The air was still, thick with an energy I couldn’t name. The rogue pack’s compound had grown quieter after the trial, the wolves moving through the shadows with a sense of purpose that made me feel like an intruder in their world. The clearing where I had faced the second trial seemed to hold a new weight, as if the stone circle had left a permanent mark on the land, one that would never fade.
I stood at the edge of the compound, watching the wolves go about their tasks, their movements precise, calculated. The rogue pack was not like Nightfang. There were no displays of power here, no posturing. The wolves were quiet, their strength unspoken but evident in the way they moved, the way they held themselves. It was a stark contrast to the pack I had known full of pride, full of politics. He
