Thalia
The wind rolled down from the mountains with a bitter edge, scattering leaves across the courtyard as if the world itself couldn’t decide what to do with the change in the air.
She stood in the shadow of the ruins, her fingers wrapped around the edges of her cloak, watching from behind the treeline. Moonridge stood just beyond the ridge, a slice of civilization cut into the forest like a scar that never healed properly.
She hadn’t come to be seen. Only to see.
Below, the pack was gathering. Not for war. Not for a summit. But for a ritual, the kind that soothed tempers and reminded wolves who they were. A community gathering. Thalia recognized it from her childhood—music, shared food, rites of passage. The kind of event she once helped prepare herbs for, running between the heale
