Chapter 28: Counted Aloud

On the sixth of January the sky over the lake was pale and cloudless.

Five hundred boots had trodden the snow in the circle flat.

Snow Moon stood on the east side of the salt line and Ironwood stood on the west.

It was the first time either pack had stood in the same circle without a treaty to argue over.

I walked out of the Lodge alone, in the gown.

I had put it on in my old room, with Cecily's cold fingers doing up the back.

I had not looked in the mirror.

I did not need to.

I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders, a small, steady, heavy weight, twenty-two stones' worth.

The wolves went quiet as I came across the snow.

I saw faces I had grown up with, the cooks and the barn hands.

I saw the women from the kitchen who had watched me struck.

I saw Jasper's beta, and she gave me a short nod.

I saw my father at the very back, in a worn coat, with sawdust on his shoulders.

He held his hat in both hands.

He did not look away.

I stopped in the middle of the circle, on the place where I had stood with nothing on my gown at all.

The elder came toward me with her staff.

She was shaking a little, and I understood that she was frightened too.

"Clara Winslow," she said, loud, for the back rows. "Youngest daughter of Snow Moon. Are you ready to be counted?"

"I am."

"Turn so the pack can see."

I turned a slow circle, and the light caught the gown.

I heard the whole crowd breathe in.

The stones sat in their rows from collar to hem, pale and cold and sparkling, each one in its place.

The elder lifted her staff and set it down in the snow.

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