Blood in the Snow

The storm turned the world white. Snow fell in sheets. Thick as castle walls. Warren counted tracks through waist-deep drifts. The wind obliterating each footprint seconds after he read it. Perfect weather for secrets. Perfect weather for betrayal.

Fifty hunters had gathered at dawn five days ago. Now less than thirty remained. His own men had withdrawn quietly. Made excuses. Equipment failures. Family emergencies. Supply shortages. Each absence another thread pulled from the guild's weakening fabric. Left gaps in the patrol routes. Another piece of his plan falling into place.

Blood spotted the snow near a fallen log. Warren crouched. Examined the pattern. Someone's cough was getting worse. Good.

The fox-kin trail led east. Toward their den. The remaining hunters would be headed in that direction. Battling the snow storm.

Ice formed and reformed on his beard. Cracked when he smiled. His boots punched through the surface crust with each step. Blood mixed with snow where the sharp edges had cut through his leathers. The elements stripped men bare. Showed what they really were beneath the pretense of civilization.

The wind shifted. Carried voices. Carried the sound of breaking spirits. Warren paused, head cocked. Let the storm guide him to his prey.

He found them beneath a granite overhang. The rock face curved overhead like a blade, offering meager shelter from the intensifying storm. Their fire struggled against the wind. More smoke than flame. Five of Liana's loyalists huddled around it. Shadows were thrown sharp against stone.

Thora's hands shook as she tried to read a crumpled letter. Her daughter's medicine costs. Three months of missed payments. The healers' final warning. She crushed the paper in her fist, ice crackling between her fingers.

Kestrel paced the edge of their shelter. His crossbow trembled in frozen hands. Eyes darting between shadows. Looking for threats. Looking for salvation. The cold had stripped his face gaunt. Hunger had hollowed his cheeks. His own children would go another week without meat if this hunt failed.

Rook and Ash argued in harsh whispers. Brother and sister. Their faces mirror images of desperation. Twin axes rattled at Ash's hips as she gestured. Her voice carried fragments through the wind.

"Can't stay here... storm's getting worse..."

"Then we leave him to die?" Rook's fist struck stone. Blood welled between his knuckles. "Like animals?"

Blackthorn lay propped against the rock wall. The beast's claws had opened him from knee to ribs. The wound stank of corruption. Black lines spread beneath his skin. Tracked the infection's progress through his veins. His breath came wet and broken. Each exhale painted red on his lips. He muttered derangedly to himself.

The boy had been strong once. Had dreams of making A-rank. Now he was meat. Now he was a weight dragging them all down.

Warren watched them argue. Watched them break. The storm drove needles of ice through cloth and flesh. Through resolve. Through honor. Their supplies had run out two days ago. The beast they'd tracked had led them in circles. Led them here. To this moment. To him.

"Warren!" Blackthorn's eyes lit up through the fever haze. Recognition. Hope. Blood bubbled at his lips as he tried to smile. "Thank the gods. I knew... knew you'd find us."

The others straightened. Relief softened their faces. If anyone could save them in this storm, it was an A-rank hunter. Warren's reputation spoke for itself. He'd survived worse. Led others through worse.

Warren moved among them like smoke. Like judgment. His own blade stayed sheathed. For now. Ice crackled beneath his boots as he knelt beside Blackthorn. Touched the boy's forehead. Felt the fever burning beneath frozen skin.

"The infection's spread." Warren's voice cut through the wind. Through their desperate hopes.

"But you can..." Blackthorn coughed red. Flecks of life scattered across white snow. "You'll get us out. Like always. Like that time in the northern passes..."

His words slurred. Eyes glazed with memory. With trust. Warren's knife finally unsheathed. It found the spot below Blackthorn's ribs. Slid in smooth as silk. The boy's grateful smile froze. Turned to confusion. To betrayal. To nothing at all.

"What-" Thora's sword rasped free. Her bad shoulder made the draw awkward. Uneven. The blade trembled.

Kestrel's crossbow came up. His frozen fingers fumbled the mechanism. Click. Click. The cold had jammed the trigger.

Rook and Ash moved as one. Brother and sister. Their axes made twin arcs through the storm. But Rook favored his right leg where the goblins had mauled him last season. Ash's reactions slowed by three days without food.

Warren sneezed. Chuckled. Stood unhurried from Blackthorn's corpse. "Really?" Ice crackled as he stretched. "Put those away before someone gets hurt." His own blade stayed clean. Sheathed. "We both know how that would end."

Their weapons didn't lower. But doubt crept into their stances. Into their eyes. Even fresh and fed and whole, four Rankless couldn't match an A-rank. Not Warren. Not the man who'd famously killed the Drakari prince as his hunter promotion task. They were cold. Hungry. Broken.

"The guild's dying." Warren moved like smoke through their circle. Touched Thora's shoulder where the old wound ached. Gentle as a brother's touch. "Your daughter's fever won't wait for Liana's promises. Won't wait for Valik's redemption." His fingers found the knotted scar tissue. Massaged the tension. "The healers want payment. Not excuses."

He glided to Kestrel next. Adjusted his grip on the frozen crossbow. "Your boys." Warren's voice softened. "How long since they've had meat? Since they've slept warm?" The weapon lowered inch by inch under his touch. "A father should provide better."

Rook's axe wavered. The leg injury made him shift his weight. Made him vulnerable. "We can't just..."

"Can't just what?" Warren's smile showed teeth. "Can't just survive? Can't just choose a better path?" He pulled the letters from his coat again. Let Silver City's seal catch the firelight. "Two hunters loyal to me received their promotions just before the hunt. A-rank. Ten times the pay. Permission to hunt anywhere. Better quarters. Better futures."

The wind screamed around them. Drove ice into exposed flesh. Into resolve. They stared at their fallen friend. At the letters. At their own frozen futures stretched before them like the endless storm.

Thora's sword hit the snow first. The old shoulder injury made it drop faster than she meant it to. "Fox-kin," she said. Voice hollow. "Must have followed us. Caught Blackthorn while we tracked east."

Warren watched understanding dawn in their eyes. Watched ambition war with conscience. One by one, they added details. Built their story. Chose survival over honor.

Kestrel mentioned tracks in the snow. Already covered by the storm. Rook described the beast's swift attack. How they'd arrived too late. Ash looked away as she spoke of Blackthorn's last words. Each lie easier than the last.

"Good." Warren's smile widened. His hand found the back of Thora's neck. Squeezed gently. "Very good." He gestured into the white wasteland. "There's a cave system ahead. Shelter from this storm. I've collected other like minded individuals." His voice turned conspiratorial. Intimate. "We have much to discuss about your futures. About your promotions."

They followed him through the storm. Left Blackthorn's body to the snow. Perfect weather for secrets. Perfect weather for corruption.

Behind them, the wind erased their tracks. Erased their choices. Erased everything but the path forward.

----

The storm tore chunks from the mountainside. Snow turned to razors in the wind. Cut visibility to arm's length. Valik's cursed leg dragged through the drifts. Left a dark trail of crystallized sap that the storm quickly buried.

"Warren!" Bran's voice disappeared into the white void. The wind stole his words. Tore them to shreds. They were supposed to watch Warren during the hunt. Catch any conspiracy beforehand. He'd somehow disappeared during the snow storm.

Valik watched the younger man push ahead through waist-deep snow. Watched him search for their missing hunter. His movements were wrong. Too fluid for someone raised human. A wolf's grace wrapped in human skin.

"He was behind us at the ridge." Hana's teeth chattered as she fought through another drift. The young hunter had wrapped her face against the cold, but ice still formed on her eyelashes. "Then the storm hit and..."

Meera growled from her position as rear guard. The sound carried through the howling wind. Despite that, the mental connection remained quiet. She'd been resisting Bran's link lately.

"There's shelter ahead." Valik's voice cracked. The cold had scoured his throat raw. "Cave system. Used it before." He grabbed Bran's arm. Let his weight settle on the younger man. "Help an old man over these rocks. Need to check something."

The sap in Valik's leg pulsed. Turned black as pitch when Bran drew near. Like it recognized something. Something that didn't belong in a human shape. Valik was almost certain now.

Bran's muscles tensed under Valik's grip. Ready to fight. Ready to run. But he played his role. Supported Valik as they picked their way over ice-slick stones. The wind screamed around them. Drove needles of ice through cloth and flesh.

"Hana." Valik's words barely carried. "Scout ahead with Meera. Find us that cave. We'll catch up."

The girl hesitated. Looked to Bran for confirmation. Another crack in their carefully maintained lie. Wolves didn't follow two alphas.

Bran nodded. Hana and Meera disappeared into the storm. The wind erased their tracks seconds later. Left Bran and Valik alone in a world of white.

Valik's hand shot out. Grabbed Bran's throat. Slammed him against an ice-covered boulder. The impact knocked snow from overhead. Buried them both in white powder.

"Interesting thing about bear-kin." Valik's voice turned conversational. Almost gentle. His grip stayed iron-hard. "They're territorial. Mark their kills. Leave specific wounds." His eyes locked onto Bran's. "The kind I found on Tolk's corpse. The kind you didn't have."

Bran didn't struggle. Didn't try to break free. His eyes turned calculating. Turned wild. "You knew?"

"That you led him to that bear? That you watched it tear him apart?" Valik's laugh turned to coughing in the bitter cold. "I've been hunting longer than you've been alive. In either form. What are you?"

The cursed sap in his leg burned black. Responded to something in Bran. It had covered the whole leg now and was making its way up Valik's torso.

"Then why..." Bran's voice trailed off as Valik pulled a letter from his coat. Silver City's seal caught what little light penetrated the storm.

"Because of this." Valik released his grip. Let Bran read the orders. Watch understanding dawn in those too-wild eyes. "They want their pet hunter redeemed. Want me to bring them a fledgling Beast King. Alive. That's you, isn't it kid?"

Bran's hand strayed to his sword. To the mental bonds he shared with his pack. With the dragons. Power thrummed beneath his skin. Power that made Valik's curse twist and burn.

Dragons were back in town. Deemed too uncontrollable for a long distance hunt. Mace was in the mining tunnels looking for the bodies of Warren's victims. Where they'd fought goblins. Where he watched Tolk die.

"You're not as subtle as you think." Valik tapped his cursed leg. "This reacts to a certain kind of power. To things that shouldn't exist. Things like a half-wolf who can speak human. Who can bind dragons to his will."

The wind screamed around them. Drove ice between them like knives. Like truth.

"What now?" Bran's voice stayed steady. Stayed dangerous.

"Now?" Valik looked at the letter again. At his last chance for redemption. For respect. "Now we talk about choices. About what we're willing to sacrifice."

"For what?"

"For something worth believing in." Valik's fingers traced the seal. Twenty years of service. Of loyalty. Of following orders. "Tolk deserved what he got. I've watched too many hunters like him. Too many monsters wearing human skin."

Bran's tension eased slightly. Not much. Just enough. "Speaking from experience?"

"More than you know." Valik's laugh turned bitter. "You think you're the first to choose revenge over honor? The first to watch someone die and feel satisfied?" He gestured at his cursed leg. "There's a reason the Beast King marked me. A reason I lost my rank."

The storm wrapped around them. Two killers sharing truths cold as the wind.

"The guild is dying." Valik's voice softened. "Has been since I failed. Since I chose revenge over duty. But you..." His curse pulsed. Recognized power. Recognized change. "You've given them hope. Given them a future."

"A future built on lies. Am not sure what am doing anymore."

"A future built on choice. On sacrifice." Valik held up the letter. Let the wind catch it. Tear it to shreds. Let his last chance at redemption scatter into the storm. "Some things matter more than rank. Than redemption."

Bran watched the pieces disappear into white oblivion. "Why?"

"Because I've seen what you're trying to build. Seen how you look at Liana. At the guild. At your pack." Valik's hand found Bran's shoulder. Squeezed. "Seen how they look at you. Not as a weapon. Not as a tool. As something worth following. Maybe things can be different."

The wind howled. Carried secrets. Carried choices.

"Warren knows." Bran's voice stayed quiet. Stayed dangerous. "About Tolk. About what I am."

"Warren's playing his own game." Valik started walking. Let the storm guide them toward shelter. Toward their companions. "Question is, what are you willing to sacrifice to win?"

Bran fell into step beside him. Two killers. Two protectors. Two men choosing something bigger than themselves.

"Whatever it takes." Bran's voice carried certainty. Carried purpose. "Whatever it costs."

Valik nodded. "Just remember this, kid. When you're backed into a corner, it may seem there's only two choices. But there is always a third. Don't repeat my mistakes."

The storm erased their tracks. Erased their choices. Left only the path forward. Bran finally opened up. About his pack. About Ariana. About the mysterious Hunter in Black who started it all.

Together they pushed through the white void. Toward shelter. Toward war. Toward whatever future their sacrifices would buy.

The wind screamed. Carried secrets. Carried change.

Carried the sound of Warren's laughter, lost somewhere in the storm.

---

A long conversation in, the storm parted like a curtain. Revealed Meera. She was in full wolf form. Snow matted her red fur. Ice crusted her muzzle. Her eyes burned wild. Desperate.

No sign of Hana.

The bond between them trembled. Strained against emotions Meera had kept buried. Kept hidden. Pain leaked through. Betrayal. A sister's face. A countdown measured in moons. An orange fox.

"So." Bran's voice carried no surprise. No anger. Just acceptance. "You finally made your choice."

Valik's hand strayed to his sword. The curse had reached his neck and looked alive now. Wriggled and weighed him down. Meera's growl deepened. A sound that belonged in darker places. In deeper winters.

"I've felt you pulling away." Bran stepped forward. Snow crunched beneath his boots. "Felt you hiding your thoughts. Burying your pain." His head tilted. Studied her like prey. Like family. "But pain has a scent in the mind connection. Has weight. Has shape. And yours is shaped like a fox."

The wind was sharp as betrayal. Cold as truth.

Meera's claws extended. Caught what little light penetrated the storm. Her muscles bunched. Ready to spring. Ready to kill.

"Well then." It wasn't a question. The bond between them carried fragments. Carried purpose. "Come claim your prize."

Meera growled. Bran shouted. Both lunged.