Wren
We rode south in the first soft weather of spring, the whole caravan of us, three pups, four parents, two grandmothers who refused to be left, and Selene, whom I'd asked to come without telling her why.
Darius met us at the Ashwood border, and he was terrible at hiding things, he has always been terrible at hiding things, and the whole last hour of the ride he kept glancing at me sideways like a boy with a frog in his pocket.
"What did you do?" I finally asked.
"Nothing," said the Alpha of the Ashwood Pack, unconvincingly, to the horizon.
The plan, my plan, had been simple. The house on Silvercrest Lane still stood in my name, signed over to the pack after the war but never touched. I had run from it once in the dark. I had set out to close it once and been run off the road. Thir
