That evening she was dragged from her cell, blindfolded, and thrown into a horse drawn cart. She shivered throughout the ride from cold and the uncertainty of not knowing how she was going to die. It would probably be by beheading, the standard execution for traitors. There was silence except for the wind in her ears, then she began hearing raised voices. They were distant at first, until soon she was in the middle of the noise. Her blindfold was taken off and she flinched when she saw she was standing in the town square surrounded by a mammoth crowd. Men, women, children, it was as if everyone in the pack had come to see her die. She recognized many faces. Marta, whose son she had cured from fever. Old Brian, whose broken leg she had set after a hunting fall. A little girl she had once carried through the snow when her mother collapsed. She looked at them desperately, searching for one sympathetic gaze. But all she got were hateful stares. "Traitor! Killer!" They yelled hurling m
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