Page 52 of The Ashpaw: Part One

A change of the seasons was good to know, she supposed, but the context for the information eluded her.

When she didn’t respond, Marin sighed. “It’s a significant holiday for wolfkin, one of the few we are allowed to participate in as Solvekh.”

Fern nodded along like she understood, but the meaning still eluded her.

“Including the Ashpaw.”

Her eyes widened, breath catching in her chest and fingers tightening around the blanket.

“You mean…”

“The rules will be suspended for one evening, as soon as the sun sets. You may dine and drink with us. You may speak and be spoken to.”

And be touched…

Her whole body vibrated at the thought of it, and her wolf whined in anticipation.

Marin handed her a new dress. “This is yours until the winter.”

The fragile spark of excitement guttered at once. Did Marin believe she would still be an Ashpaw by the winter?

Then again, what reason did anyone have to believe that Darion would ever forgive her the sin of failing?

“Thank you, Marin.”

The older woman looked at her, her jaw set tight, and then grunted. “Go to bed now, and be quiet about it.”

Fern clutched the new dress against the blanket. Then she tiptoed slowly back into the sleeping quarters and straight into the bathing room, where she’d left the old one.

Part of her would be glad to be rid of it, the blood stains painful, daily reminders of her station here.

But it was also all she had, and Fern always found new ways to breathe life into items others would discard without thought.

Taking a bone shard she’d found a few days ago out of her pocket, she sat on the damp floor and took the old dress into her lap, carefully tearing the dirty, worn-out linen into strips and squares.

With no needle or thread, she instead cut little fringes along the edges, tying pieces together to create seams.

The first thing she did was repair some of the holes in her blanket, and even managed to extend it, so it could cover her from her shoulders to her feet without needing to scrunch up.

Then, she made a simple pillow, stuffing unusable scraps inside for the filling. It was still quite flat, but it needed to be if she had to hide it under her skirts all day—she absolutely did not trust leaving anything out anymore. Not with Mauricia around, still trying to make her life miserable.

Finally, with the remaining scraps, she braided a few narrow bracelets—easy to unravel whenever she needed a strip of cloth. For tying ends of her hair, wrapping a cut or blister, or whatever other problem needed such materials that she’d had to go without for far too long.

She smiled to herself when it was done, allowing the small comfort to outweigh her instinctive suspicion of any sudden kindness. Then she gathered her things and headed back to her corner to sleep a few hours until the day began.

* * *

The excitement for the evening helped her feel less tired over the lack of rest. She’d slowly gotten accustomed to the three to four hours of sleep she had most nights, and by her best estimate she’d only had one after finishing her work.

Still, it couldn’t suppress the lightness in her step, or the smile she allowed whenever no one was looking.

Outside, the wolfkin were gathering wood for a great bonfire in the clearing where they met for the full moon shift. A few tables were taken out of the dining hall as well, carried easily by strong men who laughed and talked as they worked.

Someone even winked at her, causing her heart to flutter and her cheeks to flush.

Then Fern’s cheeks flushed again from embarrassment at how desperate she’d become for any attention. Truthfully, if one man even looked her way tonight, she wouldn’t even need the courage borrowed from ale to let him take her into the shadows and do whatever he wanted to her.

When the sky finally slipped from blue into vibrant shades of pink and orange, Fern took a few of the strips of linen she’d bound around her wrist out, sitting down to weave them into her hair, her fingers remembering the work of the twists, tucks, and ties to create a braided crown.