Chapter 17: Seven Packs

The Moon Gathering was held in a stone bowl in the valley, where seven grey pillars stood in a ring and the dead grass was white with frost.

Each pack had its own pillar and its own side of the bowl.

A thousand wolves packed the bowl from the stone floor to the rim.

The Council elders sat on a stone shelf above the floor, five of them in black.

An old woman sat in the middle, with a white braid to her waist.

The cutter's cart stood below the shelf, and a gaunt figure in grey sat beside it with a wrapped bundle across his knees.

I did not look at the bundle.

Ansel walked at my left, and Hester at my right with the oilcloth ledger held tight against her chest.

Through the new thread, I felt him breathing slowly on purpose.

"I'm here," I said, so quietly only he heard.

"I know. So am I."

The guard from Greywater walked a pace behind us.

The young woman and the man with the grey beard walked with him, the wolves who had brought me the slate.

They had not asked leave to come, and no one on the Greywater side of the bowl would look at them.

Carson stood across the floor beside the Greywater pillar.

I had last seen him bleeding from the nose in a gateway.

Now he had lost weight he did not have to lose.

His right hand was in a plaster cast and sling, and the silver Alpha ring hung loose on his finger.

June stood at his elbow in white linen, with her braid over her shoulder and the tin flask in her hand.

The Beta stood behind them both, grey-faced.

Carson's eyes found me, then went to my left, and then to the mark on my shoulder where my collar had slipped.

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