The word should have sent me running. Report to the Warriors. Let them handle it, let them drag him to the border, let them add his body to the mounds I'd just left.Instead, I knelt. I couldn't just leave someone to die.His face was carved from something harder than bone, even slack with unconsciousness—high forehead, blade of a nose, lips pale and parted around shallow breaths. His fingers twitched against the snow, long and calloused, nails packed with dried blood.God, he'd lost so much blood. How was he still alive?I touched his throat. The pulse beat against my fingertips, fever-hot and thready, a rabbit's kick."Hey." I shook him, gently. Nothing. Harder. His head lolled, exposing his throat, and I saw the scar— sitting above his collarbone like a moon mark. I frowned. That mark looked so familiar, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember where I'd seen it before.I looked back at the pack's distant lights, yellow and warm and utterly closed to me now. I looked at
Last Updated : 2026-10-27 Read more