Diana did not fight like a wolf who feared death.
She fought like a storm that refused to be contained.
The northern border of the Black Howler Pack had become a battlefield of chaos—earth torn apart, trees splintered, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
And at the center of it—
Diana moved like something both beautiful and terrifying.
She did not stay in one form.
She refused to.
One moment—
Artemis.
Artemis lunged forward, silver fur streaking through the darkness, jaws snapping, claws tearing through flesh with brutal precision. Rogues scattered, struggling to track her speed, to anticipate her strikes.
They tried to defend—
Tried to surround—
But Artemis did not fight like a predictable beast.
She was calculated.
Deadly.
Then—
She was gone.
A flash of light—
