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A MOTHER'S WRATH

Penulis: Bunnyfeets
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-09-24 03:05:25

The sun had barely risen when the bell rang out across North Creek. Its sound was sharp, urgent, calling every pack member to the great hall. The courtyard filled quickly, voices buzzing with questions. Few could remember the last time an emergency meeting had been called without warning.

At the center, Trixie stood. Her face was pale from long nights with the pups, but her eyes were steel. Beside her, Ryker loomed, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, though she had not asked him to speak. In her arms, the smallest of the pups stirred, and she pressed a steadying kiss to her child’s brow before giving the child to Lana.

When the hall fell quiet, Trixie’s voice cut through the air.

“Last night, words were spoken in the shadows. Words not of loyalty, but of betrayal. Two among us plotted against what we hold most dear — against the future of this pack. They spoke of touching the heirs.”

Gasps rippled across the hall. Some looked in horror, others in disbelief. Mira and Kira froze
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  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   THE EDGE OF SECRETS

    KIRA The nights in the Hollow from the first night to the present one have never been quiet. Even when the camp slept, there were whispers — the kind that crawled through the dark and made your skin cold. I had learned to tell the difference between the voices of people dreaming and the sounds of hate moving through the air. It had been months since the burning of the farm. Mira never spoke of it again, but she carried it in her eyes. Every time she smiled, there was fire behind it. Every time she laughed, it sounded sharp, like glass breaking. The Hollow called her “the flame of vengeance.” They said she would lead them into the next war. I used to be proud of her. Now I only felt fear. That night, I sat outside the caves where we lived. The moonlight touched the rocks, making them silver. The air smelled of smoke and damp earth. From where I sat, I could see the guards at the far edge of camp — black shapes against the dim light, their spears glinting. I wrapped my arms aroun

  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   EDGE OF WAR

    TRIXIE The morning in North Creek began softly. The first light came through the window. The house smelled of bread and pine smoke. Outside, I could hear the pack already stirring . Ryker was already up, rocking little Marielle in his arms. She had her father’s eyes — always watching. Afina slept beside her brother in the cradle, her hand clutching the corner of the blanket as if she feared it would run away. I smiled and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re up early again.” Ryker looked over his shoulder and grinned. “She woke before dawn. Must take after you.” “She’s restless,” I said softly. “Or maybe she just wants to see the sunrise.” He laughed. “Then she’s got the right mother.” For a while, I just watched them. The world had slowed down for us in the last months. No marching boots, no council calls, no battle cries. Only days filled with small things — feeding the pups, walking the fields, checking on the sentries, sharing food with the pack. It was strange, living

  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   BlOOD IS NOT ALWAYS THICKER

    KIRA The Hollow camp had been quieter since the raid, but not peaceful. Quiet in the Hollow never meant calm. It was the silence before the next hunt. Days had passed, yet the smell of smoke still clung to the air. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the orange glow of that farm burning, heard the screams caught in the wind. I had scrubbed my hands raw trying to wash away the scent, but it never left. It had sunk too deep. Mira, though, seemed different. Her eyes shone with a strange pride when Serana praised her before the others. Warriors clapped her on the back, calling her -The flame of the Hollow. She smiled when they did. I wanted to be happy for her, but I couldn’t. Every time I looked at her, I saw a piece of the sister I knew slipping further away. That night, the fire in the center of the cavern burned low, shadows licking the walls. Most of the others had gone to rest, but Mira stayed awake, sharpening her blade, humming under her breath. I sat across from her, prete

  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   HAUNTING SHADOWS

    KIRA The Hollow camp never slept. Even when the night was thick and still, the air carried whispers, the scrape of blades, the quiet laughter of those who had grown too used to the dark. Firelight flickered against the cave walls, painting our faces red and gold. It had been three weeks since the burning of the farm. Three weeks since I watched Mira raise her torch with a smile that didn’t belong to her anymore. The smell of smoke still clung to her hair. Sometimes, I could still smell it when she hugged me. Serana had been pleased. She had smiled and said, “Now you see what true loyalty looks like.” She gave Mira her own black blade, only trusted fighters carried them . To the rest of the Hollow, it meant Mira was one of them now. To me, it meant I was losing my sister for good. Since that night, Mira had changed even more. She trained harder than the others, never spoke of fear, never questioned Serana’s orders. When she laughed now, it was short and harsh. She carried hers

  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   THE FIRE WE CHOSE

    KIRA The Hollow does not fight in daylight. We move in the hours when honest people sleep and the world is too dead to hear our steps. That night was no different. The air was cold, the sky dark and heavy. Our boots made no sound on the dirt. Our faces were hidden under black hoods smeared with ash. Serana said no one who survived would ever know who we were. It was meant to comfort us. It only made me feel smaller. Shame stuck to my skin like sweat. Mira walked ahead of me, her pace sharp and sure. She didn’t look back. I could see the fire in her eyes before we even reached the farm. She had been waiting for this moment - Wanting it. I wanted to take her hand and pull her back. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. But the Hollow warriors surrounded us—men and women who lived on blood and fear. If I showed weakness, they’d turn on me before dawn. So I kept walking. When we reached the edge of the ridge, the farm lay below us. A barn, a field

  • SILVER IN THE SHADOWS   ONE DIFFERS FROM THE OTHER

    KIRA An year can feel long when you live in shadows. Longer still when every day tastes the same. Smoke in the air. The Hollow’s damp walls pressing close. Voices sharp with anger. Nothing soft, nothing kind. That has been my life. My life beside Mira. She has changed. Or maybe she has only grown more into what was always in her. Hate does that — it does not arrive all at once. It seeps in slow, drop by drop, until it fills the whole of a person. I have watched it take her. Every sunrise, every nightfall, a little more of her vanishes into that dark place. I remember how she used to laugh. It was quick, wild, like a spark catching dry grass. That laugh is gone now. When Mira laughs these days, it cuts. It is sharp, bitter, and it makes my stomach twist because I know it isn’t joy that moves her. It’s the thought of revenge. Of seeing someone else bleed. She speaks of Trixie often. At first, it was little things. A mutter in the morning, “She thinks herself a queen.” A scoff when

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