Rowan's POV
Stepping outside the cabin was like stepping into another world.
The air was knife-sharp and clean, scented with pine and cold stone. The village wasn't a village in the Sun-Stone sense no grand meeting hall, no neatly laid-out streets. It was a collection of sturdy log cabins and hide tents nestled in a bowl-shaped valley surrounded by sheer, ice-capped cliffs. Smoke curled from stone chimneys, and the paths between dwellings were packed snow.
And there were wolves everywhere.
Not in wolf form, but as people. Men and women of all ages, moving with a purposeful, wary grace. They carried firewood, tended smoking racks of meat, repaired tools. They all shared a look a hardness around the eyes, a weariness, but also a resilient alertness. These were survivors.
Every single one of them stopped to look as Thorne led her down the main path.
Their stares weren't hostile. They were… assessing. Curious. Some held pity. Others, a flicker of recognition that chilled her more than the air. They saw the white hair, the ice-blue eyes. They knew.
She kept her frosted hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, her shoulders hunched, trying to make herself invisible. She felt like a ghost, pale and out of place among their weathered, earth-toned existence.
"This is the Last Hearth," Thorne said, his voice carrying easily in the crisp air. He didn't act as a formal leader, but his posture commanded respect. People nodded to him as they passed. "No Alpha rules here. We survive by cooperation. Or we don't survive at all."
He pointed out a communal cook-fire, a well-protected spring, a workshop. "We take in anyone cast out by the southern packs. Anyone who refuses a forced binding. Anyone who speaks against a corrupt Alpha. Anyone whose only crime was being weak, or different, or in the way."
Each 'anyone' felt like a blow. That was her now. A member of this tribe of the unwanted.
"Thorne!"
A woman's voice, warm and sharp as spiced wine, cut through the tension. A figure emerged from a cabin, wiping her hands on a hide apron. She was maybe a few years older than Rowan, with dark, braided hair, warm brown skin, and eyes that held a universe of cynicism and kindness. She had a slight limp, but she moved with confidence.
She looked at Rowan, and her gaze didn't linger on the white hair or the blue eyes. It went straight to Rowan's face, to the fear and shame she was trying so hard to hide.
"So you're the one who caused the big freeze-wave two nights ago," the woman said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Had to chip my door open. I'm Kira."
Rowan could only manage a nod. The name echoed in her memory. Her best friend in Sun-Stone had been named Kira. This was a cruel coincidence.
This Kira didn't wait for a formal greeting. She closed the distance and, to Rowan's utter shock, pulled her into a firm, brief hug. It was so unexpected, so warm and human, that Rowan froze, both physically and emotionally.
Kira pulled back, her hands on Rowan's shoulders. "Cold as a winter stone, just like he said." Her smile didn't falter. "Good. Means you're still in there."
"I… I don't understand," Rowan whispered.
Kira's expression softened. "I was promised to an Alpha in the Boulder-Fang pack. He was a brute. Liked his mates quiet and bleeding." She said it plainly, no self-pity. "I said no on the bonding day. In front of everyone. He tried to force the ritual anyway." She touched her leg lightly. "I ran. He shot me with a silver-tipped arrow. Thorne found me half-dead in a snowdrift, just like he found you."
She looked around the village, at the people now respectfully going back to their tasks. "That one over there, Elias? His Alpha killed his brother for a better hunting ground. He protested, so they cut out his tongue and exiled him. The old woman by the fire, Marta? She's a seer. Her pack called her a witch and tried to burn her."
Kira's eyes returned to Rowan, fierce and unwavering. "We're all monsters here, according to the packs we left. Monsters who chose freedom, or dignity, or who just refused to die quietly." She squeezed Rowan's shoulders. "What Marcus did to you? We've all tasted a version of that betrayal. That cruelty. You're not a monster, Rowan. You're one of us now."
The words, "We're family now," weren't said with saccharine sweetness. They were a statement of fact, hard-won and solid as the mountains around them.
Something tight and frozen in Rowan's chest cracked. It wasn't a full thaw, but a fissure. A single, desperate tear escaped, tracing a cold path down her cheek.
She wasn't alone.
She was surrounded by monsters. Survivors. A family forged in betrayal and cold.
For the first time, she looked past her own frost and saw them. Really saw them. The resilience. The shared pain. The quiet strength in their movements.
Thorne stood a few paces back, watching silently. His gaze met hers, and in it, she saw no expectation, no demand. Just a silent question: Do you see?
Rowan took a shaky breath, the cold air filling lungs that still felt new. She gave Kira a small, tremulous nod.
She saw.