The forest was silent save for her frantic footfalls against the hard earth and the rasp of her breath in the cold air. She moved quickly, her cloak flowing around her, with no regard for her own well-being, only that of the wolves. With the thought that her husband would slaughter them, her determination hardened with each step.
She knew where the wolves’ den was located. She had passed near it often enough to hear the faint yips of pups in spring and to catch the shadowy shapes slipping through the trees. She had also tended some in the pack, when necessary, the largest of the wolves bringing an ailing or injured wolf to her. The pack had learned to trust her and she them. She had come to know them, and she knew they would never attack the sheep when there was plenty of food in the forest for them.
So why now?
Her jaw clenched as she slipped between the pines, needles brushing her shoulders. The sheep had been brutally attacked but as she approached the wolves’ den she found no trail of blood, no bones scattered near the hollow in the hillside. No sign of a kill carried home for the old or the young.
Something wasn’t right.
Fawn’s heart hammered, her body tensed, and her expression grew grim. The wolves sensed it. They appeared from the shadows, gray forms gliding silent and sure, their golden eyes fixed on her. Two of them came forward and stood to either side of her, their hackles raised though not at her. They understood… trouble brewed.
The thunder of hooves broke the silence.
Fawn’s head jerked up and she turned as Rhodes and his hunters burst through the trees, their horses steaming in the cold, weapons glinting in the pale light. They reined in hard at the sight of her, standing before the den, wolves flanking her like guardians.
Rhodes’s face darkened, fury flashing in his eyes. “You should not be here, Fawn!” he barked, his voice ringing through the clearing. “Move! Now!”
She lifted her chin, her breath coming fast, but her feet stayed planted, the wolves pressed close at her sides.
“I will not,” she said, her voice steady.
Fury surged hot through his veins. Bloody hell, the woman, his wife, would drive him mad. Standing before a wolf den with the beasts at her side as though she were one of them. Reckless, stubborn, foolish?—
And yet… the wolves hadn’t touched her. Not a snarl, not a snap of teeth. They stood like sentinels, flanking her with wary eyes fixed not on her, but on the armed men at his back.
He wanted to be off his horse, to drag her from their midst, but instinct kept him where he was. He’d not tempt the beasts’ patience. Not yet.
“Do as I command, wife,” he ordered, his voice carrying across the clearing, “before they turn on you.”
“They won’t,” Fawn shot back, her voice firm. “And I will not move.”
His jaw tightened. “You dare defy me? I will not tolerate it. You will suffer if you fail to obey me.”
“I defy your blindness,” she answered, fire blazing in her eyes, his threat meaning nothing to her. “The wolves aren’t to blame.”
“You’ve not even seen what they’ve done,” Rhodes countered. “The flock lies torn, too many dead.”
“Which is why I must see it for myself,” she insisted, firmly. “If I look upon what was left, I’ll know if wolves struck or not. They don’t waste meat. They bring it to the young, ill, and ones who can no longer hunt. There is no evidence of that here. If I see the sheep, I’ll know the truth.”
A murmur rippled through the men, unease prickling the air.
Boyce turned to Rhodes, his voice grim. “You’d wager the clan’s safety on her? Bold, hungry wolves don’t stop. They’ll come again.”
Fawn turned to him, her words fierce. “The wolves feed in the forest, not on your animals. If you slaughter them wrongly, you’ll start a war with the wild beasts. One you cannot win. Give me the chance to prove they had no part in it.”
Rhodes’s grip tightened on his reins, his stallion tossing its head beneath him. He hadn’t known defiance from another in some time and that it came from his wife annoyed him, as did the chance that she could be right.
“And if you’re wrong?” he demanded.
“Then I’ll not stop you,” she said, her voice steady, certain it wouldn’t come to that, certain she was right. “But until I’ve seen the sheep, you’ve no proof. Only senseless and innocent blood on your hands.”
For a long moment, the only sounds were the horses’ snorts and the restless rustle of the wolves at her side.
He relented begrudgingly. “Bloody hell, you’ll have your look, but you’ll be quick about it.”
“And I will have your word that no harm will come to the wolves before this can be settled,” she insisted.
His silence held strong for a moment, then his gaze swept over his men. “No harm comes to these beasts until I give the word. Disobey, and you’ll answer to me.”
