The wind carried a bitter chill as I moved along the ridge above our camp, the snow crunching sharply beneath my boots. The moon, a pale crescent, hung low in the sky, casting long, uncertain shadows between the frost covered trees. My breath misted in the cold air, mingling with the faint scent of pine and smoke drifting from the campfires below. Every sense remained alert, every instinct coiled tight like steel. The rogue camp was awake with quiet activity, wolves moving in disciplined lines, scanning the forest, patrolling the perimeter, eyes bright with anticipation.
Tarek walked beside me, his dark silhouette blending with the trees. His expression was unreadable in the dim light, but I could feel the tension radiating off him. Mira followed a few paces behind, silent as always, her
