Chapter 21: The Midwinter Stones

Nora's POV

The Stones stood in the valley under the hold, nine grey pillars in a ring, taller than a man on a horse.

Every Midwinter for a thousand years, the packs had come to them under the full moon, and no blood had ever been spilled inside the circle.

The northern Alpha had camped on that ground ten days early. We had waited him out behind the hold's walls.

Tonight the moon came up over the pass, and I walked down the mountain to meet him.

The Warden walked on my left with forty Ice Moon wolves behind her.

Rhys walked on my right, in a plain coat, with no rank on him.

Maud and Joanna stayed in the hold with the four cubs and every archer the Warden could spare.

I had kissed each small forehead before I left.

Silver Claw came in from the south as the moon rose.

Two hundred wolves in grey jackets, the elders in front, the older one holding an iron key in both hands.

They stopped at the edge of the ring.

They looked at me, and at Rhys, and at the frost creeping out from under my boots.

Nobody spoke.

Then the northern pack opened its ranks.

The Alpha was a huge man with a white-streaked beard and an iron torque at his throat. He walked into the circle slowly.

Priscilla walked at his side in a white coat, her hair loose, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm.

She was smiling.

"Alpha of Silver Claw," she said. Her voice carried clear and sweet across the stones.

"Husband. I'm so glad you've come home."

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