Chapter Thirty-Seven
The morning air was sharp and dry, carrying the faint scent of burned earth from the previous day’s battles. The valley had been silent for hours, but the tension was palpable, almost alive. Wolves padded carefully along ridges, noses low to the ground, ears twitching at the slightest shift in wind or sound. The bond connected them all, human and wolf alike, but it had begun to strain under the weight of subtle corruption.
Cain’s black eyes burned across the courtyard. His pack was gathered behind him, ready, alert, each wolf reflecting his tension and fury. His jaw was tight, every muscle coiled, ready to strike. He shifted partially into wolf form, claws scraping the stone, scent and instinct already preparing for potential conflict.
Lyra stood to his side, shifti
