Chapter 3 The Dawn's Oath

I gripped the edge of the stretcher while the woman in charge of the first-aid kit-Irene, that was her name-adjusted the splint. The pain lessened, at least it allowed me to think.

Kael stayed to my left; I could hear the rise and fall of his chest like the sound of waves behind a door.

"I'm going to take an X-ray," Irene announced.

I nodded. In my pack, treatments consisted of cloths and silence. The machine vibrated softly, a click, and then Irene returned with a transparency film, which she held up to a lamp.

"Clean fracture," she declared. "Well splinted, no displacement. Rest, bandages every twenty-four hours, and broth. Lots of broth."

In the kitchen of my old life, broth smelled of old fat. Here, it smelled of bone and bay leaves.

"Thank you."

Irene looked at me without pity. With respect.

"They'll take you to a cabin. You won't be alone."

Kael gestured slightly, and the older warrior stepped forward.

"I'm Mikel," he introduced himself. "We'll walk two houses down. If you need anything, knock on the wall twice. It can be heard."

I didn't know what to say when Kael spoke:

"I want to introduce you to the Council at dawn."

"I can't. Not today. Not with this," I pointed to my arm.

"Can't you, or don't you want to?"

I remained silent. Irene hid a half-smile, like a nurse who had heard too many excuses from humans and wolves.

We moved. Mikel opened the door, and the air outside was colder and carried the scent of bread. I walked slowly, wrapped in my sweater and cloak. Kael's camp wasn't a makeshift village; it was a territory. Clean dirt paths, wooden houses with stone foundations, lanterns, guards. No one pointed at me. No one whispered.

The cabin I was assigned had a real bed, a table, and a copper jug. Mikel left another jug. The nervous young man-I now learned his name was Ares-lit the fire with two sticks. The blond man, Eidan, uncovered a pot of broth.

"I'll leave it here for you," he said, and the aroma whetted my appetite.

"Thank you," I said again.

When we were alone, Kael didn't fill the void with words.

"Why introduce myself?" I finally asked. "You could..."

"Because you don't claim what you don't honor. I want everyone to know you're here."

I looked at the fire. The shadows made shapes on the wall. Sometimes, when I was a child, my mother would play at naming animals in the shadows. Wolf, deer, owl.

"If you introduce me, he'll come."

"I know it. And I also know he'll come anyway, if not today, then tomorrow, or in a month." Those who do harm cannot bear to have their work taken away.

I sat up carefully in bed and picked up the cup. The liquid warmed me from my tongue to my stomach. A warm, unfamiliar peace crept down my ribs.

"I'm not going to touch you," he announced suddenly. "I'm not going to mark you. I'm not going to ask you to sleep under my roof. Not today. But I will put my people between you and anyone who tries to hurt you."

I didn't know if I wanted to cry or sleep for twenty-four hours. Instead, I nodded. My eyes were heavy.

"Rest. Wake up before the sky catches fire. I'll come to the door when you call me."

"Will you stay here?"

"Just a few steps away," he said. And he did. He settled down outside, against the wall.

I closed my eyes, dreamed of water and teeth, of a moon that wasn't there but still illuminated everything. I dreamed of my mother combing my wet hair, her fingers soft.

I woke before the first light of dawn. My body knew where Kael was without me even opening the door. I sat up. My arm ached. I dressed in a clean tunic someone had left folded on the table. It was too big for me. I liked it.

I opened the door. He was already standing.

"Good morning," he said.

I returned his greeting and we walked toward a larger structure: a stone circle under a roof open in the center, so the smoke from a bonfire could escape. Five people were waiting. They weren't young, nor old. They smelled of wood, countryside, metal.

Kael didn't go ahead of me; we entered together. He stood to my right.

"Council," he greeted. "I'd like to introduce you to Lia."

The woman in the center-dark skin and black eyes-bowed her head.

"I see you," she said.

It wasn't a polite greeting. It was an ancient ritual of recognition. I'd been taught it as a child, but the women in the kitchen weren't allowed to repeat it.

The man to her left-white hair tied back-sniffed the air, as those of our kind do when they don't want to be disrespectful but still want to know.

"The mark on your arm..."

"A clean, well-treated fracture."

The white-haired man nodded, confirming the precise information.

"My intention," Kael said, "is to invoke border protection for Lia. She is under my direct protection from this dawn. Any claim against her must be brought before me. Not her."

"There will be war," the youngest member of the Council observed.

"There will be justice," the black-eyed woman corrected. "And then, if you're so inclined, we'll talk about war."

"We accept the protection," the woman said. "But the girl has to want it."

All eyes turned to me. I felt the old urge to find a corner. I breathed. I planted my feet firmly.

"I want it," I said.

The circle breathed differently. Kael didn't move.

"Then it's settled," the woman concluded. "At noon we'll light the stone and mark it in the books. By nightfall the borders will know."

At that very moment, a howl pierced the air. It wasn't close, but neither was it as far away as I would have liked. My body tensed. Mikel, at the door, was already looking north.

Eidan appeared, running.

"Kael," he said. "Bands on the high boundary bearing Argon's insignia."

Argon was the Alpha who had called me "Nobody" more times than I can count. My wolf bared its teeth somewhere in my stomach.

"Our boundary or the common one?" the dark-eyed woman asked.

"Ours," Eidan replied. "But they don't cross. They howl so we know."