Luna Paige's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

Luna woke to howling. Not one wolf. Many. The sound came from the tree line beyond the lawn, low and steady, aimed at the border stones that marked the edge of Michael's land. She pushed off the coverlet in the east room and went barefoot to the window. The silver wolf stood on the lawn below, ears pinned, answering. She found Michael in the hall with a lamp in his hand. His shirt was half-buttoned. His hair stuck up on one side. Any other night she would have laughed. "They want him back," she said. "My brother. The pack has come to the stones." "How many?" "Enough to tear this house open if they cross." He didn't argue. He looked at the wolf on the lawn, then at her. "Tell me what to do." That stopped her. A day ago he had demanded proof of every word out of her mouth. Now he was handing her the reins. "I have to go to the stones," she said. "They'll listen to me before they listen to any human. But he can't come. If he crosses, the claim on you drags with him, and they'll take you apart trying to break it." "Then he stays. I stay with him." "Michael. If I don't come back—" "You'll come back." He said it like a fact he had decided. Then, softer, "Take the flower." She blinked. "That's yours. You paid for it in trouble." "Take it. If they need proof you're still one of them, show them what you're carrying." She lifted the moonpetal from the side table. Its petals threw a pale wash across her wrist. Michael caught her free hand at the door and held it a moment. His palm was warm. He didn't say anything clever. That was the part that undid her. She walked the lawn alone. The silver wolf whined once and stayed. At the stones she set the flower down on the flat top of the tallest one and spoke her brother's name in the old tongue, then her own. She told the pack the claim would lift on its own in three weeks. She told them she was working on it. She told them if they crossed tonight they would kill the man keeping her brother alive, and she would not forgive it. The howling thinned. One wolf stepped to the stones, sniffed the flower, and turned back into the trees. The rest followed. She carried the moonpetal home in both hands. Michael was on the front steps with the silver wolf beside him. When she reached him he pulled her in without asking. She let him. Her face fit against his shoulder like it had been measured there. "Three weeks," she said into his shirt. "Three weeks," he answered. She had bought her brother time. She had also stopped pretending she wanted to leave.