The world’s axis, permanent in its alignment, had been tilted—to better cater to man.

An axe sliced through the air, aiming straight for the rapid rise and fall of the rabbit’s neck. It struggled helplessly against the grip pinning it to a tree stump with little effort. The crimson elixir staining the wood beneath the restless creature was a tacit indicator: this hare was not the first, and certainly would not be the last.

Man stood atop the food chain—a fact known to all. Even to the apex predators they hunted with large shotguns and smug grins to show for it.

But women… Their fate was sealed the moment the genitals between their legs were defined as female. A rank more harrowing than that of cattle. Their title as human revoked, and instead, listed as state property.

She was expected to surrender not only her labor, but her voice—to let her silence serve as proof of her obedience. Despite the feral urge to protest against the trap society had placed since their very first cry:

Marriage.

Sold to little girls beneath the guise of a dream—to hide the truth that they would sleep beside their predator each night. An option only offered to other mammals, lest they be labeled worn or unwanted by the men circling them like vultures to rotting carrion.

The axe struck true.

A head, frozen in a state of agony, tumbled from the stump’s hard surface and landed in the snow. White and soft as plush pillows, snowfall blanketed the land in an endless terrain of silence.

And then—a voice, sharp as it cut through the buzz in your ears. You blinked, tearing your gaze from the scene you had involuntarily dissociated to. The man and the rabbit forgotten now that your attention had shifted—to him. The man you were arranged to wed in due time.

He was painted in gray. The smile he bore did not hold the promise of sunshine. No, the stretch of his lips… it was a condescending, arrogant thing. Already piling snow upon your spirit until it bent just enough to fit the shape he preferred: compliant, delicate, and quiet.

“You were asked a question, girl.” He said the word as though it were an apology you owed for being born.

You blinked again, confusion softening your features. Not once had he spoken to you since your arrival, your existence acknowledged only by silence. And then you noticed—your mother had stepped away, leaving you to the wolf in silk.

“What is your name?” he repeated, irritation rippling through his mask of civility.