Six months later, the sanctuary had a name that meant something.
Moon's Refuge sprawled across the northern valley like a living thing—stone walls rising from old ruins, timber frames taking shape beside the river, gardens planted in rows that Wren oversaw with the fierce devotion of a woman who had once been denied even a window. The first wolves had arrived in winter, frightened and nameless. Now, in the warmth of early summer, there were forty-seven of them, and every single one knew exactly who they were.
I walked the perimeter at dawn, as I did every morning.
The completed bond hummed quietly beneath my skin—not the overwhelming flood of the first night, but a steady warmth, like sunlight through a window. Caleb was awake. He was in the main hall, reviewing supply lists with Reyna.
