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16 - Submission

As she attempted to glance at her sisters, Snow's eyes snapped wide open when she saw him.

That scar across his face sent shivers down her spine - like it usually did when she was too close. The stitches of the wound framed the scabbed skin. His eyes a dark brown bore through her. Snow's back went straight, her heart a fluttering chaos.

She gulped hard clearing her throat as he walked towards them. He came from behind where the servants received the gifts of each clan.

Gray strands shot out from his scalp studding white flecks against the blackness of his hair. What was once a head full of long wavy locks began to recede. His age showed even further as lines under his eyes, on his forehead, beside his nose creased. He wasn't in a good mood. She knew all too well.

Snow stood still as she watched Aragon Grimlake cross his arms against his chest. He stood between the five of them. He whispered something to Celeste as she nodded to his words. Snow let the cold consume her body once again. Her lips where pale as pale as her fingers were getting. And again, she felt nauseous.

The crowd felt his presence as they stood in attention. The drums stopped, the conversations slowly muted, all eyes where on him. After a few weeks of living away from her father, Snow almost forgot the energy lifting under his skin. It was overpowering and heavy. It weighed her down - it weighed all them down. Perhaps the magnitude of wolves felt it too.

Snow watched her father as his palm rubbed the stiffness of his neck, his eyebrows where almost scrunched together.

Please, don't be mad. Snow hoped.

As the Wolframs lay one last basket of spices and medicinal brews. The five stiffened except for Celeste who was still beside him. His father cleared his throat. Snow and her sisters flinched and darted looks at each other that resembled utter panic.

The man began to rub his temples and frustrated sighs flowed form his lips. As he opened his them, Snow could only hope for the worst.

"Dear guests, pardon my late arrival."

She and her sisters began to breathe as the harmless remark made the crowd at ease. The silence shattered in applause and wails as the wolves received her father's greeting. Snow brushed a cold sweat from her forehead finally breathing a sigh of relief. He was decent after all.

Before Snow's hand found its way back to her side, barrels of rum slammed on the marble floor. The wooden cylinders rolling down the small steps back to the crowd where the Wolfram's stood. Its contents spitting drops of liquor on the floor.

"We won't be needing those," His voice was stern. His arms firmly crossed against his torso. Snow's father had that look in his eyes like he could kill, "My daughters don't drink."

The five stiffened as they recalled memories of their merry making heavily influenced by alcohol. Snow cleared her throat as she glanced at her sisters.

They all looked as terrified as her.

Torryn

If death would have a feeling, this would be it.

His hand grabbed the corner of his jaw as he sipped the numbing brew. The warm liquid spread through his mouth as the thick fluid enveloped his tongue. The side of his face throbbed as he tasted blood. His tongue gently licked the swollen gum where remnants of blood and the depression on his fang lay sore.

Victor's Welcome had already begun, and he was still in one of the small rooms of the kitchen sipping on the bitter concoction.

The only thing that gripped him to the land of the living was her.