Chapter 3 Whispers In The Frost
1272 Words
Deep in the woods…
The wind howled through the frost-bitten trees as the sun dipped low behind the mountains, casting a shadow over the rogue camp. Snowflakes danced lazily in the air, landing silently on mossy stones and canvas tents.
Hidden within the trees, a figure stood motionless.
Seren Valemire.
Her violet eyes flickered with a mix of sadness and something darker, jealousy. Wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak, she remained out of sight, watching them, Kael and Lyra move together like wolves in silent dance.
They were training.
Lyra moved across the clearing on all fours, her claws unsheathed, breath steady as she darted at Kael. He deflected with ease, sidestepping, then tapping her shoulder in a mock hit.
She growled playfully.
“You’re getting faster,” Kael said, voice low, approving.
“You’re still holding back,” she replied with a teasing smirk.
“I’m training you, not trying to kill you.”
“Why not? You think I can’t take you?”
Kael chuckled. “Not yet.”
Lyra replied."Come on, don't give that 'your highness treatment'. Attack me!"
"Believe me, there are only few wolves who can survive my attack", Kael said with confidence not pride.
Lyra could tell Kael was a werewolf who had trained himself to perfection.
The way he moves, the way he calculates his attacks, his lightning speed and incredible strength. If this was a normal pack he would undeniably be the Alpha.
Kael continued.
"But if you insist then I have no other choice"
Kael’s claws sliced the air inches from Lyra’s neck. She ducked, rolled, and countered with a swift strike of her own, claws unsheathed, eyes burning.
“You’re getting faster,” Kael said, panting. “That’s good. But you’re still hesitating.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Don’t think,” he said. “React.”
He lunged again. This time, she met his attack head-on, their claws locking, breath coming in sharp bursts as snow scattered beneath their feet.
They toppled to the ground, limbs entangled.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Kael’s hand rested against her side, his face inches from hers. Their breaths mingled.
“Not bad,” he murmured.
Lyra swallowed hard, suddenly aware of everything, his scent, his strength, the warmth in his eyes.
She pushed herself up quickly, brushing snow from her clothes. “Again.”
Kael grinned. “Gladly.”
Watching from the shadows.
Seren’s jaw tightened. The way Lyra looked at him now… the way Kael watched her like she was the only wolf left in the world.
It burned.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Lyra had been a stranger. An outsider. A Whitestone. And yet, somehow, she'd become the heartbeat of the rogue camp in less than two weeks.
Now, Seren watched as Kael reached out and tucked a strand of silver-white hair behind Lyra’s ear.
The tenderness of it made her heart twist violently.
This wasn't how she pictured their love story.
Seren thought in her head.
Back in Naidaska
Inside the stone chambers of the former Alpha’s council room, Thorne Vale stood before a large, weathered map spread across the table. Several other wolves gathered around him, their faces grim under the torchlight.
“Our pack is strong,” Thorne began, voice laced with quiet authority. “But we are not the only ones with ambition. Other territories grow bolder, and the rogues are restless. We strike now or we fall behind.”
Garrix leaned in. “You want to conquer?”
“I want to secure what should be ours. The lands west of the Frost Hollow Mountains are ripe for taking. Small packs with no leadership. Easy prey.”
“And the East?” Garrix asked.
Thorne’s eyes darkened. “There are whispers of rogue movement. They’re gathering. I suspect someone is leading them.”
A low voice rumbled from the pack. "Do you think this is a good idea Alpha Vale? Our pack has nurtured peace with other territories for generations now.."
"Do you oppose my decision?!" Thorne's menacing tone sent a chill.
"No...n.no my lord I would never". He spoke hesitantly, his voice shaking.
Thorne continued.
"Good! Then we can begin preparations"
Damon stood silently near the door, arms crossed. His face betrayed little, but his thoughts weren’t with the strategy.
They were with Lyra.
Or rather, the look in her eyes when he stabbed her. That haunted him more than the act itself.
In the Rogue Camp
Days passed.
Each morning, Lyra woke with a little more strength, her senses sharpening. Kael trained her relentlessly. Not just her body but her instincts.
“You think like a Luna,” he said one afternoon as they sat beneath a pine tree. “Always guarding others before yourself. That’ll get you killed.”
“I was raised to protect my pack.”
“And look where that got you.”
Lyra didn’t respond at first. She looked at her hands calloused now, stronger. “I will take it back.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “Naidaska?”
“It’s my home. And they took it from me.”
Kael’s gaze softened. “Then we’ll help you.”
A beat passed.
“We?”
“The rogues aren’t loyal to bloodlines, Lyra. But they follow strength. And they respect yours.”
Lyra’s heart fluttered. Not from pride but from something more dangerous.
Hope.
Hope that she might reclaim her father’s name. That she might be more than the girl left bleeding in the snow.
That night, around the fire, Lyra watched the rogues laugh and share stories. Rekkan the large, shaggy-haired warrior who was Kael’s best friend shared tales of battles past while others sharpened weapons or mended cloaks.
There was no formality here.
No rank.
No fear.
And for the first time in her life, Lyra felt free.
In the Shadows
Seren crouched near the edge of camp, her nails biting into the bark of a tree.
She’d followed them again, Kael and Lyra when they snuck off for night training. But tonight, she didn’t just watch.
She listened.
“…I trust you,” Lyra said.
“You shouldn’t trust anyone,” Kael replied.
“I know. But I do.”
Kael reached for her hand. “Then I’ll make sure I never give you a reason not to.”
Seren couldn’t breathe.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, heart pounding with confusion and rage. She turned, retreating into the woods before she was seen.
That’s when she smelled it.
Blood.
A scent too fresh to be old. Too strong to be ignored.
She crept closer, following it through the trees, until...
A body.
A young werewolf lay half-buried in snow, his chest torn open, eyes glassy. He wore no symbols of a pack, no sign of rank. Just claw marks and frozen blood.
Seren gasped and backed away instinctively.
Moments later, the camp erupted in alarm.
Back in Camp
Kael and Lyra rushed to the edge of the woods where Seren now stood, her face pale.
“I found him,” she said. “He was already dead.”
Kael knelt beside the body, inspecting the wounds.
“Not rogues,” he muttered. “This wasn’t one of ours either.”
“Then who?” Lyra asked.
“No idea,” Kael replied, rising. “But i know one thing, we're not alone in these woods.”
Lyra’s stomach turned. The warmth she had found here the safety now felt fragile.
Whoever did this… had crossed into rogue territory.
And left the body here for a reason.
A message.
(To be continued...)
- Writer
