Ariana's POV:
I returned to the South on a morning after heavy snow had finally stopped. The wind here wasn't blade-sharp like the wind in the North, but it was still damp and cold. It seeped into my bones.
Wrapped in my old fox-fur cloak, I stood outside the fence of my birth pack's territory. I looked at the few low stone cottages, and my throat tightened as if a lump of wet cotton had lodged there.
My mother saw me first. The clay jar in her hands fell to the ground. The shattering sound startled the crows under the eaves.
She rushed over and cupped my face in her thin, trembling hands. Her green eyes, once so bright, were now cloudy and full of terror. "Ariana. My child."
I didn't cry. My tears had dried up years ago.
I only looked at her. I looked at the striking white hair at h
