The Blacksmiths’ destruction of life has decimated the wolf population, making Skirra’s pack extremely rare. They might even be the last of their kind, but I want to believe there are other wolves in the north or far to the south.
Across the way, Father rises to his feet and I’m relieved when Kori jumps up too, appearing to be okay.
Skirra doesn’t leave my side, but several of the other wolves mill around Kori in the distance.
“Kori will be fine,” Father says as he hurries toward me.
There’s always a moment when I come back from a fight that I see fear in his eyes.
Fear that I’ve returned hurt.
Fear that he won’t be able to help me.
It’s normally only the briefest moment before it gives way to relief.
Today, his tension grows.
“Thoren said there could be Blacksmiths in the forest,” I say when Father nears me.
To my knowledge, at least for the duration of my life, Blacksmiths haven’t ventured into these snow-laden mountains in the northwest. But then, I didn’t know they had a dumping ground on this side of the city, either.
Father doesn’t respond to my statement.
“Erik.” His voice is tense and low and I don’t miss the way he seems focused on the strands of the woman’s silver hair that have escaped my coat. “What have you got there, Son?”
He stops several paces away from me—farther away than Thoren, who’s now right beside me.
My father and I stand eye to eye, but he dwarfs me in size, his shoulders and chest broader than mine.
“I found her freezing to death,” I say. “She was in a pit surrounded by human bodies. A fucking dumping ground. I fell into it chasing the leopard. But I got her out of there and I think she has a chance of staying alive.”
Still, his voice is low and tense and he remains focused on her hair. “You’re okay?”
“The leopard got me. I’ll need you to take a look at the puncture wounds. But I’m fine for now.”
“Good,” he says. “Because you’re taking her back.”
I blink at him. Shake my head.
I can’t have heard him correctly.
“What?”
Father’s expression hardens and his jaw clenches. “You’re taking her back to where you found her and you’re going to leave her there. Then you’re going to forget you ever saw her. Do you understand me, Erik?”
“No,” I say, bluntly and immediately. “How could I ever understand such a barbaric order?”
It’s that kind of brutality that caused my father to leave his people in the first place and now he’s telling me to put this woman back into that pit and let her die?
“Erik.” Father’s expression remains hard, but the fear behind his eyes grows stronger. “This woman is our enemy. She can only bring us death.”
I glance down at the pale face tucked against my chest. The way she’s nestled against me, it hides the dried blood from the wound across her forehead.
My disbelief is intense. “How?”
How could she bring anything but peace?
My father’s response is full of fear. “Because she’s a Blacksmith.”
