Lucien walked through the haze of the smoke like a storm given form. His strides were fast, but measured, his eyes were narrowed but clear. His fury, on the other hand, was too large to contain.
It didn’t show on his face, but it showed in his posture, in his aura, in the very way his presence imprinted himself on the world. The wind seemed to billow out of him and the air shimmered whenever he passed through a place.
The battlefield around him reeked of blood, filth and smoke, it reeked of both victory and loss. But to Lucien, none of it mattered, not the celebrations, not the screams – not when his eyes were fixed on one wolf.
Alder.
The sight of his brother smiling and laughing seemed to have softened the anger within him. For the span of a single heartbeat, his rage seemed to h
