Page 11 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Her cheek on his chest, she fought and lost the urge to rub against him. He wasn’t angry at her, and his scent was comforting and reassuring. And she wanted it everywhere.

“I didn’t know you were looking for me.”

“I wasn’t.”

Two words like arrows to the heart. She stopped rubbing, instead curling into herself, her mind at war. Her human side screamed that she didn’t need his approval, that his opinion of her didn’t matter. But her wolf, still a vague shadow just starting to take shape, whined pathetically, like she wanted to do whatever he asked to show how loyal and grateful she was for him.

For what, existing? For ruining our life? she thought to herself.

For choosing us, the wolf whispered.

Fern nearly jumped. You… you speak?

The wolf snorted. Of course I do. You just never listened before now.

“Then why did you mark me in the first place?” she dared to ask.

His grip on her tightened, his eyes focused straight ahead. “I don’t know.”

Another minute went by. “Why did you help me?” he asked.

Her wolf perked up. He was making conversation.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Fern replied.

He looked down at her again, his focus consuming, stealing the breath from her lungs. When the corner of his mouth twitched, she felt like she could die happy at that very moment.

And the awareness of that fact made her sick.

“Then that is why I marked you.” He shifted her slightly in his arms, then continued talking. “I’m taking you to Sabletail Castle, the seat of my clan. You will earn your keep there.”

And there it was, the reality of her situation. She was a made wolfkin, a Solvekh. A servant from now until the end of her life. The “right” thing to do as payment for saving a young wolf.

“Doing what?” she asked, afraid of the answer. Because he could make her do anything, and that wolf growing inside of her would enjoy every second of it.

He looked down at her again, considering. “You’re quite small, and I’ve heard we need a new chimney sweep…”

The color drained from her cheeks. “Please, no, I… I can’t do heights.”

He chuckled softly. “No heights, then. Well, what do you know how to do?”

Nothing. The only thing she’d ever been good at was decorating her bed.

“I worked at the tavern where you found me with—” She gasped. The last she’d seen of her mother and father had been on her way out to the storage shed for more onions. And then she never came back. “M-my parents! I didn’t get a chance to—”

“They’ve been compensated.”

Fern stopped, her confusion diluting the despair. “What… what do you mean?”

“You’ve been under their care for ten years that you should have been under mine. I have paid them for their time.”

She stiffened, wanting now to get down, but afraid to ask for it. “They’re my parents,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Her voice got louder. Shriller. “They don’t need to be paid for taking care of their own daughter!”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, and she shut her mouth and cowered, averting her gaze on instinct. Then he sighed. “You have much to learn, she-wolf, including how to speak to your alpha. I will forgive you this impudence since it is your first offense, but you would do well to keep your tongue in my presence.”

How magnanimous, she thought bitterly.

“From the moment I marked you,” he continued, “you became my responsibility. It was my mistake that I forgot, so I will not charge you the debt.”