The six of them were already seated when I walked in. Arriving before the Alpha was a small power they allowed themselves in these closed rooms where pack hierarchy bent slightly to council authority. They knew I knew it. Nobody mentioned it.
I had learned a long time ago that the Elders communicated most clearly in the things they never said directly.
Elder Maureen sat at the head of the long table, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his expression arranged into something that resembled patience. He was the oldest of the six and the sharpest, the kind of man who had spent so many decades in political rooms that even his silences had an agenda.
To his left sat Elder Doran and Elder Fisk, both grey-haired, both watching me with the careful attention of men who had already decided what they thought before I walked through the door.
Across from them Elder Cass and Elder Briggs sat with their scrolls and their unreadable expressions.
