Sindy
The word proving followed me like a shadow.
Everywhere I turned the next morning, I heard it whispered. In the hall, where wolves hunched over their food and threw glances my way. In the courtyard, where steel clashed against steel as they trained, their murmurs sharp between strikes. Even in the kitchens, where the younger ones pretended not to look at me but couldn’t help their smirks.
“The proving.”
I hated it.
Not just the word, but the weight it carried. As though I were some unruly pup that needed to be tested, my worth decided by a crowd of wolves who already believed I didn’t belong.
Part of me wanted to laugh, sharp and bitter. Hadn’t I already proven myself? I’d run until my lungs felt torn, I’d faced down a bear, I’d stood in a hall of strangers who wanted me gone an
