The Princess's Revenge Chapter 21

Valencia’s POV

My mind raced. I remembered my mother's voice from years ago: "If you see a wolf, never run. Running makes you prey."

I forced myself to stand still, to make eye contact with the lead wolf. My hands fumbled for my fish spear and the sharp rock I'd been carrying.

The wolves began to circle. I turned with them, keeping them in my line of sight.

"Stay back," I said, my voice shaking. I knew they couldn't understand me, but maybe the tone would matter. "Stay back!"

The lead wolf took a step closer. Its lips pulled back, revealing long fangs.

I had seconds to make a decision.

I dropped into a crouch and grabbed a handful of snow and frozen dirt. I hurled it at the lead wolf's face while simultaneously slamming my rock against a tree trunk, making the loudest noise I could.

"GET BACK!" I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

I made myself as large as possible, raising my arms, continuing to yell and make noise. The fish spear was gripped tight in one hand, ready to stab if they came closer.

The wolves hesitated. Prey didn't usually fight back. Prey ran or cowered.

I grabbed one of the dry branches I'd collected earlier from my makeshift bag and pulled out the small piece of flint I'd found. My hands shook as I struck it against the rock, again and again, until finally a spark caught.

The branch burst into flame.

I waved it at the wolves, still screaming, still making as much noise as I could.

And then, from somewhere deep in the forest, came another sound.

A howl. But not like the wolves'. This was deeper, more powerful.

The three wolves froze. Their ears flattened against their skulls. The lead wolf took a step back, then another.

Then all three turned and ran, disappearing into the darkening forest.

I stood there, breathing hard, the flaming branch still held in front of me. My entire body was shaking now.

That howl hadn't been from a regular wolf. That had been a werewolf. Someone powerful enough to make wild wolves flee from a single call.

I scanned the tree line, searching for whoever had saved me. But I saw nothing. Just shadows and snow and darkening forest.

"Thank you," I called out softly. "Whoever you are. Thank you."

No response. But I felt it—that same presence I'd sensed last night. Watching. Waiting.

Not threatening. Protecting.

I made my way back to the cave, my mind churning. Who was out there? And why were they helping me?

When I reached the cave entrance, I stopped dead.

There, just inside, lay a dead rabbit.

But this wasn't like the rabbit I'd failed to catch earlier. This one had been professionally prepared. Its neck was cleanly broken—a precise kill. The skin had been partially removed. The internal organs had been carefully extracted.

I stared at it, my thoughts racing.

This wasn't the work of a wild animal. They didn't skin their prey. And no ordinary hunter would leave perfectly good meat for a stranger.

A pack member? No. They hated me. They wanted me to fail.

Which left only one possibility.

"Logan?" I whispered to the empty cave.

But how would he even know where I was? And why would he risk helping me when that would invalidate the entire trial?

I picked up the rabbit, feeling the weight of it in my hands. If this was a trap—some kind of test—I was too hungry to care.

I used my fire-starting skills to get a small flame going, then roasted the meat. The smell made my mouth water and my stomach clench with anticipation.

As I ate, tears ran down my face. I didn't know if they were from relief or gratitude or the overwhelming emotion of realizing that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

When I'd eaten my fill, I curled up in the deepest part of the cave and closed my eyes.

For the first time in days, I felt something like hope.

I woke feeling worse than I had either of the previous mornings. My body was reaching its limit—the constant exposure, the lack of proper nutrition, the stress of survival. Even with the fish and rabbit, even with my strange healing abilities, I was breaking down.

My hands shook as I pressed them against my forehead. I had a fever. Not high, but enough to make my thoughts fuzzy and my movements clumsy.

The cuts on my palm from the spear-making had turned red and angry. Infected. My knee, where I'd fallen that first day, had swollen to twice its normal size.

Just half a day more, I told myself. They'll come looking for me by evening. Just survive until then.

I forced myself out of the cave, my legs unsteady beneath me. I needed water. The stream had frozen over again during the night, and I'd need to find another source.

My fever made everything dreamlike and strange. I walked without really knowing where I was going, following some instinct I couldn't name.

The path grew steeper. I found myself climbing, using tree roots and rocks to pull myself up. Several times I slipped, catching myself at the last second.

What am I doing? I wondered distantly. I should be conserving energy, not climbing.

But something drew me forward. Maybe it was the fever. Maybe it was delusion. Or maybe it was simply that I'd given up on rational thought entirely.

I reached a ledge and collapsed against a large boulder, my chest heaving. My vision swam. Black spots danced at the edges.

I blinked, trying to clear my sight.

And that's when I saw them.

Down below, growing on a narrow shelf of rock that jutted out over a steep drop, were flowers. Blue-white flowers that seemed to glow even in the dim morning light.

At first I thought they were another hallucination. I'd seen so many impossible things in the past few days—my mother's ghost, shadows that moved wrong, that mysterious presence in the dark.

But I blinked again, and the flowers were still there.

And suddenly, I remembered.

"Mama, what are those pretty blue flowers?"

"Those are frost flowers, my darling. Very rare, very precious."

"Why are they precious?"

"Because they can heal silver poisoning. For werewolves, silver is deadly. But these flowers... they're the antidote. They can save lives."

"So they're like... magic medicine?"

My mother smiled and touched my cheek. "Yes, little one. Magic medicine. Remember this—if you ever need to trade for your life, frost flowers are worth more than gold to wolf packs."

My heart hammered in my chest. Frost flowers. Here. Growing right in front of me.

If I could get those flowers... it wouldn't be about proving I deserved to stay. It would be a trade. Leverage. Even if I failed the second trial, even if Amara defeated me, with these flowers I'd have a bargaining chip. I could say: let me stay as the lowest servant, and I'll pay for my food and shelter with these flowers. Or... if Logan truly didn't want me anymore... I could use these flowers to buy safe passage away from here.

I looked at the narrow shelf where they grew. Getting to them would be dangerous. The rock face was steep and probably unstable. One wrong move and I'd fall to my death.

But what choice did I have?

I started climbing down carefully, testing each handhold before putting my weight on it. My infected palm screamed in protest, and my fever made me dizzy, but I forced myself to focus.

One hand. One foot. Test the rock. Move.

The process was agonizingly slow. Several times, rocks crumbled beneath my grip, sending small avalanches cascading down the cliff face. Each time, my heart stopped, certain this was it—I was going to fall.

But I didn't fall. Somehow, I made it to the narrow shelf.

The frost flowers were even more beautiful up close. Their petals seemed to shimmer, and they gave off a faint, sweet scent that cleared my head slightly.

I began picking them carefully, my mother's voice echoing in my mind: "Never take more than nature can replace."

I harvested about two dozen, leaving plenty behind to regrow. I tucked them carefully into a pocket I'd torn from my dress, wrapping them in fabric to protect them.

The climb back up was even harder than the descent. My arms shook with exhaustion, and twice I had to stop and simply cling to the rock face, breathing hard, before I could continue.

When I finally pulled myself back onto the ledge, I lay there for several minutes, unable to move. My entire body was trembling. My palm was bleeding again. But I had the flowers.

I did it, I thought. I actually did it.

The walk back to the cave took hours. I kept having to stop and rest, my fever making every step feel like I was wading through deep water.

By the time I reached the cave, the sun was beginning to set. My last night on the mountain.

And there, waiting for me like the previous night, was another gift.

A fish this time, already cleaned and ready to cook. And beside it, a small pile of edible roots and berries.

I stared at them, tears pricking my eyes.

"Logan," I whispered to the gathering darkness. "If you're listening... I don't know why you're doing this. I don't know if I deserve it...."

I paused, gathering my courage for what I wanted to say next.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever they say... thank you. For seeing me. Thank... you..."

From somewhere outside the cave came a low, deep wolf sound.

I smiled through my tears and began preparing my final meal on the mountain.

The fourth morning arrived with bright sunlight and clear skies. Three days were up. The pack would be coming to find me.

I gathered my collection of frost flowers, wrapping them carefully. Then I began the long walk back down the mountain.

My legs were weak, my body exhausted, but there was strength in me that hadn't been there before. I'd survived. I'd made it through three days on a frozen mountain. And I had proof of my worth.

The walk took hours. The sun climbed to its peak and began its descent again as I stumbled down rocky paths and through dense forest. My vision swam occasionally, and more than once I had to stop and lean against a tree to catch my breath. As the sun touched the western horizon, I saw them.

A group of pack members coming up the mountain path. I recognized Xander's distinctive auburn hair, Amara's warrior stance. I stopped walking and waited for them to reach me.

Xander saw me first. His eyes went wide with shock. "She's alive," he said, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "She's actually alive."