THE MORRYN TRUTH
Caius told me about my mother over the breakfast table.
Not everything, there was no time for everything and I could see in the careful way he chose his words that he was someone who understood the difference between what needed to be said now and what deserved better than a rushed morning. But the shape of it. The outline that I had been missing for twenty one years.
My mother had not been born in Silverwood.
She had been born in the western territories, in the Morryn pack, the second child of a bloodline that the Morryn had protected in deliberate isolation for three generations. The isolation was intentional, a decision made by my great grandparents after the first attempt to eliminate the anchoring line, the attempt that the old texts recorded obliquely and that Ca
