Page 60 of The Ashpaw: Part One

And when that failed, she’d stick her hand in her pocket, counting and cataloging her treasures.

The flake of obsidian

The bone shard.

The snail shell.

The broken tip of a quill, still stained black with ink.

And the handkerchief they sat in.

It was a ritual now, and she was almost glad Mauricia had destroyed her first collection, because it forced her to carry her new one wherever she went. Now she didn’t have to wait until the end of the day to appreciate them—she could pull them out and look at them whenever she wanted.

Once she was done, she patted down her skirts, bulky with the blanket and pillow still hidden beneath, and resumed her pretending, long after the last wolfkin left for the evening and the Solvekh had finished clearing the tables.

The nest is inadequate. You need to make something more permanent.

She snorted quietly to herself.

You’re a wolf, you don’t need a nest. You mean a den.

Her wolf chuffed. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

She almost barked a laugh, catching the sound before it could escape.

That’s rich, coming from you.

Her wolf circled once before slumping down, resting her head across her paws.

You know, Fern continued, if you come out on the full moon, we might be able to make you a “nest.” Although it couldn’t be in a tree. Too high.

Even imagining it made Fern’s stomach lurch.

You sound like an idiot, her wolf replied, rolling her eyes.

Says the wolf who thinks she needs a nest.

Her wolf stood suddenly, ears straight up and alert, causing Fern to turn around.

Two guards approached her, their expressions grim.

“Come with us, Ashpaw. Alpha Darion commands your presence.”

She froze, her face paling and heart stuttering an arrhythmic staccato while her mind ran through what she could have possibly done to earn this summons. She hadn’t talked back to anyone. Hadn’t been touched. Hadn’t drawn attention to herself…

Was this about being in Kyntha’s room the other night, punishment for not finishing the task?

Fern finally managed a shallow nod, leaning her broom against the wall and following them, recognizing immediately where they headed.

The Council Chamber.

She heard someone run up from behind, crashing into her and grabbing her skirts for support.

“Dammit, Ashpaw, how can you be so clumsy?” Mauricia hissed, gripping them tightly as she righted herself.

I’m not the clumsy one, you horrid cow!

Was what she would have said, if such a retort wouldn’t lead to a beating.