Page 147 of Untamed

"Did your father make you sleep in the woods by yourself when you were a pup?" I ask in a whisper.

"Yes. It was part of my training," he replies.

I nod. "I was only eight the first time."

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "I was six."

I nod.

"Were you hungry?" I ask.

"I had to hunt for my meals when I was ten."

I nod again. "Mama always cooked food for me, even when I was older and hunting and fishing for her."

It's his turn to nod.

"Did your father love you?" I whisper.

"Yes. And, Little Luna, your father loved you. Even if he was cruel and unfair, he loved you. He wanted you to live."

I turn my eyes from him to look back at the flames. The bodies are nearly gone, burned to nothing but ash soon, just like my father must have burned until nothing was left.

"It makes me curious," I say softly. "What mothers and fathers must feel."

"Curiosity kills the cat" Old Alpha winks at me when he says this.

I just huff at him. I can see the shadows in his eyes. Deep sorrow, a resignation of those old wolves' lives lost to this war. Maybe Old Alpha is correct, and fathers love their children, even if it is hard to see.

He chuckles softly...sadly. "I can't use fancy words, Little Luna?" he asks me. "How do you know all of those words you're always mumbling, anyway?"

I frown. "Mama and I have - had - a book with words, a dictionary. Have you heard of them? We used to play a game where she would say a word, and I would tell her what other words fit."

"You can read?" he smiles at me.

I huff, startled. "Of course. Mama taught me."

He nods. "You and your Mama are smart," he praises us. A shadow moves over his face. "How are you feeling, Little Luna?"

I shrug one shoulder. I feel wonderful with Mactiir. I also feel terrible because tonight is the last of the Blood Moon, and Pup is so sad. "I am happy and sad," I reply.

He smiles, another minor quirk of his lips. "We don't believe in the whole witch nonsense here. I want you to know that whatever... extra capabilities you may have, being part-witch doesn't change anything."

I look at him steadily. "Until today, I didn't know what a witch was."

He nods. "There are witches, Little Luna, that can destroy a wolf pack willfully and malignantly and far, far too easily. Here in Canada, they live in very small covens or, more commonly, in small family groups. The closest large coven is south of us, in the States. Otherwise, you have to travel to the East Coast. One of the largest covens in the world is there. They are incredibly dangerous to us."

"Do they come here and attack?" I ask him, worried about these creatures I had never heard of before.

"No, Willa," he reassures me. "For the most part, they are content with their world. They stay away from us, and we stay away from them."

"Then why is that other Grim male so scared of them?" I ask bluntly. I'm confused. There is nothing evil about Nature, about me. She is the force that gives life to the forest. How is belonging to her evil?

"The GriMaw are scared of the future, not witches, Little Luna," Old Alpha looks pensive. "The unknown, maybe?" He suddenly looks at me and smiles broadly. "Not everyone is as brave as you." Reaching out, he puts his hand on my head and rubs my hair. I growl, smacking his hand away. He laughs softly, shaking his head.

We both go quiet for a moment.

"You are going to war with other wolves," I point out. "Wolves will get hurt and die. You don't need witches to kill you. You are doing it to yourselves."

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