Seated in a tilted chair, balanced on its back legs with her feet propped on the edge of the table, Serafina soaked in the buzz of conversation surrounding her. Amy Lange, the Delta Crescent Traiteur, occupied the breakfast nook bench. A cup of coffee sat on the table to her right, some beignets to her left and her hands full of a crocheting project she’d become obsessed with while Trish LeClere swiped one beignet after the other. One of her pack’s finest Hounds, Trish pulled rotation for guarding the Alpha, but she would have been at coffee regardless. A morning among friends offered her the perfect start to the day. “What is that going to be?” Trish asked, nibbling on her second swiped beignet. “Theoretically?” Amy grinned. “Or actually?” “Pretty sure she meant what it’s supposed to be.” Serafina eyed the wool concoction. A deep shade of evergreen, it filled Amy’s lap before spilling onto the table.
