Sebastian
The snow was painted red.
We arrived just before dawn—me, Soren, and half his Warband, our paws kicking up ice as we ran hard through the forest, the earth vibrating with the pounding of a hundred wolves. When we reached the village on the edge of Bone Valley, the scent hit us first.
Blood. Burnt fur. Scorched wood.
I shifted back into human form, my breath rising in white fumes, eyes scanning the disasters. The kingdom had been torn apart—homes splintered, fences flattened, wolf bodies scattered across the snow like broken dolls. No human structures stood. No signs of weapons. This had been a battle of beasts.
Soren stood beside me, naked to the waist, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His eyes swept the destruction, nostrils flaring.
“Wolves,” he growled. “They
