Chapter 4: Kneel

I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I took one step forward, away from Bran, with my hands open at my sides.

"Don't," Bran whispered. "Anwen, don't."

The alpha growled, and the sound came up through the ground into my boots.

Moth poked her head out of my hood and sneezed.

"I'm not here to fight you," I said.

My voice shook, and I let it.

"Somebody blew the horn. They told you to come. You didn't want to, did you?"

The grey wolf's ears flicked.

I saw it then, the thin line of dried blood along his neck, just under the fur.

Someone had put a whip across him.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry. Somebody hurt you to get you here."

I took the bell off my neck, held it up so he could see it, and shook it once.

A small bright note went out through the hollow.

The alpha went still.

Then, slowly, as the sound faded, he lowered his huge head until his chin touched the stream bank.

One by one, the other eleven wolves knelt in the dirt.

Bran sat down very suddenly in the grass.

"I'm not going to say anything," he said weakly. "I'm going to sit here, and I'm not going to say anything."

I crouched and held out my hand to the alpha.

He smelled my fingers and pushed his nose into my palm.

"Thank you," I said. "Go home."

The wolves rose together and melted into the trees.

When I looked up from the empty clearing, there was a man standing on the far bank of the stream.

He was holding a Watch horn at his side, and the strap was torn.

Kieran Falkirk.

He'd come on foot, with no beast, and his black coat was wet to the knee.

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