The Price Of Fate
A cold, regal presence pressed into the clearing, making my wolf’s instincts go rigid.
And then I saw it. A huge white wolf emerged. Majestic. Too large to be normal. Its fur looked like winter made flesh, thick and bright even in the blood-stained forest. Its eyes were purple, impossible, vivid, like twilight trapped in a stare. It didn’t move like a normal wolf. It moved like something that belonged in myths. Something that didn’t need to prove itself. My father’s black wolf froze. Then he lowered his head. He howled, loud, raw, reverent, And bowed to that wolf. And the huge white wolf, eyes burning purple, stepped forward and joined in the fight.
Bab Populer