The first snow of the season came early.
It blanketed the silvermoon teritory in white, softening the jagged lines of the forest, quieting the world. But beauty in Silvermoon was never harmless. Snow meant harder hunts, colder nights, and shorter tempers. Wolves grew hungier, meaner. And when that happened, they always looked for someone to take it out on.
Someone like me.
I was hauling firewood from the forest when they came for me. Three of them, Garrick's son, Malric and his two friends. They didn't need a reason. they never did.
"Carrying wood for the fires?" Malric'c voice was dripping with mockery. "How generous. Almost like you're a real pack member".
I didn't answer. My arms were full, the rough bark biting into my skin through the thin fabric of my sleeves. The cold made my breath curl in the air. I kept walking.
One of the others stepped in front of me. "Where's your manners, curse-born? don't ignore your betters".
I shifted my weight, trying to step around him. The third blocked my other side. The wood was heavy, but i tightened my grip not because i needed the firewood, but because i knew the moment i let go, they'd take it as permission.
"You think you're too good to speak to us?" Malric asked. He was taller now, his shoulders broadening with age, but eyes still held that same cruel gleam they had when they were children.
"No", I said flatly. "I think it's too cold to waste my breath."
His grin widened. "That so?"
The blow came fast, not to my face but to my stomach. I staggered, the wood slipping from my arms and tumbling into the snow. Before I could straighten, another hit landed against my ribs.
The snow cushioned my fall when they shoved me down, but it was cold and wet, soaking through my clothes immediately. I twisted, trying to get up, but Malric's knee was on my shoulder, pinning me.
"You should learn your place," he growled. "One day, father won't let you stay here. And when that happens, no one will take you in. You'll die alone, like you should have the day you were born."
His words hit harder than his fists. Not because they were true, I refused to believe they were but because a part of me feared they could be.
The third boy kicked me in the side, right where the whip had opened my skin weeks ago. Pain exploded through me, bright and hot. I bit down on a cry, tasting blood.
When they were done, they left me there in the snow. My breath came in ragged bursts, each inhale sharp against my bruised ribs. I stared up at the sky, pale, overcast, the moon a faint ghost behind the clouds.
It didn't matter how much I endured. It didn't matter how many times i got back up. In silvermoon, i would always be something less.
I made it back to the barracks long after the others had gathered around the fire for the evening meal. No one looked at me as i slipped in, snow still clinging to my hair, my clothes damp. I went to my mat and sat with my back against the wall, my eyes on the flicker of firelight across the floor.
The conversation around me blurred into noise. I could fell the dull throb in my side, the bruises blooming beneath my skin.
That was when Elder Calen appeared beside me. I hadn't noticed him crossing the room, he was old, his hair silver, his back slightly bent but his eyes were sharp as ever.
"You'll break if you let them see it's working", he said quietly.
."Pain is their way of reminding you of your place," he went on. "But a wolf without scars hasn't lived long enough to matter. Endure Selene, and when the time comes, use it."
"Use it how?" I asked, my voice low.
He didn't answer. He just gave me one of those looks that made me feel like he knew something i didn''t, then turned and wallked away.
I looked at him, unsure of what to say. Calen rarely spoke to me unless it was about chores or training.
Two days later, the pack was summoned to the nain hall. Alpha Garrick stood at the head of the room, his arms folded, his expression grim.
"We have news from the west," he announced. "The Blackfang pack grows restless. They've land that does not belong to them. They've killed without cause. And they will not stop unless they are made to"
A murmur rippled through the pack. I stayed near the back, watching".
They have no respect for borders" Garrick continued. "No respect for us. But there are those who will join us in putting an end to this, putting them in their place. The Shadowfangs have sent word. Their Alpha is willing to meet."
My heart gave an odd jolt. Shadowfang. The name pulled at a distant memory. Elder Calen's voice by the fire, speaking of a wolf wyes like molten gold. Damien.
The Alpha's gaze swept the room, hard and commanding. "We leave at dawn."
I knew I wouldn't be part of the delegation. I was barely trusted to carry firewood without being accused of something. But still, the name stayed in my head.
Damien.
The moon was moving the pieces. I could feel it.
That night I dreamed of running, not through the familiar woods of Silvermoon, but across vast, open plains beneath a complete, unbroken moon. A black wolf ran beside me, his pace steady, his presence solid and unshakable. I didn't know his name in the dream, but I knew him all the same.
When I woke up, the snow was falling again. And for the first time in a long time, my chest felt strange, not light, exactly, but not weighed down entirely by dread either.
Something was coming.
And Silvermoon was never going to be the same again.