Dorian’s POV
The valley was empty.
We had gathered at dawn, warriors spread across the ridge, waiting for the Hollow's attack. But the Hollow didn't come. The sun rose higher. The shadows shortened. And still, nothing.
"He's not coming," Finn said, his voice flat.
"He's waiting," Mira replied. "Testing our patience."
"Or he's planning something else."
Dorian stood at the edge of the ridge, scanning the treeline. His wolf was restless beneath his skin, pacing, growling.
“Something's wrong”, his wolf said.
“I know, I feel it.”
“We should retreat. Regroup.”
“Not yet.”
But as the hours passed, even his patience began to fray.
---
By midday, the war council was convened in the lodge.
"The Hollow is toying with us," Valda said. "He wants us tired. Anxious. Making mistakes."
"Then
