"Form up." Doran's voice cut low and sharp through the dark. "Backs together. Elena, center."
I didn't argue. Eight warriors closed ranks around me, blades drawn, eyes scanning the black tree line where the growl had come from. Rhys pressed close at my shoulder, every line of him coiled tight.
"One wolf," he said quietly. "Maybe two. Moving, not charging yet."
"Waiting for an opening," Doran said. "Whoever it is knows we outnumber them."
A twig snapped somewhere to the left. Every blade in the circle swung toward the sound.
"Show yourself," Doran called out, voice carrying command that didn't shake despite the tension in his shoulders. "You're outnumbered eight to one. This doesn't need to end badly."
Silence answered him. Then, from the shadows past the drag marks, a low, ragged voi
