CHASE
Morning sunlight filtered through the stained glass of the audience hall, casting fractured colors across the polished stone floor. Sitting in the high-backed wooden chair that served as my Alpha seat, exhaustion clawed at the base of my skull. Keeping a neutral expression required immense physical effort.
Despite the gnawing hunger and failing crops plaguing our borders, maintaining the illusion of a functioning pack meant holding these weekly public forums.
Stepping forward from the restless crowd, two of our eldest pack members glared at each other with pure venom. Old man Higgins clutched a battered wool cap, while Widow Miller stood rigid, her arms crossed tight over a thick knitted shawl.
"Alpha Chase, this woman is a common thief," Higgins barked, pointing a crooked finge
