chapter 6

Alma stood before the pack, her gaze burning with determination. She knew she was risking a lot by speaking like that, but she could no longer remain silent.

“Do you have to be cruel to earn respect?” she said aloud, making a few young wolves shudder.

Her heart was pounding, but she didn't hesitate.

“Humans are not enemies. They have their own lives, their own families. Why must we hunt them down for no reason other than tradition?”

A heavy silence fell over the assembly. The elders exchanged dark glances, smelling the scent of defiance in the air.

Then, suddenly, Ramba stepped forward and shoved her aside with a sudden movement.

“Enough!” he thundered, his gaze filled with cold anger.

Alma staggered but remained standing, feeling the hardness of the ground beneath her paws.

The elders were quick to react.

“Abomination!” one of them yelled.

“This weakness cannot be tolerated!”

“She dishonors the pack!”

Kaelen, who had remained silent until then, took a step forward, panting. He stared at her with an almost dangerous intensity, his fur bristling.

“You're pathetic,” he spat, his voice vibrating with fury. “You have no place among us.”

Alma couldn't look away. Their rage was a wave crashing down on her, colder than night, more brutal than any hunt.

Then, as one, the pack howled in her direction, a cry of rejection, of authority, of anger.

Even Ramba.

And at that moment, Alma understood that nothing would ever be the same again. She was alone. She always had been. And soon, she would be far away from them.

The assembly was in turmoil, each wolf howling its indignation, its anger, its rejection. But amidst this storm of voices, only one rose up, powerful and imposing.

Sylvara.

Her cry pierced the air with an intensity no one could ignore. Her howl echoed louder than the Alpha's own, establishing itself as an ancient force respected by all.

And then, an almost unreal silence fell over the den.

With a fluid movement, she wrapped her paws around Alma, isolating her from the tumult, enveloping her in a protective but not gentle presence. Her clear eyes bored into the young wolf's with unwavering firmness.

“You made a mistake,” she whispered, her voice low but sharp. “You cannot defy the laws of the pack without consequences.”

Alma, panting, felt the truth weigh on her. But she could not accept a law that seemed unjust to her.

Sylvara continued, her tone becoming more serious.

“There is only one way to restore your honor. You must pass the Blood Moon test. If you succeed, you will save not only your own future, but also the honor of your father and the entire pack.”

The words fell like a sentence. Alma knew there was no alternative. She must obey or be rejected forever.

But something inside her still refused.

She looked up at Sylvara, and under her breath, she whispered in a shaky voice.

“I'm not about to hurt a defenseless human.”

And without waiting for the old she-wolf's reaction, Alma turned on her heels and rushed into the forest.

Her heart was beating furiously, every movement guided by an instinct deeper than fear, more powerful than doubt.

She ran away because she knew that if she stayed, she would be forced to become someone she didn't want to be.

Behind her, Ramba, who hadn't said anything since Sylvara asserted her authority, lowered his head.

He had never felt such shame.

Not only for Alma, but for himself.

Because deep down, he knew that his daughter's rebellion, this refusal to obey without question, came from a past he had tried to forget.

And that past, no matter what he did, was coming back to haunt him.

Sylvara's run was fluid, swift despite her age. She glided through the trees like a shadow, her silver fur glinting in the moonlight. Before her, Alma fled, her breath short, her heart pounding against her chest.

They ran for a long time, until the forest thinned and a wide river stretched out before them, its shimmering waters winding between the rocks. Alma stopped abruptly, her paws firmly planted in the damp earth.

Sylvara arrived in turn, but she didn't adopt the attitude of a hunter. She wasn't trying to capture her, nor to dominate her. She approached slowly, her gaze calm, almost tired, but filled with undeniable wisdom.

“You must be good, Alma,” she breathed, her voice calm as a caress in the night air.

Alma didn't respond immediately, her breath shaky with emotion.

Sylvara stared at the dark water of the river for a moment before continuing.

“This ordeal isn't just a test to prove your strength. It could be much more.”

Alma raised her head, her clear eyes full of suspicion.

“More?” she repeated, her tone harsher than she intended.

Sylvara nodded slowly.

“If you agree to go among the humans, you might discover what no one wants to tell you. The mysteries surrounding your birth, the truths your father keeps buried.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the lapping of the water.

Sylvara's words echoed in Alma's mind, intertwining with the questions that had always haunted her.

She knew she had to choose.

Submission, rebellion, or… the truth.

And in that uncertain night, she wondered if she was ready to face what she might discover.

Alma stared at Sylvara with burning intensity, her breath coming in short bursts, her heart pounding against her chest. She knew. The old wolf knew something, and she refused to speak.

“Tell me the truth!” she ordered, her claws digging into the damp earth by the river’s edge.

Sylvara looked at her for a long time, her face set in deep gravity. But she slowly shook her head.

“I don't have the right,” she whispered.

Alma clenched her jaw. Her whole body screamed that there was a secret, something being kept from her. Why? Why did she always have to try to understand what was being denied her?

Sylvara, impassive, continued in an even deeper voice.

“If you refuse the test, Alma, if you renounce your throne, then another wolf will be chosen. And believe me, it won't be someone like you. It will be a warrior, a ruthless hunter who sees humans as nothing but insignificant prey.”

Alma felt a chill go down her spine.

Sylvara approached slightly, lowering her voice as if sealing a pact in the shadows of the forest.

“Humans will suffer more. The pack will become even more cruel.”

She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, then she continued, more slowly, more heavily.

“You have to choose.”

Alma raised her head, her eyes shining with defiance.

Sylvara stared at her unblinkingly.

“Sacrifice a human and take the throne… or abandon and perpetuate the pack's violence.”

The words fell like a sentence, like an invisible blade falling on Alma's heart.

Her breath caught.

She knew that the choice she made at that moment would define her future.

And maybe… it would seal more than just her fate.

Perhaps this choice would decide the future of the entire pack.

And the truth she had always been looking for.

Alma scrutinized Sylvara intently. She wanted to understand, but more importantly, she wanted to be sure that the old wolf wasn't hiding anything from her.

“Why do you protect humans?” she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly under the weight of the revelations.

Sylvara remained silent for a few moments, then her gaze wandered into the distance, toward the river whose dark waters reflected the pale glow of the moon.

"I've lived for more than five centuries," she murmured. "I've seen the Keibsters grow, hunt, kill... and never, never have we wondered if we were wrong."

Alma watched him, fascinated. She had never heard anyone speak like that.

Sylvara continued in a soft, almost tired voice.

''Humans aren't just prey. They're much more than we're led to believe. And we, the Keibsters, have chosen a path that locks us into an eternal cycle of violence.''

Alma frowned, trying to unravel the implications in his words.

Then Sylvara slowly turned her head towards her, and her gaze softened.

''Your birth was the glimmer of hope I was waiting for.''

Alma flinched.

''What ?''

The old she-wolf nodded gently.

''I always believed that one day, something would come along and break this cycle. And when I saw that you were different… I knew the time had finally come.''

A silence stretched between them, broken only by the soothing sound of the river.

Then, in a whisper, Sylvara added:

''But don't rebel. It won't help. Go back to the others. Accept this mission. Pretend to fall in line... even if your goal is different from theirs.''

Alma stared at her, upset.

What she was asking him was more complicated than anything she had ever imagined.

And yet, deep down, she knew that this truth could not be ignored.

She had to choose.

Between obeying or changing the established order.

Between surviving or discovering who she really was.

And that night, on the banks of the river, a shiver ran down his spine.

Because she knew that whatever she decided, nothing would ever be the same again.