Chapter 1

Molly's POV

Rose Starling had been in Howler less than a year, and already the pack couldn't function without her.

Derek sprained his wrist on patrol—swelled up like a purple turnip. I crouched beside him, fumbling with the bandage, wrapped it twice, tied a knot that hung loose.

"Don't move. Let me."

Rose walked over, hooked two fingers under my bandage, and yanked. It all came undone. She rewrapped it in seconds—smooth, tight, clean finish.

Derek twisted his wrist back and forth, grinning. "Rose, you're amazing! Doesn't even pinch. Last time Molly wrapped my ankle, it fell off after two steps."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. That was because you jumped into a river to catch fish.

"Wrapping needs to follow the bone lines, or it slips." Rose dusted her hands off. "Next time Molly can't do it, come find me."

I won't.

I bent down to gather the loose bandages. Logan was standing nearby, phone in hand—a procurement spreadsheet glowing on the screen. It was supposed to be for me. Instead, he turned to Rose.

"Rose, I've gone over this herb order three times and the numbers still don't add up. Can you take a look?"

Rose scrolled twice, tapped a line. "Formula's off here. You used dried herb pricing, but the quantity is for fresh. That's a fourfold difference."

Logan blinked, then let out a laugh. "I've been staring at this for three days."

"You're busy. It happens." Rose handed the phone back, her voice soft.

Logan took it, then glanced at me. I was still holding Derek's dirty bandages.

"Molly," he said flatly, "you should learn from Rose. She's way more detail-oriented than you. Look at that wrapping job—when are you ever gonna be reliable?"

I clenched the gauze and said nothing.

That night, Derek came bounding in, clutching a velvet box.

"Molly! Look what I had custom-made. Gorgeous, right? "

He flipped it open. Inside lay a dagger, three moonstones gleaming on the sheath. I reached for it—my fingertips barely brushed the box before he pulled it back.

"Actually, never mind. This thing's sharp. You're clumsy—I don't want you cutting yourself." He scratched his head, then snapped his fingers. "Oh! Rose said she needed a new herb knife. Her old blade's dull. This'd be perfect for her. Safer for a girl too."

"You promised it to me."

"Next time! I'll forge you something even better!" He was already sprinting out the door, his voice trailing behind. "This one goes to Rose—she worked hard fixing my wrist today—"

My hand was still hanging in the air. The moonstones caught the light for one last glint, then the door slammed shut.

Next morning, I was in the drying yard when Derek ran up behind me, a little leather pouch in his hand.

"Molly! Check this out!"

I paused. He untied the cord and pulled out a silver chain—a moonflower crystal pendant, petals carved so thin they caught the light like glass.

"Derek, you—"

"Beautiful, right?" He held it up like a trophy. "Found it at the market today. It's so perfect for Rose! She'd look amazing in this, don't you think?"

I looked at his eager face.

"Yeah. Beautiful."

He grinned, tucked it back in his pouch, and took off.

That night by the fire, Rose was wearing the chain. The moonflower hung against her collarbone, catching every flicker of flame. Logan sat beside her, picking the tenderest pieces of meat off the grill and dropping them into her bowl. Derek beamed from across the fire. "Told you I've got good taste!"

"Love it." Rose touched the pendant and smiled at him.

Logan smiled too, then glanced over at me—sitting alone at the edge of the fire. The flames lit my face. He frowned.

"Molly, why are you always sitting by yourself? Go grab Rose some water. She's been on her feet all day."

I looked up at him.

He sighed, impatience creeping in. "Don't be so moody all the time. Look at Rose—she just got here and she's already handling everything. You need to learn to stand on your own two feet."

Stand on my own.

I picked up the bowl beside me—cold soup, brewed with silverleaf. Bitter enough to numb my tongue. Logan used to make this for me. He knew I couldn't take the bitterness, so he'd always stir in three spoonfuls of honey.

Tonight's bowl? Not a single grain of sugar.

I set it down and stood.

"I'm going to bed."

Behind me, the fire crackled. Derek laughed. Logan told Rose, "Don't eat too much spice—bad for your throat." No one called after me.

I glanced back. For a moment, I could've sworn Rose shot me a smile that wasn't friendly at all.

Finally, I walked back to my empty room and closed the door.