*Greenwood Border, Dawn*
It should have been a peaceful day with dew shining on the grass, birds calling faintly overhead, but it was different.
Three Greenwood scouts crouched near the tree, their faces pale. Ahead of them, blood trailed the ground until it stopped at the source.
Bodies.
Four wolves lay sprawled in the clearing, throats ripped out, eyes glassy and unseeing. They weren’t rogues.
These were Greenwood’s own… patrol wolves who had set out before sunrise, proud and loyal. Now they were arranged in a neat, cruel pattern.
A circle.
At its center, carved deep into the dirt, was a symbol every wolf knew.
Lines crossed to form the mark of Silver Fang.
One scout, a young warrior named Collin, retched and turned away. He had trained with two of the fallen. His hands shook
