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Without another word, she pushed her way out the door.

I turned and set the sword on the table.

Chapter Fifteen

Fenli

We’ll hunt the wolves until they’re gone.

His words rang in my ears for days after he’d spoken them. He’d meant for it to be comforting; I found no comfort in words like those.

The wolves changed everything for me. Without them, I’d been adrift. There was no purpose for me in the clan. I wanted to explore and map but was forbidden from it. I was given a husband and a job, but I’d refused them both. I’d felt like an outcast in my own home; a stranger in my own bones.

But the wolves.

I cut through the lapping waves, aiming decidedly towards the bit of stony shore where I always landed.

This time, there was a purpose in every move I made. My whole body hummed with it. I could feel the rightness of it running the length of my nerves.

When I’d banked and dragged my canoe up among the boulders, I paused for a few breaths. It was reckless, doing this. Madness andtreachery all wrapped up together. And at long last, I was happy. This made sense.

I made my way out to the wolves, resolve deepening the further as I sunk into the forest. The closer I got, the slower I went, cautious and attentive. When I reached the tall cedar where I’d camped out at before, they came into view before me. The pack was home, resting near their den, but they hadn’t seen me yet. I stilled, patient, and let my eyes track through the trees.

There were other remnants of a village, I had realized. Other huts, fallen and overgrown with forest. They all but disappeared into the sanctuary of trees, invisible until you saw them, and then you couldn’t believe you’d missed them. I was surrounded by the ruins of my people, a village that used to be alive and thriving with the Caed.

Slowly, I lowered myself down so that I was sitting with my back to the tree. This bit of movement caught the attention of the dark male, the father. His whole body went rigid, his ears and tail alert. The others copied him, and four wolves stared me down. I sat still and calm, but my heart picked up its rhythm. I couldn’t help it.

Many long moments passed. They stretched on with nothing but the chatter of the ravens overhead to mark the progression of time. Then the watcher broke from his place among his family. He trotted to the same boulder as before, between his den and my post, and he trained all his focus on me.

When the pups whined inside the den, the others let their attention flicker, but the watcher was faithful to his job. His eyes and ears never leftme, and the others seemed to find some peace in the fact. The mother slipped into the dark and the father sat, his ears rotating as he took everything in. The omega seemed unworried, finding a patch of sunlight to lie down in and lick her paws, the uncle joining her.

When the watcher sat, I felt like I’d passed a test. He would allow me a measure of trust, and I was grateful for it. It felt like a gift.

I couldn’t say why.

They had not accepted me, and they would not; I wasn’t foolish enough to imagine they would. I did not belong in their pack. I could watch from the outskirts, but I was less a member of their family than the ravens who floated down to clean up their camp and rest among them.

I would not be one of theirs, and that was fine. Because, for the first time, I imagined that I had a purpose in my clan.

I would not be a wife or sit with the children who needed watching. I would not cook the meals or sew the garments or card the wool like any had hoped.

I would serve a different purpose.

I would alter the maps. I would hide the wolves’ island from my clan.

I would protect the wolves.

That evening, I slipped out of the hut to walk the little dirt path along the outside perimeter of the village.

It was going to be a cool night. A breeze was already blowing down from the north, and I took in a lung full. It eased some of the tension in me. My gait got a bit longer and my body began to unfurl. It took the edge off, worked out some kinks, and mostly helped to clear my mind.

When I heard the voices, I slowed. I didn’t want to be seen, but I was curious enough to want to know what had so many men gathered outside of the village center. I continued until they came into view, a large group of hunters just down the slope. There was a larger group in the center, huddled together, but others had broken off, forming their own smaller clusters. I caught sight of Roan and Thaas. They both had their bows and were knocking arrows, aiming and sending them sailing to land with thuds into targets, shooting as many as they could before the dark swept in and forced them to stop. Roan’s lips were drawn tight. He looked agitated.

When I glanced back at Thaas, I was startled to find him already looking at me. He smiled in that lazy, confident way I’d begun to associate with him—and then he winked.

I faltered. There was nothing lazy or confident about my response to that, and I turned away on an impulse, back the way I’d come. Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe my awkwardness was running away with me again. But I couldn’t feel comfortable in this new village, with all the hunters home and milling around—my husband first among them—and I didn’t like Thaas.

Relax, I told myself, heading back to Roan’s hut but trying to slow my pace, not be a fleeing, bumbling mess.