Life on the Far North Line was harsher than I’d imagined. And a lot more satisfying.My first week in camp, I followed Rowan, the legion commander, out into the storm-lashed no-man’s-land.Daytime temperatures were 40 below. At night, we had to be on constant guard against attacks by roaming rogues. The wind always carried ice and the smell of blood.A female fighter on the line handed me a piece of roasted meat.“Regret signing the blood oath?”I took a bite, swallowed the tough meat, and shook my head. “No regrets.”“Miss home?”I thought about it.“I miss what our kind is really supposed to stand for.”“Nobody else?” she asked.“There’s nobody else.”Six months later, while I was fighting off a massive night raid by a pack of rogues, my wolf evolved.I killed the rogues’ leader and nailed his fang to the trophy wall on the line.Before dawn that morning, Rowan brought out a flask of strong winter brew, clapped me on the shoulder, and laughed.“Chloe, you were born for the far north!
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