CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
The forest breathes around me, a living entity woven from shadows and whispers. We move as one, Magnolia and I, our paws silent upon the bed of fallen leaves, our ears tuned to the nocturnal symphony. As the Gamma of the Silver Paws pack, every nerve ending is alert, every sense sharpened to detect any threat within our territory. The moon above us is a sliver of silver, a thin beacon in an ocean of darkness.
"Something's off tonight," Magnolia murmurs, her voice barely above the rustle of the underbrush. She's right; the air is charged, tense with an energy that sets my fur on edge. I nod, trusting her instincts as much as my own.
We crest a small rise, the terrain opening up before us, and that's when we see him—Tristan, his light brown hair catching the moonlight,
