Karina moved through the Crimson Claw camp with purpose, her eyes scanning the quarantined area. The infected wolves were still sedated, their once-frantic energy now subdued by the temporary tranquilizers from the Silver Moon. However, the atmosphere was heavy with unease. The Crimson Claw wolves resented her presence, but she didn’t care. She had a mission—to help, whether they liked it or not.
The morning had been quiet, save for the sounds of wolves patrolling the borders, but as Karina neared the center of the camp, she felt the sharp sting of eyes on her back. Whispers followed her every step, punctuated by low growls of disapproval. She could feel their hatred, the silent judgment.
And then, it happened.
Karina rounded a corner, heading toward the makeshift medical tent where Der
