The first sign that the pack’s temperature had changed came the next morning in the dining hall.
I entered later than usual, after a short training session in the east yard. The room did not go silent, but the conversations nearest the door adjusted in volume and direction the moment I appeared. A few younger wolves nodded cautiously. Others looked through me. Near the far table, a group of older fighters watched with the flat assessment of people who had already decided the cost-benefit math was no longer in my favor.
I took my food and sat at an empty end of a side table. No one joined me. That was expected. What I did not expect was the low comment that carried just far enough from a nearby group.
“Two days after the statement and we bury a runner. Convenient timing.”
I kept my eyes
