Ston

thud, cutting off the outside world. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of m

finement, the strap of a thin pack digging into my

ned against a wall. The hearth of the small stone fireplace was cold

yer of filth with the back of my hand, I could just m

wed me how to split logs in that very yard, his calloused hand warm on my shoulder. My mother, standing on the porch, her hands on her hips, her

was my wolf, the beast I held captive, finally breaking its silence with a cr

l. I pushed the feeling down, shoving it back into the cage with my w

on Stone does

ifeline I'd clung to th

esh jolt of pain through my raw wrists. I dragged it outside.I swept the floor with a broken branch, raising a choking cloud of dust. The

e cold was a familiar companion, a dull ache that kept my senses sharp. I leaned against the wall, t

aken its place. I rose from the floor and walked out of the cabin, not towards the

yes on my back, a mixture of fear and curiosity. They

ored

les of stones that marked the graves of my an

d by a century of storms. A name was carved into the flat face of the capst

nd laid my palm flat against the cold stone of my father's grave. The rock was rough, unyielding, just l

ring. Their voices, though low, carr

nerve, comi

Couldn't even p

urged against his chains, a feral snarl echoing in my sk

bit into my palm, drawing blood. The pain was grounding. I held the rage

er burn of the silver wounds. I gathered the smaller stones that had been dislodged by wind and rain and carefully placed them ba

last, long look at the names etc

e, my indifference a more potent weapon than any threat. I saw the fl

through the village like a contagion. By midday

air, was holding court. I heard his exaggerated tale as I passed by outside. He

hur. He saw my act of mourning not as grief, but as a challen

happen. In a way,

worn leather pouch from my pack. It was the only possession I had lef

y were ju

d dark and held th

e my shield. It would keep them away. And in the solitu