Aria walked through the busy market of the clawhold with a smile on her face. Snowflakes fell around her, the storm blowing her cloak almost off her body.
The whispers were back and louder than ever. The news of the Vine Clawhold being allies had now made their rounds, so more people were interested in Aria.
Aria could not hear any one of the whispers. She was like a cloaked storm.
Gone was the little girl who used to flinch at every curse, gone was the Aria who used to bow her head whenever she walked among werewolves. Gone was the Aria who always whispered, always kept her voice low because she didn’t want to offend anyone.
Today, as she walked out of the market and towards the servant’s quarters, she kept her head high and her shoulders squared.
She didn’t flinch nor did she a
