Knox
The first time I tasted real fear was the night of my first hunt.
I was fifteen, my body caught between boyhood and the wolf my blood demanded I become. The moon was full and ruthless that night, spilling its cold glow across the trees like silver fire. My father, Reikard, and my uncle Tommy had both dragged me out despite the tremor in my bones, their eyes gleaming with pride and expectation. There was no refusing. Not if I wanted to be a man in the eyes of my pack.
We were after a bear. Not just any bear—a rogue grizzly that had strayed too far into our territory. Normally, we left them alone. They were kings of their own dominion, too powerful even for a pack to toy with without reason. But when one broke the unspoken rules, when one came too close, it became our duty to remind
