Caelan P.O.V.
If there was one thing Moonshadow was good at, it was pretending everything was fine while the world quietly tried to chew through the edges.
We’d barely made it back from the training yard when Solas called the council.
We’d barely left the council when a scout staggered in bleeding wrongness onto the stone floor.
And we’d barely gotten two full breaths after that before the entire pack house shifted into that particular kind of controlled panic that only happens when leadership stays calm, and everyone else can smell fear anyway.
It wasn’t loud panic. Moonshadow didn’t do loud.
It was the way voices lowered instead of rising. The way patrols doubled without announcement. The way people suddenly found reasons to stand in doorways and watch the paths.
I’d seen it befor
