Page 45 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Eidan, of course, was gone.

Kyntha and her attendants took seats nearby, their hair neatly combed and braided into intricate patterns and shapes.

Their dresses clean.

Their pale cheeks free from blemishes or dirt.

Alastair held a large chunk of obsidian in his hand, the edges reflecting the firelight as he tapped it on the table, quieting the murmurs from the crowd.

The silence made her rasped breathing even more pronounced, and she did her best to hold it.

Alastair struck the obsidian once more.

“No wolf, true or made, stands beyond the order of the clan,” he began, eyes gliding over the wolfkin. They rested on her for just a moment before continuing. “We are bound by more than blood and instinct. We are bound by law, and where grievance threatens that bond, it must be heard.”

He did not yell, but his voice carried easily through the large room, loud enough that even Fern could hear him all the way in the back.

“Tonight, a grievance has been filed regarding the Ashpaw’s treatment. Beta Jules, you may speak.”

Jules bowed his head. “Thank you, Head Alpha Alastair. Your strength, wisdom, and integrity have led our clan into prosperity, our cups and cradles full. May the Moon Goddess bless your reign with—”

“Out with it, please,” Norden sighed. “You’ll garner no favor through meaningless platitudes.”

“Meaningless to you since they’re about me,” Alastair replied, almost smiling at his brother. “I, however, would not mind to hear more. Please, continue to sing my many praises. I particularly like to be told how I’ve led our clan through countless victories against our enemies.”

Wolfkin chuckled, and even Fern exhaled a little more sharply as she watched, though her body remained tense, muscles coiled and ready to run if necessary.

Though she had nowhere to go.

“As you have, Head Alpha, which is why I come to you today to seek an end to the cruel treatment of the Ashpaw, Fern. A Solvekh of our own, and not an adversary on the battlefield that wishes us harm.”

“She cannot shift,” Darion cut in, giving a half shrug. “She has been openly insolent. I see not a wolf, but a poison that must be drawn before she can be cured.”

“And if the cure kills her?” Jules asked.

Darion paused, but he did not even bother to look past the beta toward the back where Fern stood, the matters concerning her proceeding as though she were not there.

“Then we have only strengthened the clan by removing weakness.”

Many in the crowd nodded their agreement, and her knees buckled, eyes blurring.

Gods, if he wanted her dead, why could he not just do it quickly and save her this misery?

Why… why even bind her to begin with?

“Alpha Darion, please,” Jules continued. “We cannot enjoy the fruit of the vine if we do not offer it a trellis to grow on.”

Darion was clearly already done with the conversation by the way he tried to rise from his chair. “If you wish to bear fruits, beta, take your pick of vines already shaped,” he snapped, pointing towards the Solvekh women who stood against the walls.

Some of them shifted uncomfortably on their feet, while others threw their shoulders back to display their readiness.

Alastair held out his hand to quiet Darion. “The strength of a clan is not measured solely by what it can cull,” he said. “A leader must know the difference between weakness that spreads and hardship that can yet be shaped into strength.”

His gaze swept the room again before settling on Darion by his side

“The Ashpaw exists to correct. To isolate, to humble, to remind. It is not meant to foment cruelty for its own sake.”

A murmur moved through the crowd, and Fern’s breath caught. Jules straightened, and she did too.