The She-wolf Who Hated her beauty

Born prey

Elena

I wake up. I am furless. Cold. Naked.

No.

My eyes snap open. I am lying on the dirt floor of my cave. But I am not in my wolf form. I am human. Bare skin. Long hair tangled and dirty. Arms and legs that I have not used in ten years.

My body feels wrong. Too light. Too exposed. My fur is gone. My tail is gone. My claws are gone. I am soft and pink and vulnerable. Like a newborn. Like prey.

What happened?

I try to remember. I was running through the snow. I was heading toward Alpha Alexander's mansion to steal food. Then... nothing. A blur. A flash of pain in my head.

I touch my skull. My fingers — strange, unfamiliar fingers — find a bump. Tender. Swollen. When I pull my hand away, there is blood on my fingertips. Dark red. Sticky.

I fell. I must have slipped on the ice. Hit my head on a rock. The shock forced me to shift.

Ten years. Ten years since I last wore this skin. My body has changed. I do not know what I look like. I am afraid to know.

I am no longer safe here.

In my wolf form, I am a predator. Strong. Fast. Feared. My gray fur blends with the shadows. My silver tail cuts through the dark. My teeth can tear through bone. No wolf dares to challenge me.

But in this body — this weak, naked, human body — I am prey. I am meat. Any wolf that finds me will see a defenseless female. They will take what they want. They will use me. They will discard me.

I have to leave. Now.

My long hair, once white as snow, now hangs around me in dirty ropes. It has been ten years since I washed it. Ten years since I brushed it. Ten years since I last stood on two legs. The strands are matted with mud and dried blood. They smell like earth and decay. I push the hair out of my face. My hand shakes.

I try to stand.

I roll over onto my belly. The dirt floor scrapes my skin. Small rocks dig into my palms. I push up with my arms. My elbows lock. My knees slide beneath me. I take a breath.

Then I try to rise.

My legs collapse. The muscles have forgotten how to hold me. They are weak. Thin. Useless. I fall back to the ground. My chin hits the dirt. I taste soil on my tongue.

I cannot walk on two feet anymore. I am too much of a beast. Too used to four paws.

Tears fill my eyes. Not from pain. From shame. I am supposed to be a wolf. A proud, fierce wolf. But here I am, crawling on my belly like a worm.

I crawl.

On my hands and knees, I crawl toward the cave entrance. My palms scrape against the stone floor. My knees leave tracks in the dust. Each movement hurts. My muscles scream. My joints pop and crack.

The cave entrance is only ten feet away. It feels like a mile.

I pull myself forward. One arm. One leg. One arm. One leg. My breath comes in short gasps. Sweat drips down my forehead and stings my eyes.

Keep moving. Do not stop. If you stop, you die.

I reach the cave opening. The cold air hits my face. I have never been more grateful for cold. It wakes me up. It reminds me I am still alive.

Outside, the snow glows under the moon. The world is white and blue and silver. Beautiful. Deadly.

I am naked. The cold hits my skin like a thousand tiny knives. My n*****s tighten. My flesh ripples with goosebumps. My teeth begin to chatter. I cannot stop them.

Move. Move now.

I crawl out of the cave. The snow burns my hands and knees. The cold is so deep it feels like fire. My skin turns red, then white, then numb.

I am terrified that someone will see me. Any wolf. Any rogue. Even a human. I am too beautiful — even covered in dirt, even thin from starvation, even with hair like tangled rope — I know what men see when they look at me. My mother warned me. My father tried to protect me. Caspian proved them right.

I reach a patch of trees at the bottom of the hill. I pull myself behind a large pine trunk. The bark scratches my bare skin. I press my back against the wood and close my eyes.

Breathe. Just breathe.

My body shakes. Not from cold this time. From fear. Pure, animal fear. The kind of fear that makes you want to curl up and die.

I have to find clothes. I have to find shelter. I have to shift back — but I cannot. I do not have the strength. My wolf is sleeping. Tired from ten years of carrying me. She will not wake.

I am alone in this human body.

I hear something.

Paws. Crunching snow. Getting closer.

No. No, no, no.

I press myself against the tree. I hold my breath. My heart pounds so loud I am sure the whole forest can hear it.

A large gray wolf steps out of the shadows. Its fur is dark. Its shoulders are broad. Its yellow eyes burn in the moonlight.

It sniffs the air. Its nose twitches. It turns its head.

Its eyes find me.

A growl rumbles from its throat. Low. Deep. Hungry.

It knows I am prey.

It is one of Alpha Alexander's scouts. I recognize the symbol on its collar. A silver crescent moon. Alexander's mark.

The wolf lowers its head. Its lips peel back. White teeth. Long. Sharp.

It takes a step toward me.

The wolf lunges. I roll away. But I am too slow. Too weak. His teeth sink into my calf. Bone cracks. Blood sprays. And as I scream, another wolf howls in the distance — larger, darker, faster. Alexander himself is coming.