While Finnegan was a silver blur crossing the peaks in a desperate race to reach his family, a different kind of grueling battle was unfolding in the long shadows of the mountain passes. Jax and Damon weren’t just leading a retreat; they were orchestrating a desperate humanitarian rescue through a frozen wasteland that seemed determined to swallow the weak.
The Whisper-Wind pack had been "whisked away" with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the terror in their hearts. As the second night fell on their forced march, the brutal reality of their situation settled over the camp like a shroud.
Jax stood by the flickering, low-heat embers of a small fire—kept small to avoid detection by Council scouts—looking down at a pathetic pile of supplies spread across a stained saddle bla
