Elara stood silent and unmoving, her tawny pelt nearly indistinguishable from the weather-worn stone beneath her paws. To any outside observer, she might have been mistaken for a statue, so complete was her apparent repose.

But those who knew her well could easily discern the tension that thrummed just beneath that impassive facade – the slight twitching of her ears, pivoting to catch every infinitesimal sound; the almost imperceptible flaring of her nostrils as she sampled the night breezes for any trace of danger or malcontent.

She was the Luna, the heart and soul of her pack, and even in these fleeting moments of tranquility, the weight of that solemn...