POV: Malia Moon
The howl is closer this time, close enough that I feel it vibrate through the ground beneath my boots, and every instinct screaming inside me recognizes immediately that this one is not a trick. The sound carries a weight the first one never had, guttural and raw in a way that makes the small hairs on my arms rise instantly.
"That's real," Torin says, already turning toward the sound, body dropping into a low, ready stance, all traces of his earlier stillness gone entirely.
"How can you tell?" Lukan asks, weapon raised, eyes darting toward the tree line, voice tight with barely controlled tension.
"Projections don't disturb the birds." Torin nods toward the canopy above us, where a scattered flock has just exploded skyward from the trees closest to the sound, wings beat
