Night had settled fully over Silverpine by the time dinner ended, a thick blanket of darkness pressing against the tall windows of the pack house. Torchlight flickered along the stone walls of the great dining hall, casting long, restless shadows over rows of heavy wooden tables.
For the first time all day, the air wasn’t filled with alarms or orders. It was filled with voices.
Warriors crowded the benches—Ironblood and Silverpine intermingled now, armor discarded, weapons stacked nearby out of habit more than need. Plates scraped. Cups clinked. Laughter flared briefly in pockets before dying down again, as if no one quite trusted it to last.
Everyone was talking.
“They hit three patrol lines and didn’t leave a trail.” One Silverpine warrior muttered, shaking his head.
“That’s not pos
