Chapter 4: Nobody Ever Came

I had my mother's dagger in my left hand and my right hand clamped on my shoulder, and I could not lift either.

The largest wolf stepped forward and went down into a man in the span of a breath.

He was tall and grey-bearded and wore a plain black coat, and he looked at the green stitching on my cloak before he looked at my face.

"Redmoor," he said. "Four of your pack's wolves are up at the stone. Two are down and one is crying. The fourth ran."

"They tried to kill me."

"I can see that." He crouched, careful not to come too close. "Who are you?"

"The offering. Redmoor's offering to the king." I spat blood into the needles. "My name is Saskia Kitteridge."

He didn't answer.

Behind him the other wolves had gone still, and none of them looked at one another.

"Say that again," the man said.

"I'm this year's she-wolf. I walked from the stone. I'm here to give myself to your king."

"Girl." His voice had changed. "Nobody has ever come."

I laughed, and it hurt.

"That isn't true. Girls go every year. My own pack has sent a girl every year since before I was born."

"Forty years I've kept this border," he said. "Not once has a girl crossed that stone alive. Not one, from any pack."

"They told me the king's wolves wait for her."

"Then they lied to you."

I stared at him.

Everything I thought I knew about the north road stood up in my head and would not sit down again.

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