The next morning, Luna awoke to a sense of unease that had settled deep in her bones. The room was quiet, the sunlight just beginning to filter through the curtains, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was as if the very air in the Silverclaw Packhouse had grown heavier overnight, thick with tension and unspoken words. The silence felt almost oppressive, and Luna’s instincts told her that the day ahead would bring no relief.
Luna dressed quickly, pulling on the simple clothes she had been given, nothing like the rough, worn garments she had worn in the Moonshadow Pack. The fabric was soft against her skin, a stark contrast to the coarse, threadbare clothes of her past. She glanced at herself in the small mirror on the wall, noting the shadows under her eyes and
