Chapter 6: The Other Freja

For three days I said nothing about the scars on his back.

I watched him at practice and counted them again, fifteen in pairs, the same as mine.

Tilly said a girl does not ask the most feared Alpha at Thornfield why his back matches her father's strap.

She was right, and I hated that she was right.

On Friday at noon the whole school stood in the quad in the snow.

Tilly held my good arm and kept her mouth by my ear.

"Don't react," she whispered. "Whatever happens, you're Nora, and Nora doesn't care."

"I know."

"Your heartbeat is very loud."

"Then stand on my other side."

A black car rolled through the gate and stopped at the steps of the main hall.

Two men in dark coats got out first and held the doors.

The elder from my father's pack stepped out next, the same man who had relit the candles and called it a draft.

My hands went cold.

A girl followed him in a long silver dress, and the whole quad went silent.

She had my white-blond hair down to her waist.

She had my height, and she walked the way I had been taught to walk across the great hall at home.

I looked at her face, and it was nobody I knew.

It was a pleasant, pretty, frightened face, and she was twenty feet away.

"Students of Thornfield," the elder said, and his voice carried across the snow.

"I give you Freja Soderstrom, daughter of the Alpha of the North."

"She awakened a silver-gray wolf before her whole pack."

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