Sora's POVWe cross into Blackwood land a little after noon.
I know the second we're over the line. Not from a sign. From the smell. Every pack's territory has its own scent, and this one's been in my nose for seven years. Pine and cold stone and something underneath it I could never name when I lived here. Now I can. It smells like the place I was smallest.
Oliver's asleep against me. Bobby's driving. Riven's in the back, quiet for once, watching me instead of the road.
"You've gone pale," he says.
"I'm fine."
"You're not. But okay."
I don't argue it. He's right, and we both know he's right, and I'm too busy looking out the window at a place I watched burn three months ago.
Blackwood's changed.
I feel it before I can point at why. The pack always carried itself a certain way. Rich,
