Wapun Meadow tickle that cheek and take your throne.

Fiona kept replaying the moment when Anselm had shown something other than anger. She could not know what had been there beneath it, but there was some glimmer of hope that he could overcome it. She stood on the eastern ridge, overlooking the world below, when she spotted a small blot of movement against the white of snow. Etienne had something across his back. Something dark.

More curious than concerned, Fiona made her way in no rush down the side of the mountain, coming to meet Etienne just as the meadow began to slope upward into mountain. The sharp smell of blood made her think that he had brought home a meal, though she wondered why he had gone so far when the hollow boasted some of the finest hunting she had ever encountered. As she drew closer, she realized that the dark bobbing head belonged to a younger wolf.

She didn't even know where to begin. What was Etienne thinking? They could barely afford to feed themselves, and Anselm was no saint. He was more likely to kill the girl than allow her to stay.