The wind shifts differently near claimed land.
You can feel it before you see it.
It’s subtle. A tightening in the air. A faint trace of dominance pressed into the soil. The forest changes texture when an Alpha marks it.
I crouch behind a line of low cedar brush, eyes narrowed toward the distant ridge where new scent markers have been carved into tree bark.
Nightfang.
They’ve expanded.
Not deep into neutral ground, but close enough to test boundaries. Close enough to send a message.
This isn’t their core territory. The mansion and main compound are miles west beyond thick forest and elevation cliffs. I made sure of that before coming anywhere near this side of the region.
I’m not reckless.
Beside me, Soren remains still, his presence steady but silent.
“We shouldn’t linger long,”
