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“He’s very good.”

The clearing fills. Families, Elders, warriors, healers, teachers, and wolves still in their work clothes pour through the tree line until Silver Moon surrounds the altar.

Alpha Rylan and Luna Selena appear at the eastern edge of the clearing, and the crowd parts for them the way water parts for stone. Alpha Rylan wears a dark ceremonial jacket while Luna Selena's moonlight colored dress catches the lantern light, her hair loose around her shoulders.

They move to the altar. The crowd goes quiet. Not gradually, all at once, the way a forest goes quiet when something ancient walks through it.

Alpha Rylan raises his hand.

“Silver Moon,” he says, and his voice carries across the clearing without effort, without amplification, the particular resonance of a Lycan Alpha’s voice that seems to come from the ground itself.

“Tonight we gather under the full moon to honor tradition, to strengthen bonds, and to welcome new blood into the heart of this pack.”

“First,” Alpha Rylan continues, and his eyes sweep the crowd with the flat, assessing gaze I’ve come to recognize, “we elevate one of our own. Joshua Walker. Step forward.”

The crowd shifts. A ripple moves through the assembled wolves, and a path opens from the western edge of the clearing to the altar, clean, straight, lined on both sides by warriors who snap to attention as Joshua walks through.

Jasmin follows half a step behind him. Her hand rests on the swell of her belly, four months, the curve just beginning to reshape the line of her dress, and her chin is lifted, her dark eyes bright.

Behind them, the Walker pups fall into formation like they’ve rehearsed it. Justin leads, eighteen, tall for his age. His patrol uniform has been pressed, the Silver Moon crest bright on his chest, and he walks with his shoulders back and his eyes forward and not a single hair out of place. Holding the hands of his younger siblings.

Jace and Joselyn beside him. Seven and five, respectively, and they are not carrying anything properly. Jace’s shirt is already untucked on one side, his shoelace trailing, and he keeps glancing at the crowd with the wide eyed, open mouthed wonder of a pup who has been told this is important but hasn’t fully grasped why. He looks up at Justin and starts imitating his older brother. Joselyn holds Justin’s hand with one of hers and a stuffed wolf with the other, brown fur, one ear chewed to the stuffing, its remaining eye glassy and fixed on the altar with an expression of profound, woolly confusion.

Joshua reaches the altar. He stops. Looks at Luna Selena and Alpha Rylan. His face is composed.

“Joshua Walker.” Alpha Rylan’s voice fills the clearing. “Forty years of service to Silver Moon. Patrol captain. War room strategist. Father. Mate. Warrior.” Each word lands like a stone placed on a scale. “Tonight, under the full moon and before this pack, I name you Gamma of Silver Moon. Third in command. Protector of this pack’s Luna and this territory and every wolf within it. Do you accept this rank?”

Joshua’s chest rises. Falls. His eyes don’t leave Luna Selena’s and Alpha Rylan’s.

“I, Joshua Walker, accept the Gamma position as your loyal Gamma, to protect our Luna, to lead with integrity, guide with patience and honor beside you both, Luna Selena & Alpha Rylan, as the Moon Goddess is my witness,” he says, and his voice is quiet but absolute. Each of his family members takes the same oath.

The runes on the bowl ignites. Silver white light pours upward from the blood, hits the domed canopy of oak branches, and spreads across the lanterns until the entire clearing is washed in it. The bond surges, I feel it snap into place between Joshua and the pack, a new thread woven into the vast humming network, and the crowd erupts.

The pack howls, the sound vibrating through my chest. Darlene's hands fly to her ears while Damian watches Joshua without flinching. His eyes are on Joshua, cataloguing, mapping, filing the exact moment a wolf becomes Gamma the way other pups file the moment a tooth falls out.

Alpha Rylan raises his hand again. The roar dies.

“Gamma Joshua Walker,” he says, and the pride in his voice is so thick I can feel it through the bond like warm water. “Gamma Jasmin Walker. And their family. Welcome to the Big Four.”

Luna Selena steps forward. Her moonlight colored dress catches the lantern light, and she raises her voice the way she does, not loud, not commanding, just present, the particular resonance of a Luna who doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

“And now,” she says, “Silver Moon meets its newest family.”

The words hit me like cold water.

Every head in the clearing turns. Five thousand and forty seven pairs of eyes are suddenly looking at us.

My arms move before my brain gives permission. Darlene is against my left hip, Damian’s hand is in my right, and I pull them both closer, tighter, the instinct so deep it lives in my marrow. Protect. Hide. Make them small.

Darian’s hand finds the small of my back. Steady. Warm. Together as one.

“Let’s go… together,” he murmurs.

We walk. The path that opened for Joshua doesn’t open for us, we make our own, cutting through the crowd with Darian’s shoulder leading and my body following and the pups pressed between us like commas.

The pack’s eyes track us.

Damian’s grip tightens. Not fear. Possession. His small body is rigid against my side, chin lifted, brown eyes sweeping the faces around us. Six years old, and already looking at every wolf like anyone who threatens his mother will answer to him.