The Summons

***SEVEN YEARS LATER***

Naya was seven years old, and she had never seen another wolf outside of Theron and me.

She had his eyes, Zarek's eyes, silver and sharp and full of questions I could not answer. Most nights she asked about her father, and every time I told her the same lie, telling her he was dead. I told her he was a sailor who had died at sea a few months before her birth because it seemed easier than the truth, easier than saying he rejected me before the sun rose and he was not aware of her existence.

She asked what he was like, if she could go to sea, or if she could see a picture of him. She asked if she got her silver eyes from him, and sometimes I would put together a lie that I would forget the next time she asked the same question.

She had caught me in my lies numerous times, and on other nights when I was worn out from the day's work, I would turn away from her and pretend to sleep even as she called out to me.

The lies had grown heavier with each passing year, a weight I carried in my chest that never got lighter.

Theron noticed, because he always noticed everything.

"You need to tell her the truth someday," he said one evening, stirring his tea by the dancing fire. His hands shivered fiercely now, showing a weakness they had not possessed seven years ago. "She is not a pup anymore, Rya. She deserves to know where she comes from."

"When she is older," I said, avoiding his gaze completely. "When I am ready."

"Will you ever be ready?" He looked at me with those kind, weary eyes, heavy with years. "Or will you wait until it is too late, like I did?"

I kept quiet and continued folding the clothes in my hands, having no answer for him.

Theron was dying.

The old healer who saved my life, who gave me a home and taught me how to hide, was withering in his bed with grey skin, dimmed eyes, and quivering breath. I had watched over him for weeks, feeding him and wiping his brow, but nothing helped. The herbs did nothing, the prayers did nothing, and death was creeping into his lungs while I stood by, completely unable to stop it.

Naya sat beside him, holding his hand with both of hers. "Theron, please do not go," she whispered, her words more of a child's prayer. "You're the only grandfather I've got."

The corner of Theron's lips curved slightly in a taut smile, though one could easily tell he was in so much pain. "I am not going anywhere yet, little one. I still have something to do."

I frowned, stepping closer to the bed. "What do you mean?"

He coughed, a heart-wrenching sound that made my stomach walls clench tightly. "Rya, you need to listen to me. This is important."

"I am listening," I said, though my throat was tight and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Send word to the pack. To Zarek." He paused, struggling to catch his breath. "I was his mentor, his teacher. He will come to say goodbye to an old man who showed him the way. And when he comes..."

"No." I shook my head before he could even finish the sentence. "No, Theron. I cannot. I will not. He will see Naya, he will know, and he will take her from me. I will lose everything."

"He will try." Theron's eyes held mine, weak but fierce, burning with a certainty I had never seen in him before. "But you are not the same wolf he rejected, Rya. You are stronger now, harder, wiser. And Naya... Naya deserves to know her father, even if he is a fool, even if he does not deserve her."

"Deserves?" I let out a hollow laugh. "He deserves nothing. He broke me, Theron. He broke my wolf. Artemis has been silent for years because of him."

"And yet you survived." Theron coughed again, and this time I saw blood on his lips. "You survived because you are stronger than you know. Now stop being a coward and send the message."

I wanted to argue, to scream and cry and burn the cottage down, but the words stuck in my throat. Theron was dying, and I could not refuse a dying man's wish, not after everything he had done for me.

I sent the message, regrettably.

The next two days that followed were pure agony.

Every shadow that passed by the windows looked like a wolf, and every sound made me jump. I paced the cottage while Naya played outside, gathering flowers for Theron's bedside. She did not understand what was coming; all she knew was that Grandfather was sick and Mommy was acting strange.

"Mommy, why are you so scared?" she asked, tugging gently on my sleeve.

"I am not scared," I lied.

"You are shaking."

I looked down at my hands, and they were trembling uncontrollably. Before I could answer her, a knock came at the door. It was loud, like death sentence being read aloud. Naya froze, I froze, and Theron coughed from his bed.

I walked to the door with my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst through my ribs, my mind playing images of me picking up my daughter and jumping out a window in the opposite direction. I pushed my legs forward, stretching out my hands, and when I opened it, a guard stood there.

He was tall and broad, wearing the red and silver colors of the Blood Moon Pack. He did not recognize me; seven years had changed my face, my posture, my hair, and everything about me.

"The Alpha requests entry," the guard said, his voice completely official. "He has come to pay his respects to Elder Theron."

I stepped aside because I had no choice.

The guard entered first, scanning the small room. His eyes lingered on Naya for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, but he said nothing. Then he turned and nodded toward someone behind him.

"The Alpha is here," he announced. "Stand and show respect."

More guards filtered into the small space, and Naya looked at me, completely confused. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close to my side. My legs felt like water, but I forced myself to stand straight, to lift my chin, and to show absolutely nothing on my face.

The cottage fell silent, and even the fire seemed to hold its breath. Everyone stood.

The guard stepped aside and the heavy door creaked open.