The newly-minted Lunar Fang Pack was officially a thing. The announcement had been made. The howls had echoed across the valley. Even the pack pups had made glittery “LF” banners that now flapped unevenly from tree branches.
But if anyone thought picking the name had solved the bigger problems, they were in for a rude, hilarious awakening.
Hunter stared in horror at the giant ceremonial stone altar that the Silver Moon Elders had insisted be installed at the center of the training yard.
Celeste stood beside him, arms crossed, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “It’s tradition,” she said.
“It’s a boulder,” he countered. “You can’t just drop a sacred rock in the middle of a sparring field. Someone’s going to dislocate a hip.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I am six-foot-four and built
