The morning after the battle dawned gray and solemn, as if the sky itself mourned with the pack.
The entire Silverpine Pack gathered in the sacred grove at first light.
A simple pyre had been built for the young wolf who had fallen defending the ridge. His body, wrapped in white ceremonial cloth, lay atop it with his favorite knife and a sprig of pine placed on his chest.
Elena stood beside Luke at the front of the gathering, dressed in a simple black dress that covered the fresh bandage on her side.
The claiming mark on her neck was clearly visible, a silver reminder of their completed bond. Through the mate link she felt Luke’s grief, his quiet rage at the loss, and the heavy weight of leadership pressing on his shoulders.
Harlan, the eldest, stepped forward. His voice was rough w
