The smoke was thick, acrid, and smelled of burning oil and wet canvas.
Outside, the thin illusion of the pack’s safety had completely disintegrated. The wind carried the high-pitched, terrifying screams of a mother shouting for her lost pup through the dark. I heard children wailing, terrified by the snarling and the snapping of jaws that continued unabated in the center of the camp. Heavy boots pounded the frozen mud right outside our tent as families scrambled to grab what they could and flee into the unforgiving blizzard.
And inside, the tent was actively dying.
The chaos outside had hammered against the structure until a heavy support beam cracked, bringing down a hanging oil lamp. The liquid fire had splashed across the thick furs and was now climbing the walls with a hungry, crack
