RIPPLES BEYOND THE RIDGE
The first hint came with the wind.
It was subtle, barely a whisper through the valley, carrying a scent unfamiliar to Nightfall. Not smoke, not rot, not the sharp tang of approaching storms. It was the scent of movement—calculated, measured, confident. A wave of change brushing over the edges of the pack’s territory, carried through the low trees and over the stone outcrops, brushing against Elara’s senses like a caress she couldn’t ignore.
She stood on the northern ridge again, arms resting lightly against the stone railing, eyes tracing the undulating forest below. Dawn had long passed; the sun now hung high, but it did nothing to warm the uneasy feeling threading through her chest. She could feel the pulse beneath the valley still, faint but steady—the seam w
