Frost stood at the edge of the pack’s territory, the cold wind biting at his fur as he stared into the distance. The Snowfall had brought with it a strange silence, a stillness that felt wrong. Every time he tried to shake the feeling, it crept back, deeper and more suffocating.

Lina was sick. Frost knew it, even though she refused to admit it. He could see it in the way her eyes were dulling, in the way her body was wasting away, and the anger that pulsed beneath her skin like a storm. But it wasn’t just hunger that drained her, no—it was something worse.

The Black Blood Disease.

The rumors had reached them—other packs whispering about it, wolves who had gone mad, their blood black and dripping from their mouths. But Frost hadn’t believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. He had seen it in Lina, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. She wasn’t the same anymore. The wolf he had once known, the one he had mentored, was slipping away with each passing day.

The pack was struggling. Prey was scarce, but that wasn’t the worst of it. There was a gnawing fear in the air, a fear that spread faster than the disease itself. No one knew what to do. They had already lost too much.

Frost turned to face the den, his tail flicking uneasily. He needed to talk to Squirrel, needed to make her understand. But how could he explain it? How could he make her see that Lina was no longer the same wolf? That what she was becoming was a danger to them all?

He couldn’t. Not yet.

Squirrel had been hunting tirelessly to keep the pack fed, her determination unwavering, but Frost could see the toll it was taking on her. She was starting to look worn out, just like the rest of them. The disease had already started to affect the others, and Frost could sense that something darker was coming. He headed back to camp, feeling a deep foreboding in his heart…

Frost had been watching from a distance, his eyes narrowing as the tension between the two young wolves grew. Squirrel and Lina had always been close, almost like sisters. But lately, something had changed in Lina. Her once bright eyes had dulled, and the aggression that simmered beneath the surface was becoming harder to ignore. Frost had warned Squirrel to stay away, but he knew the apprentice wouldn’t listen. She never did.

He watched them now, standing just at the edge of their hunting grounds, the air thick with unease.

“Lina?” Squirrel’s voice wavered, as she stepped toward the older wolf. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting strange… Please, let me help.”

Lina’s head snapped toward Squirrel, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling emptiness. Her once soft brown fur looked ragged, and her breathing was shallow. A thin stream of black blood dripped from her mouth, staining the snow beneath her.

“Stay away from me!” Lina snarled, her voice raw and trembling. The aggression was clear now, and Frost’s heart sank. It was happening.

Squirrel took a cautious step back, her ears flattened. “Lina, you’re scaring me. Please, let me help…”

“You _don’t_ get it, do you?” Lina’s voice was almost a hiss, low and dangerous. “I don’t need help. I need you to stay out of my way.”

Before Squirrel could react, Lina lunged, her jaws snapping shut just inches from Squirrel’s face. Squirrel yelped and leapt backward, but Lina was faster. The disease had twisted her, making her stronger, more volatile than ever before.

Frost’s instincts screamed at him to intervene, but something held him back. He knew the truth—Lina was no longer the wolf he had mentored. She was slipping away, and nothing could stop it now.

Squirrel stumbled backward, her eyes wide with fear. She scrambled to get to her paws, but Lina was relentless, charging again. The once gentle wolf was gone, replaced by a feral creature driven by nothing but the rage coursing through her veins.

“Lina!” Squirrel cried, her voice breaking. She managed to duck just in time as Lina’s teeth missed her by a hair. “Please, stop! It’s not you, it’s—”

But Lina didn’t stop. She kept coming, her movements erratic and full of malice. She was faster than Squirrel, stronger, her limbs moving unnaturally as though the disease had taken full control of her body.

Frost felt his heart race as he watched the scene unfold. He couldn’t let it happen, but a part of him feared it was already too late.

With a final, desperate move, Squirrel tried to dodge, but Lina was too quick. She sank her teeth into Squirrel’s shoulder, and the young wolf yelped in pain. Blood—fresh and red—stained the snow around them.

“No!” Frost barked, finally lunging forward, his paws sliding across the ice. His claws scraped against the frozen earth as he barreled into Lina, knocking her off balance.

Lina let out a guttural growl, trying to shake him off, but Frost held her down with a strength he didn’t even know he had. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to look into her eyes—black pits of nothing.

“Lina… I’m sorry,” Frost whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. The wolf before him wasn’t the Lina he had known. She was lost, consumed by the disease.

Squirrel scrambled to her feet, shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her shoulder was torn, and the blood was staining the snow around her. But she was still alive.

Frost glanced at her once before looking back at Lina, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. There was no saving her now. Lina was beyond saving.

“You need to run, Squirrel,” Frost growled softly. “Get as far away as you can. I’ll… take care of her.”

Squirrel’s eyes met his, wide and terrified, but she didn’t hesitate. She turned and fled, her paws carrying her far from the chaos.

Frost could only watch as she disappeared into the trees. His heart ached, but he knew this wasn’t over. The Black Blood Disease was spreading. There was no stopping it now.