Chapter 7: Sunday Supper

The grange hall on a Sunday supper smells like ham, coffee and wet wool.

I walked in on my own two legs.

It was a good day, the best in a week, and I had decided that morning I would use every step of it.

I wore my green scarf.

I left the cane in the truck.

Roe walked a half pace behind me with his hand hovering at the small of my back, not touching.

Seventy wolves turned in their chairs.

The room went quiet in a ripple, table by table.

I saw my mother by the coffee urn, with her kerchief in her fist.

I saw Nils, who nodded at me once.

Then I walked the length of the hall to the head table, where a long white cloth lay over planks.

I sat down in the chair beside the Alpha's.

Roe pulled it out for me.

He sat down on my left.

Nobody said anything for a long moment.

Then Frieda Tollefson rose from her seat at the end of the table, in her gray wool coat.

A sheet of paper in her hand.

"Friends," she said. "Before we eat."

She said it kindly.

"The Hunter's Moon was eight days ago. We all saw the bond light. We all hoped, and we prayed, and I know Elke hoped too."

"I did," I said clearly.

Frieda ignored me.

"The old healer gave the bond one week to mend our Luna's illness."

"A week has passed. Our Luna is thin. She is tired. Her cane is out in the truck, but we all know it exists."

A murmur ran through the room.

My face went hot.

"The old law has a clause for this," Frieda said. "The Mending Clause. It was read in this hall in my grandmother's time."

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