Sophia stood on the periphery of the celebration, her presence a shadow among the jubilant pack. Her eyes, red and swollen from tears, were fixed on the ground. The distant crackle of the fire and the rhythmic thumping of drums seemed to mock her sorrow, amplifying the isolation she felt amidst the festive chaos. Her son Matthew, lifeless and unresponsive, remained hidden in the witch healer's cottage, where Sophia had brought him in hope of a miracle.
Alpha Felix, surrounded by his entourage of warriors and elders, was the center of admiration and praise. His midnight-black fur glistened in the firelight as he accepted accolades with a cold, detached demeanor. Elder Hannah, his mother, was particularly effusive, lavishing him with praise for his strategic brilliance and declaring their dominance over the region. Her words were meant to elevate Felix’s status, but they only deepened the chasm between him and Sophia.