The bell cracked two days before the Mating Moon, and I hadn't slept since.
Bray's yard cast every bell this pack rang, and I wasn't going to break that.
The furnace breathed heat at my face while the bronze rolled orange inside it.
I tipped the crucible and poured before my arms could argue.
It ran gold into the mold, and the old bell's crack stopped mattering.
My arms shook, so I told them to quit it and kept pouring.
Morag: Elspeth Bray. When did you last eat?
Elspeth: Yesterday. Maybe. It's fine, Mam.
Morag: It is not fine. You look like a wet rag with a braid.
She said it soft, the way she said everything since Da died.
Morag: The bell will cool whether you stare at it or not.
Elspeth: I know. I just want to hear it ring right first.
Esk came in with grease on his jaw, took one look, and laughed like a bastard.
Esk: Shit, Els. You got bronze in your hair. You know that?
Elspeth: It's fashion.
Esk: It's a fire hazard. Mam, tell her.
Morag: I've been telling her for ten years.
He pushed a cold sandwich at me without asking, because that was Esk.
Esk: Eat. The bell's not going anywhere, and neither are you, because you're going to drop.
I ate standing up and watched the mold cool while hot sand smell filled the yard.
My eyes burned from the smoke, and fuck, I was tired to the bone.
Esk: You know the Mating Moon's in two nights.
Esk: You could take a night off. Wear something that isn't burned.
Elspeth: I don't need a night off.
Esk: Everybody needs a night off, Els. Even the stubborn ones.
Then I heard Wade's laugh past the gate, easy and loud for whoever was listening.
A woman laughed back, high and pretty, and it went through me like a splinter.
My chest did that stupid thing it always did around him.
I kept my eyes on the mold, because looking never got me anything good.
Esk: You're doing it again.
Elspeth: Doing what?
Esk: Acting like you're not allowed to want things.
He said it gentle instead of joking, and gentle was worse.
Elspeth: I want the bell to ring clean. That's all.
Ottilie came through the gate with a thermos, her apron on, curls flying.
Ottilie: I heard the bell broke. Then I heard you hadn't eaten. Then I heard you were dead.
Elspeth: Who told you I was dead?
Ottilie: Esk. He's dramatic. Drink this.
It was tea with too much sugar, and it was exactly what I needed.
Ottilie: Any wolf in this pack would be lucky, you know.
I knew she meant it kindly, and kind words made the quiet voice louder.
The voice said lucky for what, for burned hands and working instead of getting picked.
Esk bumped his shoulder into mine, and Morag squeezed my arm on her way past.
It was so much love in one hot yard, and I did not know why it made me want to cry.
I put my hand near the mold and felt the warmth, but the shape was holding.
Maybe I was enough, I thought, and I wanted to believe it more than sleep.
Two nights till the Mating Moon, and two nights till the pack rang my bell.
Esk: Go home, Els. Please.
I went home and lay down in the dark, and I still did not sleep.