Welcome to the first Wednesday in February. A whole new month. A whole new set of promts. And, a whole new scene for your reading pleasure. Today’s #1lineWed word is **BREAK**. I leave the interpretation to your imagination. From #ThursdayThreads, we have: “What are we going to do about that?” Putting the two together, and knowing that Meg was about to be thrust into danger, here’s the lead up scene using those prompts. I love it when a plot comes together.
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Dalton watched Meg cross the meadow. She carried two mugs in her hands. He stood as she approached.

“Coffee?” She offered him one of the mugs. “It’s the real deal.”

He accepted the cup and sipped appreciatively. “I’m ready for a coffee break.”

“I’m mostly a tea girl myself. I guess spending time with my dad and all but frankly? I’ve missed real coffee.”

“Me too.”

“I feel bad about raiding the shepherd’s stash though. He’ll be up here with his flocks once winter is over.”

“Duke’s keeping a list. When Dom flies in to pick us up, he’ll bring supplies to restock.”

Meg sipped again and smiled. “Oh, that’s good then.”

Dalton drank from his own mug. “What’s on your mind, hon?”

She knitted her brows and pressed her lips together. “You know? About Kin and me?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “He won’t claim me, whatever that means, until we get back to civilization. What are we going to do about that?”

“We?”

“Yes. I need your help.” She paced off a short way, turned, and…disappeared. Her screams echoed in the clear mountain air.

Dalton lunged but missed. His stomach dropped like the earth had beneath Meg’s feet. He yelled for help, cursing that he hadn’t worn his combat helmet. No radio.

Dropping to his stomach, he inched up to the edge of the hole she’d disappeared. “Meg!” he hollered. The edge crumbled and dirt slid down the wall of the void. He scrambled back but called again. Nothing but silence answered him.

Loch arrived first and hauled him up off the ground. “What the bloody hell have ya done, ya bloody bastard?”

The Irish Wolf shook him like he was a rag doll. Dalton didn’t fight back but he did manage to sputter out an explanation. “Nothing. I didn’t do a damn thing. She brought coffee. To talk. About Kin. She walked—” He pointed with his arm. “There. And bam. She was gone. Sinkhole.”

Duke and Tank arrived in time to hear the last bit. The big man looked as suspicious as Loch.
“I swear, Loch. I didn’t do this. I had no clue that damn hole was there.”

Duke belly-crawled to the edge and met much the same result as Dalton. The edges crumbled. He hastily rolled away. “Ropes,” he ordered. “And lights.”

In the distance, a wolf howled. Dalton shaded his eyes. A silver streak dashed over a hill toward them. Kin had shifted and was now hell-bent on reaching their position. What the hell was he going to tell the man? Oops, I lost your unclaimed mate down a sinkhole? He was so dead.
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Poor Dalton. I sooo do not want to be in his shoes when Kin arrives. Loch and Tank are already doubting his version of events. And yes, this is a bit “bare bones” but this is just the first draft. By the time I’m done with edits and revisions, you might not even recognize this scene. <i>*bwa-ha-ha*</i> Or maybe you will. Anyway, writers, go for it if the prompts spark an idea. Readers, what do you think “we” are going to do about that situation? 😉