Not for the first time, something slimy touched my toes, and I decided it might be best to get back in the boat. A few lazy strokes took me back in that direction, and Liam dipped his paddle into the water to meet me halfway.

"Better than running?" he asked. "Or worse?"

"Worse, obviously. But in a few months, it'll be too cold to swim, so I'll make the most of it."

It proved harder to clamber back into the kayak than I'd been expecting. Partly because I nearly capsized it in the process, and partly because the seat I'd been trying to climb into had been filled with fish in my absence. But I made it, with some help from Liam, and then I sat in the bow, hugging my knees to my chest. Now that I was out of the water, I could feel the wind nipping at my bare skin, and it left a hundred little tooth marks behind.

A towel was wrapped around my shoulders from behind. It was soft and warm, and it smelt like Liam, so I was smiling to myself as I pulled it tighter still around my body. It certainly kept the wind off. If I let my head rest against his shoulder, I could just about see his face — the faint freckles, the curve of his lips, and those adoring dark eyes.

I tipped my head back a little further to kiss the soft place under his jawline, where I knew the skin was a little too sensitive. Before long, I could feel the gentle reverberation of laughter deep in his chest. He wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed a warning. But if I'd really wanted to tease him, I'd have moved my lips a few inches lower and found his mark.

"We caught a fish," a little voice mumbled before we could get too carried away.

Lilah's daughter was pretty cute. I'd say that for her. And she was gaining confidence with every passing day now that she was going to nursery. I'd been horrified at the idea of children as young as her being subjected to school, but she seemed to like it, and the one time I'd taken her there, I hadn't seen them doing much work, in all honesty. Just a whole lot of playtime. So maybe the flockies weren't as sadistic as I'd imagined.

Today, she was wrapped up in a life jacket and so many layers of clothing that I was surprised she could move. Her mam was a tiny bit overprotective, to say the least. If she had been born a rogue, she would be swimming by now.

"Yeah, you did," I told her. "Now we just need to cook it, mm? Get it nice and hot to kill the germs. I could do with being cooked right now, if I'm being honest. It was warmer in the water than it is up here."

"Wuss," my sister laughed from across the water. She, too, had been swimming, albeit not for very long, so she was in the same boat (not literally). Her t-shirt was soaked through and clinging to her. A few months ago, she would have been shivering like crazy, but she had managed to put on a decent layer of fat since arriving at Silver Lake. It was keeping her warm, it meant she had some weight to spare for the next time she went downhill medically, and if you asked me, she was now looking healthier than she had in a long time.

She had also fallen fiercely in love with the new 'tiger stripes' across her thighs and stomach. She'd asked me if she would get to keep them, even if she lost the weight again, and it had made me think about my own stretch marks a little differently. I remembered one of the camp girls telling me they were ugly and that I should put some cream on them so they wouldn't show as much, and yeah, maybe that had stuck with me more than I'd realised. But a body without any scuffs or marks was a body that hadn't been lived in.

Bryn let his canoe knock against ours. It was enough to make our little passenger giggle and lurch in her seat. I hauled her up onto my lap for safe-keeping, well aware that Lilah would be watching and stressing on the shore.

"This place is wild. I've caught more fish in half an hour than I have in my entire lifetime," Bryn told me, gesturing to his boat. He was indeed surrounded by a lot of silvery scales, but it was most definitely an exaggeration. "Doesn't anyone, like, fish here?"

"Some people do," I told him. "But it's usually only for sport and bragging rights."

"Fishing isn't a sport any more than hunting is," Bryn scoffed. "But they do eat it afterwards ... right?"

Silence.

"Right?" he asked, his voice a little more desperate.

Liam rubbed the back of his head, looking like he was deciding how to answer that. We all knew that they didn't. I'd actually watched a guy throw every single fish he had caught back into the lake yesterday, but only after he'd taken a picture of them first. They would all be swimming around now with holes in their jaws for no good reason.

And the other day, there had been some idiot who had shot a bunch of pigeons, brought them to the pack house to show them off to his mate and friends, and then thrown them into a dumpster when he'd thought no one was looking. And when I'd found them later, one of them had still been alive and wriggling around with a broken wing.

I'd shouted at him, I wasn't afraid to say. And then I'd confiscated his rifle and buried it in the woods along with all the other guns I'd found around the pack in the last few months. And then, realising that I was still furious, I'd gone back and shouted at him again. I'd spent the last few days debating whether shooting him and throwing him into a dumpster would be a fitting punishment. In all honesty, the only thing stopping me was the knowledge that I had no idea where I'd buried his gun.

"Well, it feels like breakfast time to me," I said after a while. I needed to stop thinking about that guy before I burst a blood vessel. "Everyone happy to go in?"

"Yeah, I'm not going back in the water. Don't want to push it," Eira sighed.

Her seizures were becoming rarer and rarer, but Seth had still insisted on some precautions if she was going to swim. Constant supervision and a thin life-jacket being the main ones. Usually, it was Dad who came out with her, but he was getting petrol for the car.

"We'll come back out tomorrow," I told her. "Ah, no, wait. Never mind. Can't."

My hands were full of squirming toddler, so I didn't even have to pick up my paddle. Liam guided us towards the sandy bank, and when we were close enough to shore, Bryn hopped into the water, took both kayaks by the bow, and pulled them the rest of the way. He was already sopping wet so it didn't really matter. He hadn't spent very long swimming, but he hadn't bothered to put his shirt back on afterwards, and his shorts were still closer to brown than beige.

Liam was first to jump out and take the rope from Bryn. I passed the little girl to him and then clambered out of the boat in turn. It was light enough that I had dragged it halfway up the shore before Liam had returned his niece to Lilah. He then helped me pick up the fish, one by one, and thread a string through their jaws. It was the easiest way to carry them.

"Goddess," Lilah breathed, looking at our catch. She was holding her daughter's hand tightly. "That's quite a lot, don't you think? How are you going to eat it all?"

"Dunno yet," Bryn said cheerfully. "But dried fish lasts for ages if you do it right. Like more than a month. And I can smoke some, too. Brine is a lot of hassle, but ... hell, I've got some time on my hands."

"Or you could just ... put it in the freezer," Lin said.

I held my breath, as I always did whenever the two of them interacted. Lin hadn't stopped hating rogues, I didn't think, and given the way she had lost her mate, I wasn't sure she ever would. But Bryn seemed oblivious to the icy looks and tension in every word she spoke to him — the key word being 'seemed.' I knew he was aware of it. I reckoned it even made him a tiny bit nervous, because he was always stood up very straight like a little meerkat when he was talking to her, and sometimes he even stumbled over his words. It wasn't something you'd notice unless you knew him well.

"Look, if I put my hand in your freezer, it would never be the same again, would it?" Bryn told her. "And how is my hand different to a fish, really? So no, I'm not putting it all in there to be spoiled, thank you very much."

"Your hand is alive. The fish aren't."

"Oh, some of them are," he muttered. "Reminds me — I saw at least one flopping on the way in. Eira, can you chuck me that fish, please? Poor thing needs putting out of its misery."

Eira's eyes had settled on a certain corner of the boat. "Pass me the oar and I'll do it myself. Sorry, little guy."

She was quick about it, but I still saw Lilah flinch. Lin was less squeamish, but she still watched on warily. She had accepted Eira and Dad readily enough. And in fairness, we'd introduced them as flockie immigrants — my family following me from New Dawn. The Morgan surname hid them from any undue suspicion. Neither of them wanted to be here, of course, but we didn't have a doctor at camp anymore, and Eira needed a lot of looking after.

Bryn ... was another matter. There was no hiding that he was a rogue. It was just not conceivable. So we'd had him join as part of the effort to reconcile flockies with the rogues, stressing that he was only fifteen and that he wasn't a danger to anyone. His missing eye and gentle nature helped sell that story, and we hadn't exactly advertised the fact that he was a Llewellyn. That would have been asking for trouble.

We kept him with us almost constantly, claiming it was best to have him close, where we could watch him. In reality, we needed him close to be sure our pack members didn't drag him out into the woods and murder him. Tensions were easing, now that we'd gone a few months without anyone dying in a raid, but the attitude to rogues was still ... ugly. I thought Bryn was brave for coming here at all. Yes, he could defend himself, and yes, his Shadowcat traits were no small advantage, but he was still outnumbered four hundred to one by flockies with a target painted on his back. Twice already we'd had to rescue him from gangs of furious fighters. It would happen again sooner or later. A lot had changed, but a lot hadn't.

***

It was good that we didn't have to rely on Mal to drive us to the camps anymore. Dad knew the way, he wasn't needed at the pack, and he'd even started teaching me to drive in the evenings, when the roads were quiet. I didn't like driving, but he was such a patient teacher that I hadn't grown to hate it. Yet.

"Junction ahead, Eva," he said now. I knew this game. We'd played it a lot. I wasn't confident enough to drive such a long way and with such a big audience, but that didn't mean I couldn't practise my theory.

"Blind?" I asked.

"No. Turning left."

"Off the gas. Shift down to second. Mirrors. Indicate."

"Good. Hope the rest of you are all listening. It'll be your turn soon."

None of them were listening ... or even trying to. Bryn was staring blankly out of the window. Liam was fidgeting in the passenger seat. My sister made a face beside me, so quick that I almost missed it. I reckoned she still had her doubts that the seizures would ever be controlled well enough for driving, because even absences could be lethal behind the wheel. It wasn't the end of the world, by any means, because she wouldn't ever need to drive. We rarely used the cars nowadays, and when we did, it was usually for non-essential trips to human shops. But I understood the frustration.

"Mini-roundabout," Dad said. "Third exit right."

I glanced ahead, which required a small amount of contortionism, given that I was nestled behind the passenger seat. There was a lot of traffic on that roundabout. So much traffic that I winced just looking at it.

"Um, yeah. Brake and mirrors ... I guess. First gear. And all that."

And then I fell silent.

"Eva?" Dad asked quietly, a touch of worry in his voice. "What else?"

I barely heard him. It was like I'd frozen in place. There was something under the passenger seat, and I recognised that fabric. It was a minute or so before I could summon the courage to pull it out, and if Dad was talking during that time, I missed every word.

Sure enough, it was a jacket that I'd seen a thousand times before. After all these months, Rhodri's scent had faded, but it was still there. Haunting. Painful. And so, so familiar. I laid the jacket gently on my lap and folded it. The creases were stubborn.

The tears welled up so hot and fast that a few escaped before I could blink them back. I didn't know why the instinct to hide it was so strong, given that everyone in the car was family, and everyone knew exactly why I was upset, but I wasn't in the habit of questioning instincts. So I sat there, letting the lump in my throat grow bigger and more painful by the second, and I did my best not to breathe.

Those muddy marks in the footwell — were those his? There was a zigzag which matched the tread of his walking boots. I wondered when he'd sat in this car. Before I'd gone to Silver Lake? Had I been sat beside him? I wished I could remember the occasion. I wished that my memories of those weeks weren't so fuzzy and dulled by time. I could probably work it out, with enough thought, but I might just drive myself crazy in the process.

I noticed that Bryn's eye had slid to the jacket, too. His throat bobbed, and he looked away now, instead staring resolutely at his boots. And in the front, Liam was watching me through the wing mirror, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention by turning in his seat, no doubt. There was no hiding tears from him. Not anymore. The mate bond would snitch on me no matter how quietly I sniffled.

The car had come to a shuddering halt in our usual field. It was strange to be back here, and stranger still to see no other cars around us. Everyone else would have run here, and I envied them a little. Dad killed the engine and then slipped out of the car to stick a fiver under the windscreen wiper. I knew he was waiting for us all to get out, but it was easier said than done. I didn't know whether to leave Rhodri's jacket or bring it, and it was a very tiny, very insignificant decision in the grand scheme of things, but it was paralysing me.

My car door opened after a minute. Liam's eyes fell on the jacket in the exact same way that mine had, and I watched his throat bob. He put a knee down on the grass to look at me properly.

"We'll bring it with us," he told me. The link was betraying me once again. "Okay?"

I gave a tiny little nod. And I handed the jacket to him. It was a few seconds more before I could bring myself to climb out of the car. And then I reckoned the daylight made it painfully obvious that I had been crying. Liam didn't even have to look at me twice to confirm what the link had doubtless already been telling him.

"Come here, Eva," he said quietly.

I did. He folded me into a hug and rested his chin on top of my head and rubbed my back in that familiar, soothing way that he was so good at. His arms were always a good place to hide from the world. And it didn't hurt that the bond was simmering over with so much contact between us.

Then I felt arms crushing me from behind, too. My sister smelt like lake water, but she was being sweet, and I would have returned the hug if my arms weren't already occupied. The idea that they all felt the need to comfort me made me want to cry even more. It was inevitable, really, that the sniffles started in earnest when Bryn and Dad came to join the party.

They were all being rough with me, which I liked, because hugs were supposed to be rough. But I noticed how careful they were to make sure they didn't touch Liam. Or if they did, it was him who initiated it. Not all of them had hug privileges.

"I'm okay, you know," I mumbled. "You guys don't have to ... you don't need to keep hugging me. I'm fine."

And yet, I remained trapped in the net of arms and bodies. I was about to start wriggling free when Dad said, "Maybe you are, Eva, but I think we're just going to stay like this until we're all feeling a little bit braver. If that's okay?"

If it had been any other day, I might have smiled then. "That's okay."

I was sure I was getting tears on Liam's shirt. My face was buried in it, inhaling that reassuring scent for my wolf's benefit. And for mine. It was good to remember, sometimes, that both of us were still alive. And these days ... almost safe. It wasn't ever enough to stop me crying, but it did make my breathing a little bit steadier, if I was very lucky.

"Have they cut it down already?" Bryn asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper. I knew he wasn't talking to me.

Dad put an arm around him, too, and squeezed gently. "No, kiddo. They were going to wait for us. Alright?"

Bryn nodded.

And I don't know if we did get any braver, but we all knew there was only so long we could stay there, putting off the inevitable. Not when we'd been putting off this task for months already.

***

The rest of our family were waiting beside Rhodri's tree. They were mud-splattered and looked worn out, because they had already brought Sam's tree down this morning and brought it all the way from Lle o Dristwch. We fell in amongst them without a word, and then we began.

I found a dry patch of forest floor to sit down and cross my legs and stare into space. There was such a thing as too many people when you were doing jobs like this one. With half a dozen people to rig it, and another half dozen to take turns cutting the wedge, I reckoned they'd be just fine without my help. And I wasn't entirely sure I could bring myself to help anyway. I wasn't sure I was at that stage yet.

Little Jess was dumped in my lap before long. She wasn't crying, because I didn't think she really understood that any of this was about her brother. But she was very determined to wander towards the axes, so I hung onto her hands and made her play with pinecones instead.

Before ten minutes were up, Ahmed had come over to slump on the ground beside me. He was in his wolf-form, with his ears drooping low and his long, gangly tail between his legs. I didn't know who was looking after them both now Sam was gone. Our parents were probably having to take turns.

"Hey, pup," I said softly. "How you been? Found some playmates yet? I think literally anyone's better than the adults. Right?"

"I, um, yeah. I've been playing with some of the kids in Emmett's raiding team. They're alright, I guess," he mumbled. I heard the unspoken words. But they're not Matty. No rogue had ever been born with as much mischief coursing through their veins as that boy, which was impressive, because he'd come from a pack.

"I don't have anyone to play with," Jess declared. "When is Bryn coming home? He's gone a lot now."

I gave her waist a little squeeze, hoping she'd come and sit down instead of tugging my arm out of its socket every few seconds. "Bryn's helping look after Eira, Jess. I don't know how long it'll be before you guys can play again. Maybe not for a few months."

The little girl folded her arms over her chest and looked at me with big, angry eyes. I was so taken aback that I almost let go of her.

"I don't understand why no one lives here anymore," she said.

"It's not really safe to live here anymore," I told her, as gently as I could. "After everything that happened, the pack wolves know where it is. And they can play nice all they like — we don't trust them, do we?"

"No," Jess said angrily. "I don't mean that. Nobody lives with me. You all keep going away and making new families. That's why there's no one to play with anymore."

Oh, Goddess ... if that didn't feel like a kick in the chest... I'd had the luxury of growing up with everyone still at home, and it was hard to imagine how I would have felt if all my cousins and siblings had disappeared off while I was still a kid. Our wolves were so fiercely loyal to our little 'pack' that it hurt when someone left for the weekend, let alone for good.

"I know, sweetie," I said quietly. "I wish I could be here all the time. And like I said, in a couple of months, we're hoping that me and Liam and Bryn and Eira can come home again. For good. Okay?"

Jess narrowed her eyes at me, her tiny forehead creasing. "You promise?"

"Mm. That's the plan."

It was hard to tell if Jess was satisfied with that. She chewed on her nails for a moment, watching the others work. And then, in a tiny little voice, she asked me, "Will they cut down my tree when I die?"

Maybe she did understand, then. Was it horrible for me to wish that she didn't? She was too young to go through shit like this. It was hard to imagine that it wouldn't leave a scar as she grew up. I knew a lot of grown adults who hadn't suffered as much as this six-year-old child.

"Yeah, Jess. They will. If you really don't want that, you can tell us, but it might be a bit lonely leaving here without your tree. When you burn it, the ash helps a lot of other trees grow, and it feeds the animals who eat those trees. It's like you become a part of the forest."

Jess chewed on her lip. "Rhodri is going to be with the forest?"

I folded my legs and pulled her a little closer, squeezing her hands tight. My throat was starting to feel tight. "He already is, in a way. That's why we've got to send his tree to join him. He left without it. Just like Poppy and Matty and Sam."

"And Mammy?" she asked me in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

Ah, shit. I took a moment to swallow and breathe and made sure my voice wasn't about to break. What was I supposed to say to that? To this tiny little child who had, in all likelihood, seen her mother lying facedown in a pool of her own blood?

"Your mammy didn't have a tree," I said. "I don't think she ever picked one. But that's okay. Not everyone does. She can share with all the others."

A little, somewhat sceptical nod, and then Jess plopped herself down in my lap and settled to suck her thumb and watch our family cutting down the tree. There was certainly a lot to look at. They were busy bees. Moving and working alongside each other without a word being spoken. We'd done this before. Too many times.

Ellis sat down heavily beside me and swept his hair away from his eyes. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn he was three or four inches taller than he had been last year. Thirteen was the age when boys started to shoot up like beansprouts. He'd be bigger than me soon, and that didn't seem fair.

"You should take a turn, Eva," he said. "I can watch Jess for a bit."

I shook my head firmly. "I'm okay."

"You should take a turn," he repeated. I thought I recognised my mother's voice in that assertation, and I wondered if he was only repeating what he'd already been told. "You know why."

I did know why. But I still didn't want to. Slowly, painstakingly, I dragged myself onto my feet, and I wandered towards the others. If Rhodri's dad could do it, then so could I, right? My little brother was right. It wasn't a good idea to hide from this chore. I'd hidden for months already while we had been waiting for Poppy's parents to come to terms with the idea of saying goodbye to her.

They had rigged it to fall into a space between the other trees. And the wedge was nearly complete now. It wasn't a very big tree, all things considered. Seventeen years was not a long time in the forest. Bryn passed me an axe handle-first. He had climbed into the branches to rig it, and I'd seen him wobbling more than once before his dad had pulled him down.

"You alright?" I asked him in an undertone.

"Yeah," he said, giving me a humourless smile. "Just wrenched my shoulder 'cause the tree was further away than I thought it was. Tip for you, Eva. Two eyes are a lot better than one. Look after yours."

I acknowledged that with a little nod, trying to keep the pity from my face. And hefting the axe, I asked him, "And emotionally?"

Bryn's smile didn't fade. It just took on a rueful, miserable note. And then he gave me a little shrug and turned away before I could see what I was willing to bet were more tears. Well, at least I wasn't the only one falling to pieces. It didn't make this any easier, but it did make it a little less lonely.

"Okay, get clear, please," Uncle Ollie said. He and Rhys were waiting beside the trunk. There was only a single notch left. And they had a long wait for a dozen of us to get out of range. "That means you too, Nia."

"Really? You want me to let go of this rope?" she asked him. "You want to become a human pancake?"

"Kiddo, that rope is not actually attached to anything."

"Then why the hell have I been holding it for the last half an hour?" Nia demanded incredulously. She blew out and muttered a series of foul words even as she dropped the rope in disgust.

"Beats me," her dad sighed. "It was rigged to the side-branch we took off."

She came and stood beside me while they made the back-cuts, still visibly fuming.

"Don't look at me like that," she mumbled. "I'm too tired for this shit."

"You've been raiding, haven't you?" I asked her. I hoped I didn't look too green with envy, but the truth was, I would have given my right arm for a chance to run around and steal shit again.

"Mm hmm. Pine Forest. Repeatedly. We're trying to work out exactly where on the territory Chris is hiding so it's easier to ... y'know ... kill him. It's not proved super easy, if I'm being honest. He knows he's got a price on his head. But I'll get him."

"I know you will," I said. I stared at Rhodri's tree and set my jaw. "And ... do me a favour, will you? Don't make it too quick."

She nodded. But even then, I sensed that her attention was elsewhere. And that it had been elsewhere for most of our conversation. It took me a while to realise that her gaze was fixed on Lily, and there was something cautious about it that made my heart skip a beat. Those two never fought. Ever.

"Nia?" I asked.

She let out a long, heavy sigh. She knew what I was asking. "Yeah, yeah. We ... um, we had a tiny little argument yesterday."

"Oh?" I asked cautiously. "Who was the instigator?"

"The more I think about it, the more I think maybe ... me. Like I said, I'm tired. Probably a little too tired to be walking around and talking to people who have opinions and feelings."

I eyed her sidelong. "Goddess, Nia. What did you say to her?"

"Nothing that awful! Geez. And Lily's not mad. She knows I haven't slept in days and that I'm very messed up. No ... I'm just ... kind of ... hiding from her. I'm scared I'll snap at her again," Nia muttered. She rubbed at the back of her neck ruefully, only to freeze in place and scowl at me. "Don't give me that look. I'm the one who gives you that look. But ... shit, yeah, I know, okay? I do know. I'm going. I'm literally going right now."

And she was. Lily had her back to us, but she half-turned when she heard Nia's footsteps, and I saw the tiniest of smiles cross her lips before they fell into conversation. I was glad of that. Nia was saying goodbye to her baby sister today. There had been a shakiness to her voice that made me think she was close to breaking down, so as far as I was concerned, she needed Lily's support now more than ever.

I turned back to Rhodri's tree — and not a second too soon. The sound of metal striking wood had just come to an abrupt halt, and then I heard a low squealing noise as the tree swayed and then toppled. A few branches splintered under the impact.

I snuck a glance at Mam, but she was nowhere near us, and that wasn't surprising. She didn't like trees falling, and it didn't seem to matter that they were falling in a controlled manner. I could see her talking quietly with Dad, a little way behind the kids. They'd been struggling with the separation, probably — and I got that, now that Liam and I were bonded.

I might have gone over to join them, but now that the tree was down, there was plenty of work to go around. We had to take off most of the branches in order to carry it to the pyre. Between us, we had three axes and two saws, and it took less than an hour. Matty's tree was much quicker. He had picked the thorniest tree he could find, but in doing so, he'd picked one a few years younger than he was, and seven years of growth wasn't a lot. Three blows from the axe and I could split any part of it off, easy as anything. The finished pile of wood looked horribly small beside Sam and Rhodri's, so I started to mix them all together. It wasn't like it mattered. They'd all burnt together when we'd set the cabin alight.

Poppy's tree wasn't very far away from Matty's. And it was shorter than I was. It had two years of growth, and that was all. It didn't need an axe. I could have snapped it with one hand, probably, and that was the heart-breaking part. It was done gently with a handsaw, and it was carried over to join the huge pile of wood from the other trees. There wasn't much of a stump left. A year or two, and you'd never know it had been there at all.

I was still wondering if it had been an accident. It kept nagging at me — that I would never know for sure. It seemed likely. The pack wolves wouldn't have targeted a two-year-old before the bigger kids. I wasn't sure they would have targeted her at all. It took a rare flockie to murder a toddler in cold blood. No, chances were, in their frenzy, they'd barrelled into her in wolf form, and she had fallen hard enough to crack her skull.

It wasn't like we were entirely blameless either. We'd left the kids mostly unguarded, we'd led the flockies to Haven, and ... yeah. When I thought about it, the kitchen table had been made of rough-hewn wood we'd cut ourselves. It had been sanded down well enough, to stop the kids getting splinters, but no one had thought to round off the corners. Maybe, if we had ... maybe it would have just been a concussion. How was I supposed to get past that? Ever?

I found it hard to take my eyes off Poppy's little sapling. I kept staring at it when they were arranging the wood in a pyre over the rectangle of charred earth where the cabin had stood. When they were piling half-burnt timbers on top. When they knelt down with a pile of kindling to light it. I kept watching until my eyes were hot and gritty from the smoke. Mam tugged me backwards a few steps.

It burnt very quickly. Green wood didn't, as a rule, but the tree was so small in that inferno that it was barely two minutes before it crumpled into the middle and I lost sight of it altogether. The plume of smoke was thick and pale and rising high enough to be seen for a two dozen miles or more. We wouldn't be able to stay here tonight.

"Beer or tequila?" someone asked me. I hadn't been listening properly, but when I turned my head far enough to see my sister, the two bottles in her arms were pretty self-explanatory.

"Tequila," I said, then a tiny frown crossed my lips. "Is that— It looks expensive. And ... familiar. Where did you get that?"

Eira bit her lip. "The cupboard in your room."

I didn't even have the energy to growl at her. Truth was, Eira got so few opportunities to steal things that it was hard to begrudge her the occasional liberty. She poured a generous amount into one of our plastic cups. And I didn't hesitate to put a few oversized gulps in my stomach. If I was going to do the next part, the story-telling part, I was going to have to be drunk. Hell, if I was going to make it through tonight without bursting into tears again, I was going to have to be drunk.

"Not too much," Eira warned me. "You'll want to be half sober by this evening, won't you?"

I looked up at her without much interest, really. I'd been planning to keep drinking until I fell asleep and then probably drink at bit more in the morning. Or afternoon. Or whenever I woke up from that drunken stupor. "And why would I want to be sober?"

"Oh, no one told you?" she asked incredulously. "Liam's coming to our campfire tonight. And you're going to Bryn's."

"Ah, shit," I muttered.

***

"You sure you're stirring that enough, pup?" my uncle asked me. "We're trying to cook the meat, not make it dizzy."

I released the handle of the wooden spoon a little too violently and sat back on my log to scowl at him. "Yeah, yeah. Very funny. I'll just leave it, shall I? Hope it doesn't catch on the bottom and burn?"

He gave his son a wry grin. "Well, at least if it's burnt, we can be sure she's cooked it properly."

"True," Bryn murmured. He was playing pat-a-cake with his little sister — and he was annoyingly proficient at it. "Very true. The last thing I need right now is worms."

I just shook my head, trying not to fume too much when I knew they were trying to wind me up. And when I knew they were both probably still a bit drunk. It was considered mildly offensive not to drink at a funeral, unless you had a very good excuse. And Goddess knew we'd all needed a mouthful or two of something strong today.

"Want a snack," Jess called out. Bryn frowned at her and gave her a little dig in the ribs, prompting her to correct herself. "Want a snack please."

"Eva?" Bryn asked, when a minute had gone by without a snack appearing.

I scowled at him. "Why me? You've got legs, haven't you?"

He and his dad exchanged a long, conspiratorial glance. They were shaking their heads, as if in disappointment. And then his dad said, "I'm hearing a lot of back-talk from our servant here."

"She's not afraid of us," Bryn sighed. "Which really takes all the fun out of it... And the annoying part is — I bet you anything Liam's minding his manners. He is a bit scared of her mam."

"Everyone's a bit scared of her mam," Uncle Rhys replied.

"You're not," I muttered. "Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, getting to know me, instead of just making me do all your chores?"

He shrugged at me. "Oh, probably, but we already know you, and besides, this is a lot more fun."

And the next second, he was turning in his seat to greet a visitor. I recognised her by her silhouette alone. There weren't many rogues who lived to her age. She was tiny, and she was ancient, and she walked with a stooped back these days, but it didn't seem to slow her down.

"Evening, Maggie," Uncle Rhys said.

She started out by giving him a beaming smile. "Hello, sweetie. Why are you all sitting separately tonight? I had to walk past three fires to find you. Three! Have you fallen out with your sister? Today, of all days? You should both be ashamed of yourselves."

"No, we haven't fallen out," he said quickly. "Eva is with us tonight because we've got traditions to observe. She and Liam are ... y'know ... all coupled up. Very cosy. So we're vetting her — making sure her intentions are good and all that crap. She's been putting it off for months now ... can't think why..."

I narrowed my eyes. And if I hadn't been too busy stirring the pot, I might have shown him a finger or two.

"Liam's one of yours, is he?" Maggie asked, her forehead creased.

"Yeah. Him and Sam."

Maggie made a quiet harumphing sound. "I didn't know that. I thought Skye had taken him in, given how often he was hanging around with her children."

"Ah, well. That is because Liam and Eva couldn't spend more than ten minutes apart when they were younger."

I wanted to growl, but it was true. It was still true, in all honesty.

"Is this our dinner?" Maggie asked. And ... oh shit, that question was directed at me. She was looking at me.

I made an effort to sit up a little straighter. "Yeah, it's going to be a stew."

"What's in it?" she demanded, wrinkling up her nose. "Meat, yes. I can guess that much. Potatoes are a given. I can't smell much else. You must have put something in to add some proper flavour...?"

"It's, um— Well, yes, I did. It's lamb-flavoured," I murmured. I was pretty sure I was sweating through my shirt at that point.

"How dare you? The laziness ... the audacity..." she spluttered. "There had better be seasoning in there, child, or Goddess knows I will throw you in the fire."

I bit my lip hard and said in a voice that was barely a whisper, "There's ... salt."

I thought that might redeem me a tiny bit. But the way Maggie stared at me, nostrils flaring, was enough to turn my stomach. I edged away from her without letting go of the wooden spoon, but I hadn't gotten very far before she snatched it off me anyway. She had a pouch tied around her waist, and she reached into it now, pulling out tiny jars of spices and setting them down beside the fire. I was just glad I'd escaped that conversation without getting clouted.

"Well, she might not be scared of us, but she's definitely scared of Maggie," Bryn was whispering. Loud enough for me to hear. Not loud enough for my great-grandma's failing ears to detect. "This is better, right?"

"Much better," my uncle said, the satisfaction evident in his voice. "We should have called her in hours ago."

This time, I really did put my middle finger up and made a face at the pair of them. It just made them both laugh. And yes, it did sound like drunken laughter, to some extent. But I also knew they were both trying to act normal for Jess, because she was still so tiny, and because she picked up on the slightest changes in mood. In all honesty, it probably helped them — having a kid to look after. Kept them busy. Kept them from thinking too much. The same way that being the Luna of a very messed up pack kept me from thinking too much.

Meggie was now stirring the pot of lamb. It was an entirely different colour than it had been before. After a minute or two of watching her, I was pretty sure she was trying to turn it into some kind of jhol. I hadn't made things easy for her, if that was the case, because that lamb had not had the best start in life. But if anyone could manage it, it would be Maggie.

She was tutting under her breath now as she added a generous lump of ghee to a second pot. I wondered idly if she always carried dairy products around with her.

"I'll make something to tide us over until it's cooked," she was saying. She seemed to have calmed down about the whole seasoning thing now, thank the Goddess. "You look like you could use feeding up, child."

"Yes, I do," I said happily. "Can I help?"

"Help? Goddess, no. But you will watch, and you will learn how proper food is made."

And I did watch, only too happy to relinquish my cooking duties. We covered potatoes in spices and fried them over the hottest part of the fire, and I had to admit it was delicious, albeit not enough to fill the gaping hole in my stomach. It was getting dark by the time the main course was ready. And we'd scarcely dished it up when my uncle slapped my shoulder and nodded towards the half-full cookpot. "Bring that and follow me. And be quick, yeah? Don't want our food getting cold."

I did what I was told. I had a suspicion as to what we'd be doing with it — a suspicion which had been growing in my mind ever since he'd set aside enough meat and potatoes and vegetables to feed a dozen people, let alone the six of us. And sure enough, we were heading over to the next campfire. I waited in the trees while he walked right up to it.

"Hi, Ol. Fion. Everyone," Uncle Rhys said. "You're all good at plants, right? Can you come and tell me what this thing is?"

I saw the adults get up and go to meet him. Ahmed was up like a shot behind them and going for a wrestle with my uncle, who did a brilliant job of keeping them all looking at him. That left me in the clear. Nia was fast asleep beside the fire with her head on Lily's lap. The older girl was also dozing — back against a tree and head lolling. I didn't know how they always managed to look so cute together.

When I was halfway to the fire, Lily opened her eyes a crack. Clearly, she hadn't been asleep after all. And now she was raising her eyebrows at me and looking pointedly at the pot in my hands. I bit back a swearword and hugged the pot with one arm so I could press a finger against my lips. It didn't hurt to dig out the big, pleading eyes. If I got busted, I wasn't going to hear the end of it, and perhaps more importantly, Nia's family would probably refuse the food out of sheer stubbornness.

Lily considered me for a moment with half a smile on her lips, and then she nodded me towards the fire. I was grinning from ear to ear as I made the swap. It was the kindest thing you could do for people who were struggling. It didn't matter why they were struggling. If they were at the point where cooking was an impossible task, you made your own dinner early, and then you swapped a full pot for their empty one. The trick was to do it without getting caught. That way, they didn't have to say thank you. They didn't have to feel like they were in anyone's debt — because they didn't even know who'd done it. You could guess, but you'd never know for certain.

When Eira had first gotten ill, our cook pot had been magically filled most days. And we'd certainly appreciated it. So I reckoned it was past time to return the favour. Yes, today had been rough for everyone, but we all dealt with things differently. Some people stayed functional. Some people didn't. And Poppy's parents were clearly in the latter group at the moment.

"This?" I heard Fion ask wearily. "It's Ground Ivy. Rhys, do you not ... do you really not know what ground ivy looks like? How old are you, exactly?"

"Oh. That makes sense. It does look like it's from the nettle family, now that I think about it. Well, cheers. Eva said it was regular ivy, and I was just ... not convinced by that."

I resisted the urge to growl, because it probably would have woken Nia up. I knew he was just trying to wind me up, but it was bloody working, because there was no way in hell I would ever make such a dumb mistake—

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. It didn't matter. I needed to bugger off before Nia's parents turned around. One step at a time, I retreated into the shelter of the undergrowth and picked my way around the thickest bramble patches. At our fire, Bryn had just finished up a loud, contented belch, his bowl already scraped clean in front of him.

"Grandpa could use a hand," he told me. "He knows how to eat it, I think, but he forgets that he's supposed to be eating every minute or two."

Sure enough, Old Jeff was staring thoughtfully at his bowl, which was still full. I sat down cross-legged beside him and held it up, trying to look enthusiastic about it. "Hi, Jeff. Do you want a hand with this? I can hold it for you, or I can do the spoon part if you're struggling with that."

It took his wandering eyes a moment to settle on me, and then his jaw went slack and his forehead furrowed, like he was surprised to see someone sitting beside him. "Oh. Yes. Please. That's kind of you. My hands do shake a bit, but I think I can manage it... Yes, there we go."

Bryn was right. He could eat just fine. All I had to do was sit there and keep prompting him when he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. And there was plenty of time in-between to bolt down my own supper. It had been a while since I'd eaten Maggie's food, and I would have savoured every bite if I hadn't been so hungry.

I was just putting my spoon down when I found a pair of pale green eyes fixed on me. It wasn't often he made proper eye contact, so I was suddenly sitting up a bit straighter.

"The boy who died..." Jeff began hesitantly. "I'm told he was my great-grandson. Did you know that? You must have, I suppose. Everyone seems to remember him. I wish I did. Last I knew, my son was his age."

Ah, yikes. Of course it would be me who had to deal with this. I wasn't drunk enough to talk about Rhodri, but I didn't have the heart not to answer him.

"I don't know if you ever met Rhodri, to be honest," I told him. And then I thought of that day in Silver Lake when they had come face to face, albeit only because Jeff had been trying to kill everyone in sight. Rhodri included. But I probably shouldn't say that.

"Maybe briefly," I conceded. "But everyone was always saying that he was the spitting image of your son, so if you can remember him at seventeen, you can probably imagine Rhodri."

"Really? That's ... Goddess. It's hard to conceive that I have so many years missing. Two generations. What was it ... that I did? Because that's a lot of time. I was a fighter before I married Isabel, and that's really all I know, but I was already getting too old for that..."

We all winced. My uncle was the one to answer him. I hadn't heard him come back, but he was so light-footed that I hadn't really been expecting to. "You definitely did some fighting, and let's just leave it at that. Finish your tea."

Jeff picked his spoon back up. Most of its contents had fallen off by the time it got to his mouth, but at least he was trying. He was skin and bone, and I was beginning to doubt he'd survive the winter without a good five kilos of extra fat. How old was he, exactly? Over ninety for sure. And if I had to bet, he'd be getting a birthday card from the Queen of England soon.

I was still staring at him, trying to figure it out from willpower alone when he set his spoon down again. "I'm not sure who made this, but they have my— Ah, um, what's the phrase? My ... most sincere thanks. Yes, that's it. It has been ... it has been a long time since I ate something so delicious. A very long time. What's in it?"

Maggie beamed from ear to ear, and her entire face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, just some ginger garlic paste, garam masala powder, bay leaves, chilli, tumeric..."

It took her quite a long time to list it all. Jeff listened politely and nodded along in a vacant kind of way that made me wonder if he was actually hearing what she was saying. But then, he did that to everyone. I guided his hand back to the spoon when she was finished, and he took another mouthful obediently enough.

"I did make this for him a few weeks ago, bless his heart," Maggie murmured in a voice too low for him to catch. "But it's always nice to be appreciated."

It was a cue I didn't fail to take. "Yeah, cheers, Maggie. It's lush. I can cook, I swear. But I can't cook like this."

"You and I have very different definitions of cooking, sweetheart," she told me sternly. When I winced a little, she settled a motherly hand on my shoulder. "But I'm sure you're very good at heating things up."

I could only grimace.

"When you finally leave that Goddess-forsaken pack, you'll come to me for a few weeks, and you'll learn what flavour is," she decided. "You and Bryn."

"Why me?" Bryn mumbled. "I didn't make the shitty lamb."

I set my bowl down with an audible thump. "Um, hang on. No one actually tried it, so I think it's a little harsh to call it shitty, Bryn. I mean ... wow. Didn't see you trying to help with the cooking."

Maggie's eyes had been narrowing. Now she reached breaking point and stood up to shoo the pair of us. "Washing up. Now. And if I hear you swearing in front of this small child ever again, I'll take this knife, and I'll chop a finger off each of you. Do I make myself clear?"

Bryn rubbed the back of his neck and nodded meekly. I, on the other hand, had a death wish. I glanced towards Jess, who was openly beaming. "Oh, so we can't swear in front of the small child, but we can make violent threats? Interesting."

Maggie's spoon moved faster than I did, and my ear was still throbbing when I lay down to sleep that night, curled up in a borrowed sleeping bag beside the embers of the fire. We had a tarpaulin over us and a second one to protect us from the damp earth.

***

It took less than an hour for everyone else to fall asleep. And then I was up, padding softly over the fallen leaves towards the faint glow of another campfire. I had to go carefully. Emmett Byer's raiding team was camped nearby, and their fighters were keeping watch for both camps. More than once, I saw a shadow moving nearby and stopped still, hardly daring to breathe, until I'd heard them move off again.

My family were clearly taking their chances with the rain. Most of them were sprawled out in wolf form to save the hassle of pitching a tent. But Liam wasn't. I found him at the edge of the clearing with a mess of blankets over him, and then I sat down beside him on the corner of the tarpaulin, hugging my knees to my chest to try and conserve some heat in the frigid night air.

"Hey," I whispered. Quietly enough that it wouldn't wake him if he really was asleep.

It was a moment or two before he opened his eyes, looking so very drowsy, and he noticed me. His eyes went very wide, and the tiniest of smiles crossed his lips. He sat up in bed, glancing around us to be sure everyone else was asleep.

"Hey," Liam replied. He even sounded sleepy. But like me, he was being quiet. He knew the dangers of waking my family as well as I did.

"Were you waiting up? Or what?" I asked.

He shook his head slowly.

Not surprising. This little excursion wasn't exactly planned. But the alternative explanation wasn't great, given that he'd been lying here for an hour at least.

"I thought with some closure on everything with your brothers ... the insomnia might get better," I mumbled.

"So did I," Liam said. His smile was lopsided and not very convincing. "But the problem with closure, I think ... is that it never happens the way you wanted it to. It's as messy and screwed up as everything that came before it. And then you're left with a shitty, shitty ending and no way to change it."

His voice had gotten quieter and more miserable with every sentence. I rested my chin on my knees and stared at him. "What would you change? If you could?"

Liam shrugged at me. Most of it didn't need saying, in all honesty. "I wish we hadn't needed to kill him. I wish he'd been ... better. That's all."

"I know."

"Felix too."

I sighed at him. "I know. But ... there could have been worse endings. If Mason had found out even half of the stuff we were lying about... I don't even want to imagine, Liam, but when I do think about it, about how much worse it could have been..."

"Yeah, I guess," Liam said. He looked me up and down, doubtless noting that I was in nothing but shoes, an oversized shirt and my underwear. "You're shivering."

"Mm," I said. "It's cold. I was hoping someone would let me share their sleeping bag, maybe."

Liam looked tempted at first. Really, he did. But then he cast a long, wary glance at where my parents were sleeping. "You'll be in trouble if they find you here. You know that, right?"

Yep. We weren't supposed to see each other during the twenty-four hours of torment that was integrating ourselves with our in-laws. Tomorrow, if they approved of us, they'd probably give us a tent, and that would be the end of me having to crash with my sister and Liam having to squeeze in with Bryn and Ellis. But I didn't see any harm in a little rule-breaking, so I gave Liam a rueful little grin.

"I know," I laughed. "The idea is not to get caught, and failing that, burst into tears."

"Solid plan," he said. "Like, really solid."

"Yeah, I think so too. So ... can I, um, stay?"

Liam regarded me with visible amusement. We were mated, and that question had still come out sounding very, very shy, somehow. He nodded his head, and he lay back down, holding the blankets out of the way so I could wriggle beneath them.

THE END

***

Hey, guys! Oh, boy, has it not been easy for me to finish this book. But here we are, half a million words and three years later. Thank. You. for all the comments and votes and loveliness. You know I love you all. And you know I wouldn't leave you high and dry, so my next book is being posted tonight too.

Go and check that out if you want. I'll put the link here for your convenience, but I'm sure you all know where to find my profile if it doesn't work! That's all, really. Hope you've enjoyed the ride, because I certainly have :)

https://www.wattpad.com/story/278454593-the-wolves-and-the-vipers