They came to the hall in a rough, uneven tide.
Old wolves with stiff backs and sharp eyes. Young adults with jaws set, arms folded. Mothers with babies on their hips. Teenagers hovering at the edges, pretending they didn’t care and watching everything.
The hum of pack filled the den, a low, thrumming chord that set my resonance on edge.
Three years ago, I’d stood alone in their circle and bled humiliation into the snow.
Tonight, I stood at Corren’s right shoulder.
He was still pale, the bandage under his shirt pulling tight when he moved, but his posture was iron. Maera flanked his other side, face carved into something harder than stone. Jarek waited a few paces behind, throat bare, hands empty.
Bryn sat on the hearth, eyes half-lidded, watching like he was at a play he knew would t
