Michelle
The first lantern glowed faint through the trees like a star had fallen to earth. Then another. And another. By the time the treeline broke, the whole horizon shimmered with gold.
White Moon.
The name had always carried weight. I’d heard it in hushed tones—sometimes envy, sometimes fear—but I had never thought I would stand at its border. Now it sprawled before me, alive and sprawling, a pack unlike any I had ever seen.
Cabins stood in wide arcs around the clearing, logs dark with frost, their windows painted with warm light. Smoke curled from stone chimneys, filling the air with cedar, pine, and roasting meat. Paths between houses were worn smooth, packed by countless paws. Lanterns hung high on poles, their flames trembling in the wind but never going out.
Wolves moved ever
