Winter Howl

Chapter Seven – Among the Frostbane

Elysia didn’t like the way the forest changed as they went deeper.

The trees grew closer together here, their trunks dark and heavy with frost. The snow seemed untouched, almost too perfect, and the air carried a watchful stillness, as if the land itself had rules she didn’t yet know.

Calian didn’t speak much on the way. He moved with a purpose that kept her steps quick to match his, glancing back only to make sure she was keeping up.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“To my pack.”

Her stomach tightened. She’d heard the stories — fierce warriors who roamed the woods, loyal to their Alpha, distrustful of outsiders. And she was about as outside as it got.

By the time they reached the Frostbane’s stronghold, the sun was low, casting the snow in copper light. Cabins and longhouses stood in a rough circle around a fire pit big enough to roast an elk whole. Wolves in human form moved about the clearing, some carrying wood, others sharpening weapons. Every head turned when they saw her.

Calian didn’t slow. “Inside,” he said, guiding her toward a timber hall at the far end.

The stares followed her, some curious, others openly hostile. A tall woman with silver-streaked hair stepped into their path, her eyes narrowing.

“She’s human,” the woman said flatly.

Calian’s voice was calm, but there was steel in it. “She’s mine to bring in.”

The woman’s gaze slid to Elysia, lingering in a way that made her feel like prey. “And why would the Alpha bring prey into Frostbane ground?”

Before Calian could answer, a voice came from somewhere behind the woman — older, rougher, carrying the weight of command even without volume.

“Because she’s the Snowweaver.”

Elysia turned toward the speaker. An elder stood in the doorway of the hall, his eyes clouded with age but sharp with something else — recognition.

“You know me?” she asked.

“I know the prophecy,” he said. “The last Snowweaver will awaken when the land begins to die. And the one she is bound to will decide whether Frostwood lives… or falls to eternal winter.”

A murmur rippled through the onlookers. Calian’s hand tightened briefly at her elbow, steering her forward before the whispers could grow teeth.

Inside the hall, the firelight painted his features in gold and shadow.

“You shouldn’t have been brought into this,” he said quietly.

“You’re the one who brought me,” she shot back.

He met her gaze, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then he said, almost to himself, “Maybe I didn’t have a choice.”