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Chapter 18 - The Alpha's Shadow

Word in the wild doesn't travel fast; it creeps, it lingers, and it gets sharper with every mouth that chews on someone else's misfortune.

It started as a whisper, a rumor. Lyra came back from checking traps far off with her face shut tight like a frozen window in winter. She sat across from me at the scarred old table, set down her cup with care, and skipped the usual small talk.

Selvara paused her herb grinding, and the two sisters shared a look that said the news wasn't just bad: it made the world feel smaller, darker, and more dangerous.

"They say you're dead," Lyra said, flat as a stone.

For a moment, I thought she was trying to soften the blow, but no. There was no sugar-coating, no preamble to cushion the hit.

"What?"

"The pack's been spreading stories. Rogues swallowed you whole. Wolves tore you apart. Or you slipped under ice and vanished." She shrugged. "Different versions, same lie."

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