The warrior called Grim flushed red and stole a glance at me. His scent carried damp wool and dried mud and the faint bitterness of healing salves that had never fully worked. "I... I'll do whatever the Commander says."
The jeers and mockery were endless.
I just stood there, watching Fenris in silence.
I couldn't understand what had happened in those three years to turn him into this person.
We had known each other since we were pups.
The very first time we met, he pointed at me and declared I would be his mate. He even stole the Ashclaw ancestral mating cuff and clasped it around my wrist.
My parents were so alarmed they sent someone to return it that same night.
For as long as I could remember, he had been my protector.
Once, a young pureblood merely touched a strand of my hair, and Fenris broke both his hands for it.
The old War Commander was so furious he beat Fenris and shipped him off to the training grounds to straighten him out.