The compound held a pack gathering three nights later, a ritual Sable explained was meant to bind everyone's resolve before facing something as significant as whatever waited at Cape Hollow — bonfires lit around the central yard, the entire pack gathered in a loose circle, voices raised in something between song and howl that raised the hair on my arms even from a respectful distance at the edge of the crowd.
"You don't have to stay back," Sable said, appearing beside me with two mugs of something warm and spiced. "Nobody's going to bite. Well. Nobody's going to bite you specifically, given who you're apparently important to."
"I'm not exactly built for howling at the moon."
"Nobody expects you to be." She handed me one of the mugs, settling beside me with the easy familiarity I'd grown
