Korren stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the frozen ravine, hands clasped behind his back, breath steady despite the storm rolling in from the west.
Snow would fall by nightfall.
Good.
Storms made wolves careless. Emotional. Easier to steer.
Behind him, one of his scouts shifted nervously, boots crunching against the frost-hardened stone.
“She survived,” the scout said again, as if repetition might change the answer.
Korren didn’t turn. “I’m aware.”
“Wolfsbane should have—”
“—killed her,” Korren finished calmly. “Yes. I know.”
Silence stretched.
Korren’s jaw tightened, irritation flickering beneath his carefully controlled exterior. He replayed the variables in his mind with ruthless precision.
Dosage: sufficient.
Delivery: successful.
Time to effect: correct.
Outcom
