Page 19 of Shared With The Pack

Ridge looks around. "We'll disappear?"

"Sorta. We'll still be able to come and go, but while we're inside the barrier it'll make us intangible to anyone who isn't us. All the animals will be protected too."

Heath likes the sound of that. He looks up at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and rubs the top of his head against my knee. I give Heath a scratch under the chin before I look back at Griff, waiting for him.

"Sage would like that. Knowing her memory is protecting the land." After a long moment, Griff nods and clears his throat. "Let's do it."

We already have everything I need for the spell: the ashes, my family's gemstones, and a handful of seeds. And me. Filled with newfound confidence. Heath digs the first hole, using his sharp clawed paws to break through the compacted dirt. He digs another three holes after that.

Four directions. Four elements. Four seasons.

I start with the south-facing one. In it goes the ruby and a red oak seed. Griff joins me on the ground, kneeling with Sage's urn. He holds it open. With great reverence, I pinch some of her ashes and add it to the burial. South for fire and summer. For Griff's kindness and Sage's ferocity.

I close my eyes and say ancient words, repeating the spell I learned at the academy. I press my hand into the disturbed earth, my mind following the ley-line that leads to St. Salem.

One by one, I repeat the ritual. East for air and spring. West for water and winter. In goes a new seed, a gem, and a little piece of Sage. The potential for new life and proof of a life lived working together to ward away death. As I speak the last word, the spell binds itself, bringing some of the veil beyond over into the real world.

It worked.

Magic rushes through me, the sheer power almost unbearable. I'm safe. We're all safe. Nobody and nothing will find us now unless we want them to.

And we have a guardian to make sure of it.

I see a flicker of her from the shadows, a wolf walking through the trees, her eyes glowing blue and her fur the color of late autumn leaves. Sage's memory, come to see us. We scatter the rest of her ashes together, setting her free upon the gentle wind as it blows through the trees.

Now, there's nothing frightful in the dark woods. Griff hands me my broom and I use the new well of magic to reapply its enchantment with a snap of my fingers. I watch, full of love and comfort, as they all shift and howl at the moon before racing back to the cabin.

I don't fly away...I fly home.

To my mates. To my pack.

THE END

Epilogue

Griff

Three Months Later…

One more should do it.

I lift the axe, bringing it down hard to split the log cleanly into two smaller pieces. This winter has been a cold one. While I enjoy the quiet and slow days of this season, I admit I'm eager for spring to get here. I've got a lot of projects planned once the ground thaws.

First thing is the greenhouse. Wren needs his own space. While he's content to wander around outside every day, taking long walks to forage, I know he wants to put that green thumb to use. We'll grow some of everything. All those flowers he loves, but also herbs and a few crops.

I've got the plans all drawn up. All we need is for the weather to turn.

A cold breeze blows, and I sigh, my breath visible in the frosty air. I glance up. Another spat of snow hangs overhead. That'll make Wren happy, at least. He takes even a single snowflake falling from the sky as an excuse to make hot cocoa. While Ridge is still the master of our kitchen, Wren's taken it upon himself to be in charge of drinks and snacks.

I split another log for good measure. Just to make sure there's plenty of firewood to burn.

A movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. A flash of autumn among the bare trees. My grip on the axe loosens. It ain't Sage's ghost, I remind myself, only the memory of her. An echo of all that she was, given shape, and back to visit.

She doesn't come every day. But every so often, I spot her flickering nearby. Sometimes seeing her makes me sad, but other times it makes me happy. I remember all the good times we had. She would have loved Wren, I think. And her memory has no issue with him. Occasionally, I see her follow him on his treks through the woods, watching over him like a packmate.

It's worth a little sadness to remember all we shared.

"Griff, come inside!"