*Julian*

The fur along my flank is matted with warm, sticky blood, and every step sends a jolt of pain through the gash in my ribs. The Nightborn’s claws cut deep, almost to the bone. I push through the pain anyway. My warriors keep a tight formation around me as we descend the ridge, but none of us speak through the mind-link. The silence isn’t comfortable. Failure and shame accompany us on our long retreat.

I replay the fight in my head on repeat. The white wolf, a flash of her pale fur, blood on the snow, and her body pinned between two of the damnable Nightborn.

My gut lurches...