love to hear what you’re thinking.” I place my hands on the table, lean forward to show interest. “You have the most experience with Amanzite, and it’s obvious you’re very smart.”

“Oh,” she blushes, pushing her hair over her shoulder and avoiding my gaze. “Thank you—I—I—”

I’m patient, waiting for her to collect her thoughts.

“I was just thinking,” she lets out a sigh, then raises her chin and meets my eyes. “There’s fabrication magic. Usually we use it to create very simple things, but I was wondering if, with enough magic and planning, we could—”

“Synthetic Amanzite,” I breathe, realizing what she’s saying. If we could create it ourselves, with no reliance on traders or other packs, that would be the ideal situation. “What do you think, Claire? What would you need to be able to do that?”

“We’re already stretched a little thin, just imbuing the rocks,” she admits, chewing on her lip. “But we could…”

She trails off, and it’s clear she’s not sure where to go with that sentence.

“We could pull from the younger casters,” Emin offers, leaning back in his chair and meeting Claire’s eyes. “Would that work? They won’t have the training, but you could use their power. Teach them a crash course.”

“How many younger casters do we have?” Claire breathes, eyes darting around the table.

“By my estimations,” a woman at the end of the table says, tapping through her iPad. “At least a dozen, juniors and seniors in high school.”

With this information out in the open, they all turn to look at me.

There’s no doubt that pulling kids from their classrooms, turning them to the labor that is casting, is not ideal. But right now, we have no other choice.

“How many from just the seniors?” I ask, flicking my eyes up to our numbers woman.

She glances down. “Five.”

“Alright.” I take a breath, look at them all. “Pull them for half days. Confer with their teachers about their most important classes—let’s try to get them out for things like study hall. Speak with their families about other obligations. Some of them might be babysitting after school—let’s get everything taken care of, and I want all of them compensated exactly the same as our casters.”

Everyone is nodding, writing, figuring out their parts in this plan.

“Claire,” I turn to her. “Get those five learning to imbue with what you have left, then pull your best casters to work on this generative casting. I want daily reports from you on how it’s coming.”

Looking at Leta, I say, “Get me that information about the Llewellyn as soon as you can. Until we have more information about the generative casting, we’ll pursue that avenue.”

“Sounds good,” Leta nods, and I pause, breathing hard, looking around the room.

“Anything else?” I ask, my mind already pulling back to Kira, to the plan I have for myself right after this meeting.

When nobody answers, I dismiss them.

“Hey, man,” Emin circles the table as the room is clearing out, pulling me to the side. He clears his throat, looks down at the floor, then back at me. “Kira still at your place?”

I cross my arms. “Yeah. She is.”

“Cool.” He clears his throat again, glancing around. The only person left is Claire, standing on the other side of the room, obviously waiting to talk to me. Emin rubs his hand over the back of his neck and says, “Any chance I could come by and see her?”

It’s not what I was expecting, but when he says it, it makes sense. He’s felt guilty since the day she left, and even more so when we learned she was in Grayhide territory.

“I’ll ask her,” I say, which seems to surprise him. “I’m cool with it, but…”

“Yeah.” Emin nods, takes a step back. “Makes sense. Just, uh, let me know? Yeah?”

I give him a nod back, then he turns and leaves the room. Claire lingers for another moment before approaching me carefully.

“You asked for this?”

When she holds her hand out, I nod and take the little pot from her. I’m going to need it for what I’m planning to do next.