Caelan POV:
Night patrols tell the truth in ways daylight never does, and I’ve learned to trust what the dark reveals more than what the sun disguises, because after dusk the world strips itself down to what is real — the sounds that belong, the movements that don’t, the silences that carry meaning if you know how to listen for them.
I walk the full perimeter alone, boots silent against packed earth, senses spread wide enough to catch every shift in wind or brush of movement, and the forest answers back with nothing but familiar rhythms. No unfamiliar scent drifts across the boundary, no watching presence lingers just beyond sight, no council observers testing how close they can step before I push back.
Still, I circle twice. Habit is discipline, and discipline keeps a pack alive, and t
