Page 43 of Salt Between the Wolves

Yet as grief hollowed out everything around her and Riven's blood cooled on her hands, she found herself thinking it anyway.

Chapter 7: Blood in the Square

Eira

The gates opened before the patrol reached them.

Word traveled quickly in Ironfang—faster than riders, faster even than weather. By the time the first horses entered the lower yard, wolves had already begun gathering along the edges of the square, abandoning work and conversation alike to see what had brought the patrol home ahead of schedule.

At first there was only curiosity, but it gradually gave way to silence as one person noticed what another had already seen, and understanding spread through the crowd without a single word being spoken.

Eira barely registered any of it.

The journey back existed only in fragments now: snow, hoofbeats, the weight of dried blood stiffening her sleeves, and the memory of Riven's head resting in her lap. Everything else seemed distant and unreal. Someone had spoken to her at some point during the ride, but she couldn't remember who it had been or what they had said.

As the square came into view, people stepped aside to let the patrol pass. Faces turned toward the returning riders, searching, counting, looking for familiar figures. A few smiles appeared before fading almost immediately when their owners noticed the riderless horse carrying a body wrapped carefully against the cold.

No explanation was necessary, and the mood shifted almost at once.

Eira slid from her horse, catching herself against the saddle when her legs nearly gave way beneath her. Around her, the square seemed to sway slightly, though whether from exhaustion or grief she couldn't tell.

The silence deepened as a child somewhere nearby asked a question and was immediately pulled closer by his mother, who offered no answer.

Then Soren appeared.

The crowd parted for him almost automatically. He crossed the square without haste, yet something in his expression made the wolves nearest him step aside before he reached them. His gaze moved over the returning patrol, passed briefly across the riders, and finally settled on the horse carrying the body.

For a brief moment he stood completely still, and although the pause lasted no more than a second, it was long enough for Eira to see the exact instant understanding reached him.

No report was needed, and whatever Kael told him a moment later merely confirmed what he already knew. The slight tightening of his jaw was the only visible sign that the news had landed somewhere beneath the control he guarded so carefully.

More wolves continued to gather around the square. Hunters emerged from workshops, craftsmen abandoned their tasks, and children were drawn closer to their parents as questions passed quietly through the crowd. No one spoke loudly, and no one wanted to be the first to say his name.

Eventually, someone did.

"Where's Riven?"

The voice belonged to a woman standing near the front of the crowd. She hadn't spoken loudly, not yet, but the question cut through the silence with startling clarity.

No one answered.

Her gaze shifted past the gathered wolves toward the riderless horse and the shape lying across its back. For a heartbeat she remained motionless, as though her mind refused to understand what her eyes already had. Then she began moving.

The crowd opened before her without being asked. Grief arrived so visibly that no one could stand in its path.

Riven's mother reached the horse first.

"No."

The word came quietly, almost gently, as though she were correcting a misunderstanding rather than confronting a nightmare.

"No."

She reached for the blankets while several wolves stepped forward instinctively, but they were already too late.

The covering slipped away.

For several long seconds she simply looked at him. Her hands moved to his face, then his hair, then his shoulders in small, careful gestures reserved for someone sleeping rather than dead. It was as though enough tenderness might somehow call him back.