Chapter Seventeen
The Northbound Trail
The field ward came down at noon.
It did not collapse.
It withdrew.
The silver frost marking the temporary boundary melted from the trees in thin, shining threads. Gideon removed the blood-sealed ribbons one by one while Torin packed the council stones and written testimony into a locked steel case.
Nothing was left behind that Victor could alter.
No discarded evidence.
No abandoned records.
No Blackwood dead.
Only tracks showing where Crimson Fang had crossed neutral territory armed with silver—and where its soldiers had sought sanctuary from the corrupted wolves sent behind them.
Willow watched from the lodge porch.
Seren had wrapped her in blankets and settled her onto a narrow traveling litter designed to be carried between two horses.
