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about having faith in her man. Ellie had seen some extraordinary things in the last few years, and she couldn’t discount the idea that Golatia had the gift of Sight.
    She lifted the tray and carried it into the living room, setting it on a large coffee table made from a slab of trunk from an ancient tree. Whoever made it had sanded the wood and added gloss, but allowed its natural imperfections to shine through. An uncountable amount of rings swirled around it, making it impossible to guess the age of the tree the table had come from. “This is beautiful.”
    “Oh, yes.” Golatia leaned forward to touch the smooth wood. “Rica made that when he was just a cub, learning at his father’s side.”
    Ellie poured the tea, smiling at the affectionate term for Rica as a child. “He has a gift.”
    Golatia nodded. “Of course, so does Davinia’s man. Their father taught them everything about the art of wood. Their family’s been intimate with the ways of wood since before I can remember.”
    Ellie passed them both a cup before taking one and leaning back into the chair she had chosen. “Did Rica make your door?”
    “Yes, he made Mrs. Cosminstan’s door. Either he or Viggo make all the doors. They sell them too,” Davinia said. “The others in the Pack gather the wood and prepare it for use from its raw state. Some farm for our needs and sell the remainder, but the main economy is supported by Rica and Viggo.”
    Ellie should have been making neat mental notes, but all she could think of was Rica’s skilled hands shaping wood into art. It wasn’t long before the wood in her mental image melted into flesh—her flesh. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to compose herself.
    “I have something for you, Davinia.” Golatia pointed to a chest in the corner. “Go and fetch that for her, would you, Ellie? It’s not good for her to be lifting in her condition.”
    Ellie got to her feet and retrieved the small trunk. It was ornate in its design, with Golatia’s name carved into the chest. “This is gorgeous. Did Rica make it?”
    Golatia laughed. “No, ‘twas his grandfather’s brother, back when he planned to court me. Unfortunately, Ivan lost the challenge for me. I mated with Yuri, who died the next winter, before I ever conceived. By then, Ivan had moved in with his brother Victor and his wife.” Sadness flashed across her face, but then she shrugged, and the emotion disappeared. “It’s all in the past, while your little one is the future.”
    Davinia eyed the chest. “Should I open it, Mrs. Cosminstan?”
    “Golatia, and yes, open it, child. Everything inside is for you.”
    She opened the chest, and a gasp sprang from her. Davinia lifted a tiny baby outfit, crotched from the finest yarn. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”
    “Mind, they might have yellowed a bit with age. I haven’t pulled them out in years.” Golatia winked. “There never was a young woman I wanted to have them until now. If they’ve aged, you can bleach them easily enough, but you’d best get it done quickly.”
    Davinia lifted her head from examining the other garments. “Thank you, Mrs.—Golatia. I’ve yet to finish any of the clothes I started for Ylenia. My fingers aren’t nimble with sewing, and the order I placed from Bulgainia didn’t arrive before the snow blocked the pass.”
    Ellie had fastened on Golatia’s words about bleaching the clothes quickly. She opened her mouth to ask about it when the old woman turned to look at her. There was a hint of worry in her expression, and she pursed her lips after shooting a glance at Davinia.
    Ellie got the hint and held her tongue as Davinia talked about the baby. Before she knew it, more than an hour had passed.
    “Oh, we must get back, Ellie. Viggo will be home soon.” Davinia was slow on her feet when she got up and walked to Golatia. She pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered something that sounded like, “Thank you.”
    Ellie followed suit, waiting until