Chapter 24: The Quiet Winter

The first hard snow of winter fell the week the new Alpha of Stonecrown sent for me.

He wrote it plainly, in a big untidy hand.

The stone on the burial hill still had my name on it, and the pack didn't know what to do.

"They can't decide if it's bad luck to take it down," Keely said, reading over my shoulder at the kitchen table.

"Or bad luck to leave it up."

"What do you think?"

"I think you should go and watch a man hit a rock with a hammer. It'll be good for you."

Caleb looked up from the bread he was buttering.

"I'll drive."

"You'll sit in the cart and complain about the road."

"I'll complain from the driver's seat."

I laughed, and he grinned at me over the butter knife.

A month ago I would not have believed a breakfast could be this easy.

We went up on a Sunday.

The burial hill was white, and the pines stood in their own blue shadows.

A crowd had gathered anyway, a hundred or so Stonecrown wolves in their grey coats, stamping to keep warm.

The new Alpha stood at the head of the grave with his hat in his hand.

"Luna," he said. Then he coughed. "Lady Ferris. Sorry. The lads still say Luna."

"Luna's fine."

He pointed at a stooped man with a mallet and a chisel.

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