Page 59 of Wolf Marked

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Jerrick’s most likely taken him back to his camp. We need to find the camp, then we can scope his numbers and find out what we’re up against before forming an attack plan.”

Sounded easy when Filip said it, but getting close enough to Jerrick’s pack without being seen—let alone finding his hideaway to start with—was going to be a huge challenge. And dangerous. Extremely dangerous.

“We need to get him out before the Blue Moon.” Filip’s knowing gaze met Astrid’s, and like it always did whenever the topic of the curse came up, sorrow weighted the brown depths. It stretched across the bond, too, engulfing her in his worry. “We don’t have much time.”

They had only days now. Every second was precious.

Astrid bounced on her toes. “Then we’ll start the search today. Right now.”

“You can’t go—” Filip started, but Astrid’s retort was quick, cutting him off. She had played this game too many times before.

“I’m going,” she snorted.

Filip smiled. “You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “You can’t goalone.Bec and Kalle will go with you.”

“Oh.” That was reasonable.

His voice turned serious. “Scout Jerrick’s camp. That’s all, Ash, and I mean it. Comeback here and we’ll make a plan for the next step. Jerrick can’t know what we’re doing. Any rescue attempt now can ruin our chances of stopping him later. We need to learn all we can before we go to battle.”

Astrid bit her lip. Though everything her brother was saying made sense, would she really be able to not do anything, especially after all the destruction Jerrick had caused? After all the lives he’d destroyed? And what if she found Erec there? Could she just leave him? She wasn’t sure she could answer those questions now.

“Are you sure it’s best to go now? In the daylight? Without her wolf?” Mila chimed in, looking fearful. “Maybe if you wait for nightfall…”

“I can’t wait,” Astrid said. “Who knows what Jerrick—” She stopped herself. She had to because tears were pricking her eyes again, and her temples were pounding. “I can’t wait…”

Mila nodded as if she understood the turmoil Astrid was feeling. “Be safe then.” She walked over and wrapped her into a warm hug. “Come back to us.”

“I will.”

“I wish I could come with you,” Filip said. He winced again as another wave of pain shot through the bond, leaving Astrid momentarily breathless.

“Stay here and get better.” She bent down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Just scout the camp. Please.” There was insistence in his stare and voice. “And don’t get hurt.”

She nodded, not able to promise her brother anything just yet, and left through the tent’s opening. Once outside, she walked back to her tent and noticed Henrick standing there, as if he had been waiting for her to return. He had wiped his face clean of the blood, but the metallic smell of it still clung to his clothes. In his hand was a spear.

But it wasn’t like any of the other spears in the weapons armory that she had used. The staff was made out of a polished dark wood, and intricate carvings decorated it. The closer Astrid got, the more she could make out what the designs were. At the base, two carved wolves stared at each other. Their tiny forms chased each other up the staff until they sat under a full moon at the very top, beside the spear’s tip. The detail was exquisite. Even the animal’s fur was sketched out and defined, and although these creatures were just made of shavings in the wood, Astrid could somehow feel the love between them, the joy. It made her heart swell.

“Henrick?” Her voice was nothing but a breathy whisper as she took in the beauty of the weapon before her. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” he replied with a grin. “For you.”

She glanced at him, bemused. “You made this?” She’d heard Henrick had been an ironsmith for Mikel’s pack, but his skill surpassed any Astrid had ever seen before.

He nodded. “I should have given it to you sooner, but I had some last-minute things to fix,” he said. “Now that Erec’s been captured, I know you’ll need it more than ever.”

For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. No one had ever given her such a stunning and thoughtful gift. Her gaze traveled up and down the length of the staff, and she saw that the arrowed tip was not normal, either. Not made from metal but pink stone. And the sides had been cut very much like the knife Filip’s attacker had used, with jagged edges. Its frightening shape sharply contrasted the rest of the weapon’s beauty.

Maybe that was the point.

“Is the tip made from Svanna’s Rock?” she asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“That must have been hard to craft. How did you—”

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