Chapter 23: Her Own Day

The moon came up red over the pines, the same way it had on the night I walked out.

This time, nobody had to tell me to smile.

The pack hall women had sewn my dress in nine days.

It was dark green wool, plain and warm, with long sleeves and a high neck, and no stranger had picked it for me.

I wore my own boots under it.

Two hundred Garrick wolves ringed the Stone with their torches.

A hundred Northlake wolves stood behind them, because Northlake's elders had asked to come, and I had said yes.

Anders stood at the front of them with his hair combed flat.

He stood square-shouldered and deliberate.

Ash's mother stood beside him in her brown coat.

Felicity stood in the second row, in a coat and a scarf, with her hand through the healer's arm.

She was thin and pale, and she was breathing without anyone's help.

She raised two fingers to me, a small wave.

I nodded back.

It was a small nod, and she took it.

Mom stood three rows behind her.

She had asked to be there.

I had said she could come, and she could stand where the pack stood, and that was all.

The Moon-reader waited at the altar with her cane.

"Who comes to the Stone?" she asked.

"Sigrid Garrick, heir of the Garrick seat," I said.

"Who comes with her?"

"Ash Thorsen." He said it low and steady. "Of nobody's pack but hers."

A murmur went around the ring, warm this time.

"Why does she come?"

"Because I chose it," I said.

"Nobody sold me. Nobody wrote it down. Nobody pricked my finger. I chose."

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