Emilia breathed in the crisp air as she slipped into the clearing - noting all the other arrived wolves, many new faces too. She thought Esmae would be pleased with all these prospective new members, as the Queen of Dawnshire . . . Emilia knew she would be, if she were the queen. She noticed Anabel’s mate was here already, though Anabel wasn’t herself. Probably wrangling those pups Emilia knew she had birthed not long ago. Emilia grimaced; who would want children? Anabel had turned soft, so unlike the warrior she used to be before meeting Shadow. Unlike Emi. Emilia had stayed hard and cold, poised to meet any challenge that dared crop up. Anabel would have done well to, too. One could never be sure of their own safety, what with all of these wars happening. Emilia wanted to fight another war, but she was sure she wouldn’t get to. The stupid peace treaty! She huffed to herself. Emi’s eyes wandered the clearing.

“Who shot that arrow in your throat, who missed the crimson apple?”