The border outpost was a prison.
Caleb had known it would be, of course. When the council pronounced his sentence—three moons of isolation, with nothing but his thoughts and the endless forest for company—he'd accepted it without complaint. It was less than he deserved, more than he'd hoped.
But knowing and living were different things.
The cabin was small—one room, a bed, a table, a chair. A hearth for cooking and warmth. Shelves for the supplies that were delivered once a week by warriors who wouldn't meet his eyes. It was clean, functional, adequate.
And utterly, soul-crushingly alone.
The first week was the hardest.
He paced the cabin like a caged animal, his wolf restless and furious at the confinement. He tried to hunt, but the game near the outpost was sparse, and he had no ta
