Scent of Proof, Claim of Power

I had endured endless moon cycles of grueling labor in the pack's Tracker Den, all for the promise Alpha Aurora made—ten thousand marks of tribute as my seasonal reward.

But when the distribution night finally arrived, the Alpha sent a demand through the pack's mind-link instead.

Every member was ordered to contribute varying amounts to the territory's depleted stores. My required offering was the highest of all—a full ten thousand marks.

I reached out through the bond, asking if there had been some mistake. Surely the Alpha meant to grant me tribute, not demand I surrender what little I had.

Aurora's response came cold and sharp across the link: "The territory faces hardship. Lyra, as one of the founding members and a core pillar of this pack, you should lead by example. Even if it means emptying your personal stores completely, you must help us survive this difficult season."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat, more growl than humor.

So this was how she wanted to play it.

That very night, I transferred ten thousand marks to the pack's central tribute vault, declaring my unwavering loyalty and commitment to our shared territory.

Everyone thought I had lost my mind. Aurora herself was said to have howled with laughter until she could barely breathe.

But they didn't understand.

Soon, this pack would belong to me.

What was wrong with investing ten thousand marks in my own future territory?

1.

I made the transfer in the dead of night, when the moon hung low and most wolves slept.

My personal stores weren't quite enough, so I quietly used my intended mate's rune-device to transfer an additional five hundred marks to the pack vault.

The next morning, I cast images of both tribute receipts into the pack's shared mind-link, directing them specifically at Alpha Aurora.

"I've given ten thousand marks to support the pack. What more could you possibly demand of me?"

Aurora never responded through the link. But during the midday feeding, I caught the whispered conversations of my packmates, their voices carrying easily to my heightened ears.

They were all discussing me, mocking me as the greatest fool born in a hundred generations.

"Has Lyra gone mad from not receiving her seasonal reward? The Alpha demanded ten thousand marks, and she actually handed them over?"

"Did you notice? She needed two separate transfers to reach that amount—nine thousand five hundred, then five hundred more. She didn't even have enough in her own stores."

"I think Lyra might have truly lost her senses. She spent more time in the dens than anyone this past year, and now at season's end, she gets nothing? Not a single mark of reward, and she has to give tribute on top of it? I would lose my mind too."

Their words stung like silver against bare skin, but every syllable fell within my expectations.

Soon enough, the pack liaison Lily came to summon me. The Alpha wished to see me.

I entered Aurora's private chambers within the central den. She was draped in fine furs, her golden eyes bright with satisfaction, her Alpha scent thick and commanding in the enclosed space.

When she saw me, she threw back her head and laughed, the sound echoing off stone walls. Then she crossed the room and clapped a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm enough to remind me of the power difference between us.

"Lyra, honestly, what are you doing? You're not a pup anymore—why are you playing these stubborn games with me? That tribute demand was just a misunderstanding, nothing more. You're the heart of our pack's tracking operations, and more than that, you're my sister-in-bond. How could I ever let you feel so wronged?"

The Alpha spoke to me with the same familiar warmth she always used, treating me as an equal, a packmate, a friend.

But I had made my decision. I would never again swallow the empty promises she dangled before me.

Ten years ago, Aurora and I had shared a den during our training years.

She was born of Alpha blood, heir to the wealthy Frostveil lineage. I was a poor omega with nothing but sharp instincts and a gift for tracking.

After our training ended, Aurora wanted to establish her own territory. She would provide the resources and connections; I would provide the skills and strategies.

Ten years of building together, and now our pack numbered in the hundreds—a territory of real significance. But the mark-rights Aurora had promised me, the tribute shares she had sworn would be mine—none of it had ever materialized.

This time, she had used the promise of ten thousand marks as seasonal reward to string me along for another full year.

But I would not be deceived again.

I spoke plainly, without ceremony: "So you're saying you'll honor your promise and grant me my reward? Though I should mention—ten thousand marks hardly seems sufficient anymore. I've heard even the lowest-performing scouts received eight thousand. I'm the backbone of the Tracker Den. I won't accept less than fifty thousand."

If she acknowledged her wrongs now and made amends, perhaps there was still a path forward.

I could allow her to remain Alpha, to keep her position at the head of the pack. All she had to do was give me the tribute shares I was owed.

But Aurora's next words extinguished that hope entirely.

"Of course I'll reward you. Naturally. But it will need to take a... different form."

A dark premonition coiled in my chest.

Aurora reached across her stone desk and lifted two gnarled roots, their earthy scent sharp even from a distance. She held them out to me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Ginseng. Wild healing roots.

As if this could possibly compensate for everything she owed me.