Dominic>
The council grounds were at least half a mile north of the Manor, built on a clearing my grandfather had cleared by hand before there was a Manor to speak of at all. It was older than everything else the Blackthorne name touched, and definitely looked like it — a ring of standing stones that had been worn smooth by a century of weather, and a long stone table at its center that had outlived every Alpha who'd ever sat behind it.
The Keeper was waiting for me at the edge of the treeline with his ceremonial horn already resting in the crook of his arm.
"Three tones, Alpha?" he asked, like he'd known.
"Three," I confirmed.
Three tones meant urgent.
It was enough to have every council member drop whatever they were doing and make their way to the grounds quickly enough.
The
