Camille

The forest is too quiet for an exchange like this.

Part of me believed that we would be dealing with a trail of warriors from the settlement fighting for their pups already.

I stand at the halfway point between our territory and the disputed borderlands, boots planted in the frost-bitten earth, pine sap thick in the air. My warriors form a crescent behind me—silent, disciplined, waiting for my command.

Inside me, my lycan shifts restlessly.

This is wrong, he growls, low and constant beneath my ribs. Something does not feel right.

I ignore him.

Across the clearing, I scent them before I see them—Dain and Varek. Sweat. Blood. Fear...