4. A Pack

That being was playing with her, annoying her more than she cared to admit!

All she could do was grind her teeth and guess what it wanted. It hadn't even attacked her.

She had even dismissed the possibility of it being a werewolf. Whatever it was, it had used an invisibility spell, and werewolves couldn't use spells. But why did it refuse to reveal itself?

Scared? A smirk tugged at her lips. At least the creature had enough sense to fear her.

Rising to her feet, she strode towards the window. Moonlight fell upon her as she looked down at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Stone paths between buildings, their windows glowing yellow. People roamed the streets, laughing and talking despite the late hour.

They wore robes and dresses, each person a red flower on their head. In the distance, she could hear the sound of a drum.

Some kind of ceremony?

There weren't even any guards patrolling the streets, unlike in her kingdom.

Strangely peaceful.

Which village was this?

Without her magic, she couldn't even sense whether there was a witch nearby, let alone whether she had ended up in a witch village.

It had to be one. Where else could she possibly be?

"Where is this?" she demanded.

There was no reply.

Her brows furrowed in irritation. She glanced towards the door. She would find out for herself.

Turning away from the window, she stopped and returned her attention in the street below.

A beast prowled among the villagers.

Dark fur covered its body which towered over the people as it moved on all fours. Its predatory eyes swept across its surroundings.

She raised a hand to summon her staff, instinctively gripping the window frame with the other as she prepared to jump.

Then she froze.

Not a single person screamed. No one even ran. They continued with their business as though that filthy beast belonged among them.

She tilted her head, struggling to understand what she was seeing.

That was a werewolf. She was sure of it.

And among people who barely spared it a glance?

These villagers had lost their minds, or wasn't in a witch village at all.

Her gaze followed the beast until it disappeared from sight. Another possibility forming in her mind.

Had the werewolves taken her after the war?

But how could she explain the body possession?

She looked at herself, her expression darkening. Had she been placed inside a werewolf's body? Was she in a pack?

"Impossible," she muttered.

Still, she raised her hand and examined the cut left by the mirror.

The cut was still there. A werewolf would have healed by now. Whatever else had happened to her, she hadn't become one of those beasts.

"You should have known what you'd done, you stupid witch!"

This time, she didn't even bother looking around.

The creature continued, its voice carrying an almost mocking amusement. "You know who Nalath is, don't you?"

"Shut up!" she snapped, clenching her teeth.

It wasn't that she didn't understand. She simply refused to accept it.

She walked towards the door and grabbed the lock. She twisted the lock and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.

Nalath was the owner of this body.

Accepting that meant acknowledging that the voice belonged to Nalath's wolf. And that meant accepting that she had become one of the very filthy creatures she had hated her entire life, trapped in a pack and stripped of her powers!

She had spent her life studying werewolves. Among what she knew was the existence of two consciousnesses within a werewolf: the human and the beast.

Furious, she continued trying to force the door open. Realizing she was locked inside, the little restraint she had left escaped her.

She struck the door with her fist. And repeated again and again, each blow landing with a thud that echoed through the room.

Locked inside a werewolf's pack, stripped of her magic, and now confined like a prisoner.

She couldn't imagine a greater insult.

She stopped, panting heavily.

"Tell me everything that happened." Her voice hardened. "Leave out a single detail, and I'll make sure Nalath never comes back."

For a moment, the wolf remained silent before answering in a voice that was deeper than hers, yet unmistakably feminine.

"Your people took Nalath," it said.

She lifted her head, confusion replacing her anger. "My people?"

"Whatever they did, it brought you here."

Her jaw tightened. "What did they do?"

"Those witches imprisoned us. One of us died every day until it was our turn."

She stared at the empty space before her, immediately understanding what might have happened.

A ritual to bring her soul back.

They must have needed a compatible body, and the deaths explained the sacrifices. But why had they chosen werewolves?

Such a ritual demanded an enormous sacrifice from the caster and took a long time to complete.

Something clicked in her mind. Her eyes widened before narrowing again.

"How long has it been?" she asked evenly. "Since the war."

The wolf replied "Three months ago. You fell."

For a moment, she could only stand there, staring at the floor. It felt as though she had lost her brother only moments ago. Yet three months had passed.

"Yollam," she whispered.

The sound of his name tightened something in her chest.

She had to leave. She needed to see what remained of her home.

She couldn't face a pack of beasts empty-handed. Her gaze swept the room for anything she could use as a weapon until she spotted a long flute in the closet.

Taking it, she approached the window and peered cautiously down at the street.

Two stories separated her from the ground. She narrowed her eyes.

"You won't escape the pack," the wolf warned.

Simply questioned "Why's that?"

"The warriors are guarding the gates!"

She scoffed, a familiar sharpness returning to her eyes. "Seems you're mistaken, little wolf. I'm not that Nalath thing. I've played with warriors my whole life."

Before the wolf could say anything else, she swung herself over the windowsill and jumped.