Shadow of the Wolf King

r back hurt and her hands were dirty from the mines. But something wasn't right. It was too quiet in the hut. "Mara?" When Lyra called, she moved the rough curtain that divided their

was her way in. Lyr slipped into the crowd gathering in the town square. Keeping her head down, she slouched like the boys did, taking up room. No one looked twice at her. They were too busy avoiding the wolf guards' cruel eyes. "You." A guard with a scar across his nose pointed at her. "Strong enough for forge work?" Lyr nodded, not trusting her words. "Get in line." Twenty people stood in rows. Some cried quietly. Others stared empty-eyed at the dirt. They all knew some would never return from the fortress. The weak died quickly under the wolves' watch. As the guards checked each person, Lyr's heart hammered so loudly she was sure they could hear it. Wolves had amazing senses-they could smell fear, they could smell lies, they could smell... She clutched the small bottle of shadow-scent in her pocket. Mara's strongest potion, saved for situations. It masked human scent totally. Lyr had swallowed three drops before leaving the hut. If the wolves smelled her real identity, she'd be dead before sunset. The scarred guard reached her, sniffing the air near her neck. Lyr held her breath. "Name?" he growled. "Lyr," she mumbled in her deepest voice. "Blacksmith's son from the east mines." The guard stared at her face. His yellow eyes narrowed. "You smell... strange," he said. Lyr's stomach dropped. "Got burned in a fire," she lied quickly. "The healers used herbs." For a terrible moment, the guard leaned closer, his hot breath on her face. Then he shrugged and moved on. Lyr almost fell with relief. The potion worked. The march to the fortress started at noon, just as she'd planned. Twelve miles uphill, through woods where normal wolves wouldn't dare hunt. The king's pack ruled here. As they walked, Lyr listened to the other workers talk about the fortress. About King Kael. "He's seven feet tall..." "...claws like daggers..." "...eats hearts raw during the Blood Moon..." "They say he can smell your deepest secret just by looking at you." Lyr clutched her bag tighter. The plan was simple: Find Mara. Free her. Run. The castle would be busy preparing for the Blood Moon ritual. Guards would be distracted. The trees thinned as they climbed higher. Then, around a bend in the road, the fortress appeared. Lyr stopped dead. No story had caught its horror. Black towers stabbed the sky like claws. Walls of obsidian gleamed in the afternoon sun. Massive iron gates stood open like a mouth ready to swallow them. And everywhere-guards. Wolf guards with bright eyes and hands that sometimes showed claws. They walked like men but watched like animals. "Keep