The Rhythm of Wolves - Part 1
By the time the first pack arrived, the valley already sounded different. The air carried a low hum, not the strange vibration we’d felt in woods, but something more human-or wolf, maybe. Laughter, paws on soul, the creak of wagons. Peace had a rhythm of its own, a slow pulse that wove through the day. Form the balcony I watched them come: hunters from the northern ridges, the red-cloaked river was lives, the dusk-born from beyond the marsh. Banners fluttered, bright against the gold grass. The scent of new lands mixed with ours, and the song of a hundred dialects drifted through the fields. Shadowvale had not seen so many gathered here since before the fracture. Dominic stood beside me, his eyes scanning the growing crowd. “You realize this many wolves in one place could end badly if
- Writer
