Chapter 21: Naming Moon

The Naming Moon rose over Ashfall yard on the night of the full moon, round and white as a plate.

Every wolf from both packs came to it.

Stonehollow crossed the creek at sundown in a long line, the young Alpha at the front with the river stone on his chest.

The Ashfall wolves stood along the yard wall and watched them come with their arms folded.

For about a minute nobody said a word.

Then the baker's wife walked straight up to the old man with the cane, held out a covered dish, and said, "I'm told your pack can't bake."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone."

"It's slander."

"Then prove it," she said, and lifted the cloth.

Inside lay a honey loaf the size of a saddle.

The old man took one bite.

He chewed in silence for a long moment, and his mustache twitched.

"Sit," he said.

By the time the lanterns were lit, the two packs were eating off each other's plates.

I sat on a bench by the fire with Lyra in the crook of my arm, wrapped in a blanket with a wren stitched on one corner.

Kellan sat at my left with his hand on my knee.

Hester planted herself on my right, bandage and all.

"I want it on record," she said, "that I am the baby's godmother."

"Nobody said that."

"Nobody had to. I was concussed in her defense."

"You hit a barrel."

"A barrel she was sleeping near. It's a technicality."

The old man with the cane leaned in from the next bench.

"I believe the child's godfather has the senior claim."

"Who's the godfather?"

"I have a cane."

"That's not a qualification."

"It's a very good cane."

Kellan put his head in his hand, and his shoulders shook.

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