The fourth horn did not stop echoing.
It rolled across the ridges like thunder trapped in the earth, shaking the stone walls, rattling the spears in the hands of weary riders. The silver grass lay flat now, bent low as if cowed beneath the weight of something vast pressing closer with every heartbeat.
Elinora stood on the dais, Spine in her grip, her cloak torn and her skin marked with the dust of the last battle. The cracks beneath her feet glowed faintly even without her touch, as though the valley itself had no patience left for sleep.
Her wolf whispered, cold and certain. It is not the vanguard this time. He comes. The Grave Alpha himself.
The news spread through the camp before words were even spoken.
Every wolf could feel it. The Moonfang riders tightened their shields, their vo
