Annie's POV:
The pack lit the bonfire the night before we marched.
The whole square gathered around it, the warriors in their best gear, the elders with their cups, the pups running between the legs of the adults. There was a drum, a song, and the fire went up high enough to touch the dark. The smoke went up straight and silver. The pack sang until the voices went hoarse. I saw warriors I had scrubbed floors beside all year dancing with girls who had waited for them through the winter. 'This is what a pack is, when it's not afraid.'
The departing would drink, sing, and dance. In the morning they would ride out. The pack would stand at the gates, watch them go.
Before the first song, the warriors raised their cups to the moon, and the whole square went quiet. "To the Moon Goddess," Alex
