Shadowwyn Moor Don't you know it is just the chemicals in our veins that causes pain?

Shadowpaw’s protests became weaker the further she was dragged. Fear overwhelmed her mind and prevented any scheming of future escape. For all the intelligence and cunning the riverwolf thought she possessed, it mattered little when faced with a man who had actual conviction and strength.

So, when she was dropped it was like a piece of deadwood. She landed in the snowy vegetation with a thump and groaned, neck beyond bruised and sore.

I tell story, the man said.

Fuck you, was all Shadowpaw could think, though she didn’t dare utter it.

Her anger and righteousness was so enflamed she barely comprehended the words he said, not wanting to absorb any of his barbaric drivel.

But what he said…

….!

Shadowpaw’s heart nearly exploded from her chest.

Surely, there must have been another blue-eyed wolf among the Qeyaians. Someone other than Ash Star, her mother. Someone else who would take up the thankless role of leader and die while protecting their family from threat.

And the way he said it! The way his words were emotionally agnostic! As if her whole, beautiful life was reduced to a simple blip in time!

If Shadowpaw had ever known what to expect when she reached the Moors, she might have never come at all.

She thought of Starclan. Of her family.

She thought of Winter’s Wake and his True Fates.

Of poor Silvetongue, ruined in the desert.

Shadowpaw’s whole body felt acidic. She felt sick. She felt regret.

Pure, molten animosity burned in her wet eyes as she looked up at her mother’s murderer. “I don’t belong to you,” she spat.