The scent of blood hadn’t yet tainted the air, but war had already arrived.
The wolves of Silverclaw stood at the treeline like specters, their forms barely visible beneath the cloak of darkness. I didn’t have to see them clearly to know what they were—invaders, challengers, enemies.
Kane stood beside me now, his posture rigid, his breathing slow and controlled. His golden eyes burned with an intensity I recognized all too well—he was measuring, calculating, already planning the battle that would soon erupt.
Behind us, our warriors were readying themselves. Murmurs passed between them—quiet words of preparation, final reassurances exchanged between packmates. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the anticipation of bloodshed.
Then, the first move was made.
A single wolf stepped
