THE ROGUES’ WELCOME ARIA POV

An arrow flew by suddenly.

Mira and I didn't see it coming,It hissed past my ear so close I felt the fletching brush my frozen hair.

Then it buried itself in the snowbank two feet ahead with a soft thunk.

The black-feathered shaft stood upright.

The silver-tipped head gleamed like a promise of worse to come. A warning shot.

Mira shoved me down hard. We dropped behind a fallen pine.

Its thick trunk shielded us from whatever waited upslope. My injured calf screamed as I landed, but I bit the inside of my cheek to keep quiet.

Pain was nothing new tonight.

“Stay flat,” Mira breathed. She scanned the ridge.

Her knife was already in her hand.

The silver blade caught the weak dawn light. “They are not shooting to kill. Yet.”she said

I pressed my cheek to the icy bark and peered through the branches.

The orange glow of campfires flickered higher up, maybe two hundred yards away.

Shadows moved between them. Tall, lean figures wore patched furs and leathers. No uniforms. No banners.

Only the loose, wary spacing of people who had survived by never trusting anyone.

Rogues.

Papa’s carved wolf rune burned against my palm like a brand. Sanctuary, he had said. But the arrow said otherwise.

Another whistle cut the air. This one struck the log above our heads. Wood splintered and sent flakes raining down.

A low growl rolled down the slope from multiple throats. The sound was layered and hungry.

“Show yourselves!” a rough voice barked from above. It belonged to a female. Older.

Accustomed to being obeyed. “Or the next arrows go through your hearts.”

Mira met my eyes. Hers were steady, but I saw the calculation behind them.

The same look she had worn when teaching me to track deer in deep snow. Weigh risks. Choose survival.

She set her knife down deliberately on the log where they could see it.

Then she raised both hands. “We come seeking sanctuary,” she called back. “We carry the rune. From Alpha Torin of the Silver Hollow pack.”

Silence stretched. The wind carried the scent of woodsmoke, roasted meat, and something sharper. Suspicion or Maybe fear.

Then movement came. Figures detached from the fires and started down toward us. Six of them.

All armed with Bows slung across their backs and Short blades at their hips.

One carried a heavy axe that looked like it had tasted more than firewood.

The woman who had spoken led them. She was broad-shouldered with silver threading her dark braid. Scars crisscrossed her forearms like a map of old battles. Her amber eyes locked on the rune as Mira held it up.

She stopped ten paces away. The others fanned out. Arrows remained nocked. Points aimed at our chests.

“Torin is dead,” the woman said flatly. It was not a question. It was a statement. “We felt the pack bonds snap last night. The whole valley lit up like the moon herself was bleeding.”

Mira’s jaw tightened. “He sent us here before the Ice Wolf’s raiders finished him.”

A ripple went through the rogues. Whispers rose. Growls followed. One young male with a scar over one eye spat into the snow. His lips peeled back to show lengthening fangs.

“Kael Draven,” the woman said. She tasted the name like poison. “We figured. The bastard has been carving his way east for months. We thought your lot would hold longer.”

She stepped closer. Her gaze slid to me. I was still half-buried in snow with my arm hooked over Mira’s shoulder to stay upright.

My nightshift was torn and stiff with blood. My hair was matted with frost and worse. I probably looked more like a corpse than a survivor.

Her eyes narrowed on the silver pendant at my throat. The crescent moon with three stars.

Recognition flickered in her face.

“You are his girl,” she said quietly. “Aira.”

My throat closed. I nodded once.

She exhaled through her nose. “Torin spoke of you. He said if anything ever happened you would come with the rune and the moon pendant. He said you were worth protecting.”

One of the rogues snarled low in his throat. “Worth protecting? She smells of fresh blood. We could end this now. Take the rune. Eat well tonight.”

The woman raised a hand. The snarls quieted, but the tension stayed thick. Eyes remained fixed on us like predators sizing up wounded prey.

Mira shifted her weight. She still shielded me. “Then lower the bows. We are not here to beg. We are here because he told us this was safe.”

The woman studied us for a long moment. Then she jerked her chin toward the camp.

“Bring them up,” she ordered. “Search them. If they so much as twitch wrong, put arrows in them. Bind the girl’s wound. She is bleeding enough to draw every scavenger for miles.” She paused.

Her amber eyes flicked back to me. “Do not mistake this for kindness. The rune buys you time. Nothing more. One wrong move and we finish what Draven started.”

Rough hands grabbed us and pulled us to our feet. They patted us down with hard, suspicious movements. They took Mira’s knife.

They found nothing else. Fingers dug into my arms as they half-dragged, half-carried me up the slope.

Mira walked beside me. Her expression stayed calm, but I felt her muscles coiled tight.

The camp opened before us. Tents sagged under snow-heavy branches.

A handful of thin cookfires barely burned. Bones lay scattered in the snow where small animals had been picked clean.

No one offered food. No one offered rest. Eyes followed us with open hostility.

The woman turned to face me at the edge of the largest fire.

“I am Rhea,” she said. “Last alpha here, if this scrap of ground even counts as a pack. We have little left, Food Strength nor Mercy. You carry Torin’s mark, so we let you breathe. For now. But know this. We hate Draven more than we hate strangers. Prove you are not a liability. Prove you can help us make him bleed. Or we will use you as bait and watch the wolves take what is left.”

I gripped the silver pendant. It pressed hard against my skin.

“I want him dead,” I said. My voice came out steady despite everything.

Rhea’s lips curved in something that was not a smile. “Then sit. Eat the scraps we throw you. And tell us how you plan to survive long enough to see it done.”

The wind rose outside the circle of firelight.

It carried the faint howl of distant wolves.

The sanctuary had opened its door.

But every shadow in this place held teeth.

And those teeth were waiting.