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24 - Embers

Snow

"Kill it."

It. Her father made it seem like these people weren't living. Snow thought.

She gulped as her chest rose to the gush of wind. It hasn't been a day since her last kill and the Grimlake alpha already made new orders. Snow dragged her body and stood on her feet. Without laying one more look on the Crusaders, she left the main tent, leaving the other wolves deep in discussion.

The rain did not stop. It will not be long before the swamp overflows and drown their camp in mud.

Her leather boots made twigs and damp leaves, crush and snap. Her delicate weight proving to press down patches of clay where she stood. Despite the rain, the air remained humid. There was so little solace the breeze gave. Snow could feel her hair cling to her nape, her chest throbbing with the new death order.

She was headed into the woods where the newly captured Rogue cub was chained.

The young cub was just hunting when one of the Crusaders found him. In panic, the Rogue engaged attack resulting an avulsed wound on one of the Crusader's arms. It was an injury easy to mend. A few stitches here and there and a good helping of rum to cleanse the wound. That would fix the problem.

But, her father thought it fitting for the young cub to learn his lesson.

Death was his verdict.

And, not any other death, it was death through her void.

Her fingers clenched against her tunic, drops of cold rain tapping on to her shoulders. This cub has nothing to do with all of this.

Why does he want her to do it? What memory, this young soul can give him? What does he want?

Her cheeks burnt. It has been days since she surrendered to the scorching heat of the sun. This made her skin peel, dry patches rested on her forehead, red flushed skin on her nose and cheeks. Despite the cold trickling drop landing on her skin, they still burnt red.

Snow's fingers felt numb, but she clenched them harder. Her teeth clasped shut, as she walked to the woods where the cub was.

The young Rogue was trembling when she got there, the pale patches of fur engulfed in the brown of clay and swamp water. The cub whimpered with the sight of her.

Snow just stood there.

Not knowing what to do, her hands where on her waist as she studied him. In utter surrender, she simply admitted that she did not know anything at all. She was floating on air.

At that point, nothing felt real.

She thought she had a life all wolves envied.

She was married to an alpha, almost with-child, won a reaping. She finally talked to her sisters, she was about to be an aunt. It was all making sense, until one day, she had to wake up.

All of it wasn't real. Again and again, she'd convince herself.

Under the rain, her foot felt the wet soil drain her. She wiped her forehead where a stubborn drop almost seeped into her eyes. Snow knew right there and then that she had no idea what was true and what was not. To obey, is the only thing she is certain of.

"Hey, little cub," She faced him, her voice soft and calm. She studied him and found no trace of dominance. She could not kill someone like this. The cub showed her no aggression, only fear. This made the task even harder. At that moment, there was no such thing as Pledged or Rogue. This young cub was not any different from the rest of them.