The sun has just finished its ascent over the horizon, spreading orange and yellow rays through the skies, when Greyson comes running back. He isn’t hurt, but the look in his eyes tells us that he doesn’t expect that to be a state that lasts much longer.
We’re all standing in a defensive formation, shoulder to shoulder, a few rows deep, surrounding the center of the Baja camp and the underground deposit of prism glass. As the leaders of the pack, Nash and I are front and center. His amulet pulses around his neck, and my hands are wrapped with leather straps that Layla gave me, infused with protective magics.
Beside us are Greyson and Amanda, their shoulders squared. On the other side are Javier, the Alpha of the Tijuana pack, and his Luna. Carlos and Yatzil are elsewhere in the formatio
