Five
730 Words
The morning came too fast.
I woke to the chains still biting my wrists, my teeth chattering from the cold. Frost clung to the corners of the room, and the blankets the guards had tossed on me weren’t enough to keep me warm. I sat up, rubbed my arms, and shivered.
Another day in Frostfang.
Another day of wondering if I’d survive it.
A sharp knock echoed through the door. Heavy boots. The kind that made your stomach twist.
“Get up,” a guard said. “The Alpha will see you now.”
I swung my legs over the side of the stone floor and stood, my chains clinking as I moved. My wrists burned, but I tried not to show it.
The guard didn’t say a word more. He gestured for me to follow, and we walked in silence down the long, cold corridor. My breath puffed out in small clouds. I wrapped my coat tighter, wishing I’d thought to bring something warmer. Or anything.
We arrived at a large hall. The Alpha… Riot… was standing at the far end. The torchlight made his dark coat shimmer, and his eyes… still piercing, still dangerous. I swallowed hard and stopped moving.
“Come here,” he said. His voice was sharp, commanding.
I stepped forward slowly, trying not to trip over my chains.
“You,” he said, pointing at me. “Until I know who… or what you are, you have to make yourself useful.”
“Useful?” I echoed, blinking. “Uh… okay?”
His lips twitched… almost a smile, almost nothing. “The stables, you would help .. lend your hands” he said. “You’ll clean the horses.”
I froze.
My mind raced. The stables? The smell, the manure, the sweat, the horses… ugh. Hell no.
“Huh…” I muttered. “Why not the kitchen instead?” I straightened my back. “I’m a terrific cook. A baker. I can clean, organize, make meals. I can do anything in a kitchen. You would really want me there.”
Riot tilted his head, studying me like I had grown a second head. “The kitchen?” His voice was quiet, skeptical.
“Yes!” I said quickly, panic creeping in. “I can bake bread, make pastries, cook meals… I can even clean, mop, organize. Please. I’d rather not spend all day elbow-deep in… in…” I glanced toward the stables. “…whatever’s in the stables.”
He paused. The room was quiet except for my rapid breathing. Then, slowly, he said, “Show me.”
I blinked. “Show… you?”
“You’ll work in the kitchen,” he said, finally. “If you are as capable as you claim, it will be useful.”
“Yes!” I nearly squeaked. Relief flooded through me. Anything but the stables. Anything but manure and horse smells.
Riot didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He just turned and walked toward a large door at the side of the hall.
“Follow me,” he said.
I hurried after him, chains clinking. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and excitement. For the first time, I thought maybe… maybe I could do something right in this place.
The kitchen was huge.
Bigger than my bakery at home. Long tables of polished wood, shelves lined with ingredients in jars and sacks, copper pots hanging above, and a roaring fire in the hearth. The smell of fresh bread and roasting meat made my stomach rumble, despite the nerves.
“This is your workspace,” Riot said, finally turning to face me again. “You will prepare meals for the pack. Keep the kitchen clean. And do not fail.”
“Yes, sir!” I said, trying to sound confident. My hands itched to start cooking.
He studied me for a long moment. Then, without another word, he walked away.
I let out a shaky breath. My knees nearly gave out. I had survived the day. Thankfully convinced him to let me into the kitchen.
I ran my hands over the counters, my mind racing. I could bake. I could cook. I could… maybe even impress him.
But deep down, I knew one thing for sure:
This was only the beginning.
And somehow… somehow, I had a feeling my bad luck wasn’t done with me yet.
- Writer
