Hushed Willows Is your blood authentic?

Red eyes.

By the creed of the woman who had given life to The Anathema, red was the color of treachery. Was this truth not written into her very own furs? Stained by the sins of their father, The Hierophant had murmured, though he'd believed none of it. Anathema still wondered.

The woman had interrupted her — but that didn't mean she couldn't still be of use. Her words went ignored, her claim fallen on deaf ears. If she lived, she could have the buck.

Adrenaline jolted through her veins. Silent except her jittery clicking, Anathema lunged to catch her fangs on some soft part of the larger wolf's unders.