Urdon Pov
My left knee made a loud popping sound when I pushed myself off the oak bench. I had to grip the edge of the wash basin with my left hand until the wood grooved into my skin, but I kept my weight off the wall.
"Urdon, don't try to walk yet," Freda said. She reached out to grab my leather belt, her thumb catching on the iron loop.
"I am standing," I said.
I took one step forward, my left boot scraping a long line through the grey ash on the kitchen floor. My ribs ached from the rogue leader's kick, and the room tilted by two inches before the pine beams settled back into place. I walked through the narrow doorway and entered the main hall where the seventeen wolves were sitting.
Mara looked up from her corner by the wood box. Her face was still grey from the cold, but she had a few crumbs of the rye bread on her wool collar. When she saw me standing without the wall to hold me, her fingers stopped moving over the dry kindling.
