When Lenore turned around, she noticed she was being watched by another wolf. She blinked in surprise, recognizing him. “Hi! You’re Erebus, aren’t you?” She tapped two of her seven tails against the earth. Erebus’ smile was so sweet, it made Lenore smile too. “I, uh, recognize you.” She smiled back. She wondered if he had seen her arguing with the squirrel? Mist drifted around the lass as she took an unsure step. “I’m Lenore, an omega currently. Queen Hecate hasn’t ranked me yet, because I only just aged up.” Lenore, the fatherless; Lenore, the wild-born. Mother had always used to say that she had given her firstborn the best name, the one she had always loved since she was a pup. An old name, a wise one . . . Lenore found that hilarious, since Hazel was neither old nor wise, and she probably had had a dozen other flings by now. More children. More wolves who would grow up never knowing their fathers, raised by a mother who didn’t really care for them.

“In the night, the stormy night.”