Luna Wolfhart's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Nightshade lunged again, low and wild. Luna turned the cut aside and drove her shoulder into the she-wolf's chest. Nightshade fell hard. Her knife spun across the sand. Luna set the fang blade to her throat. The crowd went silent. She had won. She saw it in Nightshade's eyes, in the tiers of wolves leaning forward. One push and the duel ended in blood, as their law demanded. But blood would only make them fear her. Luna had memorized every custom of the pack. She knew what winning by the knife bought and what it did not. It bought a title. It did not buy their warmth. And she could not simply spare Nightshade either. Mercy without cause would look like weakness before the elders. They would call her too soft to stand as Kael's mate. Luna's arm shook. She looked for another way and found none in the law she had studied. So she spoke instead, loud enough for the tiers to hear. "I claim the right. I do not claim her life. She fought for a wolf she loves. So did I." She lowered the blade and stepped back. Nightshade stared up, breathing hard, waiting for the cut that did not come. "Why?" she rasped. "Because a dead rival wins me nothing," Luna said. "A living one who fought me fair costs me nothing." Murmurs ran through the stone tiers. Some wolves growled. Then an old voice cut through them all. Mora Wolfwhisper rose from the front row. She was small and bent, her white hair loose, a wolf-headed staff in one hand. She had vouched for Luna once before, when the pack still believed Nightshade's lies. Now the ancient seer walked onto the sand, and every wolf fell quiet. Mora studied Luna a long moment. "You held the knife and chose the harder thing," she said. "A killer earns a title. You earned something the title cannot give." She raised her staff toward the tiers. "The human fought as a wolf and judged as one. Let no one here call her soft again." The growls died. Heads bowed, one after another. Luna felt the weight of their eyes change from doubt to something new. Mora turned and lifted two fingers. From the shadow of a broken arch a great shape rose and padded onto the sand. A dire wolf, thick furred, taller than any pack member, its eyes gold and steady. It crossed to Luna and stopped a breath away. "This one answers only to true mates of the blood," Mora said. "It came for you. The pack has not yet blessed you. But this beast has judged, and I trust its nose over any elder's tongue." The dire wolf lowered its head and pressed its muzzle to Luna's open hand. Across the sand, Nightshade watched, and slowly stood. The pack had not spoken its blessing. But now Luna had a witness no wolf could argue with, and one enemy who owed her a life.