Chapter 23: The First Season

The treaty was signed on the long terrace at Aspen Hollow, in front of the moon stones, on a cold clear afternoon.

Three packs filled the meadow below, and no one stood in lines.

Dorian Falkner signed first, with a plain black pen.

"For Northfang," he said. "For the boundary we drew in blood and the one we'll draw now in ink."

He handed me the pen.

I signed under his name as Warden, and I felt the stones hum.

It was a small sound, a pleased one, and it ran out across the snow.

Rafe signed last.

The Ridgeline pack had voted him back into the alpha's chair that morning.

Every hand in the hall had gone up.

He had not taken it until I walked up and laid my palm on his chest in front of them.

"The ground is held," I had said. "The alpha is held."

Then I had kissed him, and the south side of the hall had whooped.

"One more thing," Dorian said, when the three of us stood with the papers.

He took a long, narrow package out of his coat.

It was the moon-silver knife, wrapped in oilcloth.

"I said I'd keep it for a museum," he said. "I think a Warden should have it instead."

I took it and turned it in my hand.

It was only a blade, for all it had nearly ended me.

"I'll put it in room one," I said. "With my mother."

Dorian nodded.

"I don't suppose I'm owed a dance at your next Founders' Night," he said, lightly.

"Dorian," Rafe said.