The moon reached its height. The pack’s pace shifted again. What had been release and then rehearsal became patrol. Ravyn and Grayson split the front. Two lines moved in opposite directions along the inside of the veil so eyes passed every stretch of stone and every person who guarded it.
Ravyn’s wolf mind kept a count without numbers. Seven witches at the south line. Five at the west. Eight at the north because the ground was uneven and the veil there took more hand. She would not remember those counts as a woman. As a wolf she would, and that would be enough.
At the turn near the creek, she picked up a scent that was not the pack, not the witches, not the human allies. She skidded to a stop and checked the line for a leak. The ward hummed steady under her nose. The scent did not come f
