The meeting hall smells like damp earth and wolf musk, thick with nerves and unspoken fear. Every pack member is here, even the ones who normally avoid gatherings. The tension is sharp enough to taste, like iron on my tongue.
Alpha Alaric stands at the front, shoulders squared, his voice low and controlled as he talks about the blood moon. “It’s not a sign of war.” He says, but the unease in the room says otherwise. “It’s a warning. We stay vigilant, we stay united, and we don’t give fear room to grow.”
The room murmurs in agreement, though no one really believes him. The blood moon had risen three nights in a row now. It wasn’t supposed to.
I sit near the back beside Talon. The flickering lights glints off the scars on his knuckles. He’s tense too, though he hides it better than most.
