The crone uses her spoon to strain the tea bag and then sets it on the saucer. I follow suit and put my thumb through the wet sack. Now there’s flakes in my cup.

“There wasn’t much I could do but treat the pain. There were a few days—” Her eyes grow distant. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“But I recovered.” I always do.

“You did. But you weren’t the same.”

“First blood changes a male.” It is known.

She shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. You weren’t the same as other wolves anymore. It was as if to let him out, you had to...