Peace had settled in.
Not the fragile kind that shattered at the first raised voice, but the working kind — the kind that grew roots through shared effort, long days, and the quiet trust earned after surviving something hard together.
And that was exactly why the test came now.
Not as an attack.
As a decision.
It started with a messenger.
One of the southern patrol wolves returned at dusk, mud on his boots and urgency in his stride.
“Alpha,” he said, bowing. “A hunting group from the eastern ridge has crossed near our shared border. They’re not hiding it.”
Rowan and Alden exchanged a look immediately.
The eastern ridge pack had never been openly hostile — but they had always believed territory was strength, and strength was measured in how much you held, not how much you shared.
