The moon hung heavy and white above the pines, its light cutting thin silver lines across the snow-thawed earth. The forest was awake — whispering, restless, uneasy.
Bane crouched low in the underbrush, eyes glowing faintly gold as his wolf pressed close to the surface. Behind him, two scouts shifted restlessly, their breaths forming clouds in the frigid air.
“They’re close,” one of them murmured, voice low. “Too close.”
Bane lifted a hand to silence him, nostrils flaring. The wind carried a scent sharp and sour — unwashed fur, blood, and rot. Rogues.
He sent out a mind link to the others with him. “North ridge confirmed,” he whispered. “Five at least. They’re moving along the border but haven’t crossed.”
Dustin’s voice crackled softly through the channel. “Hold position. Crystal and
