The winter solstice rations were announced. I ranked dead last in the entire pack—a single rabbit pelt.
Garrick Thornvale, the most shameless status-posturing wolf in the den, walked away with prime hunting rights to the eastern ridge for an entire season.
The next morning, I submitted my oath withdrawal.
Aurora Ashthorne actually laughed when she caught my scent approaching with the formal scroll.
"Kael Nightwolf, truly? You're breaking your oath over rations? Because your share was a little smaller than everyone else's?"
She shook her head, her amber eyes glinting with amusement.
"You're a seasoned wolf. Stop acting like an unblooded pup."
"Now return to your post and finish the territory pact with the Sterlinggate Pack. Next moon cycle, I promise—a rank raise, better resource share, the whole recognition you deserve."
That same promise. I'd been choking it down for seven long years.
She assumed I'd believe her again. That I'd lower my head and slink back to my duties like an obedient omega.
Not this time.
1.
Aurora's claws traced idle patterns across my withdrawal scroll. She didn't bother meeting my gaze. That familiar smirk—the one that said you're not worth my full attention—pulled at the corner of her mouth.
"Kael, enough with the theatrics."
"Go finish the Sterlinggate alliance terms. The emissary awaits our response."
"Next moon cycle, I guarantee you'll receive your rank raise. Better hunting grounds too."
"I know what you're capable of. Seven years of service—the pack doesn't forget loyalty like that."
I'd heard this speech so many times I could recite it in my sleep.
Last winter. The winter before. The winter before that.
Every time a critical territory defense landed on my shoulders. Every time I was running on exhaustion and desperate for a single night's rest from patrol. The words would materialize right on cue.
Like fresh meat dangled before a starving wolf. Always just out of reach.
I used to believe it. Used to grind my bones down trying to earn what I'd already been promised.
And where did that get me?
A single rabbit pelt. A humiliation dressed up as recognition.
"Alpha Ashthorne, I'm not being dramatic." My voice held steady, though my wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin. "The scroll is clear. Personal reasons. I'm asking you to release me from my oath."
The amusement drained from her face, replaced by something harder. The cold authority of an Alpha accustomed to absolute obedience.
"Personal reasons?" She let out a derisive huff, her wolf's dominance pressing against the air between us. "Kael, you've served long enough to know how pack law works."
"The winter hunts are our most demanding season. The Sterlinggate alliance is at a critical stage. And you think you can just abandon your post?"
"The pack invested seven years in training you, in trusting you with our defenses. This is how you repay us?"
"Are you certain you've thought this through?"
Invested.
I turned the word over in my mind, tasting its bitterness.
Was that what they called making me reinforce the boundary wards until the moon set?
Or tracking down the failures left by packmates who couldn't fulfill their duties?
Or watching my strategies—my patrol routes, my defensive innovations—get quietly attributed to someone else's name in council?
"I've thought it through, Alpha Ashthorne."
"Just mark your approval. Please."
She stared at me. Three heartbeats. Five.
Then she smiled, showing just a hint of fang.
She picked up my oath withdrawal scroll, held it where I could see, and slowly crushed it in her fist.
Her arm swept out. The crumpled parchment arced through the air and landed in the fire pit by the corner of her den.
"I don't see any withdrawal request."
"Return to your duties. The pack needs you. The Sterlinggate alliance needs you."
"Stop overthinking. You showed up at the den today, so your focus should be on your responsibilities. Now leave my chambers."
The crumpled scroll curled at the edge of the flames, wrinkled and pathetic. Like a challenge no one took seriously.
I looked at it and understood: words were useless here.
Aurora wasn't refusing to approve my departure. She simply didn't consider my decision worth acknowledging.
"Alpha Ashthorne, whether you release me or not, I'm leaving."
I turned, pushed open the heavy oak door, and walked out.
Back at my station in the lower den, I started gathering my belongings.
Eyes darted toward me from every corner—then quickly looked away, ears flattening.
No one spoke.
The only sound was Garrick's voice from across the hall, low and slick, murmuring near the communication crystals.
"Don't worry, Alpha Ashthorne... I'll handle everything... We can discuss the details over the evening hunt..."
I didn't have much to collect.
A worn tracking compass. A few tattered journals on ward maintenance and territory defense. I swept it all into a leather satchel without ceremony.
