The Awakening of Slave
I could draw a straight line from my hand to her throat and there was no version of this that made that line any shorter.
“Then make it shorter going forward.” He nosed at the bond. I felt it answer, faintly, a tug from two miles west where a young woman was almost certainly not sleeping either.
But she was alive. She was strong. She had her wolf now. And that wasn’t nothing.
"It's not enough."
“No,” Orrin agreed. “ So make it enough.”
On the screen, day three was starting. The depot, the beach, the truce. I watched her walk out of the trees alone toward six wolves who could kill her. Her hand on her bow, her chin held high. And the mark, my mark, glittering in the sun.
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