(Steel’s POV)
Tonight had no quiet and no peace.
Steel stood at the edge of the camp, arms folded, eyes sharp on his shifters. Smoke still rose from the scorched ground.
Angel and Ojore were back, both dust-smeared and wide awake, Angel's jaw tense and Ojore's eyes darting. Fenris was beside them, lips pressed into a thin line beneath that grim elven calm, and Carlos brought up the rear, pale but steady, his hands clenched tight at his sides.
“Good,” Steel said. “You made it.”
Angel nodded. “The beasts are gone.”
“Gone for now,” Fenris muttered, wiping his blade clean. “But not gone for good. Ragnar’s shadow doesn’t fade; it sleeps.”
Ojore stretched, rolling his shoulders. “So we can’t celebrate yet?”
Steel shook his head. “Not tonight.”
The camp below was restless. Wolves, bears,
