Chapter 20: Silver in the Rocks

Rowan's POV

She had told me what to do on the way down from the grave.

"Let me go up alone," she said, low, in the dark.

"Come behind me with six. Stay out of sight. Do not step in until I say so."

"If he lifts a hand to you."

"Until I say so, Rowan."

I did not like it. I said yes.

By moonrise I was on the goat path above the pillar with six Ashmoor wolves in plain brown coats and no colors.

Below us, a single lantern climbed the mountain.

It was Linnea. She walked straight and slow, in the gray wool dress, with her hair coiled up.

I could smell her on my own shirt.

I made myself stop thinking about it.

The path ran between two walls of broken rock. It was narrow and steep, and I had walked it twice as a boy.

I held up a fist.

My wolves stopped.

It was too quiet.

There were no owls and no wind in the scrub.

"Alpha," the youngest one whispered.

The first bolt hit him in the chest.

It came from the rocks above, with a flat crack, and the boy sat down hard with silver sticking out of his coat.

"Down!" I roared.

The second bolt took the wolf beside me through the arm. The third struck stone by my head and sprayed me with grit.

They had been waiting for us. Twenty men or more, in the rocks on both walls, with crossbows.

Gareth had said no coats at the stones, and he had known I would come in brown.

"Fall back!" my captain shouted. "Alpha, fall back to the border!"

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