(Kaelen)
The child's name is Bren.
I know this because I've been learning names. Not the enforcers — I knew those early, necessity — but the pack children, the families, the people whose faces I see at pack dinners and morning training and in the market square when Sora sends me for herbs. Bren is seven, and he has a gap between his front teeth that makes his smile look like something's been removed, and he follows Joss around the training yard on the days his mother brings him because he's decided Joss is the most impressive person he's ever seen.
Joss, to her credit, pretends not to notice and is secretly teaching him footwork.
I know all of this because I've been paying attention. Because six months ago I arrived here calculating and now I just — know the names. It happened without
