Urdon Pov
Freda held my right elbow tightly, her shoulder wedged under my good armpit to balance my weight while I dragged my bad boot off the top porch step.
"Stay behind the wood box, Mara."
Rex pulled his long iron pipe from his leather loop, his pale face tight from the frost glare. "The six neutral horsemen are losing their stirrups by the well frame, Alpha."
"We go down now."
"Your right arm is still locked in the linen weave, Urdon."
"I have two boots and a left fist, Freda," I muttered, forcing my weight forward onto the gravel path until the mud coated my leather laces.
The thirteen wolves behind my back did not stay on the porch planks. Toby grabbed a short ash club from the corner bucket, and his older sister lifted the iron stove poker high over her wool collar. We moved in a single tight line through the cabbage patch gate, our breath coming out in white puffs that mixed with the black soot from the burning camp crates.
