Post by spot on Jul 4, 2020 13:56:20 GMT
A collaborative effort between Maxine and myself! This takes place just before Colleen decides to flee Zootopia and go back to the Merged Worlds, entering Clash canon.
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One moment everything was fine. Payton Huntford prided herself on knowing everything that was going on within a mile radius of the diner. She could have her head in the fridge in the back room and still know exactly how many mammals were dining, what they already had and what they wanted, and usually where in Tundratown they’d come from. She balanced that with having a mother’s innate ability to know where in the building Raoul was, or, if it was a school day, what class he must be moving to at any given time; plus wherever on his route Connor would be. She usually had a subconscious awareness of Randall’s schedule, business or Rush Pack business. So how, in her domain, in her element, had she not seen this coming?
Probably because Randall had never been such an idiot before.
One moment, the wolf matron was carrying coffee to Lorelai Pronk, a moose who came in at this hour every evening to enjoy a black roast before going to work. She knew that Mr. Bristles was sitting in the corner booth entertaining a new lady friend. She was aware of the family of elk who’d pushed the two center tables together and were currently shooting straw wrappers between each others’ racks.
Randall was off doing something really serious with the Pack. Something that wasn’t the usual skirmish or posturing. Something hands on. Something that probably involved the side of business he wouldn’t share the details of, but made sure to tell her once it was over for safekeeping. Payton didn’t like that side of the business, but it was a natural, if less frequent, part of their lives. The worst of it was it made Raoul tense. He’d fought with Connor before they’d both left for the day. She didn’t expect to see him again until the wee hours of tomorrow morning.
Raoul’s wheels thumped over one of those loose boards coming out of the pantry, hopefully with more syrup for the weasel by the restrooms. Connor was back there. He had been unloading his truck.
Payton was a little absentminded as she left the unnecessary cream with the pot for the moose’s refills. Connor had been through two moods swings since coming home with the delivery.
First he looked miserable; she could tell because he wouldn’t look her in the eye and hid behind carrying stacks of crates whenever she stepped into the pantry. She’d resolved to confront him, ask what the big fight had been about that morning, make him spill why he wasn’t with his dad, because wasn’t this what he’d wanted? He needed to quit the gutless flip-flopping and make up his mind. No more tiptoeing around her eldest just because of the whole Night Howler thing.
Then Raoul had gone back. He must’ve cheered Connor up, because when Payton had stuck her head around the doorframe to see where her son had gotten off to with a customer’s dishes, Connor was whistling and swishing his tail with a new interested light in his eye. She hadn’t seen that in him since he’d discovered boxing gloves in the attic two weeks ago.
And then, wonder of wonders, what did the blizzard blow into their diner than a brand spanking new customer. Her reputation preceded her; it was the foreigner who’d been teaching at Snowflake Hall. No other dog lived in Tundra Town. It was the first good look Payton had got at the white-and-russet lady. Payton hadn’t met any other dogs. She was very young, hardly more than a pup herself, if a wolf’s measure translated at all. She had a flinty look in her eye that had Payton curious. It didn’t match her shy body language and innocent-schoolteacher blouse.
What was really interesting was what she’d asked, and not just because of the curvy accent everyone was always gossiping about, either.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” She’d said stiffly, and was apparently making an effort to look meek. Payton had seen it before, in other customers who’d used to be too good for the diner before the whole Bellwhether conspiracy forced humility down their throats. Still, she had money, prejudices or no prejudices.
“Well, hiiii!” Payton propped the water canteen against one hip and stuck out the other paw after wiping it on her apron. She curved a comfortably wry look at the dog. “You must be the new schoolteacher down at the Hall. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh.” The collie gingerly shook Payton’s hand while the regular customers watched from around their dinners. “Ah...all good, I hope?”
“Oh, sure, sure. We’re gossips, but at least we’re friendly gossips, right gang?” Payton raised her voice to include the room. A crowded chuckle eased the awkwardness. “Welcome to the Howling Winds. I’m Mrs. Huntford, owner, but call me Payton.”
“Colleen DunBark.” That accent was funny. Colleen had a distracted look that was only focused for a moment when the she-wolf introduced herself. Then it was back to scanning past Payton. Her eyes suddenly brightened and that flintiness in them dissipated as she locked on to something over the owner’s shoulder.
“Well, grab a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll be right over,” Payton frowned when the dog didn’t seem to have heard her, and turned to see what she was looking at.
The only thing back there was a view of the storage area, the door half-open on the back wall. As Payton watched, Connor hefted a crate into view and lifted it easily over his head to slide it onto the top of three shelves.
Colleen seemed to realize she’d been staring by the time Payton turned back to her. “Er...actually, I came to see if I could...talk to your son. Connor.”
“Connor?” Payton was bewildered. Because there was no mistaking the new softness in the collie’s voice.
There was also no mistaking the sudden clamor she found was Connor almost dropping a box of empty bottles when he’d noticed the diner’s newest customer. All round eyes and strained ears.
Her son. The grunt-first, customer-service-never hardhead. The runtiest wolf in the pack. The boxer who’d turned savage. The sulky, all-C’s brawler who’s only social life for the past ten years had been trying to scramble his way in on the family business; who’s liveliest conversations were used up in shouting matches with his parents or joking with his little brother. The delivery truck driver. The lone wolf.
And this foreign, strange, delicately dressed, sophisticated lady of education. Who was also a dog.
Looking at each other like the opposite mammal was an avalanche; incredible, powerful, awesome, but totally dangerous and about to crush you.
“I-is it...all right if I go back there? I’ll only be a moment.” Colleen hadn’t even glanced back to Payton.
She rallied. It was too amusing to shut down.
“Yeah. Sure.” Payton found herself smiling, stepping out of the way. “Uh, take your time, hon.”
There was a rushed thank you, and Payton tried not to interrupt by catching Connor’s eye while he stood there stupidly, gazing, waiting for Colleen to reach him. They eyed each other awkwardly, standing very close. The two started talking so quietly Payton wondered if her gruff boy’d stood in front of the stove too long and been thawed through when she wasn’t looking.
Then the kid at the elk table had hit Mr. Bristles’ date with a straw wrapper and gotten it stuck in her quills and that was all the romantic drama she could give attention to.
Ten minutes later she was helping Raoul push the departed family’s tables back when the second thing she hadn’t seen coming happened.
Randall burst into the diner, knocking the double doors open at top speed. He never came in the front. He never let the customers see this face, either. The crooked snout, the sharp eyes, the alpha bark.
It was no jovial, local-diner owner that greeted their store front. Randall was bristling. Payton felt her stomach twist, not just at the sight of his unconcealed tranq bouncing against his hip, but the unrecognizable wideness of panic in her husband’s glance. Every head in Howling Winds snapped to him, wide eyed, forks halfway to muzzles.
“Everybody out!” He commanded.
Stunned, Payton was surprised at how quickly a few of the smaller customers jumped up without a word of protest and dashed past him. She shouldn’t have been. He looked terrifying enough.
“Randall? What’s happened?” The moose with the coffee stammered, sounding concerned as well as shocked.
Payton hurried over and pulled the regular customer up with effort. Randall wasn’t on his game and this had never happened before—even the night they’d gotten the call about Connor. Randall didn’t lose his cool.
“I’m sorry, Miss Pronk. Coffee’s on us today, huh?” Payton rushed the moose out the door before she could ask any more questions, but she had to wedge the larger mammal around two Rush Pack Wolves brandishing tranqs—In broad daylight— dashing up the steps behind their leader.
It was so not how things were supposed to be.
“Shamus, Tony, what is going on?” She growled lowly.
They didn’t answer, only cast furtive glances behind them as they scrambled, beginning to move tables and haul chairs around.
“Sorry everyone, little family emergency. Come back tomorrow morning, uh, we’ll make it up to you!” Payton babbled louder, desperate to salvage their front. But they saw the tasers. Moon above, all of tundra town could see them. Cops are on this beat. What’s Randall doing?
Raoul rolled forward to pull to doors further open despite his bewildered expression. The last of the customers were shuffling out looking angry, confused, startled, or all of the above. Luckily none of them argued, even the regulars.
Payton stared at the figures bobbing down the steps while Randall snatched and slammed the doors behind them, scrabbling to lock the front entrance. “Randall? What is it?”
“Where’s Connor?” He huffed savagely without answering, yanking at the handles to make sure they were secure.
“He’s here,” Payton started, but couldn’t keep up with her husband as he whooshed past and made a beeline for the back. He rolled Raoul roughly out of the way and Shamus tossed him a second long-handled taser.
Just before Randall reached it, the pantry door opened and Connor stumbled to a stop, blinking at his father. “Dad! What’s all the...what—“
Randall pushed the taser at Connor’s chest. “Take this. Get out here.”
“Randall—“ Payton suddenly remembered why Connor had been in the back, but her frantic husband interrupted, fixing his wild eyes on her.
“He can do it, Payton. You didn’t see him before but I was there. Now don’t worry. Take Raoul upstairs. Uh, no, out the back. Tony, go with ‘em.”
Payton seized one of Raoul’s handlebars and kept Tony from directing the other, shooting him a fierce look. She wasn’t going anywhere without an explanation.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Connor’s voice was wary.
“I’m talking about you. They’re on their way right now, more of ‘em than we three can handle. You’re gonna let loose and get ‘em like you got Iggy. And we’re gonna show ‘em who runs this chunk of ice. It’s time for you to shine, Con.”
He hadn’t seen Colleen appear while he was growling urgently at his son. Payton could just see past Connor’s narrow shoulder in the limited doorway, and got a view of Colleen’s face as she emerged behind him.
How much had she heard? Enough, by the look of confusion and mounting unease in her brown eyes. They went from the taser at Randall’s belt, to sweep the emptied dining area, to the wolves moving tables in front of the doors, to Randall’s teeth. Just great.
“Connor, what’s going on?” Her accent was flinty now even when it was low, but too shaky to match her first expression.
Payton watched her son struggle to look at both his teacher friend and search his father’s face as if he could find the explanation there.
She took a step forward, mouth already opening even though she wasn’t sure how to cover for the men, but Randall wasn’t leaving her any room to work today.
“Who are—you need to leave.” He stepped to one side, but leaned intimidatingly towards the dog. “We’re closed.”
Colleen started, but didn’t move her feet, head bouncing back and forth. “What—what is this?”
The suspicion in her voice set Randall off. His eyebrows scrunched against his snarl. “Family business. Now I said, get out!” He unholstered his taser instinctively and pointed it at the front door. To add to the tenseness of the moment, Shamus and Tony responded to their leader’s aggression like machines and stood up, facing the dog from across the diner with hard stares.
Payton saw the dog’s eyes gape, then turn to ice so suddenly it threw her. Colleen switched to staring at Connor like he’d suddenly turned into a hippo with a toothache.
Well, too bad.
The mother wolf darted forward and took the girl by one arm, dragging her toward the door. “Time to go, Miss DunBark.”
Colleen didn't struggle exactly, but she didn’t hurry, either, still absorbing the Rush Pack Wolves who were pouring in through the side door, flipping tables, dragging booths, turning their storefront into a fortress.
All the while Randall’s voice was behind her, barking urgently at Connor. “Look at me, kid. They think they’re gonna wash us out of here, they don’t know what you’ve got inside, but I do. Goin’ savage, night howlers, it don’t matter what it’s called. You can hurt ‘em again. It’s just like you’ve always wanted. You can show ‘em what the Rush Pack does to bears who presume—“
The schoolteacher had stopped so suddenly Payton half-wrenched her shoulder. The dog was looking back at Connor. Connor was staring straight through his dad’s intense speech, right at her.
Colleen’s eyes welled. She flinched forward suddenly and led the way to the front door with Payton still attached to her arm.
At the same moment Connor moved, lurching past Randall and shoving the taser he’d barely looked at into his father’s arms. “Hey!”
Toby stood from his spot behind a chair, but Connor shouldered aside the bigger wolf and swept desperately into the collie’s path. He didn’t even take his gaze away from the teacher long enough to notice his mother brushing against him.
“Colleen!” he rushed, and Payton found her heart twisting at the look on his open face, like he was watching the perfect ice sculpture melt and drain away forever, drip by drip. “Wait, wait. I—I was...it’s not—“
“Shut up.” Payton felt the muscles under the fur of the dog’s arm tighten until they were as hard as her voice. “D’you hear me, shut up, Connor!”
Okay, so this blouse-wearing foreigner had plenty of bite in her. But Payton could see her son’s friend was only rushing and snapping her words to keep the tremble out of her voice. After all, she wasn’t doing as good a job fighting tears out of her eyes.
“I-I’ve waited and I’ve listened and that’s how you tricked me.” Her teeth, not as big as theirs but definitely sharp, glinted white. “What was it for anyway? Ay? What were ye trying t’do? To get close to Abigail? For her grandmother’s money?”
“What—“ He didn’t even prick his ears at the word ‘money,’ unlike his mother, but instead blinked like he’d been slapped.
“T’distract me? Lose me ma job? Protecting your territory?” Colleen scoffed. “Or were ye just getting bored?”
“No, I—“
Connor barely inhaled before she was in his face. There weren’t any wolves his age shorter than her son, but Colleen wasn’t a wolf and had to stretch. “You played me. You’re exactly the lying, low-down, sneaking, insidious blaggard of a wolf I thought you were and I—“
Her voice cracked and Payton let go of the girl’s arm impulsively. The dog’s head dropped.
“—I...I thought you were!” She repeated, the anger abandoning her tone. The teacher was sniffing and glaring at the ground with a wavering voice. “I thought you were. From the start, I thought you were like them, like the rest. But then I...I thought I was wrong. And you were different. And...” The dog brushed furiously at her eyes. “And I’m so thick and stupid.”
Payton felt her heart do another spiral. Connor’s face. It was different than she’d ever seen it, except that she remembered the look he’d had when she’d broke the news that his cub brother wouldn’t be able to walk. His expression was that way now; a whirlpool of helpless frustration in the down stretch of the mouth, flattening of the ears. And wide-eyed heartbreak at not being able to fix something broken.
“No, you—you’re not, you—“ he tried, shaking his head insistently, but apparently couldn’t decide what to say. Colleen couldn’t stand his voice long enough to let him, anyway.
She snorted hard enough to send steam puffing out into the cold air and stepped through the door.
Connor followed as if there were an invisible leash attaching them. “Colleen, I am different, I wanted to—“
“I said shut up!”
“But I am! I was trying to tell you. My family—“
“Your pack.” Spat the dog, shoving Connor suddenly. He stumbled on the ice but still never took his panicked eyes from her. “You’re a wolf, like the Brushwoods. Like all the rest. An’ wolves only care about wolves. No matter who else gets hurt.” Her voice cracked again like splintering frost and she stormed on, wobbling down the steps on the slick stairway.
Connor reached to steady her, but she was too fast and Shamus and Marcus had overtaken him, blocking his way and eyeing the streets like they were about to explode.
“Colleen, please—please!” Connor made an effort to get past the larger wolves, but his heart wasn’t in it, even if Payton had never heard him say ‘please’ that way before.
Colleen DunBark was already in the lot, and on level ground, she fled around the corner as quickly as her stumbles would allow.
Once her tail whisked out of sight, Connor sagged and slipped again as if all of the fight had finally left him. Payton helped the boys usher him back into the safety of the diner.
While they locked the doors, Payton stayed by Connor. Tough little Raoul was watching his brother with surprised tears in his eyes but stayed silent.
Payton Huntford wasn’t sure what to make of that scene. Obviously the Snowflake Hall lady and her oldest son had built some kind of relationship for longer than she’d thought. She didn’t know when it had started, but she was pretty sure she’d just witnessed the end of it. He was about to get even more of a tongue-lashing from his father, so it was best not to leave him yet.
Randall grabbed his son’s shoulder and straightened his posture. “What was that?” He demanded flatly. “She’s a dog.”
Connor’s bleak stare flickered to anger. It was a much more familiar look for him. “What did you do?”
Randall rose to match the younger wolf’s tone, throwing his arms out. “Me?! I tried to finish what you started, punk!” He jabbed Conner’s narrow chest with the barrel of the taser, and Payton was glad it wasn’t on. “You wouldn’t do it this morning, so you’re gonna do it now.”
“I’m not doin’ anything.” Snarled Conner, teeth flashing. He pointed vaguely to one side. “I’m not going to be a part of this, ever.”
“You don’t have a choice!” Randall roared. Rush Pack slowed it’s preparations to eye father and son.
“I said, you started this.” Randall’s scar rippled with his sneer. “I don’t care if you got hit by no blowdart. You hear me? You came to a deal you had no business bein’ in, no mask, just your stubborn mug. Your paws; your teeth; your face started this when you mauled Iggy.”
Connor’s snarl drooped from anger to another degree of shame with every word his sire spat.
“That’s when you put the diner—your pack—your family on the line. Now you could’a come with us and fixed it this morning. You didn’t. We botched the job, trying to clean up your mess. So you’re gonna clean it yourself. Here’s your mop,” he thrust the taser back into Connor’s unresisting paws. “Get to it.”
Once he was sure he’d stamped out any argument, Randall lingered his stern glare on his son for a moment longer before turning to shout orders at the Rush Pack.
Payton grabbed Raoul’s wheelchair. She’d heard enough. Iggy and the polar bears were coming to the diner, in broad daylight, or else the Pack wouldn’t be turning it into a defendable position. If they were striking back in a way that crazy, it meant that Arctic Shrew, Big, couldn’t be involved.
That meant this was no holds barred. Nothing safe, no lines uncrossed. Just a rampage. A massacre, if they didn’t win. Connor might’ve been in no emotional shape to fight, but she knew he was about to get what he’d always asked for, like it or not.
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One moment everything was fine. Payton Huntford prided herself on knowing everything that was going on within a mile radius of the diner. She could have her head in the fridge in the back room and still know exactly how many mammals were dining, what they already had and what they wanted, and usually where in Tundratown they’d come from. She balanced that with having a mother’s innate ability to know where in the building Raoul was, or, if it was a school day, what class he must be moving to at any given time; plus wherever on his route Connor would be. She usually had a subconscious awareness of Randall’s schedule, business or Rush Pack business. So how, in her domain, in her element, had she not seen this coming?
Probably because Randall had never been such an idiot before.
One moment, the wolf matron was carrying coffee to Lorelai Pronk, a moose who came in at this hour every evening to enjoy a black roast before going to work. She knew that Mr. Bristles was sitting in the corner booth entertaining a new lady friend. She was aware of the family of elk who’d pushed the two center tables together and were currently shooting straw wrappers between each others’ racks.
Randall was off doing something really serious with the Pack. Something that wasn’t the usual skirmish or posturing. Something hands on. Something that probably involved the side of business he wouldn’t share the details of, but made sure to tell her once it was over for safekeeping. Payton didn’t like that side of the business, but it was a natural, if less frequent, part of their lives. The worst of it was it made Raoul tense. He’d fought with Connor before they’d both left for the day. She didn’t expect to see him again until the wee hours of tomorrow morning.
Raoul’s wheels thumped over one of those loose boards coming out of the pantry, hopefully with more syrup for the weasel by the restrooms. Connor was back there. He had been unloading his truck.
Payton was a little absentminded as she left the unnecessary cream with the pot for the moose’s refills. Connor had been through two moods swings since coming home with the delivery.
First he looked miserable; she could tell because he wouldn’t look her in the eye and hid behind carrying stacks of crates whenever she stepped into the pantry. She’d resolved to confront him, ask what the big fight had been about that morning, make him spill why he wasn’t with his dad, because wasn’t this what he’d wanted? He needed to quit the gutless flip-flopping and make up his mind. No more tiptoeing around her eldest just because of the whole Night Howler thing.
Then Raoul had gone back. He must’ve cheered Connor up, because when Payton had stuck her head around the doorframe to see where her son had gotten off to with a customer’s dishes, Connor was whistling and swishing his tail with a new interested light in his eye. She hadn’t seen that in him since he’d discovered boxing gloves in the attic two weeks ago.
And then, wonder of wonders, what did the blizzard blow into their diner than a brand spanking new customer. Her reputation preceded her; it was the foreigner who’d been teaching at Snowflake Hall. No other dog lived in Tundra Town. It was the first good look Payton had got at the white-and-russet lady. Payton hadn’t met any other dogs. She was very young, hardly more than a pup herself, if a wolf’s measure translated at all. She had a flinty look in her eye that had Payton curious. It didn’t match her shy body language and innocent-schoolteacher blouse.
What was really interesting was what she’d asked, and not just because of the curvy accent everyone was always gossiping about, either.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” She’d said stiffly, and was apparently making an effort to look meek. Payton had seen it before, in other customers who’d used to be too good for the diner before the whole Bellwhether conspiracy forced humility down their throats. Still, she had money, prejudices or no prejudices.
“Well, hiiii!” Payton propped the water canteen against one hip and stuck out the other paw after wiping it on her apron. She curved a comfortably wry look at the dog. “You must be the new schoolteacher down at the Hall. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh.” The collie gingerly shook Payton’s hand while the regular customers watched from around their dinners. “Ah...all good, I hope?”
“Oh, sure, sure. We’re gossips, but at least we’re friendly gossips, right gang?” Payton raised her voice to include the room. A crowded chuckle eased the awkwardness. “Welcome to the Howling Winds. I’m Mrs. Huntford, owner, but call me Payton.”
“Colleen DunBark.” That accent was funny. Colleen had a distracted look that was only focused for a moment when the she-wolf introduced herself. Then it was back to scanning past Payton. Her eyes suddenly brightened and that flintiness in them dissipated as she locked on to something over the owner’s shoulder.
“Well, grab a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll be right over,” Payton frowned when the dog didn’t seem to have heard her, and turned to see what she was looking at.
The only thing back there was a view of the storage area, the door half-open on the back wall. As Payton watched, Connor hefted a crate into view and lifted it easily over his head to slide it onto the top of three shelves.
Colleen seemed to realize she’d been staring by the time Payton turned back to her. “Er...actually, I came to see if I could...talk to your son. Connor.”
“Connor?” Payton was bewildered. Because there was no mistaking the new softness in the collie’s voice.
There was also no mistaking the sudden clamor she found was Connor almost dropping a box of empty bottles when he’d noticed the diner’s newest customer. All round eyes and strained ears.
Her son. The grunt-first, customer-service-never hardhead. The runtiest wolf in the pack. The boxer who’d turned savage. The sulky, all-C’s brawler who’s only social life for the past ten years had been trying to scramble his way in on the family business; who’s liveliest conversations were used up in shouting matches with his parents or joking with his little brother. The delivery truck driver. The lone wolf.
And this foreign, strange, delicately dressed, sophisticated lady of education. Who was also a dog.
Looking at each other like the opposite mammal was an avalanche; incredible, powerful, awesome, but totally dangerous and about to crush you.
“I-is it...all right if I go back there? I’ll only be a moment.” Colleen hadn’t even glanced back to Payton.
She rallied. It was too amusing to shut down.
“Yeah. Sure.” Payton found herself smiling, stepping out of the way. “Uh, take your time, hon.”
There was a rushed thank you, and Payton tried not to interrupt by catching Connor’s eye while he stood there stupidly, gazing, waiting for Colleen to reach him. They eyed each other awkwardly, standing very close. The two started talking so quietly Payton wondered if her gruff boy’d stood in front of the stove too long and been thawed through when she wasn’t looking.
Then the kid at the elk table had hit Mr. Bristles’ date with a straw wrapper and gotten it stuck in her quills and that was all the romantic drama she could give attention to.
Ten minutes later she was helping Raoul push the departed family’s tables back when the second thing she hadn’t seen coming happened.
Randall burst into the diner, knocking the double doors open at top speed. He never came in the front. He never let the customers see this face, either. The crooked snout, the sharp eyes, the alpha bark.
It was no jovial, local-diner owner that greeted their store front. Randall was bristling. Payton felt her stomach twist, not just at the sight of his unconcealed tranq bouncing against his hip, but the unrecognizable wideness of panic in her husband’s glance. Every head in Howling Winds snapped to him, wide eyed, forks halfway to muzzles.
“Everybody out!” He commanded.
Stunned, Payton was surprised at how quickly a few of the smaller customers jumped up without a word of protest and dashed past him. She shouldn’t have been. He looked terrifying enough.
“Randall? What’s happened?” The moose with the coffee stammered, sounding concerned as well as shocked.
Payton hurried over and pulled the regular customer up with effort. Randall wasn’t on his game and this had never happened before—even the night they’d gotten the call about Connor. Randall didn’t lose his cool.
“I’m sorry, Miss Pronk. Coffee’s on us today, huh?” Payton rushed the moose out the door before she could ask any more questions, but she had to wedge the larger mammal around two Rush Pack Wolves brandishing tranqs—In broad daylight— dashing up the steps behind their leader.
It was so not how things were supposed to be.
“Shamus, Tony, what is going on?” She growled lowly.
They didn’t answer, only cast furtive glances behind them as they scrambled, beginning to move tables and haul chairs around.
“Sorry everyone, little family emergency. Come back tomorrow morning, uh, we’ll make it up to you!” Payton babbled louder, desperate to salvage their front. But they saw the tasers. Moon above, all of tundra town could see them. Cops are on this beat. What’s Randall doing?
Raoul rolled forward to pull to doors further open despite his bewildered expression. The last of the customers were shuffling out looking angry, confused, startled, or all of the above. Luckily none of them argued, even the regulars.
Payton stared at the figures bobbing down the steps while Randall snatched and slammed the doors behind them, scrabbling to lock the front entrance. “Randall? What is it?”
“Where’s Connor?” He huffed savagely without answering, yanking at the handles to make sure they were secure.
“He’s here,” Payton started, but couldn’t keep up with her husband as he whooshed past and made a beeline for the back. He rolled Raoul roughly out of the way and Shamus tossed him a second long-handled taser.
Just before Randall reached it, the pantry door opened and Connor stumbled to a stop, blinking at his father. “Dad! What’s all the...what—“
Randall pushed the taser at Connor’s chest. “Take this. Get out here.”
“Randall—“ Payton suddenly remembered why Connor had been in the back, but her frantic husband interrupted, fixing his wild eyes on her.
“He can do it, Payton. You didn’t see him before but I was there. Now don’t worry. Take Raoul upstairs. Uh, no, out the back. Tony, go with ‘em.”
Payton seized one of Raoul’s handlebars and kept Tony from directing the other, shooting him a fierce look. She wasn’t going anywhere without an explanation.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Connor’s voice was wary.
“I’m talking about you. They’re on their way right now, more of ‘em than we three can handle. You’re gonna let loose and get ‘em like you got Iggy. And we’re gonna show ‘em who runs this chunk of ice. It’s time for you to shine, Con.”
He hadn’t seen Colleen appear while he was growling urgently at his son. Payton could just see past Connor’s narrow shoulder in the limited doorway, and got a view of Colleen’s face as she emerged behind him.
How much had she heard? Enough, by the look of confusion and mounting unease in her brown eyes. They went from the taser at Randall’s belt, to sweep the emptied dining area, to the wolves moving tables in front of the doors, to Randall’s teeth. Just great.
“Connor, what’s going on?” Her accent was flinty now even when it was low, but too shaky to match her first expression.
Payton watched her son struggle to look at both his teacher friend and search his father’s face as if he could find the explanation there.
She took a step forward, mouth already opening even though she wasn’t sure how to cover for the men, but Randall wasn’t leaving her any room to work today.
“Who are—you need to leave.” He stepped to one side, but leaned intimidatingly towards the dog. “We’re closed.”
Colleen started, but didn’t move her feet, head bouncing back and forth. “What—what is this?”
The suspicion in her voice set Randall off. His eyebrows scrunched against his snarl. “Family business. Now I said, get out!” He unholstered his taser instinctively and pointed it at the front door. To add to the tenseness of the moment, Shamus and Tony responded to their leader’s aggression like machines and stood up, facing the dog from across the diner with hard stares.
Payton saw the dog’s eyes gape, then turn to ice so suddenly it threw her. Colleen switched to staring at Connor like he’d suddenly turned into a hippo with a toothache.
Well, too bad.
The mother wolf darted forward and took the girl by one arm, dragging her toward the door. “Time to go, Miss DunBark.”
Colleen didn't struggle exactly, but she didn’t hurry, either, still absorbing the Rush Pack Wolves who were pouring in through the side door, flipping tables, dragging booths, turning their storefront into a fortress.
All the while Randall’s voice was behind her, barking urgently at Connor. “Look at me, kid. They think they’re gonna wash us out of here, they don’t know what you’ve got inside, but I do. Goin’ savage, night howlers, it don’t matter what it’s called. You can hurt ‘em again. It’s just like you’ve always wanted. You can show ‘em what the Rush Pack does to bears who presume—“
The schoolteacher had stopped so suddenly Payton half-wrenched her shoulder. The dog was looking back at Connor. Connor was staring straight through his dad’s intense speech, right at her.
Colleen’s eyes welled. She flinched forward suddenly and led the way to the front door with Payton still attached to her arm.
At the same moment Connor moved, lurching past Randall and shoving the taser he’d barely looked at into his father’s arms. “Hey!”
Toby stood from his spot behind a chair, but Connor shouldered aside the bigger wolf and swept desperately into the collie’s path. He didn’t even take his gaze away from the teacher long enough to notice his mother brushing against him.
“Colleen!” he rushed, and Payton found her heart twisting at the look on his open face, like he was watching the perfect ice sculpture melt and drain away forever, drip by drip. “Wait, wait. I—I was...it’s not—“
“Shut up.” Payton felt the muscles under the fur of the dog’s arm tighten until they were as hard as her voice. “D’you hear me, shut up, Connor!”
Okay, so this blouse-wearing foreigner had plenty of bite in her. But Payton could see her son’s friend was only rushing and snapping her words to keep the tremble out of her voice. After all, she wasn’t doing as good a job fighting tears out of her eyes.
“I-I’ve waited and I’ve listened and that’s how you tricked me.” Her teeth, not as big as theirs but definitely sharp, glinted white. “What was it for anyway? Ay? What were ye trying t’do? To get close to Abigail? For her grandmother’s money?”
“What—“ He didn’t even prick his ears at the word ‘money,’ unlike his mother, but instead blinked like he’d been slapped.
“T’distract me? Lose me ma job? Protecting your territory?” Colleen scoffed. “Or were ye just getting bored?”
“No, I—“
Connor barely inhaled before she was in his face. There weren’t any wolves his age shorter than her son, but Colleen wasn’t a wolf and had to stretch. “You played me. You’re exactly the lying, low-down, sneaking, insidious blaggard of a wolf I thought you were and I—“
Her voice cracked and Payton let go of the girl’s arm impulsively. The dog’s head dropped.
“—I...I thought you were!” She repeated, the anger abandoning her tone. The teacher was sniffing and glaring at the ground with a wavering voice. “I thought you were. From the start, I thought you were like them, like the rest. But then I...I thought I was wrong. And you were different. And...” The dog brushed furiously at her eyes. “And I’m so thick and stupid.”
Payton felt her heart do another spiral. Connor’s face. It was different than she’d ever seen it, except that she remembered the look he’d had when she’d broke the news that his cub brother wouldn’t be able to walk. His expression was that way now; a whirlpool of helpless frustration in the down stretch of the mouth, flattening of the ears. And wide-eyed heartbreak at not being able to fix something broken.
“No, you—you’re not, you—“ he tried, shaking his head insistently, but apparently couldn’t decide what to say. Colleen couldn’t stand his voice long enough to let him, anyway.
She snorted hard enough to send steam puffing out into the cold air and stepped through the door.
Connor followed as if there were an invisible leash attaching them. “Colleen, I am different, I wanted to—“
“I said shut up!”
“But I am! I was trying to tell you. My family—“
“Your pack.” Spat the dog, shoving Connor suddenly. He stumbled on the ice but still never took his panicked eyes from her. “You’re a wolf, like the Brushwoods. Like all the rest. An’ wolves only care about wolves. No matter who else gets hurt.” Her voice cracked again like splintering frost and she stormed on, wobbling down the steps on the slick stairway.
Connor reached to steady her, but she was too fast and Shamus and Marcus had overtaken him, blocking his way and eyeing the streets like they were about to explode.
“Colleen, please—please!” Connor made an effort to get past the larger wolves, but his heart wasn’t in it, even if Payton had never heard him say ‘please’ that way before.
Colleen DunBark was already in the lot, and on level ground, she fled around the corner as quickly as her stumbles would allow.
Once her tail whisked out of sight, Connor sagged and slipped again as if all of the fight had finally left him. Payton helped the boys usher him back into the safety of the diner.
While they locked the doors, Payton stayed by Connor. Tough little Raoul was watching his brother with surprised tears in his eyes but stayed silent.
Payton Huntford wasn’t sure what to make of that scene. Obviously the Snowflake Hall lady and her oldest son had built some kind of relationship for longer than she’d thought. She didn’t know when it had started, but she was pretty sure she’d just witnessed the end of it. He was about to get even more of a tongue-lashing from his father, so it was best not to leave him yet.
Randall grabbed his son’s shoulder and straightened his posture. “What was that?” He demanded flatly. “She’s a dog.”
Connor’s bleak stare flickered to anger. It was a much more familiar look for him. “What did you do?”
Randall rose to match the younger wolf’s tone, throwing his arms out. “Me?! I tried to finish what you started, punk!” He jabbed Conner’s narrow chest with the barrel of the taser, and Payton was glad it wasn’t on. “You wouldn’t do it this morning, so you’re gonna do it now.”
“I’m not doin’ anything.” Snarled Conner, teeth flashing. He pointed vaguely to one side. “I’m not going to be a part of this, ever.”
“You don’t have a choice!” Randall roared. Rush Pack slowed it’s preparations to eye father and son.
“I said, you started this.” Randall’s scar rippled with his sneer. “I don’t care if you got hit by no blowdart. You hear me? You came to a deal you had no business bein’ in, no mask, just your stubborn mug. Your paws; your teeth; your face started this when you mauled Iggy.”
Connor’s snarl drooped from anger to another degree of shame with every word his sire spat.
“That’s when you put the diner—your pack—your family on the line. Now you could’a come with us and fixed it this morning. You didn’t. We botched the job, trying to clean up your mess. So you’re gonna clean it yourself. Here’s your mop,” he thrust the taser back into Connor’s unresisting paws. “Get to it.”
Once he was sure he’d stamped out any argument, Randall lingered his stern glare on his son for a moment longer before turning to shout orders at the Rush Pack.
Payton grabbed Raoul’s wheelchair. She’d heard enough. Iggy and the polar bears were coming to the diner, in broad daylight, or else the Pack wouldn’t be turning it into a defendable position. If they were striking back in a way that crazy, it meant that Arctic Shrew, Big, couldn’t be involved.
That meant this was no holds barred. Nothing safe, no lines uncrossed. Just a rampage. A massacre, if they didn’t win. Connor might’ve been in no emotional shape to fight, but she knew he was about to get what he’d always asked for, like it or not.
