The Ugly Wolfling

Chapter 1

Being different was never a good thing in the Silverfang Pack. Standing out was only good if you were exceptional, otherwise, it was something to be avoided. A sign of weakness. People would avert their gazes, openly whispering, expressions flickering between pity and amusement. Beauty and strength were everything here. Wolves who had both held the highest ranks, admired and respected. Their power evident down to the way they carried themselves. Strength was the hallmark of leadership, but beauty ensured desirability, securing the most powerful alliances through mate bonds. A wolf’s appearance mirrored their power. Their worth. And Ellen? She had neither. She was nothing. A ghost in her home, an afterthought to her own pack.

As she made her way through the bustling marketplace, the crisp morning air biting at her nose, Ellen kept her head down. Vendors called out, their voices becoming part of the hum of daily life, selling fresh meat sizzling on open grills, fresh produce, clothing and supplies neatly arranged for the next full moon gathering. Bod no-one called out to her. They never did.

The pack saw Ellen as a blemish. A flaw. An inconvenience they preferred to ignore. As she stepped toward a vendor’s stall, the merchant, who had previously been unoccupied, busied himself tidying his wares, acting as though he hadn’t noticed her at all. A group of young girls laughed nearby, their conversation animated, but as she passed one of them glanced at her and whispered something to the others. They all quickly turned away, giggling to themselves. Even in silence, rejection clung to her like a second skin. To them, she was just another part of the background in a world where only the strong, beautiful and powerful mattered. Yet, being ignored did not mean that she was unaffected. Ellen felt every glance that purposefully slid past her, every dismissive smirk, every whispered word that she may not have been meant to hear.

Her routine never changed. There were chores to be done, errands to run, each task blending into the next. At least while she was working she felt like she had a place. It was the one thing she had that made her existence feel justified, the only reason her parents kept her around. If she was useful and didn’t make trouble, she had a purpose, even if it wasn’t the kind she longed for.

But today was different. There was a tension, an invisible weight in the air that stretched far beyond her. Tonight could change everything—or nothing at all. It was her eighteenth birthday, though nobody bothered to acknowledge it. This was the day that she would finally be able to feel the pull of the mate bond. Her mate. The moment every wolf dreamed of. A connection that had the power to shape the rest of her life, a bond whispered to be unbreakable. It was meant to be magical, fated, a love that defied all the odds. Yet the unknown pressed down on her, suffocating.

For a girl like Ellen, there was little hope that fate would have been kind to her. She was born Elena Nightshade, a name her mother had chosen for a daughter who would be exceptional. Who would shine and be admired by all. But as she grew and it became clear that she was plain, awkward and would never be a proper Silverfang wolf, her mother had stripped the name from her, as if even that was too much for her to bear.

“Elena is too elegant for such a fat and hideous creature as yourself,” her mother had sneered one night, her voice laced with disappointment. “Ellen is much more fitting. Plain. Nobody expects an Ellen to be beautiful.”

And just like that, Ellen had become something lesser. A name devoid of warmth or grace. It had never been her choice. It was simply a reminder of who she was and who she would never be.

As the sun began to dip below the treetops, bathing the packhouse in golden light, Ellen was exhausted. The massive wooden structure loomed ahead, its towering beams and stone foundation standing firm against the evening breeze. Warmth flickered from the windows, casting lingering shadows across the courtyard where groups of wolves could be seen gathering. The scent of roasted meat and spiced cider wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the unease settling in the pit of her stomach. Her hands were sore from carrying heavy baskets, her feet tired from hours of walking, but none of it mattered. The real weight pressing down on her chest was the uncertainty of what the night would bring.

Her home was set a little way back from the main packhouse. Secluded, so that no one had to witness her parents’ disappointment. Inside, she found her mother, tall and elegant with silver streaked hair. She barely even looked her way before issuing a command. “Put everything away and tidy up.”

Ellen obeyed without question, moving through the small home with the quiet efficiency of someone who knew the tasks well. She started their dinner, stacked firewood neatly, swept the floor and made sure that the kitchen was spotless. Only when everything was put away did her mother turn to her, lips curling in disapproval. “You look like a mess. You can’t even try to look decent for one night?”

Her father barely spared her a glance, his focus fixed on the hunting knife that he sharpened, as if the edge of the blade mattered more than the daughter who stood before him. “You’ll never find a mate looking like that, not that it matters. No respectable wolf would want you.”

His words were familiar, their cutting edge dulled only by repetition. Ellen had grown used to it. The way her mother sighed when she entered the room. The way her father looked right past her as though she was invisible. And yet, no matter how many times they repeated, it still hurt.

She slowly retreated to her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her, as if the thin barrier could keep out their seeping disappointment. The only dress she owned that felt even remotely appropriate for tonight lay folded on her bed. A silent reminder that no matter how hard she tried, she could never be enough. She pulled it on, tugging as it pulled at her stomach. She smoothed the fabric over her hips, trying hard to ignore how awkward she felt.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached for the small tin of makeup she kept tucked away in her drawer. A touch of colour, a little powder, maybe it would help, if only a little bit. She carefully smoothed the powders over her skin, hoping that it would give her some semblance of warmth or vibrancy. For a fleeting moment she almost convinced herself that it had made a difference, but as she leaned in, scrutinizing her reflection, the illusion vanished. The darkness under her eyes could never be covered with a little powder. No amount of makeup could hide the quiet desperation that lined each of her features. As she watched herself, the hollow eyed girl staring back at her remained unchanged. Still tired. Still empty. Still, just Ellen.

The mirror showed her someone she barely recognized. The dark blue dress she wore was too tight, emphasizing insecurities she wished that she could ignore. It pulled at her waist and stretched uncomfortably over her stomach, reminding her painfully of her shape. She tugged at the fabric, but no matter what she did, it refused to sit right. Her hair, despite all attempts to smooth it down, remained frizzy and unruly. Her dark eyes, sunken and shadowed, held an exhaustion that had lived inside her for as long as she could remember. This was the version of herself that her parents saw—the girl who would never be enough. The dress should have been elegant, but on her it felt like a costume, a poor attempt at pretending she belonged.

Her mother came up behind her, her presence filling the small space. Ellen hadn’t heard her enter but she felt her before she spoke, the air shifting with her disapproval.

She let out a sharp breath, a sneer on her lips. “That makes your stomach look even bigger,” she muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she studied Ellen like she was something broken beyond repair. “Why even bother? You’re an embarrassment to us. To the pack. Why couldn’t we have had a beautiful, even a normal daughter?”

Ellen’s stomach clenched, but she lifted her chin, willing herself to be unaffected, though the weight of her mother’s words settled deep in her bones. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she had heard worse before. And yet, something about tonight made the words cut deeper, their weight settling in her chest like a stone she couldn’t shake. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, she had allowed herself to hope.

Her parents wouldn’t care, and the pack wouldn’t see anything but what they already expected. Still, she adjusted the dress one last time, squaring her shoulders in a futile attempt at confidence.

Tonight could change everything. Or it could prove what she had always feared—that nothing would change, and she would forever be exactly as they saw her: insignificant.

Either way, she had no choice but to face it.