Chapter 24: A Tie

The two Alpha chairs were the elder's idea.

She had them built out of the old breakfast benches, side by side on the dais in the repaired hall.

A quilt lay folded on the floor between them.

"The pack wants to see you sit," she said.

"We do sit," said Roz.

"Sit together."

It was a Sunday, six weeks after the council.

The pack was filing in for the monthly gathering, and the tables were laid, and somebody had brought a pie.

I took the left chair, and Roz took the right.

Our daughters lay on the quilt between us on their backs, kicking.

Hers had her fists up and her mouth open, hollering at the rafters as usual.

Mine lay with her eyes on the ceiling beams and her frown on, working something out.

Conall stood behind my chair with his hands behind his back.

Devon stood behind Roz's, a half step further back than he used to.

He had been sleeping in the kitchen for two weeks, by order.

He had washed every dish in the house without being asked and had not once complained.

"Is he allowed on the porch yet?" I whispered.

"Only in daylight," said Roz.

"Generous."

"I'm a generous Alpha."

The old elder took her camp chair at the foot of the dais.

She had stepped down on the first morning.

She still turned up to every meeting, and nobody had the nerve to say so.

"Open the floor," she said.

I stood.

Two hundred wolves went quiet.

"First business," I said. "The lodge doors."

"They stay open," Roz said. "Day and night."

"If a woman comes in with a bleeding belly and a story, you believe her. You send for the healer."

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