Marcus's Point of view

The moments preceding the attack were unnaturally quiet in the packhouse. We were reminded of the innumerable fights we had previously fought by the lingering smell of moist ground and smoke from the training fires. However, something was different this time.

It was palpable in my bones.

Perched on the balcony above the courtyard, I gazed upon my warriors—men and women who had suffered loss, treachery, and conflict, who had bled for this pack. Some were still recovering from the previous conflict. Others bore wounds from long-gone conflicts. But while they stood prepared, their gazes fixed on the treeline, none of them faltered.

They anticipated it....