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Roger felt Jamie's hand touch his shoulder, heavy yet a reassurance. "As you're to be a soldier now, it's time to find ye a wolf."
As he was steered down the hill to meet the wolves, Roger hoped Jamie's apparent confidence in him was not misplaced.
Hardly able to credit that a wolf wanted him, Roger held tensely still while the wolf rummaged in his memories. He had read of how some wolves named their newly bonded, digging in their past for a scent-name.
His wolf found one for him. She stood proudly, nose lifted, as she gave him a scent of paper. Old paper, touched by dust and aged glue. It was startlingly specific; Roger recognised not only the book but the moment in his life. His wolf had named him with the chance-seen page that had led him after Brianna, into this time. Led him to claiming a family here. Brianna herself, baby Jem. His sometimes-reluctant in-laws, Claire and Jamie Fraser. Fraser who had, with a few words, made Roger a soldier—and given him cause to be chosen by a wolf.
*
Jamie's voice came low and strained. "Christ, she'll scare the horses." Then his wolf was shouldering Roger's, bowling her over.
Jamie stood at the horse's head, soothing and stilling it, while Brianna cut the rope, a slower business than cowboy movies made it look.
If we had been mere minutes later... If we hadn't had the instant awareness of trouble from Roger's wolf. If we had been without her guidance here, had instead to cast about or ask the way. We would have reached the place much later, have found Roger already swinging from the hangman's rope.
As it was, we were all badly scared, Brianna furious, Roger's wolf frantic. But Roger himself had nothing worse than badly swollen hands and a rope-mark across his vulnerable throat.
Behind us, Tyron's men went on with the interrupted hanging, continuing with a man who had no family and wolves to save him.
Jamie's wolf had come to stand by his side, growling. A similar growl was present in my husband's voice. "Save for his wolf, he'd be hangit."
The wolf in question was twining herself through and through the thin space between Roger's legs and Brianna's. Brianna was holding tight to her husband. Roger was very much unhanged—in the nick of time. Our pack was yet whole.