I looked at Maren.
She was at the front of the pack where Rodan had been standing and her face had gone a color I hadn't seen on it before. Not the pale of shock. Something deeper. The color of a person who has just understood that the thing they thought was protecting them is gone and there is nothing between them and what comes next.
She was looking at the man in the yard.
Not at me. She hadn't looked at me once since he carried me out of that shack. I didn't know what that meant yet but I filed it away the way I filed everything, carefully, for later.
I looked back at the hole in the wall.
I'd been in this pack for twenty years. I'd been in it from the day I was born and for the first fourteen years of it I'd been a person with a family and a place in things, not a good place, not
