Chapter 6: The Grave on the Mountain

"No," I said.

Rowan Breckenridge had not moved, and he had not spoken.

I said it to the warmth in my chest and to the man holding his heart across the stones.

"Not today," I said. "I haven't buried my daughter."

His hand dropped slowly.

"Understood," he said.

His voice was low and even, and he looked away first.

I turned my back on him and knelt by the plank.

"I'm taking her up the mountain," I told the ring. "She'll lie where the Goddess can see her."

Gareth was on his feet again, swaying, with Cora holding his arm.

"You will not take my daughter out of this territory."

"She is not leaving your territory," I said. "The mountain is half yours."

"The Goddess's ground stays the Goddess's."

"Then I need no leave from you."

The old Alpha tapped his cane.

"The Luna has the right to bury her own," he said. "I'll send two of my wolves to guard the road."

"Ashmoor will send four," Rowan said.

Nobody argued with them.

We buried her at dusk.

I picked a spot on the slope below the shattered pillar, where a flat gray stone sat over a small hollow.

Rowan's wolves dug the grave while I held her.

The old Alpha stood at the foot of it with his hat in his hand.

The Great Elder stood at the head, leaning on his staff with his eyes shut.

The omega girl had come up with us, wrapped in Rowan's own coat, and she held a bunch of winter heather someone had found for her.

Cora and Gareth did not come.

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