A girl with a neon green horn trudged through the ice. She needed to be alone.
She was angry and sad. Why had her brother needed to be killed? That scarred vampire bitch from Tarben had ended his life, but even though she’d been killed by Hawthorne’s alpha, Willow still thirsted for revenge. She heard Weiss’ last cry in her head: Willow! His snow white body, his soft blue eyes, cute and forgiving. The way he held his head. Weiss was never ready for war. Estelle had predicted it. You’ll die within an hour. You and him both.
Why had they had to land in Dawnshire, instead of Sabertooth? Why? Why.
She hadn’t been able to help Weiss, because as she’d heard his scream, she’d been facing the alphess of Sindri herself. Athena had knocked her out, left Willow’s brother to die while thinking that his sister had never loved him. That she abandoned him to his fate, death by a bloodsucking vampire BITCH. Willow wasn’t a warlike or particularly vengeance-driven creature, but she swore revenge on the alphess of Sindri if she ever came across Athena. The woman would die by Willow’s horn. She personally swore this.
Willow ducked beneath a stalagmite. Oh, screw them. Tarben could die. Sink into the sea. It was them that had caused this war, after all. Weiss and Tybalt were dead because of them. And so were many countless wolves from Amberbjorne and Hawthorne. Sabertooth had even suffered a death.
All at once, Willow’s horn blinked. Then a pink tie connected her body to the body of an unknown wolf.
Willow caught her breath. She couldn’t see the end. But he must be out there. The wolf whom she was tied to. . . .
This was a soulmate tie, and it was happening to her.

“Yeah I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go!”