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I try Axan. He’s harder to reach at a distance, but Keer could be busy, could be—

I press my right palm against my knee and try them both.

Neither of them answers.

Come on, Keer.

I shut my eyes and try again, which I haven’t needed to do since I was a pup.

I look toward the passage. The river carried me farther the second time. I don’t know how far, or how much mountain is over my head.

Stone, then. Distance. I can get nearer the opening when he’s occupied.

I’ve never had to see the sky to feel my brother. I could still feel him on the bank, shaking and hungry with the bolt inside me.

I pull the cloak higher over my knees. My palm’s left a damp print on the fur.

Farther this time. It has to be farther.

Across the hearth, he has stopped stitching. I lift the cup and drink until he lowers his eyes to the strap again.

My legs held when I stood. Once I can take weight through the shoulder, I can run, and on four feet I’ll be faster. I only need him away from that passage long enough to get through.

I’m not waiting on the shoulder to find out whether I can.

I push the cloak aside and work the belt free. The shirt’s neck is still loose, so I ease my good arm out first, then bend my head through. Getting the left sleeve off takes longer. I leave the bandage alone and lay the shirt beside me.

He’s watching from across the fire now. Let him.

I lower myself onto my right side, keeping the injured shoulder up. There’s room on the pallet, and the furs will keep the stone from pressing against it while the bones change.

I can do this lying down. I’ve done it hurt before.

I draw my knees closer, fingers curled in the fur, and reach for my wolf, bracing for the first wrench of bone.

Nothing happens.

Chapter 6

She kept reaching for her wolf after the fire burned low. I heard each time it didn’t come. She stopped somewhere in the dark, and I haven’t slept since.

Daylight reaches the wall above the passage now. Across the hearth, she sits with my cloak over her knees. She’s put the shirt on again, though one cuff has come unfolded. She keeps rolling it back with her thumb.

She watches the passage while I stir the broth.

She’ll try to leave as soon as her legs hold. She’ll choose a drop she could survive on four feet, or water she could cross with a wolf’s strength. I’ve carried her up from the river once already.

I move the pot off the hottest coals.

The men who talked of that weapon were boasting. The first men who wounded my people went home boasting as well. I was a child when the wounded began coming back, and for a while there were still enough of us to carry them.

I fill a bowl and set it beside her right hand.

“There’s something you need to see.”

Her thumb stops against the folded cuff. “Outside?”

“No. Stay there.”