The familiar stone markers that marked White Wolf territory finally appeared through the rain several minutes later. They stood like quiet sentries beneath towering pines that stretched toward dark skies above.
Most humans would have driven past them without a second thought. To them, they were old landmarks left behind decades ago. Weathered stone pillars tucked far enough back from the road that few people ever paid attention to them.
To us, they meant home. Protection. Territory. Mine.
The tension sitting low beneath my ribs loosened slightly despite myself as I guided the BMW down the narrow road that split away from the main highway. Gravel crackled beneath the tires as forest swallowed us completely now, thick pine and oak standing shoulder-to-shoulder around the territory entran
