Excerpt 1

The evening sky was overcast, dark and heavy with the prospect of yet another snowfall. The last rosy shafts of daylight soon dissipated, and a frigid gust of wind rattled through the forest canopy, buffeting the pelt of the young she-wolf that sat huddled below. She fluffed her coat out against the breeze, shuffling her forepaws on the gelid earth beneath her in an attempt to keep warm. Chilled to the bone and feeling thoroughly despondent, the wolf tried to ignore the sense of hunger that was gnawing away at her belly, though to no avail. Still, she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling wretched tonight.

The prodigious tribe in which the wolf resided with were all suffering from the lack of available food. The snowy season was seldom kind to any creature living in the forest, and famines were sure to lead to times of great tribulation. Tempers soon turned short, pelts became dull and ragged with evident malnutrition, and sickness ran rampant, often claiming the lives of those less fortunate.

“Freyja.” A faint voice rasped abruptly from behind the wolf, and upon hearing her name, she turned to look over her shoulder. Freyja’s mother, Amaris, slowly made her way over to her on unsteady paws. The older she-wolf looked hauntingly decrepit and frail, her hips sunken in, her ribs visible beneath her graying fur. “Have you not taken anything to eat?” Amaris gazed at her daughter quizzically, concern sparking in her eyes. Freyja had been one of the few who chose to abstain from partaking in their meager share of prey the tribe had eaten earlier in the day, knowing their elderly tribemates were at greater risk of succumbing to starvation than the young and supple. “I’m not that hungry,” Freyja lied, avoiding Amaris’ fixed look. Upon seeing her mother narrow her eyes in response, Freyja knew she saw right through her excuse, though Amaris didn’t have a chance to make a verbal retort.

A startlingly raucous growl snapped the pair of wolves out of their conversation. Freyja jumped to her paws, bristling, craning her neck to try and see what caused the sudden commotion. Her eyes widened as she took in the grisly sight before her. A huddle of patchy, shabby fur slumped on the ground near the tribe’s camp entrance, and it took Freyja a moment to realize that it belonged to that of a wolf, though it was no wolf she had ever seen before. The pitiful creature was so emaciated, its breathing so shallow, that she could hardly believe it was still alive. Its pale eyes were glazed with fear as it shivered where it lay, curling into itself defensively. It was painfully apparent that it had been on its own for quite some time. Towering over the poor wolf stood the tribe’s formidable leader, Alaric. Even in times of extreme hunger, the alpha still exhibited a massive, muscular frame. His lips were curled in a furious snarl, his yellow eyes blazing with outrage as he stared at the newcomer, still hunched at his paws.

“Alaric, who is this? Why have you brought him here?” Alaric’s second in command questioned, trotting his way across the clearing to where Alaric stood shaking with fury. “I found this scrap of nothing trying to raid our prey stores just outside our camp,” the tribe leader spat contemptuously in response, roughly shoving the outsider forward with one of his forepaws, causing him to whimper in alarm, though he made no attempt to get up. “He would have made off with a hare had I not caught his miserable pelt.” He shook his head, his fangs still bared in an expression of sheer anger. “Not only is this dispersal a trespasser, he is a thief. He has broken the laws of the land and must be punished accordingly.” Alaric bent down, sinking his teeth into the wolf’s scruff and lifted him into the air, ignoring the feeble whine of protest and carried him forward as the remainder of Freyja’s tribemates began to congregate. With an unpleasant jolt, Freyja realized that she knew exactly what it was the alpha was intending to do with him.

“Wait,” she called out, knowing straight away that she had spoken out of line as Alaric turned to stare directly at her, the trespasser still dangling from his jaws, as if daring her to continue to challenge him. Instinctively she pinned her ears back against her skull, taking a deep breath before proceeding in speaking once more, this time her voice a bit more inaudible than before. “Surely… surely you can reconsider,” she said, feeling a pang of commiseration grip her heart as she stared at the unwelcome visitor. “I’m sure he meant no harm. He just needed something to eat. He’s starving. Look at how thin he-”

She was cut off by another irate snarl. Alaric promptly dropped the scrawny wolf and rounded on Freyja. “We’re all starving!” he snapped. “Every bit of sustenance we can get our paws on makes a difference this time of year. He could have cost one of our tribemates their life! Have you no sense of loyalty?” The tribe’s alpha lowered his voice for a moment, glancing at the wolf who still lay crumpled on the peaty ground. “He is a threat to our very wellbeing and I do not trust that he won’t repeat his crimes. Lachlan,” he barked at his second in command, who in turn stepped forward. “Dispose of this intruder.”

Freyja’s stomach twisted at Alaric’s words, and she watched in horror as Lachlan began to advance on the wolf who was now condemned to die. The stranger made little movement, though Freyja knew by the twitch of his ear that he was very well aware of what was now awaiting him. “No,” she pleaded, calling out to her leader who pointedly turned his back to the scene. “Please, Alaric. He doesn’t have to be killed. I don’t believe he’ll try to steal from us again. Just let him go.”

Alaric whipped around, the whites of his eyes showing prominently as he leered at the she-wolf who dared to defy him. “Do not question my orders,” he growled threateningly. “Remember your place. This is what he deserves.” As he turned to stalk away once more, a wave of unadulterated anger rushed through Freyja like wildfire at Alaric’s sheer cruelty. “Nobody deserves this kind of treatment!” she snarled, lifting her tail. “Who do you think you are? Are our lives any more important than his just because he doesn’t have his own tribe? We-”

“How DARE you?” Alaric roared, drowning out Freyja’s words with his own as he rose up on his hind legs, striking out vigorously with one of his colossal forepaws. Freyja only had a moment to register what was happening before she cried out in anguish, fiery pain suddenly streaking down one side of her face as her alpha’s razor-sharp claws raked through her skin. She staggered backwards, still howling in agony as blood spilled from her eye, flooding her vision and dripping down her maw. Her blood only continued to flow freely, and she soon collapsed to the ground, desperately trying to cover and clear the laceration as she pressed herself against the earth. She was vaguely aware of Alaric now towering over her menacingly. “Get out,” he growled, his breath hot and heavy. “Get out before I kill you, too.”

“W-what..?” Freyja choked, her voice faint and muffled by her now-bloodstained paws. “I said get out,” Alaric said venomously, speaking through clenched teeth. “Now. And don’t come back.” Freyja’s head swam with a concoction of pain, terror and confusion as she began to shakily heave herself to her feet. “But...why?” Those words were all that the injured she-wolf could muster, and her fear only continued to increase at a crippling pace as she realized that, no matter how much she had tried to wipe the blood from her wound, she was unable to look out of one of her eyes. With half her vision gone, and her other eye still blurred from the intense pain, she struggled to see what was in front of her. She felt the ground spin beneath her paws and began to tremble violently as Alaric took another pace towards her. “But I won’t survive out there,” she said, her voice cracking. The tribe alpha scoffed, tossing his head at her response. “You can be sure you won’t survive here, either. I suggest you hit the trail while you still have the chance, or you’ll lose more than just an eye.”

Freyja let out a wail of despair, feeling as if the earth was giving way beneath her, threatening to swallow her whole. “You can’t be serious. Amaris?” she called out to her mother expectantly, hoping that she would defend her daughter, perhaps even persuade Alaric to let her remain in the territory. “Amaris,” Freyja repeated pleadingly as her mother did not answer, feeling her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. Her throat tightened with dismay as she watched as Amaris slowly dipped her head, lowering her gaze shamefully. Freyja soon understood that, out of fear for her own life, her mother was not going to come to her aid.

In an instant, Alaric lunged forward, and Freyja knew she would not be alive for much longer unless she seized the chance to escape. She quickly turned tail and fled into the night, blood still streaking down her cheeks, though the searing pain in her heart heavily outweighed the pain she felt in her face.