His Father's Last Word

the walls and the smell of resin had soaked into the boards over a hundred winters. She had he

ing for me," she said,

found me first,

she turned her smile was already in place. That smile had always come a half second before h

she asked. "Truly.

been b

collar caught the light from the high window. Her platinum blonde hair was still braided back from the hal

exactly the w

know how he gets when his father's name is spoken in a room. He goes stiff and says th

im do a lot of thin

not waver. "Th

tood up in that hall and told the whole pack I was clever with words. You did not defend me, Marta.

ept the pack from splitting in half before breakfast. Th

pack against me before I

you now, and I want you to hear it without deciding first wha

er mouth, and I felt the hair on my arms lift the way it do

hy

They are already talking. And when the Council arrives, the first thing they will ask is whether the Alpha has a mate who might be protecting him." She tilted her head. "You are

eech," I said. "Di

ge thing about Marta. She could cut you to the bone a

a fight," she said. "I

hing else. Where were yo

. Her eyes did n

d you ask

k is at night, including herself. I was in my office. Greta was at the cl

ing timber. The books had gone behind after the storm, and I

how l

late.

d not stop until four, and the path down

oment, then said, "What

r. I was lookin

ry now, a grey brown that could have been anything. But there was the same crust on the right one, and it went up past the laces in a smeared line, a

s no reason for a wolf to walk the kiln path on a night o

looked at her own boots, an

nt up to check the charcoal stacks. The old burners

e night the

stayed with me afterwards. It had not moved. "You should be careful, Ilse. You have a gift for fin

and walked past me towards the shed do

efore," I said. "About s

e light from the high windo

re old friends. The night Anselm died, I was afraid for Konrad. Afraid in a way I have not

wung shut

with my hand on the dusty slat, and th

under her arm. But on the wet stones between the shed and the house, her boot prints were clean a

he night of the rain, when the path was a river, and she had brought the clay back with her, and she h

my pocket and read the three words I had

with col

ler letters than before: Marta was on the kiln pat