19 Drafted to the Dirt
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19 Drafted to the Dirt
Nyra’s POV
When my mother returned, her arms were full, herbs, dried meat, potatoes. Her face was set in a hard line, like she’d built armour out of anger.
“We’re going,” she said simply.
She didn’t ask if I was ready.
Readiness didn’t matter.
We walked together to the assembly grounds.
The closer we got to the pack centre, the thicker the air became with presence, wolves, power, judgement. The smell of smoke and sweat and dominance layered over everything.
When we stepped into the open ground, the murmurs started immediately.
Heads turned.
Eyes landed on us like stones.
“Outcasts.”
“Why are they here?”
“Is that the wolfless one?”
I felt it in my bones, the way the pack’s attention sharpened when it had something to hate.
My mother lifted her chin.
Elaine walked like she owned the ground beneath her feet, like she was daring the pack to remember what she truly was.
And the pack… the pack shifted back.
Not much.
But enough.
They glared from a distance.
They whispered instead of shouting.
They didn’t step close enough to touch.
Fear.
They hated us, but they feared her.
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And in the ugly way my heart worked, I felt a flicker of pride.
Not because it was right.
Because it was protection.
For a moment, I imagined what it would feel like to have that kind of untouchable power.
To walk through the market and have people move aside, not because I was unpleasant, but because
they respected me.
To never be called freak again.
To never be shoved into lockers or laughed at.
I swallowed the bitter thought.
I would never have that.
The wolves gathered in rows, organised, their ranks visible in posture alone. Warriors stood to one side, their bodies confident, their eyes hungry for purpose. Healers and teachers clustered together near the front. Administrative workers held clipboards and parchment.
The Alpha’s platform rose above the crowd.
And then Alpha Ethan Whitewolf stepped onto it.
The murmurs died instantly.
His presence wasn’t just physical, it was a force. Even without shifting, even without a growl, the pack bowed to him in the way they stood straighter, breathed quieter, listened harder.
His gaze swept across the crowd.
When his eyes landed on me, my stomach dropped.
It wasn’t just disapproval.
It was calculation.
“Tonight,” Ethan began, voice carrying easily, “we draft our wolves to service.”
A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd.
He continued, listing positions with the ease of a man who believed he owned every life in this territory.
“Warriors will be drafted by rank,” he said. “Greek designations starting from Zeta. Administrative positions will be assigned. Education. Security. Hospital services. Packhouse duties. Patrol lines.”
Names were called.
Wolves stepped forward.
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A woman was assigned to the hospital. A young man to the school. Two wolves to administrative work, parchment in hand, looking relieved.
I stood stiffly beside my mother, listening, hoping, foolishly, that I might be assigned somewhere invisible.
Admin.
Office work.
Something that didn’t require strength I didn’t have.
Something that didn’t put me in the centre of wolves who hated me.
Names kept falling from Ethan’s mouth like stones dropped into water.
Each one sent a ripple through the crowd.
Each one changed someone’s future.
My name didn’t come.
For a second, hope flickered.
Maybe it had been a mistake.
Maybe the summons wasn’t for me.
Maybe,
“Nyra Moonchild,” Alpha Ethan said.
The entire ground went still.
It felt like the world turned to look at me.
My mouth went dry.
I stepped forward because my legs knew pack law even when my heart didn’t.
My mother’s hand brushed my wrist, steadying me without words.
Alpha Ethan’s gaze stayed fixed on me.
“Packhouse service,” he said. “Maid.”
The word hit me like a slap.
Maid.
Not administrative.
Not clerical.
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Not something safe.
A servant.
In the packhouse.
Where every powerful wolf lived and watched and judged.
My mother surged forward so fast I felt the air shift.
“No,” Elaine said, voice like steel.
A hush fell over the crowd. Even the warriors looked startled. Challenging the Alpha publicly was not something anyone did lightly.
“My daughter is not required to work for this pack,” my mother said, each word clipped. “That was the agreement. She attended the academy under your charity. It ended. She is not your servant.”
Alpha Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“Rules change,” he said coldly.
My mother’s hands clenched at her sides. “This is personal.”
Ethan’s mouth curled slightly. “You think too highly of yourself, Elaine.”
My mother’s spine went rigid.
Ethan’s voice carried across the grounds like a verdict. “We are short of hands. We need workers. And your daughter”, his gaze flicked to me, “is the best fit.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd.
I felt heat crawl up my neck.
Best fit.
Because I had no wolf.
Because I had no rank.
Because I was easy to use.
My mother stepped closer, eyes blazing. “Stop taking out your anger on her.”
Ethan laughed once, humourless. “Anger?” he echoed. “You should be grateful you have a pack to stay
in.”
The words made my stomach twist.
Ethan’s gaze sharpened. “You should be grateful you were allowed to exist here for as long as you have.”
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My mother’s lips parted, but he didn’t let her speak.
“It is either this,” he said, voice hardening, “or you and your daughter are cast out to the Outlands.”
A collective inhale moved through the crowd.
Outlands.
Even wolves feared the Outlands.
For an outcast wolfless girl?
It was a death sentence.
Ethan turned his head slightly, eyes locking on my mother.
“I know you can hold your own out there,” he said softly, cruelly. “But tell me, Elaine…”
He paused.
The pause was deliberate.
A blade drawn slowly.
“Can your daughter?”
My mother’s face went pale.
Her jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump.
She couldn’t answer.
Because the truth was a shame too heavy to deny.
I couldn’t.
I would die.
Ethan gestured sharply. “The draft stands.”
A clerk stepped forward and held out the paper.
My maid draft.
My throat tightened as I took it.
The parchment felt heavier than it should have.
Like chains.
Like a collar.
The crowd murmured again, satisfied, entertained.
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19 Drafted to the Dirt
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I heard someone laugh softly.
I saw someone’s smirk.
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking.
And then something inside me snapped, not loudly, not dramatically, but quietly, like a thread that had been pulled too tight for too long.
I lifted my head.
My voice came out hoarse, but it carried.
“How long?” I asked.
The murmurs died.
Even my mother turned sharply, eyes wide.
Alpha Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “What?”
“How long,” I repeated, forcing the words out even as my heart hammered, “am I going to work as a
servant?”
The entire assembly ground held its breath.
Because the wolfless outcast girl had just spoken to the Alpha like she mattered.
And I could feel it, every eye on me, waiting to see if I would be crushed for it.
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