The silence that followed Matthew's defeat was heavy. Snow drifted down in slow, spiraling flakes, settling over claw marks and shattered weapons, over bodies that would soon be claimed by the cold. The land itself seemed to exhale, tension bleeding out of the valley like a long-held breath finally released.
The surviving wolves fled until their lungs burned and fear drove them beyond thought. None dared look back.
Eric was the first to move, stepping to my side, his hand finding my lower back with quiet certainty. Aurelian followed, eyes sweeping the ridges one last time before he turned that sharp focus on me, checking for wounds I hadn’t yet felt. Broderick came last, steady and silent, his presence at my back a wall against the world. Ethan pressed in close, forehead resting briefly
