"You're telling me. Look, she's still wearing her ceremonial furs. I heard she threw away her dignity and offered to be his second mate, and he still turned her down."
Strange, pitying, contemptuous looks pressed in on me from every direction. I could feel every gaze like a physical weight against my skin, and my wolf, who should have snarled back, who should have risen in defiance, did nothing. She lay still, barely breathing. As though the part of me that was meant to fight had already given up.
Just as despair was swallowing me whole, the thunder of hooves broke through the noise.
Moments later, a tall, commanding figure rode in and reined his horse to a halt before the crowd. The air changed. It thickened, pressed down, and every wolf in that gathering felt it at once. A dominance so absolute it settled over the crowd like a sudden frost, forcing shoulders to drop and gazes to the ground before a single word was spoken. The scent hit me a breath later: black pine and winter stone and something sharp beneath it, like ozone before lightning strikes.
When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to freeze the air.
"Insolent fools!"
"What do you think you're doing?"
