4 - It's Decided

He was the reason the werewolves were at the top of the hierarchy, the reason the witches who had once warred with them now lived in hiding, hunted and hated. He was a nightmare given form, and Winter, like everyone else, was terrified of the very idea of him.

She clutched her loaf of bread and hurried away from the square, eager to be back within the familiar misery of her aunt’s cottage. The fear of the unknown was somehow even worse than the fear of the known.

That evening, the meager meal was eaten in silence. Winter cleaned the dishes, her body aching from the day’s labor and the lingering pain in her ribs. She was just finishing when Griselda slammed a flagon of ale down on the table.

“Heard something else today,” Griselda said, her words slightly slurred. She’d been drinking since the sun had set. “From the tithe collectors.”

Winter tensed, her back to her aunt as she scrubbed a pot.

“The Alpha King... our great and terrible King Ezekiel !” Griselda gave a short, barking laugh. “He’s summoning tribute. Not just goods this time. Not just grain and gold.”

She paused, letting the silence stretch. Winter could feel her aunt’s eyes on her back.

“He’s demanding a tribute of all the unmated females from every pack. They’re to be presented to him at the Crescent Citadel.”

Winter’s hands stopped moving. The water in the basin grew still. A terrifying cold, far worse than the morning’s chill, washed over her.

“Can you imagine?” Griselda mused, her voice thick with drunken cruelty. “Our king is finally looking for a mate. After all these years. Who will it be? The beautiful daughter of the Silvermoon Alpha? The fierce warrior-daughter from the Stone River pack?”

She took a long swallow of ale.

“Our pack has to send someone, of course. To show our loyalty. ” Griselda’s chair scraped against the stone floor as she stood up and walked over to Winter, standing right behind her.

Winter could smell the sour stench of ale on her breath.

“We don’t have any high born daughters. Just a few girls. Elara, maybe. But her father wants to mate her to Marcus’s older brother.” Griselda’s hand landed heavily on Winter’s shoulder, her fingers digging in like claws. “But we do have you.”

Winter’s breath hitched. “Aunt no...”

“No?” Griselda’s grip tightened, yanking Winter around to face her. “Why not? You have no prospects here. No one will have you. The boys who might have been foolish enough are already in the ground. You’re a stain on this pack. A curse.”

“Please,” Winter begged, tears finally welling in her eyes, hot and fast. “Don’t send me there. The stories....they say he’s a monster.”

“He IS a monster!” Griselda laughed, a horrible sound.

“And you’re a curse! Maybe you’ll cancel each other out! Maybe your bad luck will finally be good for something and you’ll cause the mountain to fall on his head!” Her eyes were wild, her face flushed with ale and malice. “Or maybe,” she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a hiss, “he’ll see that white hair and that witch’s face of yours and snuff you out like a candle. Either way, you’ll be gone from my house. Gone from my sight.”

She shoved Winter away. Winter stumbled back, hitting the edge of the table hard.

“It’s decided.” Griselda declared, pointing a trembling finger at her. “The elders will agree. It’s the perfect way to be rid of you. You’ll be our tribute to the Alpha King.”

Tears streamed down Winter’s face as she stared at her aunt, the only family she had ever known. She saw no pity in those eyes, no regret. Only a cold, triumphant satisfaction.

She was being sent away. Sent to a monster as a sacrifice.

Later, huddled in her small, cold attic room under a threadbare blanket, Winter trembled. She wasn’t crying anymore. A strange numbness had settled deep in her bones.

For years, she had prayed for a different life, for an escape from her aunt, from the whispers, from the crushing weight of being herself.

Now, her prayer had been answered.

she had never been more terrified in her entire life.