The night was still, but there was no peace to be found. The air carried the weight of something unseen yet inevitable, pressing down on the pack like a storm gathering on the horizon.
I stood at the edge of the clearing, watching as our people moved about the packhouse. Despite the laughter of a few pups playing in the distance, despite the murmured conversations and the scent of the dying fire from the night’s interrupted celebration, I could feel it.
War was coming.
The thought made my grip tighten around my forearm as I crossed them, my breath slow and measured. We weren’t ready—not truly. We’d been preparing, strengthening our forces, but nothing ever made you ready for war. Nothing ever truly prepared you for bloodshed, for the moment when everything changed.
Movement caught my e
