Chapter 113:The winter had settled deep into the village, wrapping its cold fingers around every cabin, every fire, every wolf who walked the frozen paths between the buildings. The days were short, the sun barely clearing the treeline before sinking back into the grey horizon, and the nights stretched on, endless and dark, filled with the howl of wind and the crackle of burning wood. The village had learned to live with the cold, the wolves moving slowly, their bodies conserving energy, their voices muted, the laughter of the children subdued but still present.I woke each morning before the sun, the crown warm against my brow, and walked the village. The frost crunched beneath my boots, the air sharp and biting, each breath a cloud of white that hung in the air before dissipating. I checked the walls, the gates, the watch posts. I counted the stacks of firewood, the jars in the storehouse, the bundles of dried meat hanging from the rafters. The village was
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