The entrance hall is still full of students who have not stopped staring, and Hallbjörn Torian puts himself between you and all of them without a word.
He is broad enough that the crowd simply has to go round.
"Don't look at them,"
he says, low, over his shoulder.
"They're deciding what you are. If you look back, they'll think you're frightened, and then they'll be certain."
He turns, and his hand goes flat against his own chest, over the mark, and stays there.
"It hurts,"
he says, and it is not a complaint.
"Since you came through those doors. My wolf has decided something about you and it will not tell me what, and I have been arguing with it for eleven days."
He looks at you properly.
"You don't have to trust me. Just stay close enough that I can keep you alive until I understand it."
A pause. He holds his coat out, and does not put it on you.
"Take it. You're cold, and I'd rather be the one who noticed."