“Do you know the story of the Elderwolf?” the alpha asks.
Away from the camp, the night is black as pitch. I can barely see, but I can hear the wind stirring the water of the loch we ride beside, and smell the rain-drenched evergreen trees and the masculine scent of the man behind me.
“The first wolf?” I say. “Yes. Everyone knows about that.”
He lets the silence extend, waiting for me to fill it.
“He conspired with the Moon and betrayed the Sun and the first men,” I say. “He was cursed to roam the earth on four legs, and live in a manner as beastly as his actions were.”
The word “beastly” slips out. It is the word the High Priest always uses when he tells this story. With the alpha as my only audience, alone together in an unfamiliar kingdom, I wonder if I should have been more carefu
