The morning sun had barely crested over the ancient trees, casting long, ethereal rays across the pack’s sprawling training fields. A light breeze, still carrying the lingering chill of dawn, fluttered Lyra’s dark hair, but her eyes were sharp, focused, missing nothing.
Wolves lined up in precise rows, their powerful bodies tense, vibrating with the residual energy from days of increased rogue patrols along the territorial borders. Lyra had already spent the early hours of the morning attending to two wounded scouts, binding deep gashes with steady, gentle hands and offering quiet words of praise for their bravery.
Now, she stood confidently at the front of the sparring ring, flanked by two senior warriors whose expressions conveyed respect and unwavering loyalty. Her presence, once hes
