WINTER FROST

CHAPTER 4: THE MORNING AFTER

RAVEN POV

I woke up the morning after the funeral feeling like I’d been run over. My whole body hurts, my head, my chest, even the parts of me I didn’t know could ache. The house was quiet when I finally made it downstairs around nine. Mom had left a note on the counter in her neat handwriting.

Gone to thank the elders for their help.

Coffee’s fresh.

–Mom

I poured myself a cup and stood by the window, staring out at the forest. Same trees. Same mountains. Same cold stretch of Alaska I grew up with. It should have felt comforting, but instead it felt like putting on an old sweater that didn’t fit anymore.

“You’re up early. Well… early for you.”

I turned and saw Skye in the doorway, already dressed in jeans and a thick sweater. She looked tired, but focused. I knew that look. When Skye decided something, she didn’t back down.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I said. “You?”

“Haven’t slept much since Dad died.” She got her own cup of coffee. “But that’s not what I came for. We need to talk.”

Never a good sign. I sat at the kitchen table, the same one where we ate cereal as kids and waited.

Skye sat across from me, holding her mug like it was the only warm thing in the whole house. She took a long breath.

“The pack is in trouble.”

Not what I expected. “What kind of trouble?”

“The serious kind.” She met my eyes, and for a second I saw fear there. “An oil company, Power East Energy is trying to take our land. They’ve been at it for years, and now that Dad’s gone, they’re pushing harder.”

I frowned. “Can’t you just say no? The pack owns the land.”

"It's not that simple." Skye set down her cup and pulled out her phone, scrolling through what looked like emails and documents. "The land is technically held in trust. Dad's name was on everything. Now that he's gone, they're arguing that the trust is invalid. They've got lawyers, Raven. Like, an entire firm of them. And they're claiming we don't have proper documentation of ownership."

"That's bullshit. There has to be proof—."

"There is. Tons of it. Deeds, historical records, everything." She pushed her phone across the table to me. "But they're not trying to win legally. They're trying to bury us in paperwork until we can't afford to fight anymore. Every time we submit documentation, they claim it's not enough. Every time we go to court, they delay. They're drowning us in legal fees while they lobby politicians and run PR campaigns about job creation and energy independence."

I scrolled through the emails. They were dense with legal language I barely understood, but the gist was clear: Power East Energy was playing dirty, and they were winning.

“How much time do we have?”

“Six months." She said quietly. "They've got permits lined up, politicians in their pocket, and a PR campaign that makes them look like heroes bringing jobs to Alaska. Unless we can turn public opinion or find some legal angle we haven't tried yet, they start drilling in May."

May. Six months until everything outside that window of the forests, the animals, the rivers could be wrecked forever.

And suddenly, coffee didn’t make anything feel better at all.

“What does Colton say?” His name felt strange in my mouth. Too formal. Like he was only the 'Alpha' now and not the boy who used to catch frogs with me by the creek.

“He’s fighting it with everything he has.” Skye said. “Meetings with lawyers, calls to environmental groups, trying to get other packs to back us up.” Her expression softened a little. “He barely sleeps anymore. This is tearing him apart, Raven. Watching the land Dad trusted him will get taken piece by piece.”

Guilt hit me hard. Of course Colton was throwing himself into the fight. That’s who he’d always been the protector, the one who carried everyone else’s problems on his back.

“There has to be something we can do.” I said.

“There is.” Skye looked me straight in the eyes. She’d clearly been leading up to this. “Your photography. Your name. Your platform.”

Oh no. I already knew where this was headed.

“Skye—”

“Just listen.” She leaned forward, rushing now. “Power East Energy is winning the PR fight because people don’t care about some patch of wilderness in Alaska. To them, it’s just empty land. But you can make them care. You can show them what’s at stake.”

“I’m a wildlife photographer, not an activist.”

“You’re both, and you know it.” She grabbed her phone and pulled up one of my articles from last year the one about deforestation in the sss. “You wrote this. You talked about losing ecosystems, about how once something’s gone, it’s gone forever.”

I had written that. And I meant every word.

“That was different." I said quietly.

“How? Because this is home? Because it’s messy? Because staying here for a few months might make you uncomfortable?”

“That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair!” She paced across the kitchen, her voice tight with frustration. “It’s not fair that Dad died before he could finish this. It’s not fair that a rich company can push us out of land that’s been ours for generations. And it’s not fair that the one person who can actually help is the same person who can’t wait to leave.”

Her words stung because they were true.

“What exactly are you asking me to do?” I managed, even though my hands shook around my cup.

Skye stopped pacing and faced me. “Stay. Just three months. Document everything the land, the animals, the pack. Show the world why this place matters. Use your contacts. Get it published. Turn this into a national story they can’t silence.”

“Three months of me being here won’t fix seven years of damage.”

“Maybe not." Skye said. “But it might save the only home you’ve ever had.”

I looked out the window again. The trees I used to climb. The mountains I’d photographed over and over. The forest where I learned to shift, to run, to hunt.

Home.

Even if it didn’t feel like it anymore, it was still home.

“Does Colton know you’re asking me this?” I asked.

Skye hesitated. “No.”

“So he doesn’t want my help.”

“He doesn’t want to owe you anything. There’s a difference.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “But pride won’t save our territory, Raven. What you might do might.”

Yesterday’s fight with Colton replayed in my head. The anger. The crack in his voice. You’ve always been braver with a camera than with your heart.

Maybe this was my chance to prove him wrong.

Or maybe it would prove him right. I honestly didn’t know.

“What about the legal stuff?” I asked. “Even if I do all this, if they have the permits already—”

“Our lawyers think public pressure is our best shot." She said. “If we turn this into something people care about, the company might back off. Or the politicians might. It’s a long shot, but it’s all we’ve got.”

I pulled my hand away and wrapped my arms around myself. Three months. Here. Using the one skill I was sure of telling a story through my lens.

Except this time it wouldn’t be some faraway jungle or desert.

This time it was my own homeland.

“I need to think about it.” I said.

“We don’t have time—”

“One day, Skye. Just one. I need to figure out if I can actually do this without making everything worse.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but something in my face must’ve stopped her. “Alright. One day. But Raven?” Her voice softened. “We need you. Even if Colton won’t say it. Even if the rest of the pack doesn’t want to admit it. You’re our best shot.”

She walked out, leaving me alone at the kitchen table, staring into my coffee like it held all the answers.

The girl reflected back at me didn’t look like the confident photographer who’d bargained with editors and trekked through jungles.

She looked lost.

Tired. Scared.

A girl trying to pretend she still knew exactly what she was doing.