Chapter 17: Ice-Out

The ice went out of the main lake on the twenty-eighth of March, with a crack that rolled down the whole length of Solstice Lake.

The Gathering was set for the Saturday after.

Lars drove us around the lake road to the Holmberg shore, because there was no way to cross it anymore.

I rode in the cab with my hand on my belly and my feet swollen inside my boots.

I was nearly nine months along, and the pup had dropped.

"Last chance," Lars said, as the truck rolled to a stop.

"For what?"

"To tell me you've changed your mind."

I looked through the windshield.

Three hundred wolves stood on the shingle in their good coats, both packs in two dark blocks with the neighboring Alphas between them.

Beyond them the lake lay open and gray, except for one last shelf of bay ice, and the yellow rope marked the Moon Hole at the end of it.

Linnea stood in the front row in her cream coat, with my silver pin on her collar.

Garrick stood a long way from her.

"I haven't changed my mind," I said.

Lars got out and came around to my door.

He held out his hand, and I took it with my good one.

Petra climbed down from the back seat, and Dag came out the other side with his jaw set.

Nobody had seen Dag in three months.

I put my boots on the shingle, and straightened up, and let the wind take my braid.

The nearest wolf was a young woman in a green scarf.

She turned her head, and saw me.

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