CHAPTER 74
Emily's P.O.V
The waste lands, as we called them, were a vast no man's land stretching between the packs. No Alpha had power out here, and no one recognized any authority in the wastelands. Here was a haven for rogue wolves, exiles and outcasts. My wanderings led me to the prancing pony, an inn that stood in isolation on the grounds of the wastelands. Here, I knew I would find rest and refreshments.
I pushed the door open, and the smell of ale hit my nose immediately. The inn was as busy as usual as the men drank, argued, sang, brawled and drank some more. I adjusted the hood around my head and made my way to a table where I sat down and beckoned to the barman, who had his eyes on me the moment I stepped in.
"The usual," I muttered when he drew near, and as I said this, I d
