POV: Lucian
The path grows steeper as Ronan leads Lucian higher into the Direwilds. Snow crunches beneath their boots. The air thins with each step, biting cold against Lucian's lungs.
"Where are we going?" Lucian asks, his breath forming clouds.
Ronan doesn't turn. "To the place where Direwolves learn what strength truly means."
They've been walking since dawn. The den disappeared behind jagged peaks hours ago. Lucian's legs ache, but Ronan's pace never slows. The massive Direwolf moves through the mountains like they're his blood, every stone familiar beneath his scarred hands.
"Father trained here?" Lucian pushes harder to keep up.
"Every Direwolf who survived did." Ronan's voice carries no warmth. "The weak froze. The strong learned."
The trees thin until only bare rock remains.
