Dead Luna
Chapter 21

Leo's POV

Amelia and I had come to a bit of a truce, of sorts. She pretends that I didn't pluck out my heart and hand it to her on a silver platter the other day, nor does she mention that day by the lake when I broke down in her arms and begged her to take my pain away. Meanwhile, I pretend that I'm just some casual acquaintance that happens to be going everywhere she goes whenever she leaves the Luna suite.

Ive been avoiding conversation with her for the most part. It's become obvious that we can't just be "friends" after our shared past. It might work well enough for her, but I'm just so emotionally damaged at this point that I can't do it. It's too painful. I may act like I'm perfectly fine, but it's just that. An act.

So I follow along doing my Gamma bodyguard thing while Amelia acts like a Luna. I keep an eye on her while she meets with all the unmated wolves. I watch as she plays with the children. I sulk behind as she goes on dates, and I try not to rip Craig's face off when they kiss or hold hands.

I even listen in at the restaurant while they talk about "marriage". It wasn't the most romantic of proposals, but it sounded as if Amelia was definitely interested. I suppose if I was a she wolf, I'd be interested in the soft spoken blond Alpha, too. Craig is neither rich, nor exciting, but he is dependable, good natured, and takes very good care of his pack and his family. It's hard not to like the guy.

She will probably be getting similar proposals from the next 3 alphas, each one getting better and more enticing as we go. What little hope I had left of winning back her love is diminishing to almost nothing. If all hope is gone, I dont think I will have any reason left to live.

Amelia's POV

The last few days of my stay in Silver Falls pack is a bit anti-climactic. Alpha Craig was busy at this time of year with all the harvests, and selling his products at several farmers markets within 60 miles. There would be no more time for dates or private hours "alone" of getting to know each other. Instead, Leo and I get to work along side Craig at a market in Beaverton, Oregon on Saturday, and then across the Columbia river in Vancouver, Washington on Sunday.

The Beaverton farmer's market was apparently one of the top ones in the area. Avid shoppers would arrive early to scope out who had the freshest or best prices goods. I strolled around the market once our stall was mostly set up, Leo near my elbow in the crowds, to look at the displays of goods on sale before "bell". Apparently no one was allowed to sell beforehand, so I was told to look around now, but I'd be needed to help once the bell rang.

There was a lot to see. Most of the market was encompassed inside a parking lot, across the street from a very modern looking library and adjacent to a lovely park where a band was setting up to play music, and children played on a playground. The market had grown so large over the years that it had also taken over a couple of side streets across from a church.

Most of the vendors sold fruits and vegetables, but there were many others like ours that had flowers and/or organic eggs. There were also stalls selling things like freshly popped kettle corn, strawberry shortcake, sausages, home baked breads or pastries, and middle eastern specialties like pita bread, hummus and tabboulah.

When I was back to our stall with Leo, the 3 of us were kept busy with customers for most of the morning. When we weren't busy, Craig would tell me more about our goods, and how they changed with the season. Late spring when the market first opens, we sell plant starts and asparagus, besides the eggs and flowers that we sold all the time. Late May and early June we would have the famous Oregon hood strawberry. This time of year we had blueberries and Marion berries. Soon we would have plums and apricots, followed by heirloom tomatoes. In the fall we sold root vegetables, squash, pumpkins and decorative gourds.

Alpha Craig didn't want to depend on any one crop to support his pack, in case there was a bad year for that particular crop, or the market had too much in a good year, and caused prices to drop. It was all very well thought out, I realized. And he changed up the offerings to suit the various markets, experimenting with goats milk at the Salem market, and homespun wool in Vancouver.

Sunday we were joined by pack member Lydia Barrowman, who had started spinning and dying her own wool as a hobby, and was now becoming well regarded among patrons at that market where there was a greater number of vendors with hand crafted goods or services like knife sharpening. It was only a quarter of the size of the Beaverton farmers market, but was one of the few in the area that takes place on a Sunday, was well located in the middle of downtown Vancouver next to Esther Short Park, and had a very loyal following.

It turned out to be a very educational weekend, and Sunday evening when we returned back to the pack at Silver Falls for my last evening, we celebrated with a rare steak dinner (a luxury I was told that they typically enjoyed no more than twice a year), with roast Parmesan potatoes, green beans, pickled beets, rosemary focaccia, and a decadent lemon tart topped with berries.

Alpha Craig and I chatted for a bit after dinner, but there really wasn't much to say beside thanking each other for the week we spent together (more or less), and promises to see each other in 7 weeks time at the mating ball. After breakfast the next morning, Jimmy would be driving Leo and I to Iron Peak. Alpha Craig would be too busy to see me off.