Chapter 18: The Run

The autumn Run started at the tower gate at moonrise, and the whole pack came.

Three hundred people stood in the cold in the old stone yard, and half of them were already undressing.

Wolves aren't shy about their bodies. They fold their clothes in neat piles and don't look.

I stood at the head of the yard in Torin's coat, and nobody would meet my eyes.

Winifred stood on the tower steps in her grey wool, with Camille a half step behind her.

"The Luna leads," Winifred called. "By law. Let her lead."

Laughter ran through the back rows.

"Wolfless," someone said, not quietly enough.

Torin stepped up on my right. His mouth was a hard line.

"You don't have to," he said, low. "I'll say you're hurt."

"Hold my coat."

I took it off and dropped it in his arms.

The cold hit my bare skin, and I didn't care.

I closed my eyes and found the warm place in my chest and said, simply: now.

It came faster than the first time.

My spine pulled and my bones rolled and I dropped to all fours on the flagstones.

When I opened my eyes, the yard had gone absolutely silent.

A honey-gold wolf stood in front of three hundred wolves, shaking out her fur.

Somebody whispered, "Gods."

Torin set my coat on the step.

He took a breath, his clothes tore, and the black wolf stood beside me.

Together, we turned our backs on the tower and ran for the gate.

The pack came after us.

I heard them behind me, a wave of paws and breath and low, glad howls.

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