The battlefields of North Carolina stretch for miles along the eastern border.
The land is torn and scarred—craters from explosions, trenches dug into the earth, patches of forest burned to blackened stumps.
The sky hangs low and gray, heavy with smoke and the promise of rain.
For six months, the Blue Moon Pack's forces have been fighting here.
Not against rogues, but against rival packs, against something older and more desperate: the northern raiders.
The northern raiders are not just wolves. They were also humans—hunters, outcasts, mercenaries—who have banded together under a single banner.
They sweep down from the mountains each winter, raiding villages, stealing supplies, killing anyone who resists.
The southern packs allied months ago to push them back.
Tonight, the battl
