9
The moon waxed as we settled into the hottest month of the year. A weight lifted off me, now that Brenna had seen my Berserker form, and knew if Samuel ever lost control, she must run.
Our plan to accept her as one of the pack continued as we allowed her time off the mountain. Together we enjoyed the spoils of summer.
One afternoon, I was speaking with Wulfgar at the firepit when Fergus rushed up with the first horn of mead.
I tasted it and found it good. Wulfgar agreed with me.
“Bring a barrel of that to the Thing,” he advised. “A good mead goes a long way to soothing tempers.”
“Any more word from the Red Pack?”
“They complain Berserkers are on their land.”
“Siebold?” The blond Viking had made himself scarce since Brenna had baptized him in meat broth. After our fight, I expecte
