The bath prepared by Signora Astrid had been an intoxicating, sensory rebirth for Freja Lindqvist. For an hour, as the four young Frostborn maidens poured steaming pails of mountain spring water into the carved cedar tub, Astrid had spoken softly of the clan's ancient lore. The elderly pack matriarch had explained how the Frostborn had waited seven long years for an Alpha Luna—how the pack had grown grim, hardened by…
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