The news of the Storm-Claw’s threat spread through the Blood Moon Pack house like a wildfire in a dry forest. By noon, the usual sounds of pups playing and warriors laughing had been replaced by the sharp, rhythmic clanging of steel against stone. The armory was open, and every able-bodied wolf was sharpening blades and checking the tension on silver-tipped bows.
Kael stood on the high balcony of the pack house, his hands gripping the stone railing so hard that fine cracks began to spiderweb beneath his palms. He looked out over his territory, his eyes tracking the dark, heavy clouds rolling in from the north. These weren't natural clouds; they were tinged with a sickly, electric blue—the calling card of Alpha Victor’s weather-manipulating magic.
"The pack is restless, Kael," Elara’s v
