Cobalt Goldlight's Arc

Chapter 2 of 12

The three werewolves on the porch didn't move. Cobalt didn't either. Behind him, his people stood quiet in the snow, waiting to see what he would do. The stone by the door meant the cabin belonged to someone else. But his pack had no walls, no heat, and nowhere to go after this. The largest of the three stepped forward. He gestured toward the cabin, then swept his hand toward the trees beyond it. The meaning was clear enough: take the cabin, but leave the land. Cobalt followed the gesture and saw it then, deeper in the forest where the path split in two directions. A structure rose from the snow, half stone and half ice, with carved doors that looked older than the trees around it. That was their real claim. The cabin was just an outpost. Cobalt looked back at the cabin, then at his people. Seventeen faces, cold and tired. The cabin would hold them. It would keep them alive. But the werewolf on the porch was still waiting, and his stance said he wouldn't share the forest. One shelter or none. The choice sat heavy in Cobalt's chest, but he'd made harder calls before. He nodded once. The werewolf's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he stepped back inside without another word. The others followed. Cobalt turned to his pack and tilted his head toward the cabin. They moved forward slowly, feet crunching through snow that didn't belong to them anymore. They had walls now. But they also had a neighbor who'd drawn a line Cobalt couldn't cross, and seventeen people who would need more than a cabin before winter ended.