ken

shade. Thick air was dense with the smell of dampened soil, where the call of nightly

n's rejection pressed down on her like a thick fog, suffocating her. His cold, unfeeling voice echoed in her head, an

her lips as she clutched at her chest, gasping for breath. It still hurt;

mate had abandoned her. There was nothing left for her in Whiteclaw territory. Tears blurred her vision, but she made herself keep going.

huddled into her cloak. She had no food. No shelter. No allies. Her body ached with exhaustion, her wolf eerily silent, still reeling from the reject

ed muscle of tension. She wasn't alone. There was a rumble of growl low in the trees; a threatening, raw noise. Sharp, she twisted back, pul

n side when they'd been cast out or abandoned by their packs. Some of them were

rush. Thin bodies, matted fur, but the hunger in their eyes was unmistakable. Gwen retreat

e black wolf with a jagged scar

ng in the night air. "You smell like a pa

d tall. She would not beg. She would

er, their snarls growing louder. Each snarl felt like a lash against her already raw spirit,

ced, coursed through her veins. Raw. Uncontrollable. Powerful. A gust of wind exploded outward from her, sending the rogues stumbling backward with startled yelps. The ground beneath

urred rogue growling, his yellow ey

e only knew something

warning them that she was no ordinary exile. For one instant, pure terror stared back at her, and a s

ioned to retreat. One by one, they disap

never felt such power. Not when she belonged with the Whiteclaw Pack. What was different now? And why...

ng inside of her, growing and building. And for the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid.

ed into something-something strong, something unknown. The image in her mind's eye flashed of the rogue's face, the pure, rank fear upon it when

her, she knew she had no choice. She was alone. She had nowhere to go. If she wanted to survive, she had to understand what had just happen