Viana's POV
The first complaint of the morning came before I even finished my tea.
By the time I reached the council hall, the sun had only just begun to rise over Bloodmoon.
Morning light stretched across the village in slow gold, touching rooftops, training grounds, and the thin smoke rising from the windows of houses. Wolves were already wake, some beginning patrol, others carrying buckets, others pretending they had not been awake arguing since dawn.
After days of sickness and restless nights, the village is gradually getting its color back. Healers were not running themselves into the ground. Children had returned to making too much noise. Hunters were complaining about the weather instead of poisoned wolves.
I preferred complaints. It meant survival.
I stepped into the council
