Thane P.O.V.
The land does not lie.
It can be confused. It can be wounded. It can be forced into silence for a time.
But it does not lie.
Which is how I know that whatever pressed against Moonshadow’s borders this morning did not retreat because it was finished.
It withdrew because it was satisfied.
I stand at the northern ridge long after Solas and the others have moved ahead, my boots planted in frost-bitten earth, my senses stretched thin and careful. The world looks unchanged at first glance—pines standing tall, rock unshifted, sky pale and indifferent.
But beneath that surface, the fault lines are humming.
Not loud enough for most wolves to hear. Not yet.
I lower myself to one knee and press my palm flat against the ground.
Cold seeps into my skin. Stone. Soil. Root. The lay
