30
Fern
My worst nightmare had come true. I’d fallen into a trance and woke up in the middle of a crowd. No one spoke, and everyone seemed to be watching me.
The Alphas were there, and all the warriors, death written on their faces. If someone gave the kill order, Dagg and Svein would not survive.
I had to speak. I had no choice.
“I will speak,” I said, and on the ledge beside the rocky mountain face, my voice carried.
Under the pelt I wore as a cloak, I found Svein’s hand and gripped it. His face betrayed no tension, but he held tight.
“I am Fern, a spaewife. I have... dreams.” Someone slipped to the lead Alpha’s side, leaned in and whispered. Perhaps explaining who I was, or perhaps giving an argument for my mate’s death. I had to say something that might sway the pack to my mate’
