Her Fated Destiny

• Chapter One •

"How does one know the good?"

She took slow breaths, the winter air freezing her bruised lungs while a sharp pain danced among her ribs. She was sure that more than a few bones were broken, but due to the malnourished state of her body and absence of her wolf, she was unable to heal herself. The harsh winds of the storm above taunted her, driving ice into her bones.

She was past the point of shivering, there was no use. It was a sure sign of death. Her body was curled in against itself yet there was no heat emitting from her. Her heart was sluggish, the feeling in her paws was no more, and she knew that the cold would win. 

She had been prisoner of many packs, seen every method of torture, but none were as reckless at the Blackwood pack. They had successfully stole the she-wolf of legend away from the other packs, and yet they treated her like she was an everyday rogue that they encountered. 

She was locked in a cell in the pack dungeons with three other rogues as her only company. She considered herself lucky if they remembered to feed her once a week, and she almost forgot what water tasted like due the lack of humanity shown. 

The lack of nutrition took a brutal toll on her body as she was reduced to nothing but thick fur and bones. Her once lean muscles were deteriorated, her sleek fur matted with blood and grime. She barely had enough energy to lift her head most days. 

This pack had a powerful tool in their hand, yet they refused to use it, and instead let her waste away until one day there would be nothing left to abuse. The days slowly passed her by as she lost track of the the months, the year, the century. 

She faded from existence. 

Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming echoed in the frosted air, and she could smell the Beta making his way towards the dungeon. The fear that once poisoned her veins was no longer there as the thick crusted lock of the dungeon screeched open to allow the wolf entry.

She was too weak to even growl when the Blackwood Beta appeared in front of her cell. The stench of alcohol clung tightly to him, fouling his breath and glossing his eyes. He sickly grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth, and turned the key in the lock.

The Beta stumbled into her cell with a small black pistol clutched in his palm. 

"You.. are a waste." He mumbled, "A waste of space and air! You useless mutt! You monstrous soul!" He raised the pistol to aim it at her. She didn't even flinch at the motion, she just waited for the pain. 

"We should have left you to suffer, you don't deserve our mercy." The Beta muttered, and he pulled the trigger. 

A flash of pain assured her of the silver bullet that was now lodged in her shoulder and she bore it in silence, never giving him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her. They grew more excited when she made noise, but grew bored when she didn't.