Alder’s POV:
Once again, the throne room of the Vine clawhold buzzed with immense energy.
A pulse of urgency filled the room as all the elders huddled around and exchanged strategies over a war table.
Alpha Alder stood at the extreme edge of the table with a grim expression on his face, his eyes narrowed as he stared down on the map of the clawhold.
He leaned over the table; his right hand hovered around the east edge of the WhiteVale, the dim candlelight flickered at the center of the table, extending the shadows of the ink. His eyes narrowed into thin slits as he traced the edge of his clawhold.
Behind him, the huge doors of his throne room creaked open, and a servant walked in with three more elders.
Immediately they walked in, they nodded respectfully at their alpha, before
