There was an utter silence in the Silver Moon as the moon casted an ethereal glow on the area, save for the sound of heavy, rushed footsteps approaching the gates. The air was cold, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows on the forest floor. A warrior, battered and bleeding, collapsed at the entrance of the pack, barely able to stand. His face was pale, his left arm gone, blood dripping from the gaping wound where it had been severed.
“Help! Get Karina!” one of the guards yelled, immediately rushing to assist the injured wolf.
Karina, who had been resting after the day’s long work, quickly arrived at the scene. She gasped as she saw the warrior—one of the scouts Caius had sent to warn the neighboring packs. He looked like he had been through hell, his body covered in deep
