The Rogue Who Was Mine

r three years, and she knew the sound the stove made when it was drawing well and the sound it made when the chimney was wet, and

down in it: the dates, the names, the sums of money that had moved through the valley seat in the year her pack died. If a Council wolf ever

teady since the river, and every time she closed her eyes she felt the pressure of a hand around her wr

time her wolf had gone quiet, and th

did not answer. The fire ate another page. "He is a

nd and a smile on his face, and she had watched him walk out again while the smoke came up over the trees. Track

d had done som

to a grey shell, and the shell broke apart and the letters went with it. Good. She had one cop

copy was

ked brown leather, with a brass clasp that had gone green at the edges. Her mother had carried it in a pocket sewn inside her coat. Wren had carried it

pages were hers. Between them were thirty years of a pack's life: births, deaths, the price of timber, th

n the years when he had a seat. As a young wolf with a hand in the t

edger and put it back in her boot, and she sat on the floo

she could feel the exact distance between herself and the tracker the way she could feel the weight o

in a human town, keeping her wolf leashed and her scent buried under pine tar and river mud, and none of

here," she sai

n words. It spoke in direction and distance and a low,

she could see the whole of it: the shed where the tools were kept, the pump house, the muddy yard, and the pines closing in on e

was the safest thing in the world, a human

d her wolf pressed against her ribs, and she made he

, she woul

not saved her mother and it had not saved her pack and it had not kept the bond away. If the tracker came, she would find out what he wanted. If

ook it and split kindling until her arms ached and the pile was higher than she needed. Th

ed it two pieces of kindling a

the valley, t

oals, and her hand stopped halfway. The

the seconds, and the bond held steady at nine miles, then nin

e came up the

losed, and boots crunched on the wet gravel, and then a man's voice said, clear in the co

it over the rain on a logging road

the axe and o