Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 41 - Chapitre 50

The pack celebrated until the fire burned low.Sol lay in the center of the clearing, surrounded by wolves who had stopped being afraid. Mira was asleep against its silver fur. Holt sat with his back against a tree, his axe across his knees, finally relaxed. Wren and Sparrow were braiding each other's hair. Vera was crying quietly, tears of relief, tears of hope.Luan watched them from the cabin porch. Cass sat beside her, his shoulder pressed against hers, his hand warm on her knee.You're not celebrating, he said.She looked at the pack. At Sol. At Mira's small sleeping face.I'm watching, she said. That's my way of celebrating.Cass turned to face her. His gold eyes caught the firelight. His hand moved from her knee to her waist.I have a different way of celebrating, he said.She raised an eyebrow.Oh yeah?Yeah.He kissed her.Not soft. Not slow. The way he had kissed her in the between when they both thought they would never touch again. Desperate. Hungry. Needy.She kissed him

The stranger arrived at dawn.Luan was sitting by the river, alone for the first time in weeks. Cass was still sleeping. The pack was still quiet. The water rushed past her feet, cold and clear. She was not thinking about anything. She was just being.Then she smelled it. Wolf. Not her pack. Not Vera's wolves. Something else. Something old.She stood. Her claws extended. Her eyes shifted to red.Show yourself, she called.The trees on the far side of the river rustled. A wolf emerged. Large. Grey. Male. His fur was matted with burrs and old blood. His eyes were yellow and wary. He limped as he walked.I'm not here to fight, he said. His voice was rough. Tired.Then why are you here?The wolf looked at the valley. At the cabins. At the smoke rising from the communal fire.I heard there was a new pack, he said. A pack where turned wolves don't burn. Where born wolves don't rule. Where a woman with red eyes binds the dead to her soul.Luan's jaw tightened.Who told you that?The wolf sat

Kael's leg would not heal.The bone had been broken for weeks. Maybe months. He had run on it. Fought on it. Hunted on it. The damage was deep, and the curse had stopped caring about keeping him whole. He was burning out. His body was giving up. The grey in his fur had spread to his muzzle, his paws, the tip of his tail. His eyes had faded from yellow to a pale, watery gold. He moved like an old wolf. He was twenty-eight years old.Luan found him by the river the next morning, staring at his reflection in the water. His injured leg was tucked against his chest. His breathing was shallow.It won't heal, he said without looking up. I've tried everything. Silver. Herbs. The old songs. I even asked Sol to look at it. Nothing works.Luan sat beside him on the cold ground. The river rushed past. The sun was rising behind the mountains, turning the water to gold.Have you tried letting someone help you? she asked.His pale eyes met hers.I don't know how to let anyone help me. Marcus taught

Luan dreamed of the first wolf again.But the dream was different. The first wolf was not lying in a field of flowers. It was standing at the base of the mountain where its bones had turned to gold. Its silver fur rippled in a wind that did not exist. Its golden eyes were bright and terrible and full of something Luan had never seen in them before.Fear.You need to wake up, the first wolf said.Luan's heart slammed against her ribs.I am awake.Not in the dream. In the world. The shadow is coming. Not Sol. Another shadow. One I did not make.Luan tried to open her eyes. She could not. Her body was heavy. Her limbs would not move.The first wolf stepped closer. Its breath was cold.There is a wolf in the north. Old. Powerful. Hungry. He has been sleeping for centuries, the way I slept. But your bond woke him. Your pack woke him. Your valley woke him. He is coming.Luan's chest tightened.How do I stop him?The first wolf shook its head.You don't. You run.I won't run.Then you die.L

The pack slept late that morning.Even Sol curled up by the dead fire and closed its golden eyes. Even Mira, who never stopped moving, lay still against her mother's side. Even Holt, who claimed he did not need sleep, stretched out on the ground and was snoring within minutes.Luan did not sleep.She sat on the cabin porch with a cup of cold tea and watched the sun climb over the mountains. The valley was green and gold and quiet. The river sang its endless song. The flowers nodded in the breeze. She could hear the breathing of the pack, the soft murmur of dreams, the rustle of leaves in the wind. Everything felt peaceful. Too peaceful.Cass came out an hour later.He sat beside her without a word. His shoulder pressed against hers. His hand found her knee. They sat like that for a long time, watching the light change, watching the world wake up.You should rest, he finally said.I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see the black wolf. Its white eyes. Its hunger. The way it looked a