Scent of Proof, Claim of PowerChapter 1

I had endured endless moon cycles of grueling labor in the pack's Tracker Den, all for the promise Alpha Aurora made—ten thousand marks of tribute as my seasonal reward.

But when the distribution night finally arrived, the Alpha sent a demand through the pack's mind-link instead.

Every member was ordered to contribute varying amounts to the territory's depleted stores. My required offering was the highest of all—a full ten thousand marks.

I reached out through the bond, asking if there had been some mistake. Surely the Alpha meant to grant me tribute, not demand I surrender what little I had.

Aurora's response came cold and sharp across the link: "The territory faces hardship. Lyra, as one of the founding members and a core pillar of this pack, you should lead by example. Even if it means emptying your personal stores completely, you must help us survive this difficult season."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat, more growl than humor.

So this was how she wanted to play it.

That very night, I transferred ten thousand marks to the pack's central tribute vault, declaring my unwavering loyalty and commitment to our shared territory.

Everyone thought I had lost my mind. Aurora herself was said to have howled with laughter until she could barely breathe.

But they didn't understand.

Soon, this pack would belong to me.

What was wrong with investing ten thousand marks in my own future territory?

1.

I made the transfer in the dead of night, when the moon hung low and most wolves slept.

My personal stores weren't quite enough, so I quietly used my intended mate's rune-device to transfer an additional five hundred marks to the pack vault.

The next morning, I cast images of both tribute receipts into the pack's shared mind-link, directing them specifically at Alpha Aurora.

"I've given ten thousand marks to support the pack. What more could you possibly demand of me?"

Aurora never responded through the link. But during the midday feeding, I caught the whispered conversations of my packmates, their voices carrying easily to my heightened ears.

They were all discussing me, mocking me as the greatest fool born in a hundred generations.

"Has Lyra gone mad from not receiving her seasonal reward? The Alpha demanded ten thousand marks, and she actually handed them over?"