The pack had trained at dawn for generations, but Ember had never felt the morning push back against her the way it did now.
The air was wrong.
Not cold—not warm—but heavy, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Ember stood at the edge of the Bloodstone training fields, arms crossed over her chest, dark hair pulled into a tight braid that brushed against the curve of her spine. The sun had barely crested the treeline, silver light filtering through the towering pines of Susquehannock State Forest, and yet her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin.
Vespera paced, claws scraping against the inside of Ember’s ribs.
Something is watching us.
Ember swallowed and stepped forward as the trainers barked commands, the pack moving into formation with practiced precision. Warriors—rank
