Chapter 5: Finish It Properly

Demelza took Daphne's hand off her arm and held it in the air between them.

"Who told you I was a Silver?" she asked.

Daphne's face went still.

"What?"

"You said silver wolves never last. I shifted for the first time five hours ago, in Nan's back yard. Two people saw."

The Brocklehurst wolves crowding the road had gone quiet.

Daphne laughed, a small high sound. "Everyone says it. MacShane wolves are always silver."

"My father was brown," Demelza said. "So was my uncle."

A woman near the front of the crowd looked at the woman beside her.

Daphne opened her mouth and closed it again.

"Mel, I don't know what you mean," she said. "I'm trying to help."

"I know," Demelza said. "You always are."

She let go of Daphne's hand, and Daphne took a small step back, into the arms of the wolves behind her.

Rafe said nothing, but he had gone very quiet beside the gatepost, and she knew he had been counting every word.

Then a murmur ran up the hill, and the crowd parted.

Hoyt came up the road between two guards, with an arm over each of their shoulders.

His sandy hair was dark with sweat.

His face had gone the color of old candle wax, and the guards were taking most of his weight.

He had been the mountain last night, and now he looked like a man who had run a long way uphill.

He straightened when he saw the gate, and the guards let go.

He swayed once and stood.

"Demelza," he said.

"Hoyt."

"This has gone far enough."

"I think it's gone exactly as far as you took it."

His mouth tightened. He lowered his voice, though forty people were close enough to hear.

"You've had your tantrum. You've made your point to the pack. Now come back down to the Hall and finish this properly."

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