Oswald stood at the threshold of the pack house, his gaze fixed on the swirling snow that obscured the path Arin had taken. A gnawing unease settled in his gut, a cold dread that tightened its icy grip with each passing moment. He replayed the scene in his mind, the harsh words, the finality of his banishment, the look of utter betrayal and hurt in his daughter's eyes.
He had acted swiftly, decisively, driven by fear and the desperate need to protect his pack. But now, as the adrenaline faded and the weight of his actions settled upon him, a wave of guilt washed over him, a crushing burden that threatened to break him. He had sent his own daughter, his only child, into the unforgiving wilderness, a wolfless werewolf at the mercy of the elements and the predators that lurked in the shadows.
