The Winter

Chapter 1

(Make sure to read The North before you read this!)

There is now a pronunciation video available in my Facebook group if you want to hear how things are said!

Welcome back to the north, keep an eye on the shadows...

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Chapter 1

I've often wondered what changes someone more; loss or gain.

I'd certainly been changed more by what I lost. My Alpha's death, after he defended our pack from the dark creatures roaming the land, had stolen the last of my youthful naivety about good triumphing over evil. The death of my older brother to the same creatures had crushed but a small ember of remaining hope.

Both those acts of sacrifice had gained new meaning when I found out the truth. They'd been protecting me from myself, as much as from the Blood Drinkers; creatures I'd thought to be a new creation only to find out they were older than living memory.

Mortal memory at least.

Stolen souls from Nàströnd forced into human bodies who then spread their poison to the very humans they killed. They rose again with an insatiable bloodthirst. . .

And my blood called to them stronger than any other. My blood was the reason I'd lost my packmates, my blood family; my homeland, my faith in. . .well, anything. Everything. Not even the stories of an Alpha of Alphas in the far North felt dependable. An Alpha said to have gathered packs of skinshifters under one rule to defend against the plague sweeping the land. For these days, even bands of mortals with their glinting swords, sharp arrows, and steel clothing were causing as much damage as any monster creeping in the night.

I wasn't as carefree as I once was; happy to follow the breeze and wander through lush green glens, or climb tall mountains blanketed in rich purple heather. I went from being a pup with no found direction in life, to leading my pack as an Alpha in my own right. That was a gain, was it not? That had changed me too. Hardened me. Strengthened me. But it had cut me off from trusting strangers, of trusting the wolves who'd taken my pack in when another night in the wilds of coming winter would have surely cost us another life; my own father's most likely.

Power could corrupt as easily as grief. I'd seen that too. I'd seen my new Alpha struggle between his need to be obeyed and seen as the almighty ruler of the biggest pack the world had ever known, and the need of the pack to have a side to him they could come to love as much as they feared or respected him. His own brother had been corrupted to the point he was blinded by his need for power, vengeance, his own twisted sense of justice.

I had power too. Power I didn't understand. Would it corrupt me as it would many others?

In the north, I thought we'd finally found sanctuary, and maybe we had. But our sanctuary was being threatened.

Our world was ever shifting at the moment, or so it seemed to me. Everything was on the table to be tossed aside or snatched up by whoever came out on top. Gerlac, my mentor, once said "Lives during times of war is like money during times of peace; whoever takes the most is deemed in power."

And someone had taken their chance at grabbing power tonight. Why? To strike fear? To show their strength? To seed doubt amongst the pack?

The taking of this life would change everything; I knew that as I watched Brokkr, with all his size and brawn, gently pull away his weeping mate from the body of their fallen male. She could barely stand as sobs tore from her lips, one hand fisted against her chest where I could only imagine she felt the ache of her loss. I'd never carried a pup in my womb, birthed them, raised them, and had them torn from me; how could I even begin to comprehend?