Chapter 35 - The Price Of Ineptitude
My team gathered under the twilight of the trees, at least twenty miles outside the scent marker borders of White Tree pack. Melted snow clung to the shadows cast by branches overhead, mixing with the mud and debris of the forest floor. The Winter Solstice had come and gone; I had been so preoccupied with preparing for this coming battle that I hadn’t realised it was the Solstice when we set out. It was only as we drove that I registered the time of year. Another reason for me to feel guilty. Instead of being at home, exchanging gifts under their evergreen and yew boughs, the wolves following me were heading to a fight rather than a feast with their families. One of the most important werewolf holidays, and I was depriving them of it; some may never see another after tonight. The howls
- Writer
