“I'm absolutely certain, Angie. I recognize charms like this. I remember them,” Dad repeated, his voice distant and heavy with memory.

“Whose were they?” I pressed.

“They belonged to a pack that no longer exists,” he said, his gaze fixed on the pelts but seeing something far away. “A pack that was utterly destroyed by a civil war a fifteen years ago, nothing more.”

Shannon leaned in, her voice sharp with logic. “If they were destroyed, then what is this? Who is using their emblem now?”

My father fell silent, his jaw tightening. He didn't answer. Instead, he looked down, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee a...