Chapter 41
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Adelaide’s POV
+8 Pearls
When Alpha Lance found me, I was sharpening my silver claws with the new recruits.
His frost–kissed ears bristled with anger, and his voice had that gravelly growl unique to werewolves, “Pack up. I’m sending you back to the capital before dawn.” I gripped the rust–stained whetstone, my bandaged knuckles straining from my wolf transformation. I said, “The Frostfang Pack doesn’t have cowards. Unless you cut off my claws.” He stared at my bleeding palm for what felt like ten heartbeats, then growled hoarsely, “Don’t die too quickly,” and strode away, his mud- splattered cloak flapping behind him .
My wolf nudged me and said, “His scent is intoxicating.”
lignored it. Angela peeked out from behind a barracks post, her rose–gold earrings catching the firelight.
“Does this wolf general always behave like a savage?” she asked.
Paisley scuffed a frozen blood clod with her boot. The sulfur pheromones of the Western Tribal wolves mixed with her sigh. “After three years here, who isn’t a mess?”
True enough, the southern border had been a battleground for years.
My father had commanded here. Now it was Alpha Lance’s turn.
Halbert patted his curved blade and said, “Savages make the best fighters. It’s a good thing.”
On Christmas Eve, Frostbite Town’s gates burst open at dawn.
Waves of werewolf warriors flooded out, Western Tribes and Dragon Ash wolves in mixed armor, indistinguishable from each other.
Stepping onto the battlefield for the first time, my palms sweated around my spear.
Angela’s scream was swallowed by the drums. As I charged with the transformed wolves, I recalled my father’s notes, “In werewolf combat, there are no styles–just speed and sharper
claws.”
When my silver spear pierced a werewolf warrior’s throat , the warm blood splashed my wolf-
nose.
I wanted to find the enemy’s totem pole but saw golden–wolf riders in the distance–a classic
northern bait tactic.
I gritted my teeth and fought on. From sunrise to moonrise, my arms grew leaden.
My tongue was coated with dried blood, and bodies beneath my feet formed a macabre totem.
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My wolf, weary from travel and training, couldn’t heal it fast enough.
+8 Pearls
When the Dragon Ash warriors retreated into the town, I collapsed into the blood–mud, now icy.
Paisley flopped down beside me, gasping, “How many did you kill?” I flexed my stiff wrists, wolf- claws caked with flesh, and said, “Lost count after thirty.”
Halbert tried to rise on wolf–claws but only kicked up ice water. “Fifty for me! Three hearts crushed with my claws!”
As Abbott’s cleanup crew passed by, pine torches lit the carnage.
We’d lost three thousand warriors. The Dragon Ash Kingdom, six thousand.
Alpha Lance’s Beta, blood–soaked fur clinging to me like a moving blood carpet, lunged at me, “Alpha Lance tallied your kills! Three hundred and seven throats slit!” His palm slapped my shoulder, pain ringing in my ears. “Every werewolf general’s saying you honor the Frostfang Pack and the Bentley bloodline!”
1 stared at the blood grooves on my peach–blossom spear. I remembered my father’s calloused hand gripping mine on his deathbed.
Now I understood–on the battlefield, life and death depend solely on your weapon and an unyielding heart.
The water skin Angela passed me tasted of rust. I noticed her wine–red braid snagged a shred of someone’s clothing.
Distant wolf howls echoed as Halbert snored loudly.
Leaning on my silver spear, I gazed at Frostbite Town’s shut gates. Memories of childhood in the Frostfang Pack surfaced–watching my father and brothers polish their weapons.
Some traits are eternal, I realized–the instinct to kill and the obsession with this land.
The night wind carried the stench of blood. I touched the wolf–head talisman at my waist.
Father, I’ve fought my first battle and haven’t shamed you.
“I killed this many? I lost count too. So tired,” I said, my legs trembling from cold or exhaustion.
“Hurry! Alpha Lance wants you now!” Tommy urged as I tried to sit.
Halbert leaped up, suddenly alert. “Alpha Lance is waiting? Let’s go.”
Earlier, he’d said thirty kills meant promotion. He’d made fifty: I’d… lived up to expectations.
I rose with my silver spear, knees scraping frozen pebbles.
We five staggered into Alpha Lance’s tent, the flap flying open to thirty pairs of eyes on us .
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drawing raucous laughter from the assembled officers.
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