The news of the Rite of Blood Judgment spread through Silverfang territory before dawn. Every patrol carried the same message from one end of the forest to the other. In three nights the pack would gather under the full moon, and Mira would stand before them to answer for the blood that had been spilled.
Some wolves spoke about justice, others spoke about revenge, but no one spoke about forgiveness.
Mira stood at the edge of the northern ridge when the sun began to rise. The territory stretched beneath her in long fields and dark forests that she had begun to recognize as familiar ground. Silverfang land had once felt like hostile territory, but now she could name the farms, the streams, and the paths used by patrols.
It had begun to feel like a place where she belonged.
That feeling h
