The night they cast Lyra out of the moonfang pack it was loud with snarls and the Alpha's cold decree was echoing in her head.
The bond snapping inside her chest until nothing was left but she has an hollow ache.
She walked past turned faces, the collar's glow which was the rogue's collar was burning at her throat, and she did not look back.
Now the borderlands stretched before her with wild woods, empty wind, and the constant press of hunger every single time.
Each step a fight to stay standing, each breath a reminder that survival was all she had left.
The trees closed in around her, their black shapes clawing at the dim sky. Frost bit at her cheeks, turning every breath into a cloud that vanished too quickly.
Lyra's boots sank into the frozen leaves, each step a crunch that felt too loud, as if the whole forest could hear her, walking.
The air here was different, colder, heavier, than that of the pack, it pressed against her chest, made her heart stumble in its rhythm.
She had crossed the border, and the land knew it.
Shadows stretched long across the snow, twisting when she tried to focus on them.
She could hear the wind whisper through the branches, but underneath it, something else howls, far away, curling through the trees like a warning.
They were not her pack's voices. These howls carried no welcome, it was different from the giggles of that of the elite beta girls of the moonfang pack.
Her fingers brushed the silver collar at her throat before she realized what she was doing. The metal burned instantly, making her hiss and pull back.
The sting lingered in her skin, as if the collar wanted her to remember it was there.
She wrapped her arms around herself and pushed on, her gaze flicking to every shifting shadow. A branch snapped somewhere ahead. She froze.
The sound came again for the second time, closer this time, sharper. Her pulse jumped. She searched the darkness, but saw nothing, she was very scared.
Then silence.
Her breath grew louder in her ears, uneven. She could feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her back. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening, waiting.
She swallowed hard and kept walking, though every step felt like it might lead her into something she wouldn't come back from.
The moon hung low above her head, pale light spilling over the trees, catching on the metal at her throat.
The collar gleamed like frost, but the shimmer was alive, a slow, steady pulse that sank into her skin.
Every link seemed to hum, threads of magic twisting deep where she couldn't reach.
She took a step. Pain flared, sharp and hot, racing up her neck. The smell came next, burned flesh, bitter and thick in the cold air.
Her fingers twitched toward the collar but stopped, knowing the touch would make it worse.
The sting wasn't just silver. She could feel it now, something crawling beneath the pain the pain of being a rogue.
Tearing at the invisible thread between her and the wolf. The connection frayed, strands snapping one by one. The emptiness seeped in before she could stop it.
Her breath hitched. She tried to push past the pain, to call her wolf forward. She reached deep inside, into that place where the heartbeat of another self lived.
Nothing answered.
The silence was wrong. Heavy. Like standing in a room where a fire had just gone out, and the cold rushed in to take its place.
Her chest tightened, panic clawing at her ribs. She tried again, harder, whispering to the wolf in her mind.
Still nothing.
Her knees trembled. The forest around her blurred, edges bleeding into shadow. Without her wolf, the night felt sharper, more dangerous.
She could almost hear the earth breathing, slow and deep, as if it knew she was prey now.
Her hands curled into fists, nails cutting her palms. She didn't cry. She couldn't. The collar pulsed again, and the darkness inside her grew.
The clearing opened before her like a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Snow lay in soft drifts, the hush of winter pressing close.
A narrow stream wound its way through the white, its dark ribbon glinting beneath the pale light.
Lyra dropped to her knees at the edge, the cold seeping through her bones.
The water's surface shivered faintly, carrying her reflection back to her.
A face she almost didn't know stared up, skin washed to winter's pallor, lips bloodless, eyes stripped of their old light.
Once, they had burned with the bond of the pack, carrying the warmth of belonging in every glance. Now, they were hollow, like the spaces left in a song when the last note fades.
Around her throat, the collar caught the moonlight, silver links glowing with a beauty as sharp as it was merciless.
It lay there not as an ornament, but as a mark, a boundary drawn in metal and magic. She lifted a hand to touch it, and the burn that answered reminded her what it meant to wear it.
Her breath clouded over the water, blurring the face below.
The truth settled into her like frost, quiet and certain. She was no longer bound by the pack's howl, no longer Lyra who ran with the rhythm of they moonfang pack.
The forest around her did not know her name.
Only the stream whispered it back , Lyra the rogue, before the current carried even that away.
The pool lay still, holding the sky in its surface. Lyra knelt beside it, her breath curling into the cold air, eyes fixed on the reflection staring back.
The water softened her edges, making her look like someone else,someone untouched by fear.
Then the ripples began, faint and slow, as if the past had found a way to seep through.
She saw the glow of firelight dancing in the dark, heard the low hum of voices around the camp.
Kaleen's face emerged in her mind, lit from one side, shadows chasing across his sharp features.
His smile rare, almost shy had felt like the world tilting toward her. In those moments, she had belonged.
Her fingers brushed the water's skin, and the image wavered. The warmth from the fire bled into the chill of the night. She blinked, and a tear slid free, falling soundlessly into the pool.
The circles it made spread outward, scattering Kaleen's smile into fragments.
The cold found her then. It slipped over the clearing like a hand smothering a flame.
The wind stirred the trees, their whispers low and mournful. The fragile heat of memory drained away, leaving only the ache of what was gone.
She stared at the dark water, waiting for the image to return, but it only showed her own face again paler now, lonelier.
Another tear fell. This time, she didn't try to stop it. The water swallowed it whole, and the night kept her secrets.
The night pressed in thick, the cold biting through her torn clothes.
Snow muffled her steps, but the forest seemed to hear her anyway.
Somewhere beyond the shadows, a twig snapped sharp, deliberate. She froze.
Her eyes swept the darkness between the trees. Nothing moved, yet the air felt charged, every breath slow and heavy.
She bent, fingers closing around a fallen branch slick with frost. It wasn't much, but it was better than empty hands.
Another crack, closer this time. Her grip tightened, the wood digging into her palms.
She turned slowly, scanning the black spaces between the trunks.
The silence after was worse ,heavy, unnatural, as if the whole forest was holding its breath.
Then it came. A low, drawn-out growl, deep enough to crawl along her spine. She couldn't tell from which direction it came ,the sound seemed to seep from everywhere at once. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
She took a step back, then another, forcing herself to keep her eyes up. The shadows seemed to ripple, shapes moving just at the edge of her vision.
Her instincts screamed to run, but she bit it down. Running made you prey.
One more growl, closer, louder.
Her breath came fast now, clouds breaking in the air. She shifted her branch, ready to swing, and took a step deeper into the dark.
The snow crunched under her boot and something crunched back.
She turned toward the sound.
Two eyes glowed in the black, unblinking.