(Owen)
The scent of pine needles and damp earth, a familiar comfort, clung to the air. Two moons had bled into the crimson sky since the war, since the rogue wolves and Rykor's relentless assault had shaken the very foundations of our kingdom. Two moons since the whispers of a miracle had turned into a booming truth, a truth that now resided in the gentle swell of Annaliz's belly.
Sometimes, I still pinch myself, wondering if it's all a dream. The war, the terror, the sheer, brutal violence... it feels like a nightmare from which I've only recently awakened. The images still flicker in my mind's eye: the crimson of spilled blood, the guttural howls of the rogue wolves, the desperate, primal cries of our pack members. But then I look at her. At Annaliz, my mate, my queen. And the dream b
