Catherine’s Pov
Elder Miriam’s little house sat at the very edge of pack land. Big old trees bent toward it like they were saying hello. I came here many times, but today my hands shook when I knocked.
Marcus stood next to me. His face looked calm, but I felt his worry in our bond. We came to ask things we should have asked fifteen years ago.
“Come in, Catherine. Marcus.” Miriam’s voice came before I knocked again. “I waited for you.”
Of course she knew.
We went in. The house smelled of herbs and old books. Miriam sat by the fire. Her old eyes were sharp. She looked the same as the night Dane brought little Freya home.
“Sit,” she said and pointed to chairs. “We have much to talk.”
Marcus and I looked at each other and sat. The fire made soft sounds.
“You know why we come,” I said.
