The rain did not stop when the conversation ended.
If anything, it seemed to fall harder.
Cold water hammered against the forest canopy while thunder rolled endlessly through the mountains, turning the darkness beyond the ridge into something wild and restless. The thirty-seven wolves remained where they were, scattered across the elevated ground overlooking the camp's northern boundary. None of them appeared eager to leave. None of them appeared eager to advance either.
They were waiting.
And somehow that unsettled Nyra more than hostility ever could.
For several long moments, nobody spoke.
The storm filled the silence instead.
Rain struck armor, soaked clothing, and ran down faces while uncertainty hung heavily between both groups.
Then movement came from the rear of the stranger
