Eighty Six

 "I killed him." And he'd always hate himself for it. "I didn't mean to. I really, really didn't. But he wouldn't submit, wouldn't back down. He was enjoying the fight, the blood, even the pain—it was weird. He was totally messed up in the head. It went too far."

 Sansa 's voice was soft, nonjudgmental. "If he wouldn't submit, what choice did you have?"

 "It's still more blood on my hands, Sansa . Like I said, he was messed up…but did he really deserve to die for that? He was only fifteen years old."

 "And you were only thirteen, and you were in a life-or-death situation. You chose your own life over his. Anyone else would have done the same thing." To her dismay, he didn't look convinced of that; too much guilt stained his expression. "It can't have been easy to tell me all of that. Thank you." He simply shrugged. "How did you end up becoming Alpha of the Dawn Pack?"