"You know, the whole truce thing still bugs me," Andrew muttered as they continued their drive back toward pack lands. The city lights faded into the distance, replaced by the open road and the sprawling horizon. Chris, his Beta-in-training, was lounging in the passenger seat, munching on an apple like the story Andrew was about to retell was some bedtime favorite.
"What, the boundary line? It’s been, what, five centuries? Let it go, man." Chris grinned, taking another bite of his apple, the crunch breaking the rhythm of the car engine.
"It’s not that simple." Andrew’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his golden hair catching the soft light filtering through the windshield. "It’s not just about a line. It’s about everything. The wheat fields, the bloodshed, the split packs. It’s
