The moon hung low in the sky, a pale sentinel overseeing the secret gathering in the heart of the forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the underlying musk of wolf, a heady mixture that spoke of wildness and danger. In a clearing shrouded by the dense canopy of ancient trees, a group of figures stood, their eyes reflecting the silvery light like predators ready to pounce.
At the center of this clandestine assembly was a lone woman, her figure enveloped in a long, hooded cloak that concealed her identity. She stood with an air of authority, her presence commanding despite the lack of visible features. Her silence was as heavy as the shadows that surrounded them, a silence that was broken only when she moved.
With a deliberate motion, she reached into the depths of her cloak and produced a small leather pouch. The bag landed with a thud on the ground, its contents spilling out in a gleaming display of gold coins and crisp bills. The sight of such wealth was like a siren's call to the wolves, their eyes narrowing with avarice and interest.
Next, she extracted a photograph from her cloak, holding it up for all to see. The image captured the face of a woman—her features delicate yet strong, her eyes bright but resolute. There was an unmistakable aura of determination about her, a quality that suggested she was not an ordinary target.
The woman in the cloak placed the photo beside the money, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were performing a ritual. "Abduct this woman for me," she commanded, her voice cold and sharp like the crack of a whip. There was no room for negotiation in her tone, no hint of compromise.
The wolves exchanged glances, a mix of eagerness and wariness passing between them. Among them were rogues, their eyes wild with the promise of violence, their instincts primed for the hunt.
One such rogue, a man with a scar running down his face, stepped forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his eyes reflecting the predatory instincts that had kept him alive for so long. He glanced at the photo, then back at the woman. "Are you sure she's getting out of that pack today?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. There was a hint of skepticism in his tone, as if he couldn't believe that such a target would be left unprotected.
The woman turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto the man who had spoken. Though her face was hidden, the intensity of her stare was palpable. After a moment, she nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "Yes," came a voice from the crowd. A man stepped forward, keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact with the others. He was dressed plainly, but the wolves could smell the scent of Snowfang's territory clinging to him. A traitor, then. He continued, his voice trembling slightly, "She's leaving the pack today. I was sure of it."
The woman nodded once more, seemingly satisfied with the answer. She turned back to the gathered wolves, her eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of her hood. "You will take her to the abandoned property deep in the woods," she instructed, her voice as cold as the night air. "Make sure she's far from Snowfang's territory. She must be completely isolated—away from any help."
The rogue with the scar shifted, his brow furrowing. "What do you want with her?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. "She doesn't look like the kind who'd be easy to handle."
A tense silence followed his question, and for a moment, it seemed like the woman might not answer. But then, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "That is none of your concern," she hissed, her tone brooking no further inquiry. "Your task is to bring her to me. Alive. Unharmed, if possible. The rest… is my business."
The rogue held her gaze for a moment longer before finally nodding. The woman straightened, taking a step back from the group. "Remember," she said, her voice echoing through the silence, "if you fail me, there will be consequences. But if you succeed… you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."
With that, she turned on her heel, disappearing into the shadows as silently as she had arrived. The wolves were left alone, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise or a threat, depending on the outcome of their mission.
The forest seemed to hold its breath as the group of wolves dispersed, each one disappearing into the darkness with the scent of gold and the taste of potential betrayal on their minds. The scarred rogue lingered for a moment, his eyes fixed on the spot where the woman had stood. He could still feel the weight of her gaze, the unspoken threat that lingered in the air.
He turned to the traitor, his eyes narrowing. "You better be telling the truth," he growled, "or it won't be just her you'll have to worry about."
The traitor swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. "I swear it's true. She leaves today, alone and unprotected."
The rogue stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "See that it stays that way."
As the rogue made his way back to his pack, his mind was already turning over the details of the plan. The woman they were to abduct was no ordinary target, and he had no doubt that the consequences of failure would be severe. But the promise of such a reward was too tempting to resist. He would need to be careful, to plan every step meticulously.
He thought of the woman in the cloak, her face hidden but her intentions clear. Who was she, and what did she want with the woman from the Snowfang Pack? He had no answers, but he knew one thing for certain: he would not fail her.