YEAR ONE
Chapter 1
EMBER
Packing everything you own is easy when you have nothing.
I scan our small, dark cave one last time. The walls sweat with moisture. On humid days like today, the place still reeks of spoiled meat, a lingering reminder of when it served as a storeroom. Not ideal, but better than the wet-dog stench that blankets the main cavern after the rainy season.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The rhythmic tapping of water on damp earth has been our lullaby for five years. A constant in our ever-changing world. We used to have more. A family. A real cave toward the front of the pack’s main cavern. Always full of laughter and warmth, but all that changed on the day of the Challenge.
My eight-year-old brother, Roman enters with bright green eyes and a proud smile, even if he’s missing some teeth. Jerky in one hand. Bone knife in the other. The blade’s worn, notched with age. It was our father’s.Where did he get jerky?My eyes travel to the small alcove where he kept hiscarvings. He must have traded the figures he whittled to barter for the jerky we’d need on our journey. Here I thought he was out exploring again. He’s become quite the adventurer.
“You got everything?” he asks, nodding at my empty, hand-stitched satchel.
The only thing I own is the jagged seashell in my hair. It was Mother’s.
“Yeah.” I swing the satchel off my shoulder, then tug it around him until it rests across his chest. “Everything I want to bring is right here.” Before fussing up his shaggy auburn hair. It’s getting past his ears. I’ll have to cut it soon.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away. “You’re getting cheesy in your old age.”
“I’m eighteen,” I deadpan, “basically ancient.”
His toothless smile grows, but mine doesn’t.
A few months ago marked my eighteenth year, making this my first year eligible for the annual Mating Trials. The law mandates every unmated wolf in the northern region, from Alaska to Maine, must participate. No exceptions. The trials are how mates are chosen. The purpose of the Mating Trials is to identifyfatedmates for strong offspring. They are said to appeal to a wolf’s inner instinct to weed out those fated by the gods. The couple can determine whether the coupling lasts a season or a lifetime. But, I’m still struggling with letting fate choose my future.
Because once a pair is matched, the female leaves with the male. That’s the rule. I could be forced to leave Roman. Forced to move to another pack, in another state.
No choice. No control. No coming back.
I grab Roman in a headlock before hugging him to myself, savoring the feeling of his warmth and his scent. Still tuckedinto me, I guide him to the door without looking back at our damp little hovel. Together, we step into the main cavern.
The vast space opens above us, large stalactites hanging down from the ceiling like jagged teeth. The wide-open center is filled with clusters of pack families huddled near firepits. The cave is alive and thrumming with energy. With watchful eyes, we cross to Dove’s cave.
Dove and her family have always been close to ours. She’s my only friend, the only person we’ve come to trust. Roman and I enter her family’s cave. Dove rushes us in a flurry of golden hair, her heavy satchel thumping against her knees as she throws herself into my arms.
“Oh, Ember. I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m so excited.” Her hazel eyes alive with possibility.
“Me too.” Only not from excitement, from dread, but I don’t tell her that.
“This time next week, we could be mated.” She practically sings, “I wonder what he’s going to look like.”
“He might have five chins,” Roman mutters under his breath. Sometimes it feels as though he’s another one of her little brothers. She’s the eldest of four, soon to be five.
“Romey, don’t be mean,” she scolds, nudging him with her elbow. “He’ll probably have big muscles and the largest teeth. Tall and lean, but can lift me up and spin me around like a doll.” She spins her curvy frame around in a circle to demonstrate as her golden hair swishes from side to side.
I snort. “Sounds like you’ve put some thought into this.” Of course, she has. Most females our age have thought about it and experimented with others between the furs.
“You can’t tell me you haven’t. I mean, this will?—”
I haven’t. At least, not with hope. All I think about when the trials are mentioned is what I’ll lose. The life I built withRoman. The cave I created from nothing. The freedom of choosing my own path.
“Alright, Dove,” I interrupt. “Let’s get into the cave so we don’t miss departure.”
“Yup, yup, you’re right.”