The attack came two days after her howl echoed across the territories.
A hunting party from the eastern reaches, twenty wolves bearing the Council's seal. They'd tracked her position and struck at dawn, thinking to catch her forces unprepared.
They'd been wrong.
Now Reign walked through the aftermath, snow stained red beneath her boots. Bodies lay scattered across the frozen ground, steam still rising from wounds that hadn't finished bleeding.
Her wolves worked in efficient silence. They stripped armor from corpses, gathered weapons, pulled anything useful from the dead. Every piece of steel, every scrap of leather would serve them now.
Nothing was wasted in the wasteland.
A survivor crawled across the snow, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His leg was ruined, frost burns spreadi
