The Cold Embrace of Death
She woke up in the snow, the metallic taste of blood lingering on her tongue. Her breath trembled as she looked around. It was dark, yet strangely warm. Blue light pulsed gently around her, illuminating the walls of a cave. Clusters of glowing flowers surrounded her, their petals shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. The cave seemed alive, breathing with magic, yet her thoughts were tangled, foggy.
She tried to piece together fragments of memory, but they slipped through her grasp. Only one thing remained clear—pain. It sat heavy in her chest, a familiar ache that dragged her mind backward, forcing her to remember...
Yes. The hunt.
The image flickered—she had gone out alone, battling the storm that howled through the forest, not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice. The pack had forced her out, sending her into the blizzard like discarded prey. A disposable wolf. A faint memory brushed her mind: her paws sinking into deep snow as she pursued a rabbit, small and fast. Her belly had been empty for days, and hunger gnawed at her ribs, making every step feel heavier.
She had chased the rabbit through the snow, but her body betrayed her—too weak, too starved. The cold bit into her skin, her fur matted with frost. Each muscle ached as if burning, yet she forced herself to move. She couldn't let the pack see her fail again.
But just as she was closing the distance, dizziness struck her like a wave. The world tilted. The snow swirled upward like a storm, and she crumpled to the ground, sinking into the ice.
And then... warmth. A strange, soothing warmth spread through her, as if carried by an invisible stream that flowed beneath her skin. Her limbs relaxed for the first time in ages, the biting cold melting away. A new scent filled the air—the scent of fresh blood. It was so sweet, so intoxicating, that her head swam with it.
For a brief, dizzying moment, she forgot everything: the hunger, the storm, even the cold. All she could think of was revenge. Memories of her brothers, their cruel laughter, and the bruises they left on her ribs, filled her with sudden fire. They had always taunted her—always beaten her—and her only wish was to outlast them. To see them fall beneath her claws.
"No," she whispered through cracked lips, her mind catching fire with the thought. "I can’t die... It’s supposed to be them—not me.”
That fierce thought yanked her back, just for a moment, into the world of the living. But it wasn’t enough. The cold returned, crawling over her limbs like a silent predator. The snow piled onto her body, heavier and heavier, and her heartbeat slowed to a crawl.
And then, the voices came.
“You are a mistake,” one voice whispered, sharp as a knife.
“A freak—born without a gender,” another sneered.
“Useless.”
“You’re too weak to catch even a tiny rabbit.”
The voices crowded her mind, louder and louder, until it felt like the weight of them pressed against her chest, crushing her. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, but the words wouldn’t stop. They echoed like stones sinking to the bottom of a frozen lake, each word dragging her deeper into darkness.
And then, just as suddenly as they came, the voices faded.
Silence fell. The only sound left was the soft hiss of snow, drifting down over her still body.
Her mind began to drift too—through memories of anger, sorrow, and finally... peace.
And just before everything faded into darkness, one last thought surfaced in her mind:
Why was I even born, if all I was meant to do was suffer?
