The smell of burning flesh reached her a mile out.
Reign crested the ridge and saw smoke rising from the valley below. Not the clean smoke of cooking fires. The thick, greasy kind that came from bodies burning.
She should have turned around. Should have kept moving north, away from whatever conflict was playing out down there. But the screams changed her mind. High and desperate, the kind that came from wolves who'd never expected to die today.
She ran toward the sound.
The rogue camp was chaos. Tents burned. Bodies lay scattered across bloodstained snow. And cutting through the survivors like a knife through flesh were soldiers wearing red and gold.
The Fire Prince's colors.
His men moved with brutal efficiency, corralling the rogues into smaller groups before unleashing bursts of f
