A sharp silence.
Then-
“What? What are you talking about?”
My father’s voice trembled, barely coherent.
“What happened to my daughter?”
For the first time, real panic flooded their eyes.
“Has… has Jenifer really died?” my mother whispered, her voice cracking, almost inaudible.
“Was she really suffering from silver dust corrosion? Did we… did we truly misunderstand her?”
Without another word, my father shifted into his wolf and bolted, my mother following right behind, both racing toward the graveyard.
“You’re late,” the gravekeeper said solemnly as they arrived, out of breath.
“Your daughter died hours ago. She had chosen a grave for herself, but she couldn’t afford it–she had no silver coins.”
“You’re lying!” my father bellowed, fury overtaking grief.
“You’re just saying this to help her fool us again!”
Blinded by rage, he grabbed the gravekeeper by the collar and tore it apart.
“This is all we found in her pocket,” the keeper said quietly, handing them a single photograph.
It was a picture of their whole family.
“My baby! My daughter!”
My mother collapsed with a scream, pounding her chest with clenched fists as if to tear her own heart out.
She fell to her knees, claws digging helplessly into the dirt.
“Why… why did it come to this?” she wailed.
“She never even told us she had silver dust corrosion…”
My father stood in a daze, his hands bleeding from his unsheathed claws.
Then, as if madness had overtaken him, he threw himself against the stone wall.
Just then, a new voice cut through the wind.
“Well, look who suddenly cares.‘
They turned to see the werewolf councilor–the only one who had once believed Jenifer.
Her eyes burned with contempt as she sneered at them.
